#then in 2022 i wanted to make it a comic instead

[arapa1ma]

the silliest guys ever (flowerpaw and mottledpaw, two of my ocs, more info under the cut)

ok last time i made this post i ended up with a six paragraph long lore dump about the entirety of their story, and most of it wasnt even about these two lol. im going to try to be concise here

flowerpaw (black and white cat) and mottledpaw (brown/tan/red?? cat) are best friends. mottledpaw is a med cat app. one day she starts having really cryptic nightmares which are also prophecies. cats start disappearing with no explanation. mottled has another vision telling her to go to a place outside of the clan territory. a bunch of weird ghost shit happens, if i try to explain it this post will get too long, she figures out whats happening to the cats who disappear (they are basically controlled by another ghost who is evil) and when she returns to the territories to confront the ghost she finds that flowerpaw has also gone missing. the evil ghost unleashes the cats she took on the remaining cats, its extremely chaotic and is probably the exact scenario mottled's nightmare was about. she ends up having to fight flowerpaw but she refuses to kill her, so she runs away while flower is still chasing her, and ends up confronting the ghost instead, killing her and freeing the cats who she had been controlling. a lot of the cats died, from both sides, but in the end at least mottled and flower have eachother . also thwy are in love . it makes sense with the story i swear

[claitea]

doing long comics Sucks man how do other people do it. webtoon artists you terrify me on a level i am incapable of putting into words.

[choochooboss]

Sketch dump! Vol. 5

September 2022 (Part 1/2)

The first piece on top summarised my cosplay rush for Tracon 2022! The second is an old idea for a charm.

"SURPRISE!!"

Back in 2022 I hosted an art raffle for reaching 777 followers on Twitter! The winner would get their submas themed idea realised (which was their friends throwing a surprise party for the twins!). I wanted to make a little comic and have the bosses walk in their office where depot agents, Elesa, Drayden, Skyla, Clay etc. would be waiting with decorations and treats and games.

Emmet is all smiles of course while Ingo gets so emotional he could only whisper a "super bravo".

Not really headcanons anymore but still funny ideas.

1. Emmet gets clumsy when off-rhythm! He starts walking in curves if there is nobody else around to match his rhythm with.

2. Emmet spaces out/forgets to say things aloud when someone speaks too long or when things go off-script! His thinking gets interrupted easily.

3. Ingo sometimes bumps into doors because he is too used to automatic doors!

4. When things go off-script Ingo speaks too much and rushes in straight lines"

Also my little inexpensive sketchbook & my trusty tools! Mechanical pencil and eraser pen are life when scribbling my skrimblos smaller than a postage stamp!

More Ingo~ I utilise a wide range of sources for references, including CSP's poseable 3D models, they can come really handy with perspectives and proportions!

The second piece is my very first attempt at cosplay in Tracon 2022: Blingo! I walked in with a sequin hat, leather jacket, leather pants and high heel patent leather boots.

The hardest part of cosplaying Ingo is remembering NOT to smile ahaha!

Some hairstyle tests

I drew these for a huge submas art collaboration over Twitter hosted by @/mimizukeii!! It was technically my first art collab before I started arranging them myself with Aggie/Magma.

While looking for train related songs I found this cute nursery rhyme to go with the marching:

"Over the mountains,

Over the plains,

Over the rivers,

Here come the trains.

Carrying passengers,

Carrying mail,

Bringing their precious loads In without fail"

I wanted to compare these silly twins, planning to do something more silly with them later. Also a sketch of @/fukurow's butler designs I never finished.. The capes compliment them so well, I love them!!

Prequel to this piece! Emmet is so confident in himself he thinks Pierce wants to learn from him but is invited for a duet on the stage instead!!

Emmet has really great voice actors in Pokemas! I especially love how his english VA gives him that bri'ish/posh/sophisticated vibe while also soft and melodic! I know for SURE this VA/Emmet can sing, I can show you later!

One of my favourite sketches!! I wanted to add a bunch of characters in the BG reacting to this sonic blast of emotion over a performance!

Heyyy it's the smile buddies comic!! I really hope Ingo gets to interact with Marnie in Pokemas one day!!

I feel Ingo's eyes in the mirror panel is a little off in the final comic, I meant to keep it softer like in the sketch!

It's Nimbasa trio!! Idea inspired by submas EX uniform colors. Might continue this later!

Some BG tests for this piece! Compositing is hard but absolutely worth the effort, it can make a huge difference in the appeal of your piece!!

Practise piece drawing over a photo I thought was cool! I want to get more experimental with lighting and perspective!

'How's it hanging bro?' Who hung him up there anyway??

Sketch for this arguing scene! Something REALLY BAD needs to happen for them to end up that tense! Even if I want to present them close to the canon material I still want to put them in really challenging situations to see how far I can push their emotions!

Thank you so much for coming all the way down here!! This set was pretty loaded, I hope you enjoyed scrolling through all this ahah!

Previous posts:

Sketch dump Vol. 1: April-June 2022

Sketch dump Vol. 2: July 2022

Sketch dump Vol. 3: August 2022

Sketch dump Vol. 4: July 2022 Part 2

[lynaferns]

Been honest, I was kinda hesitant of posting this.

It's an old comic about a theory I had of what truly happens after Moon catches Gregory in Security Breach, becasuse Moon has something different in his jumpscare that inspired me to make this.

Mar 26 2022

Pt 1

The rest is under the cut, long post

Pt 2

Pt 3

All the Pts without the page cuts

and that's the last time I used this type of lineart

Moon's the only one who never touches Gregory, everyone else grabs him and/or shakes him but Moon has the tickle fingy thing and got me thinking "what if he doesn't kill Gregory in the spot but brings him to vanny instead because virus/hacked?"

I made a drawing explaining better my idea of how it works for reddit, I'm not so sure of it anymore, but if you want to take a look at it, here

Also, a little comic about what happened while I was finishing the Pt 1 + the bonus

[giggly-squiggily]

Hide and Tickle (Bungo Stray Dogs)

*Flips hair, knocking over several things* Why hello there.

So! Y'all might remember this little dabble I wrote a while back; I said in the description that I wanted to make this a proper fic eventually.

And then 2022 and 2023 passed by like two ships into the night...

SO HERE WE ARE! :D I will admit- I was a bit lazy and put the sentence starter dabble as the opener- so this is more an extended version of that! I hope you like it! :3

This is also part 1 of a series I'm making! I have the perfect request to follow this one up, so stay tuned (hopefully this time I'll be before the end of the year lols)

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps):

@myreygn @thatbigbisexual29 @dirtpie39 @duckymcdoorknob @cupcake-spice13 @t-wordiiish @rachi-roo @mystwrites @chibisstuff @imjusthere07 @sevenincubistolemyheart

“I’m so boooooooooorrrreeeeed~” Dazai droned from his desk, eyes half-lidded with disinterest as he looked at the stack of paperwork before him. “Kuuuuni~ Aaaaatsushhhhhhi~ Entertain me!”

“Do your work. That should keep you entertained for a while.” Kunikida didn’t look up from his computer, unfazed by the brunette’s whining. “And sit up straight while you’re at it. You’re at work, not home.”

“But isn’t the armed detective agency our second home?” Dazai fluttered his eyelashes at them, pouting when neither paid him any mind. “I see how it is. I’m like the unwanted stray hoarded up in the family garage, living off scraps from the trash.”

“Did-did you just call yourself a raccoon?” Atsushi blinked, looking at Dazai. He fell right for his trap.

“Atsushi! You’ve noticed me!” Rolling over in his chair, he unceremoniously tossed his arms around the younger man, leaning on him with nearly all his weight. “Take me home and feed me delicious food!”

“I do have a spar futon…”

“Don’t entertain him!” Kunikida growled, giving up on his report as he slammed his laptop shut. “Fine, you want to play a game? Let’s play. You get ten seconds to hide.”

“Mr. Kunikida?” Atsushi blinked. Dazai seemed equally curious.

“What-”

“If we catch you,” Kunikida referred to himself and Atsushi, earning even more surprise from the weretiger. “You’re getting tickled. Is that clear?”

…Huh? No way Kunikida was suggesting that! Atsushi turned to Dazai, expecting some sort of coy reply or teasing remark.

Instead, he found nothing but air.

“Did he-” Atsushi blinked, watching as Kunikida took his seat once more, opening his laptop.

“That’ll keep him busy for a while. You’re relieved of your duties until my reports are finished.” The blonde jerked his chin to the office plant, Dazai’s foot sticking out comically. “See to it that idiot stays entertained.”

Atsushi looked between him and Dazai, the brunette subtly poking his face through the greenery to spy. Then he laughed, getting up with a nod.

“Be sure to type extra slow. Come here, Dazai!” Atsushi took off, charging the startled office plant full speed ahead. Dazai yelped as he dived, flying around the corner and sending the plant spinning. Atsushi’s quick reflexes saved them from the mess.

“Don’t make a mess!” Kunikida called after them, but his voice was muted at the noise. Dazai was sprinting between desks, putting as much distance as he could between him and Atsushi while giggling like a loon.

“Stahahay away! I’m nohohohoht reahahady!” Dazai wheezed, holding his hands up as he backed around Ranpo’s desk, the mentioned man eating snacks as he watched. “Ahahhahahtsushi!”

“Why so nervous? Running out of hiding spots?” The weretiger grinned, feigning left and right to throw off his boss. In the background, he could hear Naomi and Tanizaki giggling to themselves, amused.

“Quick, go left!” Naomi called out.

“No, right- go right!” Tanizaki added.

“Who are you two even talking to right now?” Dazai yelped, backing up towards the door as Atushi feigned a lunge forward. “Ahahahtsushi…”

“Coming around.” Yasano spoke from behind, her hands coming to his sides as she scooted. In that second, she pressed in sharply.

“EEHEE!” Dazai yelped, stumbling forward at the unexpected tickle. Right into Atsushi’s trap card.

“Thanks, Yasano!” The weretiger cheered as he quickly wrestled Dazai to the ground, quickly pinning his arms. “Mr. Kunikida-”

“On it.” The blonde was there in seconds, sitting on Dazai’s waist and rolling up his sleeves. “Not much luck hiding, was there?”

“Ahehehehehe, hehehehehahahha! Coohohme on- wahhahait! Thihihihs isn’t the mohohohost cohohoohmfortahhahable flohohoor!” Dazai giggled out his pleas, squirming some as he looked up with big eyes. “Spahahhare me?”

“Mr. Kunikida?” Atsushi asked, turning his attention to the other man.

“Hmm..” The blonde hummed, thinking. Dazai tried to smile.

“Get him.” He decided. Massive fail!

“Ehehehehhahahahaha! Whahahahit, wahhahahait pleahahhahahhahahse!” Dazai burst into giggles almost immediately, kicking his feet and laughing as Kunikida dug into his ribs. Above him, Atsushi grabbed both of his hands in one transformed paw; using his free one to slowly trace his tricep. “Aheahhhaha! Gheahahhaha! Nohohohoho! Nohohoho doohohn’t do thahahahhat!”

“Oo, he’s ticklish there?” Ranpo asked, now sitting on his desk. “I thought only Kenji was.”

“It’s not that rare of a spot. Tanizaki’s the same as well.” Yasano pointed out, earning a squeaky “Hey!” from the redhead. “Try his biceps too- he hates it when I examine them.”

“Yahahhasunohohoho don’t thehehell them thahahhhahahat!” Dazai’s complaints were quickly swept clean as Atsushi did just that- finding an even better reaction. “Aheahhahahaha!”

“So sensitive. It’s a wonder why you’d even try tickling others if this is your reaction.” Kunikida tsked gently as he moved up to his highest rib, prodding rapidly into the spot and making the other howl with mirth. “Atsushi- hold him tight.”

“What-Oh!” The weretiger yelped and scrambled his grip when Dazai suddenly shot his arms down, cheeks pink and head thrown back into Atsushi’s lap as the poet dug into his armpits. “Watch your head there, Dazai. You almost took out mine.”

“GEHAHAHAHAHHA! KUHUHUUHUNI PLEHAHAHAHHASE!” Dazai squealed, twisting and turning in their grip as his second worst spot was attacked. “IHIHIHIT TIHIHIHICKLES!”

“You don’t say?” The blonde growled, grinning at the squeaky wheeze the brunette let out. Having some mercy, he moved back to Dazai’s waist- a spot that wasn’t all that ticklish. “Are you not entertained?”

“Ehehe- aheahhahahhahaha! I meahahhan I ahahahm a lihihihiihittle!”

“He’s not fighting back, Mr. Kunikida.” Atsushi pointed out. Why he did so, he didn’t know. It was just odd how little Dazai was tugging at his wrists. “Maybe he’s getting tired?”

“No, he’s just enjoying himself.” Kunikida remarked. Such a simple comment, but it did wonders in flustering the man below them. Dazai let out a giggly whine and pressed his face into his arm, cheeks on fire and smile big.

Ah. Atsushi understood now. The running, the giggle fits, the lack of resistance.

This was Dazai’s plan all along.

In that case…

“Aww, is that right? Is it true you’re enjoying this, Dazai?” Atsushi cooed at him all sweetly, readjusting his grip once more so he could scribble against the back of Dazai’s ears- making him shrink up with a near silent laugh. “Is it true that you’re loving up tickling you? Huh? Huh?”

“Wow, he’s good at that.” Naomi mused from the background, Tanizaki and Yasano making noises of agreement. Kunikida even looked impressed.

“Are you gonna get back to work?” He asked. Dazai couldn’t speak, nodding rapidly.

“Should we let him go, sir?” Atsushi asked. The blonde thought about it some more.

“Yeah. Give him air. He might be a moron with a death wish, but he’s our moron with a death wish.” The tickles finally came to an end, leaving Dazai gasping for air and giggling softly. With no one holding him down, he was able to curl up, head against the cool leg of Ranpo’s desk. “Ehehehehe..ehhehehehehee…thahaht was fuhuhuhn..hehe..”

“Tch. Why did I know you’d say that?” Kunikida rolled his eyes without malice, heading back to his desk. “Get back to your desk once you’ve recovered. You still have paperwork to do-”

There was a flash. Dazai ran at him full speed; recovering rather quickly. Seconds later- Kunikida was face down on the ground, the brunette sitting on his hips. “Dazai! You son of a-”

“Atsushi.” That tone. Threatening and playful. The weretiger shivered all over. “I have all intended purposes of getting revenge for what you did to me. But I’m gonna make you a deal.”

Dazai turned to look back, brown eyes dark and dangerous and oh so daring. “Help me tickle Kuni, will you?”

Thanks for reading!

[jojo-schmo]

hi jojo! im just wondering but ive been wanting to make a comic for a little while but im not too sure where to start 😅. i really love your style of art and your forgotten land roleswap, and i was wondering if you had any tips for beginners?

Hello, hello! Thank you for enjoying my Forgotten Land Roleswap comic, it means a lot! <3

I'm very honored that people have been asking me for tips and advice. All of this is coming from a hobbyist who draws these comics purely for fun outside of my regular day job. Some of my methods would probably deal psychic damage to a professional, LOL. But I'm more than happy to share some things I've personally learned! :)

First of all, the book, "Understanding Comics" by Scott McCloud ROCKS. It literally gave me a new dimension to understand the medium of comics and how it presents ideas and emotions to readers! And I haven't even had the chance to finish it all the way! I'm very happy I own a copy and I recommend having one of your own if you can, but it's archived here if you want to read it :D

I also like analyzing other comics and thinking about how they get information across to me as a reader. It's helped me learn more effective ways to visually tell a story, like what to include in a frame, how zooming in or out affects the feeling from the panel, maybe building a scene by focusing on other stuff if someone is talking a lot... etc.

ANYWAYS-! Some other tips I've learned through my personal experience-

I had to overcome a lot of negative self-talk in order to tackle a huge comic project like this and stay committed. I was a pretty severe self-deprecator for most of my life so far, and getting help has allowed me to catch myself when I'm slipping back into those habits, look in the mirror, and go, "NO, JOJO! You pour your heart into what you make and that is a wonderful thing! You are appreciated and loved and you deserve to have fun making something you are passionate about!!" Some examples of the negative self-talk I catch myself in....

"I'm a noob at writing and making a story interesting... What's the point of even trying?"

When it comes to starting a project, whether it's 2 pages or 2000 pages, is to just jump in and start! It's okay to be a little insecure or nervous about your technical art skills, writing skills, etc... But writing a "bad" scene is better than no scene- because you can always edit a "bad" scene down the line, but what can you do with nothing? Nothing!! I also put "bad" in quotation marks because I am trying to use that term less, and instead call them "early drafts." or "works in progress."

The first Roleswap scene I fleshed-out was the first Bandee boss fight, in May 2022. I made this drawing on an impulse, getting my ideas down on the page without thinking about the technical stuff like comic panel borders. I consider it like a "pilot episode" almost, haha. The final project is going to be very different from how things play out here. But it got me interested in the concept and excited to see where I could take it, and I made the decision to commit to an entire game plot's worth of AU comics!!

Also, what's the point in trying you ask? The point is to have fun! Making a fan comic in my free time means I don't have restrictions like deadlines, nobody's telling me what I can and can't write, and I can make the story as long or as short as I want! I have full control, which means the world I'm writing is all mine to create! Yes, with a fan comic there is a pre-established world with existing characters. But a universe like Kirby has enough open-ended concepts for people to take basic concepts in the world and take them to whole new levels! I think that's why there are so many amazing fan interpretations of Kirby characters and OCs. The rules are so vague, you can just make up your own a lot of the time!! And it's a wonderful exercise to learn skills for someday building an original world with all original characters from scratch! Magical!!!

"I'm not good enough to make a comic. I don't understand perspective or color and other stuff. Anything I make will look bad.

I once read a two panel comic on here. I can't find it anymore but I remember most of it. First panel showed the artist looking at what they're drawing on their tablet, looking defeated and sad. "Man, I don't even know how to draw this....."The next panel was like them smiling and shrugging, I think rainbows and sparkles were coming out of their tablet, ".....I GUESS I'LL JUST HAVE TO DRAW IT SHITTY!! :D "

IF ANYONE KNOWS THIS COMIC I'M REFERENCING, PLEASE TELL ME AND I'LL LINK IT!!! Because it permanently and positively changed my brain chemistry.

No kidding, making the decision to just do my best even if it's not perfect, helped me a LOT. I was always waiting to "reach a certain level" to tackle a huge project because I felt like I'd never do it justice at my current state. Except I had been telling myself that kind of stuff for years and I still didn't start any projects!!

So the day I said, "Oh well! If I draw backgrounds shitty, then it is what it is! I'll learn from it and draw the next background a little better," Was the day I could commit fully to the project. I'll keep studying how to draw them better for my own benefit, but I won't let my skill issues stop me from even trying!

And for my limited confidence in full-color art, I solved that by making the comic in black and white with no-to-minimal shading lolol. Because I can only address one skill issue at a time before it takes me 25 years to finish this HAHAHA.

It saves a BUNCH of time to work with skill issues rather than against them! Because at least experience is gained in other ways, and who knows, maybe that new knowledge will help address the skill issues someday! So identifying your personal skill issues and deciding which one to try to grow stronger, and which one to work around, could help with big projects!

"Nobody will read this. I'm going to put months or years of my life into a dumb little thing nobody will even care about."

Learning how to draw for my own enjoyment instead of somebody else's was one of the biggest breakthroughs I ever made. Enjoying the feeling of being challenged artistically and just doing my best, even if it's not technically perfect, is the reason why I was even able to start this!

And just because someone doesn't directly like, comment or whatever on a post doesn't mean nobody saw it! I used to get really down on myself for the lack of engagement on my art on other websites.

I was a lurker for pretty much my entire teenage years and never posted my own stuff or commented much. But that didn't take away the fact that I really enjoyed the things I saw online. Those positive feelings were real to me, even when I didn't know how to articulate it in words. Granted, I grew up into a Words of Affirmation main, and I use words to tell people the positive things I think about them as much as I can! But I know not everyone prefers words to express themselves. So I think about the people that I don't know enjoy my work- that just because I don't see it doesn't mean I didn't make a positive impact on someone by sharing my stories.

THIS IS GETTING LONG-- UHHH, STORY TIPS!!

If you work best on technology, start building the story in a Notes app, or a Google Doc! If you work best with pen and paper, start a notebook and rearrange stuff as you need to!

Or if you're chaotic like me, a mix of tech and paper!! I bought a notebook with ring binding so I can remove and rearrange pages of drafts as much as I wanted to! Like here's two very rough concept pages of one Chapter 1 scene made months apart.

I'd say planning out the biggest basic plot points and then filling in between as I went was most helpful! I also have separate notes for character motivations, important story-changing events, etc... So I can have my own reference when I'm writing new scenes!

Okay this was a lot, sorry about the yapping! Hopefully it helps even a tiny bit. If you have any specific questions I'm happy to talk about my experience in the creation process! Or elaborate on anything I said above.

And finally, because I'm not a professional there are probably plenty of other tactics that could work better for some people. My ADHD probably doesn't help with the chaos of my process either, HAHA. But thank you for reading this far and enjoying the peek into the rainbow glitter and soap bubbles that inhabit the right side of my brain, heehee.

[ikimaru]

i have a newfound respect for drawing comics. i think a big reason why people are always asking when the next pages are gonna come out is because they don't realize just how long they take to make. the last 3 projects i had were multipage, colored/shaded comics that reach took several days/weeks to complete (one of them isn't even done!). then i drew just a singular picture of a guy standing in a color void and was surprised when it only took a few hours. i even fiddled with it for an extra hour because i felt like i had "time left."

I've always followed comics and have drawn them in the past, but until i spent a month almost exclusively doing them, i get very empathetic towards you when people continuously ask when/if you're continuing each comic. it is so much work!!! and what you create is gorgeous. so take as long as you need, including breaks, because comics take so much work they get boring to work on at some point lol

yeah comic pages can take a lot longer than regular pics depending from how u draw them and amount of shading or backgrounds but also just the planning part alone takes a while

thank you! and it's not about the ppl asking 💀 I just can't deal with going back and forth between the mindset of doing this comic and of doing other things every week anymore and I've wanted it to be done asap since 2022 so if I can power through and finish it in a week instead of finishing it in 5 months? I'm rUNNING

but that aside I did a 20 page buffer for my other comic as well at the end, it just makes things more organized for the printed version release, I think I got around 10 pages left to do + redrawing some pages and I do want to take a break but I'll just make things worse for myself if I stop now;;

[zeroducks-2]

Honestly I love the fanon families in DC but I very much acknowledge that the vast majority of it is not canon consistent. I almost feel like they’re two different universes in the way that Earth Two is different from Earth one. To me the media that supports the family feel good stuff like Wayne family Adventures is an entirely different continuity like Else world stories. They’re the same characters just written and played with in a much different way.

Wayne Family Adventure is indeed an elseworld, like the Lego DC movies or the Arkham videogames or the White Knight saga.

"canon" when it comes to DC is not a single entity because DC means many many things. Jason having been tortured by Joker and then allying with Scarecrow is canon for the Arkhamverse, but surely it isn't for the comicverse. Eobard pretending to be a scientist named Harrison Wells is canon for the CW Flash TV show, but not for the comicverse. Selina Kyle being Carmine Falcone's daughter is canon for the Batman 2022 movie, but not for the comicverse. And same goes for whatever happens in Wayne Family Adventures - the stuff in there is canon for its own context, not for the main comics canon continuity.

Now when it comes to "fanon" that's a different thing. I've seen people act like DC fanon is some sort of monolith with specific rules but it very much is not, fanon means various takes that are so widespread that people start to act as if they were canon, even if they don't come from the source material and they were born directly from the fandom. An example is Tim Drake being a coffee addict or Stephanie Brown loving pancakes. This is stuff which is either very loosely based off of canon or with no bearings with canon whatsoever, but a good chunk of the fandom acts like they were canon facts. Some folks are aware that they're not, some aren't, most don't care.

Now, the concept of Bruce Wayne being a Tired Sitcom Dad™ with all his sidekicks living in Wayne Manor like some sort of big family is a fanon concept. A few years ago people started acting like this was canon, and new people coming in would see it and also assume it was canon (Wayne Family Adventure both comes from fanon concepts and served to fuel them, because at some point people started using WFA panels as "proof" that all that actually happened). There has been and still is a pushback of people saying no, this is non-canon, stop acting like this stuff happened in the main comics continuity, but they pretty much get drowned by the mass of people who instead scream that "good dad Bruce is the only real Bruce" and that every instance of abuse or toxic behavior you show them is out of character and should be disregarded. (It is worth noting that many of these folks have actually never read DC comics, and if you suggest they do they will call you ableist and a gatekeeper when you're lucky - when you're unlucky they'll tell you to go kill yourself)

I want to add as a footnote that there are many cases (probably most cases actually) in which fanon stuff is awesome, and makes fandom experiences more enjoyable. The whole multiverse dynamic of the Undertale fandom is a fanonical masterpiece just to name one. There is a specific issue with fanon in the DC fandom in particular, but it's absolutely not the case for all fandoms - the existence of fanon dynamics is not a bad thing per se and it's a natural consequence of big fandoms existing and evolving over time. The problem with the DC fandom is that the fanon material doesn't work WITH and ALONGSIDE the canonical elements of the story. It is rather in extreme direct contradiction with the established source material, and people flat out refuse to accept that their "sunshine and rainbows" version of things isn't the real deal.

It's worth mentioning that when it comes to the Flash family we have a bit of a different situation. The abuse there is more subtle, it's less "Bruce punched Dick in the face" and more "these people are treating Barry's depression like an inconvenience". It's less "Bruce slit Jason's throat to save the life of Jason's murderer" and more "the moment Barry isn't the perfect picture of strength and happiness his family will act like he's doing it on purpose to spite them". It's way easier to dismiss because lots of people are unable to even pick up on it, and especially when it comes to Wally and Iris, 90% of the fandom does not allow them to be complex characters with dark impulses who are very capable of hurting the people they love and who love them. Wally because he's supposed to be a shining perfect hero, and Iris... well, Iris is a woman. Unfortunately most people refuse to even begin taking into consideration the idea that a woman can be a gray character, therefore women in fandom spaces are treated like either irredeemably unlikable bitches, or perfect angels who could never do anything wrong. Iris falls into the second category for nearly every single person in the Flash Fandom I've seen so far.

But anyway, I ranted enough. As I mentioned in the comments of my previous ask, I too have written fluffy "batfamily" dynamics or made Wally act sweet and protective towards Barry, but I am able to make a difference between what I like, what I'm using for my fanfiction and what actually is canon.

[elvisabutler]

mess dress

fandom: elvis 2022 | elvis presley rating: m pairing: elvis presley ( army era ) x female plus size reader word count: 2323 warnings: thigh riding. uniform kink. mild innocence kink. public play-ish. implications for future p in v sex. author’s note: welcome to day 7 of ally’s wet hot smut summer, uniform kink with elvis presley x reader. so fun fact i've had this 95 percent finished since friday. i have also been without internet because construction knocked out my internet for the weekend. however this is done now. so this erred accidentally into a sort of public play kink thing as well. hopefully y'all enjoy it regardless. this is sort of a sequel to called ya, didn't i? but you don't have to read it for this to make sense, necessarily. i do really want to hear how y'all feel about my fics and i know i don't always reply to comments but reading them delights me so much. as always imagine who you'd like i'm not picky.

You're no stranger to Army functions, little soirees that you shouldn't be invited to but you are because your Daddy's always loved showing you off even as there were whispers about how it wasn't proper that his daughter's waist didn't taper just so. But being at one when you're involved with Elvis Presley- well, that's another thing entirely. It's one thing to be on your Daddy's arm and another to be on your boyfriend's arm knowing how that arm feels wrapped around your waist as you do things very good army brats shouldn't do.

The thing is, you want to think Elvis is willing to stay with you, you want to think he's a good man even if all the papers and the press think he's cavorting around with every girl in Europe. And he's been proving it with every innocent date and every not so innocent moment where you cry out for release as his fingers play you better than any guitar. Elvis wants to be with you and even as things are winding down in Europe, he's whispering jokes and plans about asking your Daddy if it's alright for him to whisk you away to Memphis.

"Told 'im I'd take real good care of ya. No funny business, either. Not 'less I got a ring on your finger."

After hearing that, you almost swooned like you were a Victorian maiden, the rush from hearing those simple words— that simple potential promise had your mind whirring and your heart thumping a quicker beat than it ever had in your life. Never mind that you and him already had indulged in some funny business, it was all the kind that could be hidden. Not the kind that had you filling out dresses and telling your Daddy he's got a grandbaby on the way.

Hearing that put your mind at ease and allowed you to dream a little of a future with Elvis. It allowed for a picture to be painted of you at Graceland or in Hollywood, maybe with a child or two— and a world where you might still be told you don't look proper for a woman but there's gotta be something about you that's got Mr. Presley all shook up and stuck on you. Saying yes to Elvis about going to the function was easy after that even if you had to tell him that he didn't have to get you a dress despite his arguments for doing just that.

"I-I jus' wanna show 'em how pretty my girl is. Tell 'em what they missed out on. Show Charlie I can get me a ree-spec-tuh-bull girl." He had teased, hands against your hips as he kissed your neck in front of your mirror.

Your hands should have swatted at his arms and you should have told him to keep his hands on your waist but instead you moved your hands to lay on top of his and smiled. "You will, Elvis. I'll pick something pretty and we'll have pretty pictures to look at. You'll probably even have one to take home."

A look flitted across Elvis's face that you couldn't quite put a name to and you couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at it before he shook his head. "Yeah, I can have a picture. Just— I mean it, baby, I'm gonna show ya off. Tell 'em I like ya wit' or without all this dressin' up."

It's practically comical the way you and Elvis look at each other the moment you open the door to see him standing there in his full dress uniform. You've seen him in uniform before and had told him rightfully that seeing him in it did something to you between your legs but seeing him like this? All ironed pants and dressed without a hint of a flaw had your mouth watering as your eyes traced over every inch of him, settling embarrassingly on the subtle bulge between his legs. You've felt it before but to see it look like it's starting to rise to the occasion just from looking at you right now in those slacks has your breath escaping from your lungs in a quiet whine.

Not that your boyfriend was any better, taking in the way your dress outlined your chest and your hips and practically shimmered in the light. You matched his dress uniform almost to a tee with a little feminine flair. Your mother is the one who comes upon the two of you staring at one another and tuts quietly, shooing you out the door with a shawl and a yell about how Elvis needs to bring you home before a certain time. You don't dare speak until Elvis enters the other side of his car and sets a hand on your clothed thigh.

"Honey— ya tryin' to kill me? 'Cause it's workin'. Didn't know ya—" He starts before you silence him with a kiss and a shy smile.

"I had it specially made. Thought tonight deserved something special, since you said you'd show me off, remember?" You bite your lip, knowing full well you're probably ruining your lipstick. What you're saying is the truth but a part of you, a small part that's listened to a friend or two who thinks Elvis is so sweet on you that he might want to marry you thinks this was the perfect outfit to prove you're the sort of girl who can be Mrs. Presley. All sophistication and charm that a good boy— a good man like him needs.

"I- I do. Now I'm thinkin' everyone's gonna be tryin' to steal ya from me if I show ya off. Lord, darlin'. Make a man wanna—" His breath comes out in a rush, a puff of air that moves a surprisingly errant curl from his head as you giggle.

"Maybe later? Before you take me home?" The words are questions but from the way you look at Elvis you know that he catches your meaning. That you want him to do something to you as much as he wants to do something to you. Truthfully just looking at the buttons of his uniform and every single detail on it has you clenching your legs together— forgetting that Elvis's hand is right there until he groans as he starts the car.

"Gonna be the death o'me," he mutters only to hear you laugh again and say three simple words in French.

"La petit mort."

You both know it's a little improper to have you sitting on Elvis's lap, but the night's been winding down ever so slowly and Elvis— can get away with things other men can't. Sure, this might get back to your Daddy but it's not as if he doesn't already have an inkling that Elvis is head over heels in love with you. You haven't ended up with a baby in your belly yet and that's— well, that's as good as he can hope for when it comes to the pair of you, he figures. He'll allow it as long as he can think his daughter is as pure as can be. Besides, Charlie is very good at covering for you and Elvis when things look a little more salacious than they should. Right now as Elvis's leg keeps bouncing between your thigh, you figure you'll get use out of those skills yet tonight.

The conversation is one you're not fully paying attention to, having heard half these things a million times over as you've grown up but when you feel the brush of warm air against your ear your eyes widen just a hair.

"Fallin' asleep on me, darlin'? Gonna leave me to talk to everyone by myself?" His whisper is low and inviting in a way that has you shivering just slightly as his arm grips your waist a little tighter. "That woke ya up?"

You don't trust your voice just yet especially when you feel Elvis's leg jiggling between your thighs, his knee brushing against your clit with almost every movement. Your only answer is a small hum as you smile at other people.

Elvis flashes a charming grin as he shifts both of you, allowing the bottom of your dress to cover his leg entirely and exposing your underwear covered vagina to his knee. He bounces experimentally and watches as your eyes widen and you let out a soft whimper that you quickly cover with a cough, your chest bouncing from the effort. Your thighs try and tighten around his leg in an effort to stop the bouncing only for his hand to grip your hip, reveling in the way it feels underneath his grip.

"Elvis," you hiss, turning to look at him after one particularly intense bounce as your nipples hardening in your bra and has you starting to soak through your undergarments. "What are you doing?"

"Ya been eyein' me up like a piece of meat all night, baby. Know that place 'tween ya legs has been achin' somethin' fierce 'cause of it. Didn't think ya wanted to wait. Jus' in case I gotta rush ya home." He explains like it makes all the sense in the world and you find it's hard to argue with him over it even as you know how bad this looks.

"But we're in public. Just because I wanna rip your uniform off doesn't mean we need to—" you start only to have him brush against that spot earning a bitten back whine and a grind down from you. "Elvis— oh."

It shouldn't be pleasurable, your fear of being caught and the potential shame should stop you from doing this but the only thing it's stopping you from doing is ripping off Elvis's uniform that you've seen on a million men before but none of them have been him. Maybe it's the way you had seen the bulge between his legs pressing against his pressed slacks or maybe it's because he was all dressed up to take you somewhere. To show you off. Whatever the reason was, you don't stop Elvis from moving his leg, from bouncing it just so in a way that has your vision starting to blur and has your nails digging into his other thigh in order to keep quiet.

"Gonna make a mess of us, ain't ya? Gonna stain my uniform, darlin'? Make it so I gotta tell everyone I had a lil sweat on my knee?" He mutters his filthy words against your ear and you nod as slow as you can as your eyes dart around the room and around your talking companions. Had any of them noticed what was going on?

"They ain't payin' attention. Ya a good girl, 'member? God, darlin' wanna see ya come apart in front of 'em. Do that for me, will ya? Do that and I'll ask ya daddy to marry ya tomorrow. I gotta or 'm gonna ruin ya 'fore I can."

You have to take a breath or five to be able to speak as his knee picks up speed. "You'll wear your uniform when you do? So I can see it again?"

The grin on his face is downright evil as he nuzzles your neck and places a kiss or two against it. "'Course. Jus' for you. Jus' to see ya get all hot 'n bothered 'bout it again. You gonna make a mess f'me, mama? Gonna show how I got the best girl 'round wit' ya plump yittle thighs and those big breasts a yourn? And that stomach that's softer than anythin' army issued?"

Any other time and you might feel a might bit embarrassed about the way you nod quickly. Truthfully you can feel a bit of shame when you catch the eye of one of the other women. Her eyes are a little widened and you— that should be your cue to stop but you're so close that you can't help but cast your eyes downward as Elvis follows where your eyes went.

"She's just wishin' it was her. Wishin' her date would do this to her. Don't— Don't be shy. I gotcha, darlin'. Let go f'me?"

Somehow the way he phases what is technically an order or a request as a question sends a jolt through your body and has you holding back noises that threaten to leave your mouth as you feel yourself coming. Feel that tension inside your lower belly finally release. You feel your body twitch ever so slightly as the pleasure rolls through your body as Elvis's arm tightens around you to keep you from slumping forward. Your chest heaves in the confines of your bra and your dress and Elvis's lips curl into a bit of a smirk against the back of your neck as you try and catch your breath without being too obvious. Against your backside you can feel Elvis's cock nudging you and with a bit of a smile you shift just so in order to hear him grunt.

"Are you two okay?" You both hear someone ask— maybe it's Charlie or maybe it's someone else, you're both not too sure but it prompts you to stand up, adjusting your skirt as you do and eyeing the sizable damp patch you've left on Elvis's leg in his uniform. His eyes look down before they widen and he pulls you back down to sit on it.

"We're— we're fine." A short answer said by both of you as the two of you exchange a look and you grab Elvis's hat to plop it on your head. The look Elvis gives you is filled with more love than you thought he was capable of even though you can see his still blown pupils and see the arousal lingering in those ocean blue eyes.

After a moment of staring you turn back to everyone and smile, "so what were we talking about? You've got both of us at attention."

taglist: @ab4eva , @blurredcolour, @butlersxbirdy, @precious-little-scoundrel, @eliseinmemphis, @prompted-wordsmith, @missmaywemeetagain, @lookingforrainbows, @araxw, @thatbanditqueen, @ellie-24,��@austinbutlersgirl67, @heartbrake-hotel, @ccab, @18lkpeters, @slutforsomegoodlettuce, @dkayfixates, @kendralavon7, @chasingwildflowers, @notstefaniepresley, @wanderingelvis, @kxnnxy, @powerofelvis, @stylespresleyhearted, @be-my-ally, @mooodyblue, @pixiedustcosmos, @jessicarcates, @amydarcimarie, @flwrs4aust, @myradiaz, @adaydreamaway08, @elirobin, @goldieharry. i'm tired i don't know if i tagged everyone sorry if i forgot you..

[drill-teeth-art]

A late night, slight retrospective on the tiny amount of Tumblr fame I've gathered that also might be slightly annoying for my audience to read so feel free to skip it if you want.

I started sharing Transformers fanart on here back in 2022, around October. I had been posting art on here for a while before actually but people really started following me and asking about my work and actually reblogging my stuff when I started posting Transformers fanart in 2022. I was in a really low place then, and I really welcomed the attention. My art was and still is something I take a lot of pride in. It's my own. There's quite a few years of my life where the fact I could still draw was the only thing stopping me from attempting suicide. It's something that has always meant a lot to me, so the attention on one of the only things I really liked about myself was nice. It was nice for a while.

But I've gotta say the slight Tumblr fame (and I do mean slight, I've only got around 3k followers which is a lot of people and more than I ever thought I'd have following me and more than a lot of folks will ever have but not like A Ton Of Fame) has wreaked havoc on my mental health. Which is already pretty rough as is. Suddenly I wasn't just some guy making Transformers fanart while desperately saving up to get out of my parents' house. Suddenly I was some people's FAVORITE Transformers artist. Suddenly I was a role model to people and I had people in my DMs clambering for my attention and I had an audience that would cheer or boo or go awkwardly silent at my every post depending on how much they liked it. And it was Not Good For Me. I had and still do have people all over my inbox, excited about how I drew fat and disabled and trans characters asking me over and over to draw some specific representation that I don't want to draw right away. I had and still have people begging me to draw their favorite Transformers character who I happen to not really care about and not want to draw at all. And I am painfully aware how often people take personal offense to my polite "no I'm not drawing that unless it's a commission" and my not answering their ask because I'm not in the mood. I've had people send in asks asking for a specific drawing and then follow up asks when I don't answer in a timely manner. And it's really uncomfortable! And it's almost more uncomfortable that it feels like a lot of people don't even notice that they're making me uncomfortable.

And I like learning how to draw bodies I've never drawn before. I like looking at a character who I think is meh and being like "well actually how can I make them interesting to me...". But it really felt and still feels like my art was getting away from me, like I was drawing more what people were asking me to make instead of what I wanted to because people would take it so badly when I'd say no. I was getting commissions though and I was saving up money to move out so I ignored that bad feeling of getting distanced from my own craft because I was trying so hard to save money and I was actually making some. And I still wanted the attention. Plenty of people were still kind to me despite everything.

Things got weirder for me after I released my Good Bi Gender comic. Which I do still recommend people read I think it's some of my best work. But that comic became a huge hit. And it made things really complicated for a while. I got anon hate. I was told to kill myself by strangers online more than once while I was already deeply suicidal. Something I thought I stated very clearly in the comic itself, that I didn't want strangers calling me "she" though I did and do let my close trusted people call me "she", was immediately ignored by my regular audience and people reading the comic. I got a lot of "you go girl!" kind of messages in response to my comic, and I didn't say anything at the time but it made me deeply uncomfortable. The comic was partly about how the she/her part of my identity is off limits to strangers. How I don't let just anyone she/her me because I work so hard to have the he/him aspect identity acknowledged at all. And it was like what Tumblr decided for me was to go against my wishes. Was to be like "we'll accept your identity for you!" when that's not what I wanted. I did NOT want to be she/her'd by thousands of strangers at the time. And though I'm grateful to have heard the understanding stories of other folks with nonbinary gender identities in the notes, it was deeply humiliating and invalidating to watch as others decided for me to accept the Girl part of my identity. The opening lines of the comic are explicitly a plea to the reader to listen and understand why they're not allowed to use she/her for me even though I'm opening up about the complexities of my identity.

And like. I don't care anymore if people online she/her me. At least I don't care right now that's why she/her is in my bio right now maybe I'll change that. But at the time it was awful. It was something I asked people not to do. And between that and the constant clambering for my attention from people I didn't want to talk to (because I was severely depressed and wasn't looking to make a ton of new friends) and the alienation from my own work I felt like shit. I felt like garbage. I still do. I hate my art sometimes. I really hate it. And for a while, I considered breaking my own fingers just so people would stop acting so entitled to my art and I would have a reason not to post. And honestly the only thing that stopped me was just trying to get by financially. Just watching my follower count and regular notes steadily trend upward so I could do more commissions so I could move out.

And doing things for the numbers, even for a relatively short time, only made things worse. It sounds a little silly even to me, but I get so stressed out when my posts flop, especially if it's art I was really proud of. I'm struggling to detangle my sense of worth in my art from the online numbers game. And I'm proud of the progress I'm making, but it does really suck and it's really hard. And I really wish I was still the same person back in early 2022 who could say "I don't care about the numbers!" and actually mean it because god I WISH I didn't care about the numbers now. Especially now. I dunno if it's me posting more art people don't wanna see or people leaving Tumblr or a shift in the culture of Tumblr but fewer and fewer people interact with my posts despite my follower count ticking up slowly but surely and it kind of bums me the fuck out. But. I am very proud of myself for still drawing the ocs that I want to draw even if they get less notes every time. And even if I'm slightly frustrated they get less notes every time.

I don't really have a neat bow to tie on my personal story right now. I'm still healing and sometimes I backslide and it's hard and it sucks. I don't want to sound ungrateful or to sound like I'm trying to shoo people off my blog because I'm not. I'm really grateful for the attention and interest and I'm not trying to turn people off my art blog. But it's been a rough few years on here. And don't be surprised if you see me take more and more breaks from this website. I do sincerely hope y'all will stick around and watch me continue to post whatever art and say kind things because I do appreciate that a lot. I'm trying really hard to mend my relationship with my own art. To not be so hard on myself. And for the record I don't want any asks telling me to take breaks when necessary or reminding me to draw for me. I appreciate the sentiment, but I already know all that and I personally don't find it helpful to be reminded of things I already know. But anyway. I hope that I will draw more and more of whatever I want to, even if that means I fade back into obscurity.

If you stuck around to read me reflect on the stresses and occasional humiliation of my small amount of online notoriety, then thank you. I appreciate that. And really I do like people looking at my art on here and sharing it and sending asks about my work. And the person I expect to be responsible for my mental health and how much social media is impacting it is Me first and foremost. But sometimes I think that it's important to remember there's a person behind your favorite art blog. And sometimes when you get swept up in parasocial attachment and hype, you kind of treat that person really fucking weirdly. And no that doesn't make you a bad person or a monster. But it does mean you have to learn to deal with it when someone who you might even idolize is like "back off me you're making me uncomfortable".

Anyway. I shouldn't be up as late as I am. A headache has been keeping me up all night. I'm gonna try to rest though. Goodnight.

[rainbowmoonstonestories]

Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings | Chapter 22

Chapters: 22/? Fandom: The Sandman (Netflix 2022, minor content from the Comics) Rating: Explicit Relationships Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x F!Reader  Characters: Dream of the Endless/Morpheus, Lucienne, Matthew the Raven, Mervyn Pumpkinhead, Hob Gadling, Death, Rose Walker, The Corinthian, other minor Sandman characters, Original Characters. Warnings: 18+ content (minors DNI), explicit sexual content, POV switching, very long chapters to read. Summary: You always dreamed of becoming a successful Fashion Designer, sharing your creations with the world and making your father proud. But with him being very ill and so many costs solely weighting on your shoulders, things didn’t go as planned and you had to take a different path instead. An interesting offer led you to the elder Alex Burgess and you were hired as a new housemaid for a very good pay. However, your kindness and outstanding empathy convinced the man to give you an additional task for a doubled compensation; gaining the trust of Dream Of the Endless, held captive into the basement for over a century. Despite the shock of finding such an ethereal entity stripped of all his clothes and contained into a confined space, you had to accept for the sake of your father. But the more you got to speak to the mysterious anthropomorphic personification who didn’t utter a single word, the more you were lost into his eyes that, conversely, seemed to contain the entire universe. A deep connection formed between the two of you, separated only by a thick layer of glass.

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

Credits: The moon dividers were made by firefly-graphics

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

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

Your wonderful vacation in the Dreaming came to an end as Morpheus bestowed gifts and boundless love. Upon arriving at Cape Kennedy, you learned that Lyta's child had already been born. Subtle changes had occurred in everyone's lives, unexpected transformations altering their paths forever. You, on the other hand, faced a tumultuous return to work, grappling with severe physical fatigue back in London.

Author's note: Hello! I hope you guys have been well. Here's another lengthy update for you. I recently realized that in the previous chapter, the name the Reader gave to the deer—Astra—is the same as the little girl Johanna tried to save and lost. This was initially coincidental, as I couldn't recall her name at all. However, it sparked a nice idea that I'll explain towards the end of the story. I didn't want to leave anything to chance, and since the name felt fitting, changing it seemed inappropriate considering all the research I put into it. Instead, I've found a clever way to explain this "glitch" in the narrative. It's not something huge plot-wise, just something that will justify the repeated name.

Now, this chapter delves deeper into the lore of Cape Kennedy's side characters, all of which I've created myself. I wanted to explore a few specific aspects here, as things might become a bit chaotic/dramatic in the next update. I need to ensure I've covered everything thoroughly.

Also, I'm currently revising the first chapters, improving the wording and adding some enrichment. While the story itself will remain unchanged, I aim to make it sound consistent and cohesive from start to finish. After returning to writing in 2022, I've dedicated time to studying and practicing, which has influenced the story's progression. It's hard to believe this fic will be two years old in December!

(The upgraded chapters haven't been uploaded yet. I'll edit each one as soon as they're prepared and ready for posting.)

Gazing at the magnificent Dreaming scenery before you, you heaved a sigh of displeasure. You were fully prepared—though not emotionally ready—to return to Cape Kennedy and depart from the enchanting realm of dreams.

It was absurd, really. You could visit Morpheus's domain every night in your dreams, and he'd even invited you to return physically anytime in the future. There was no logical reason for such despondency; this wasn't a permanent goodbye, after all.

Yet, as you contemplated going back to your normal life, a nagging feeling deep in your consciousness reminded you of the Dreaming's importance to your soul. Leaving it behind felt like bidding farewell to the most beautiful vacation of your life, your heart already aching for it before you'd even left.

Morpheus's arrival heralded your imminent exit from his world. As you turned to greet him, your eyes were drawn to a wooden box nestled in the crook of his right arm. Its intricate design lent it a substantial appearance, adorned with golden decorations reminiscent of your chamber's style and Morpheus' preference.

Curiously, you asked, "What is that?"

He stepped forward, cradling the box in his hands as he examined it. "This is a gift I have prepared for you."

"Another gift? Morpheus, you're truly being too generous."

He smiled, drawing closer to you. "You need only ask, and it shall be yours. All that you long for."

Overcome by a fresh surge of affection for this extraordinary being whom you cherished above all else, you gently cradled his face in your hands and brought your lips to his. The kiss was tender, yet laced with unmistakable determination. "And here I thought nothing could top last night's surprise."

You leaned in for another kiss, finding yourself unable to stop, lost in the moment with the man from whom you could scarcely tear yourself away. Morpheus seemed equally content, returning your kisses with matching fervor until you were both satisfied.

"Do you not you want to see it?" he asked teasingly.

Clearing your throat, you reluctantly detached yourself, taking a deep breath. "Yes, of course."

Instead of opening the box himself, he offered it to you expectantly. You took it with extreme care, almost afraid it might slip from your grasp and shatter. As you held it, you were surprised by how light it felt compared to its sturdy exterior. When you unlatched the front lock, a warm pulse of power emanated from it, tingling your fingertips and running down your spine.

You lifted the lid, revealing the contents nestled on a black velvet cushion. Your eyes widened in astonishment at the sight before you: a luminous pearl-white moonflower that glowed like a living lantern, a palm-sized amethyst crystal of the deepest, most mesmerizing purple, a small glass vial filled with sand— its cap tightly sealed with a thin cord, and a golden bangle that looked tailor-made for your wrist, its surface embellished with tiny, star-shaped crystals that glimmered brilliantly in the light. 

"This blossom shall retain its ethereal beauty, forever in bloom, defying the laws of mortality even as it graces the realm of the Waking," he explained. "The amethyst, a stone of grounding, shall grant immediate solace upon your touch."

"What about the sand?”

"This sand, harvested from the very essence of your Dreamland, bears the same properties as that which resides within my pouch. It is a fragment of your dreams made tangible."

Morpheus's sand, granted to you as a gift…?

"Can I really accept this? Your sand is such a vital source of your power."

"Though but a mere fragment, I am confident in your discretion to safeguard it from unworthy hands."

"That goes without saying. I'll guard it with my life."

He raised his hand, gently brushing the box and allowing his fingers to meet yours in the process. "I have placed tokens of my devotion to you in this vessel of memories, eternal artifacts that shall evoke recollections of your stay in this realm."

Morpheus continued to surpass your expectations effortlessly, offering gift after gift without expecting anything in return. His boundless generosity left you feeling humbled and almost insignificant in comparison.

The bangle needed no introduction. Its aesthetic perfectly complemented the starry theme of the Dreaming while matching the bracelet your mother had given you. As you admired it, you eagerly anticipated wearing them together.

"This is beautiful," you whispered, gently closing the box and caressing its ornate surface. "Thank you, Morpheus. This means the world to me."

“Should you wish for anything else, I will provide it for you.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. "There's only one thing I'd love to bring home with me, but that's not allowed."

As you took his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers with his cool ones, Morpheus immediately grasped your meaning and responded with a subtle smile. "I shall be with you always, my love." 

“I know.”

"Are you ready, my love?" Morpheus asked gently.

“No.”

His shoulders slumped slightly as he gazed at you with affectionate amusement. "Y/N…"

"Sorry, I'm kidding. Well, sort of. Maybe. Not really. But yes, I am ready."

Clutching the strap of your bag, you awaited Morpheus's magic. He gathered you in his embrace, his forehead gently touching yours as he closed his eyes, yours following suit instinctively. A gust of wind tousled your hair, accompanied by the soft swoosh of rising sand. You sensed your surroundings change, the Dreaming gradually fading into the distance, yet remaining forever tethered to you by an invisible thread.

As you remained motionless with your eyes shut tight, Morpheus called your name in a low, velvety voice. "Y/N."

“Mh?”

"We have arrived in the Waking World."

The familiar scents of Florida's natural environment and the subtle shift in ambient light confirmed your return to Cape Kennedy. Still, you found it difficult to release your hold on him, struggling to accept that the most unforgettable week of your life had come to an end.

It was childish, you reasoned, considering how much work awaited you in your waking life. You weren't truly separating from Morpheus or the Dreaming, but a part of you wondered if you could ever truly balance your existence between these two worlds, or if you were inextricably tied to just your own.

You were a mortal connected to an Endless being, with time's relentless march ever-present. Could you truly hope to make the Dreaming your permanent abode?

His lips grazed your cheek, his hands gently resting on your shoulders. "Do you intend to stand here indefinitely?"

“If I do, will you take me back?”

He tenderly caressed your jawline, leaning in to whisper in your ear. "My love, my heart longs to keep you eternally in my embrace. If only I could yield to such selfishness.”

With a resigned sigh, you finally opened your eyes to meet his countenance. "You could. I wouldn't complain."

He shook his head gently. "Whatever shall I do with you?"

"Everything." One hand clutched the memory box, while the other trailed along his chest, settling on his covered collarbones. "But I understand you have vital duties, as do I with my own responsibilities."

"Thank you, Y/N, for allowing me to bring you into my realm. Your devotion for the Dreaming is immeasurable, I cherish it with all that I am."

"The Dreaming is you," you said with a smile. "How could I not adore it?"

Every word you spoke to him, so honest and filled with humanity's most precious light, never failed to make him—the Lord of Dreams, an ever-darker creature—happier than he ever thought he deserved to be.

"I must leave you now, my love. Take heart, for I will seek you in your dreams.”

You nodded, letting your hand fall to your side. "I love you, Morpheus. You know that, don't you?"

"I do. And my love for you, my dear, transcends the very fabric of existence, encompassing all realms, both dreamt and waking."

He pulled you close for one last, lingering kiss before reluctantly letting you go.

"Ever the poet," you remarked with a grin. "Just one of the countless things I like about you."

"Are you attempting to keep me here with you?"

“Is it working?”

He let out a soft chuckle. "I am afraid not. But wherever you go, I will follow."

"That's enough, I suppose."

For a moment longer, you looked deeply into each other's eyes as a wordless understanding passed between you. Then, Morpheus's sand reappeared, rising from the ground at his feet and gradually swirling around his form. You stepped back, giving his powers room to work, as a cloud of grains swallowed him completely. In an instant, the sand twirled and dissipated, leaving no trace of Morpheus as he vanished back to his realm.

You exhaled, feeling a complex blend of satisfaction and wistful melancholy.

Hal's B&B stood just a few feet away. As you retrieved your phone from your bag and powered it on, you were astonished to find that barely a few hours had passed since leaving the hotel in Georgia. Morpheus had mentioned that time flowed differently in the Dreaming, but it was still mind-boggling to realize you'd spent seven days in his company, only to essentially travel back in time.

With a final loving glance at the box, you carefully tucked it into your bag and set off. The house's door stood unlocked, and as you entered, Hal's voice greeted you warmly as soon as you crossed the threshold.

"Welcome back!" He exclaimed enthusiastically. "How was the Cereal Convention? I heard it was brimming with fascinating events."

If only he knew the mayhem you had witnessed there. "Fascinating? That doesn't even begin to describe it.".

You wondered if the news had reported anything about the man who had taken his own life in the car, or if they had even remotely mentioned the rest of the cult, now cursed by Morpheus to a lifetime of regrets.

"I bet," he said mischievously. "Rose told me you got quite a pleasant surprise."

You blinked in confusion. "Pardon?"

"Come now, no need to be coy, sweetheart. You know secrets don't stay hidden for long in this house."

You realized Rose must have concocted a story to account for your absence. Whatever tale she had spun, you found yourself at a loss for how to navigate this unexpected situation. 

“Well…”

"Your boyfriend showed up unexpectedly to pick you up, didn’t he? Now that's what I call romantic!"

Oh.

You had to admit, that wasn't entirely inaccurate. "You've caught me red-handed."

He graciously helped you remove your jacket as you clutched your bag tightly, guarding it as if it contained your most precious possessions, which couldn't be nearer to the truth.

"No wonder you look radiant. I'd recognize that glow anywhere."

"What can I say? He has a flair for dramatic appearances."

As you entered the dining room, you found only Chantal and Zelda at the table, their brunch plates cleared. An unusual hush blanketed the house, a stark departure from its typical bustling energy.

“Hey girls.”

“Good morning, Y/N,” Chantal replied cordially. "Zelda says hello as well."

"Where's everyone else? Have they not risen yet?"

Hal joined them, gesturing invitingly towards an empty chair. "Ah, you've missed quite a bit. You won't believe what's happened."

Taking a seat beside him at the table, you narrowed your eyes. "Nothing bad, I hope?"

"No, no, quite the opposite. You see... it's about Lyta; she's given birth."

Your jaw dropped so suddenly that you half-expected it to clatter onto the floor. How could Lyta have delivered her baby so quickly? Could her time with her husband in the Dreaming have stretched longer, similar to your own experience with the King of Dreams?

“What…?”

"I know. Crazy, right? Did you even know she was pregnant? I don't think Rose ever noticed either."

"I didn't," you replied. "It's generally not something you easily miss... though, I've read about cryptic pregnancies before.”

"Yes, but can a belly grow that big overnight? It wouldn't be the strangest thing I've seen lately, but…"

You pursed your lips, wracking your brain for a plausible explanation for such an extraordinary occurrence. Yet, try as you might, no rational justification presented itself.

"Rose and Jed accompanied Barbie and Ken to the hospital," Chantal interjected.

"We're heading there in a couple of hours,” Hal said. “Are you free? You're welcome to come with us."

You agreed without hesitation. "Absolutely. I've got plenty of time before my next appointment with Andrew, so I'm in."

"Great! We're all eager to meet the little one."

Despite the maelstrom of thoughts in your mind, you chose to set aside your confusion. There was little point in fixating on inexplicable events, especially since you'd come to understand that the Dreaming's magic and uniqueness often transcended conventional reasoning.

Eager to keep your mind occupied, you insisted on helping Hal with the cleaning, brushing aside his protests. After your ample rest, staying active appealed to you more than idling about in the living room. As he washed the dishes, you meticulously dried the tableware and set everything neatly in its place. Hal hummed random songs intermittently, his voice filling the kitchen with cheerfulness and positivity.

"So, this boyfriend of yours. Does he travel often?" Hal inquired, passing you a freshly washed glass.

"Mm, you could say he's practically omnipresent," you replied with a knowing smile.

"He must have quite an important job," Hal observed, his tone a mix of curiosity and admiration.

"It's vital, indeed. His work shapes the very fabric of our existence."

Realizing you had inadvertently revealed more than intended, you bit your tongue. Fortunately, Hal didn't seem inclined to pry further.

"I admire people like that. Those who can truly change the world."

"You have that power too, in your own way."

"I'm not so sure about that," Hal replied modestly. "Though I must admit, I'm finally considering selling this place."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Really? You're going to sell your grandmother's house?"

Hal chuckled. "I've been thinking; dreams can really change your perspective. No matter how bizarre they get."

You gave his upper arm a friendly squeeze. "Whatever path you choose, I'm confident it'll be the right one for you."

"I haven't made any final decisions yet, but I'm now open to giving my career a real shot. Who knows? Maybe next year you'll hear my name as the greatest Broadway performer of all time."

"I can absolutely see that happening. You shine on stage, Hal. I'm sure I've mentioned that before."

The conversation flowed naturally, weaving through various topics, from Hal's future aspirations to your creative pursuits and life in London. Amidst the discussion, he brought up the unusual dream experience that he and the others had collectively undergone, featuring Rose and the Vortex in action. Remarkably, they all vividly recalled the events leading up to Morpheus's attempt to halt Rose's power, but none of them could adequately describe or explain why—or how—this dream had manifested for all of them at once.

His willingness to openly discuss the event with you, regardless of your apparent status as an outsider and his unawareness of your actual involvement, left you astounded. Although he intentionally kept his descriptions vague, they unanimously agreed that Rose had been rather special since her arrival. 

You refrained from confirming or denying it. While the truth was irrefutable, you were reluctant to raise further questions about a girl who had already endured so much on her own.

The dream had left an indelible mark on each of them, sparking a self-reflection and personal development. Apparently, cracks had begun to show in Barbie and Ken's relationship, and Hal was confident it was only a matter of time before it crumbled completely. This revelation didn't surprise you, as you'd harbored reservations about Ken from your very first encounter.

As the late morning wore on, you carved out a private moment in your room. Seated on the bed, you gazed at Morpheus's gifts, a broad smile illuminating your face and a bright sparkle dancing in your eyes. You picked up the golden bangle, turning it over in your hands to look at its minimalist design. Despite its simplicity, it was one of the most beautiful pieces of jewelry you'd ever seen, with its diamond-like stars twinkling brilliantly in the sunlight. As you slipped it onto your wrist, you marveled at its perfect fit, neither too loose nor too tight. It sat snugly against your skin, complementing your mother's leafy bracelet perfectly, as if it were crafted specifically for this pairing. Considering Morpheus's particular attention to detail regarding your appearance, you realized that this harmonious combination was no accident, but rather a deliberate choice on his part.

You missed him deeply, craving his presence with an intensity that eclipsed even your need for breath. It was natural, given that you had been virtually inseparable during your time together, except for the brief absences he was compelled to make. 

Still, you found yourself contemplating your relationship from a new angle, considering the prospect of deepening your bond with him. Was it even possible for a mortal to unite in marriage with an Endless?

Theoretically, given the universal rule that barred Nada from being his lover, you might conclude the answer was no.  Nevertheless, Morpheus had speculated that your Goddess DNA could have shielded you from the dreadful fate his ex had endured as punishment for her transgression.

Ruminating on the matter excessively would only result in mental fatigue.

Shortly thereafter, you journeyed to the hospital with Hal, Chantal, and Zelda, feeling strangely fidgety since leaving the house. You couldn't pinpoint the source of your sudden unease, yet you were convinced it wasn't tied to any specific ill omen. There was simply an odd, indecipherable voice in the recesses of your mind, somehow linked to Lyta and the newborn child. You sensed that the baby's unusual conception, coupled with the Dreaming's essence flowing through its small body, had heightened your innate sensitivity, likely stemming from your deep affinity with Morpheus's realm and the Dream King himself.

Upon arrival, you found Rose and Jed already visiting Lyta and her newborn son, while Barbie and Ken waited patiently in the lobby for their turn. Barbie's characteristic cheerfulness and signature smile masked an entirely different story lurking behind her eyes. Ken appeared oblivious to her distress, his nonchalant demeanor indicating either genuine ignorance or—more likely—a callous disregard for her feelings.

Men like him were utterly contemptible, nothing more than walking deceptions.

The door to Lyta's room creaked open, prompting Barbie to spring to her feet and stride forward, Ken trailing behind. Rose and Jed emerged from around the corner, looking refreshed; their nightmarish ordeals hadn't been enough to break their spirits.

“My turn!” Barbie chirped, her laughter bubbling up.

"Prepare yourself," Rose noted with a smile. "He's pretty cute."

Ken exchanged a playful, masculine handshake and fist bump with Jed. “Oh, we are ready.”

From your seated position, you caught a glimpse of Barbie vanishing around the corner. Her voice dropped drastically, taking on a serious and resentful tone. “Uh, it’s one at a time.”

Ken's face fell, and you couldn't suppress a flicker of satisfaction. Bravo, Barbie!

“Wha… Oh, come on. Babe! Baby, it was just a dream!”

Glancing at Hal, you noticed he was equally captivated by the unfolding drama. "See? I told you," he whispered.

"Do I really want to know what he's referring to?" You asked.

"Oh, that he was caught being literally blown by another woman in his car? No, I don't think you want to know."

Your jaw clenched instantly. "Well, I'll be damned."

Chantal and Zelda, as composed as ever, exuded the aura of gothic countesses in their distinctive black dresses and veils. You'd grown accustomed to their dark appearance, finding them both incredibly beautiful and sophisticated.

Rose and Jed joined you in the waiting room, the girl’s eyes meeting yours with a silent understanding.

“How are they doing?” Hal queried, adjusting his position in the chair.

“Great,” she answered. “The hospital’s releasing them tonight and then we’ll fly home tomorrow.”

“Oh, so soon?” Chantal exclaimed.

Indeed, it felt as if no time had passed since you first met Rose. You'd grown so attached to her that it seemed you'd known her for years, not mere days.

“To New Brunswick,” Hal concluded. “How far is that from New York?”

“Mm, less than an hour. Why?”

“I don’t know, I had this dream last night and now I’m thinking, what if I sell the house and move back?”

Evidently, Hal's indecision about his future plans had dissipated, and his mind was now set on a clear course of action.

Rose's eyes lit up with delight, while Zelda and Chantal exchanged a meaningful look. Words were superfluous between them; Zelda's face, though usually expressionless except for her shy smile, conveyed all her companion needed to know with subtle nuances that only Chantal could interpret.

“We’ll buy the house,” she declared.

A collective gasp of shock rippled through those present, with Hal himself rendered speechless by such an unexpected announcement. The initial bewilderment quickly gave way to joyful smiles as everyone recognized how perfectly all the pieces were falling into place.

Your heart swelled with joy as you beheld the radiant expressions adorning the faces around you, a sight that filled you with an overwhelming sense of fulfillment.

As time wore on, Hal, Chantal, and Zelda took turns visiting Lyta and her unnamed newborn. Barbie's despondency had resurfaced, even as she tried to hide it from the others. Ken persistently badgered her to accept that he meant no harm, but any self-respecting woman would banish a man who dreamed of another straight to Lucifer's hell.

As you approached the vending machine for a drink, Rose excused herself and followed, clearly seeking a private conversation out of earshot from the rest of the group.

“Hey.”

"Hey," you answered with a warm smile. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm okay. I'm still a bit shaken when I think about everything that happened, but... Jed's here with me. That's all that matters."

"He's adorable, by the way," you commented.

"You should've seen him when he was five."

You cracked open your favorite caffeinated beverage, offering Rose one as well. She declined with a shake of her head, her eyes fixed on her feet, revealing a nervousness about what she wanted to say.

When she remained silent, you broke the awkward moment. "Thank you for covering for me," you said gratefully. "You didn't have to do that."

"Well, I figured they'd ask where you went. I wasn't sure when you'd be back, so."

"I must say, you're quite talented when it comes to coming up with excuses on the spot."

Rose laughed softly.  "It wasn't easy. I also had to tell them Gilbert returned to his country due to an "urgent family matter."”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah.”

You leaned against the vending machine, sipping your drink as another silence settled between you. Rose crossed her arms, shifting restlessly with her foot—an anxious tic that only accentuated her growing discomfort.

You sighed, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. "Rose, it's okay. Whatever you want to ask me, go ahead."

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to pry."

You shook your head reassuringly. "It's fine, really. I imagine you have quite a few questions."

"I hope I'm not overstepping, but... is there something going on between you and Lord Morpheus?"

While the question didn't catch you off guard, you considered your options. You could have lied, keeping your relationship with the Endless private and shielding your love from potential judgment. Rose had likely witnessed only the darkness surrounding the Lord of Dreams, unaware of the heart of gold it concealed; a heart heavily scarred from suffering and betrayal.

Ultimately, you decided against it.

A faint smile played on your lips. "Yes, Rose. We are together."

"Oh. Wow, I... I had a feeling, but..."

"You didn't want to jump to conclusions."

“Yeah.”She paused, collecting her thoughts. “It’s just… there's so much I don't understand. When Dream said Jed and I are ‘Children of the Endless’, what did he even mean?"

How could you explain it to her, considering her great-grandfather was one of the cruelest entities in the entire universe, willing to callously manipulate their own sibling and any mortal they came across?

"Is it related to the golden-eyed man Unity saw in her dreams?"

"I'm afraid I can't provide a definitive answer to that," you confessed, feigning ignorance. "In a way, you and your brother are very special, Rose. That’s all I know.”

She mulled over your words, clearly unsatisfied with the explanation, yet accepting it as sufficient for her current needs.

"He's not… really that bad, is he? Morpheus."

“No. He’s not.”

"I know he didn't really want to kill me. I was damaging his world without even knowing what I was doing. It was all my fault to begin with."

You gently touched her elbow, your hand warm against her skin. "You didn't ask to become a Vortex, it was just an unexpected twist of fate you didn't deserve."

"Yes, but I still hurt my friends. Lyta, Hector... even Jed, Hal, everyone around me."

Your hand slid along her wrist as you took her hand in yours. "It was the Vortex. Not you."

"But I was the Vortex. When Dream took Hector, I hated him. I thought he was a monster. Lyta was suffering, and I blamed him for it."

“And now?”

She hesitated, contemplating her response. "Now… I don't, really. It was harsh, but I was the one who set all this in motion. He did what he had to, I guess."

Your smile widened. “Rose…”

"And Unity," she continued. "She gave her life just to save me."

The pain she endured defied consolation, and a persistent guilt would likely shadow her for the foreseeable future.

"She was happy, you know," you revealed. "And very proud of you."

“Unity…?”

"I won't pretend to understand what you're feeling right now. The trauma you've endured is not something that can be easily erased. But I can tell you this: your great-grandmother is at peace.She made her sacrifice for you without any regrets.”

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. Having weathered numerous losses throughout her life, Rose had honed the ability to remain resilient in most situations, a strength she maintained not only for herself but also for those she held dear.

“Thank you for telling me.”

Her voice quivered, and you pulled her into a comforting hug. She gratefully melted into your embrace, finding solace in the warmth she could no longer receive from her mother's arms.

“You’re welcome, Rosie.”

Lyta's baby was a true delight, innocent and tiny, with cheeks so soft they resembled the most delicate confection. You could feel the Dreaming's traces on the infant, yet to anyone else, he appeared perfectly human.  The moment you drew closer, his little hand instinctively grasped your finger, awakening an unexpected maternal, protective instinct in you. Lyta simply smiled, observing how you'd make a wonderful mother someday, a comment you met with a nervous laugh.

The strange gut discomfort you felt vanished as soon as you left the hospital. You had the impression that something about Lyta was not ordinary, but you couldn't quite discern what it meant. Perhaps it was a consequence of your travel between the Dreaming and the Waking World, causing unusual perceptions as you readjusted.

That evening, Lyta and her newborn son were discharged as expected. While Hal finalized the house sale with Chantal and Zelda, you joined the group for a pleasant conversation in the living room, idly toying with your new bracelet as you slid it up and down your wrist. You thoroughly enjoyed your time at the B&B, appreciating the company of wonderful people (with one notable exception) who helped brighten Lyta's mood. The loss of her husband had left an indelible mark, and you admired how everyone tactfully avoided the sensitive subject, refraining from asking questions about the baby's father.

Barbie looked somewhat distracted, her face less vibrant than usual, a subtle alteration that seemed to go unnoticed. She maintained a facade of joy and vivacity, barely interacting with Ken, who sat uncomfortably close to you on the couch. You felt urged to speak with her, but that would have to wait for a more appropriate time.

Despite the tragedies and misadventures he'd faced, Jed was an incredibly adaptable and optimistic kid. His face beamed with smiles, clearly overjoyed at being reunited with his beloved sister. At some point in the evening, you engaged in an enthusiastic discussion with him about popular superhero movies and comics. Rose playfully teased Jed about how, under Gault's influence, he had impersonated a Marvel-esque version of The Sandman. Her lighthearted comment drew genuine laughter from both of you, and Jed rolled his eyes, insisting he had been incredibly cool and powerful in that form.

As night fell, everyone retired to their rooms. Lyta excused herself first, cradling her precious newborn away from the adoring eyes. Rose followed shortly after, and Jed was offered the vacant attic room, formerly Fiddler's Green's quarters. 

Sliding beneath the covers of a bed that wasn't the grand canopy in the Dreaming felt oddly unfamiliar to you. You longed for the soft caress of your enchanted nightgown, the mesmerizing sparkle of crystals, and the soothing ebb and flow of gradient waves on the walls. It seemed paradoxical to long for a place you visited nightly, yet a strange void persisted inside you, like an emptiness you couldn't quite articulate.

With heavy eyelids, you succumbed to slumber, hoping to find Morpheus awaiting your return in the realm of dreams.

You felt weightless, adrift in an ocean of billowing fabrics that obscured the path ahead. Wandering without direction, you pressed forward into the unknown. A distant cry pierced the air, beckoning you closer. As you continued, the fabrics parted, revealing a crib in the distance. The surroundings were hazy and barren, bathed in an ethereal, blue glow.

The more you walked, the farther the crib seemed to get. No matter how hard you tried to reach it, it was as if you were walking on an infinite treadmill. The child inside was whimpering, pleading for you to arrive. 

You pressed on, yet the distance remained unchanged. Anxiety constricted your chest, making it hard to breathe, despite the absence of any visible threat. 

Then the crib began to fade, enveloped by a soft, nebula-like cloud, vanishing into nothingness. You were left uncertain about what you had witnessed, wondering if the baby represented Lyta's son or simply acted as a subconscious symbol; perhaps indicating fresh starts and possibilities. 

Unable to decipher its significance, you endeavored to interpret the dream's significance to no avail. As the vision continued, your consciousness gradually reasserted itself, and you immediately transitioned into an entirely new dreamscape.

You stood in an expansive, surreal forest where trees spiraled upward like great pillars, their trunks woven from shimmering threads of silver and dark purple. The sky above pulsed with colors you'd never seen before—streaks of emerald, amethyst, and soft coral flowing and colliding like auroras. A gentle mist blanketed the forest ground, and as you moved, flowers bloomed beneath your feet. With each step, you ventured deeper into the woods, where strange, beautiful creatures drifted past in the mist, unusual animals with translucent bodies and magical eyes. You felt at peace now, as if this place knew you, welcomed you.

Whatever the crib represented, it couldn't be anything sinister.

The fog lifted, and your heart skipped a beat as you noticed a figure nearby. From the shadows between the trees, Morpheus emerged, his presence both distinct and seamlessly integrated into the scenery. Clad in black that melded with the night's darkness, he seemed to carry the very stars in his eyes and attire. As he approached, the dream's colors intensified, responding to him like a lover's touch.

Your breath itched as he stopped before you, his gaze soft yet filled with an intensity that only Morpheus could hold. You reached out instinctively, your fingers brushing his cool hand. He took it gently, as though grazing something precious. The bracelet he gifted you gleamed golden alongside your mother's cuff. 

"Your dreams grow more beautiful with each passing night, in ever more resplendent tapestries," he murmured, his voice resonating through the forest.

A smile lit your face, and he pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you to bring you into his loving casing. You rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The dreamscape reacted again, a gentle breeze sweeping through the trees, sending petals into a soft dance around you.

"Every time I'm with you, I feel complete," you whispered.

Morpheus tilted your chin up, his thumb brushing your cheek as his eyes softened with a tenderness that was becoming more frequent. "Then let this moment last for as long as you're asleep," he said, his lips meeting yours in a kiss as warm and infinite as the dream itself. 

You cuddled against him, sinking into the tranquility and depth of your connection, as the environment continued to pulse with revitalizing energy. 

As you parted, he held your face in his hands, his cerulean irises tracing your every feature as though etching this moment into his memory. "I am bound to you, in dreams and beyond," he uttered genty. "No place, nor time, can keep me from finding you."

"Never cease seeking me. Please."

"Never, my love. And you, forever call upon my name, through the realms of fantasy and waking.”

It was rather striking to reflect on how Rose and Lyta had arrived in Cape Kennedy as a pair and were now departing the B&B as a quartet, a poignant example of dreams' transformative power. Their journey exemplified how the seemingly impossible can indeed materialize into reality.

Hal assured he would join them once everything was properly settled and his belongings were packed, ready for the grand opening of a new live show; the next chapter of his life.

While you couldn't reveal to Rose the book she'd one day write, you encouraged her to pursue graduate school, confident in her potential for extraordinary accomplishments. Your time together had been brief, yet saying goodbye to her tugged at your heartstrings. What had begun as a simple work collaboration in Florida had flourished into something far more meaningful; you'd cultivated new friendships that you hoped would stand the test of time, enduring long after this unexpected adventure.

In the blink of an eye, the house suddenly felt much emptier.

Throughout the day, you noticed Barbie's conspicuous absence from the common areas, rarely catching a glimpse of her around the house. Ken mentioned that Barbie was feeling unwell and had decided to recuperate in their room. The situation raised suspicion, especially since Ken seemed more intent on hovering around you in the kitchen, attempting to engage you in unwelcome conversation. Oblivious to your signals, he disregarded your curt responses and clearly disinterested tone, persisting in his efforts at dialogue.

"You know, I was thinking, you haven't seen much of Cape Kennedy, have you? I could take you on a tour one of these days."

You froze with your cup of tea suspended midair, staring blankly at him as Hal cleared his throat.

"I appreciate the offer, but I have work commitments," you replied, your tone icy.

"Ah, yes, of course. But maybe I could, you know, offer you a ride after dinner one evening?"

You felt utterly disgusted, the tea suddenly losing its flavor in your mouth. Ken's partner was confined to their room, claiming to be ill. But here he was, attempting to flirt with you behind Barbie's back.

His behavior was reprehensible. You abandoned your drink, pouring it down the sink and hastily rinsing the mug.

"Oh! What about dining out? I know a lovely restaurant by the beach."

Ugh.

You considered answering with more excuses to make him desist, but you knew such tactics wouldn't deter a man like him. Ultimately, you decided that a razor-sharp response was your only way out.

"Look, I don't think my boyfriend would appreciate your persistence. And believe me, he's not the forgiving type."

Ken's grin faltered, though he still tried to maintain his charm. "I was just—"

"You're asking me out while your girl is sick upstairs. How considerate of you."

Hal, clearly intrigued by the unfolding scene, became more attentive, his eyes fixed on the two of you.

"You may be accustomed to women fawning over you, but let me be crystal clear: I wouldn't consider someone like you even if you were the last man on Earth."

Ken stood frozen, his smile fixed and hollow, utterly speechless. He seemed incapable of formulating any coherent sentence, caught off guard by your blunt rejection.

"Now, if you'll excuse me," you said, turning on your heel and striding away.

Without looking back, you left Ken to contemplate your rebuff as you climbed the stairs, the kitchen falling into a telling hush. There was only one pressing matter you wanted to address now: Barbie. If Ken was failing to provide the care and support she needed, perhaps a friendly visit could lift her spirits more effectively than her inconsiderate partner could.

You recognized that Ken's intentions weren't specifically malicious, but his casual fantasizing about other women and viewing dates outside his relationship as normal proved he was incapable of full commitment. How Barbie had managed to tolerate him for so long was incomprehensible, but you couldn't help admiring her patience.

You paused before her room, knocking softly a few times, and waited for a response that never came. Though you surmised she might be asleep, an intuition whispered otherwise.

"Barbie?" you called gently. "It's Y/N. Are you all right in there?"

Soft footsteps padded across the floor, followed by the click of the door's lock. As it swung open, Barbie showed up, looking visibly drained. Her face, devoid of its usual makeup, and her refined clothes replaced by simple pajamas, presented a notable difference from her typical polished appearance.

“Hey!”

Her forced glee hit you right in the chest, totally unconvincing, with puffy eyes revealing recent tears.

"Hey. Is everything okay?" You inquired again.

"Yeah! It's just a headache. Nothing serious!"

You exhaled softly, your brow furrowing with concern. "Would you like to talk about it?"

"It's nothing, really! I just need some rest," she insisted with another artificial grin, her voice wavering slightly.

"Barbie, I know I'm still relatively new to you, and you might not feel comfortable opening up to me. But if you need anything at all, even just a listening ear, I'm here for you."

She looked at you in silence, her veneer of cheerfulness intact but slowly crumbling. Her smile faded, lips curving downward as her head dropped in defeat. “Would you like to come in?”

Relieved, you nodded. "If I may."

“Sure.”

She stepped aside, inviting you in. As you entered, the door closed behind you, cocooning the two of you in privacy. Barbie walked to the rumpled bed and sat down, patting the spot in front of her with the familiarity of an old friend at a sleepover. On one of the nightstands, an empty mug stood sentinel beside a few untouched, stale cookies.

"I hope I didn't disturb you," you said, settling onto the mattress.

“No, I wasn’t sleeping at all.”

"What's wrong? I promise you, anything you say will remain confidential."

Barbie let out a chuckle that quickly morphed into a sniffle. "I feel like I can't confide in anyone. People would think I’m silly for even considering this."

You moved forward, tentatively placing your hand on hers. "It can't be foolish if it's keeping you locked into your room."

She shook her head slowly, her eyes welling up as tears began to trickle down her cheeks. "Have you ever felt like you've lost something important, something that doesn't even exist?"

“What do you mean?”

She released a desperate laugh, a hysterical sound that bore no resemblance to genuine mirth. "I... I used to have this beautiful dream. I had many incredible friends, talking animals that cared for and protected me. Can you imagine?”

You offered an encouraging smile, listening attentively.

"My closest companion was Martin Tenbones, a creature resembling a giant dog... or whatever he was meant to be. You probably think I'm crazy, don't you?"

"Not at all. I'm intrigued and would love to hear more about your dream world," you replied warmly.

"It's hard to put into words. It wasn't just a fantasy, it felt like another life. A place where I could be more than just 'Barbie', but finally myself."

"You're speaking about it in the past tense..."

Her tears flowed more freely. "I’m afraid I can’t dream about it anymore."

Oh…

"Last night, I had no dreams. I know it may not seem like a big deal, but I can tell that something has severed my connection to that world.”

Having witnessed your own dream beach reduced to an arid desert, you deeply empathized with Barbie's attachment to her personal subconscious place. Yet, you were fortunate to be with the Lord of Dreams, who could easily restore it to its original splendor, perhaps even enhance its beauty. Morpheus guided you through the Vortex's perils, extracting you from the Dreaming before your link to it could be irreparably damaged.

“I had a mission, something very important to do. And now I’m lost.”

“Barbie…”

"Ken wouldn't understand," she said with a hiccup. "He never does."

You squeezed her hand comfortingly, warmth spreading between your palms.

"I'm sorry. I told you this would sound stupid."

"Well, it's not," you replied with conviction. "As someone who understands the significance of dreams, I can tell you that your sadness is completely justified."

“Really…?”

"Yes. And please, forgive my frankness, but what do you see in a man like Ken?"

Her lower lip quivered as she wiped away her tears. "Honestly, I don't even know anymore. I thought we were perfect together, as ‘cliché as it can be, given our names."

You shrugged. "Names are just names. I doubt that's why you chose him."

"No. He made me feel special, loved… but I fear that was only a beautiful fairy tale. I knew he enjoyed flirting, but this? It’s just too much for me."

You hesitated to disclose Ken's invitation, fearing it would only exacerbate her distress. Considering her fragile emotional state, you couldn't bring yourself to be so insensitive.

"You deserve far better than what he's giving you. I can see that plain as day."

"I don't know. Maybe I set myself up for this. I should have seen the signs."

"We all make mistakes, we're only human. I've certainly had my share of faults in past relationships."

Barbie's lips quirked into a genuine smile, her first in a while. "Do you think I can find someone who'll treat me like a princess in the real world, too?"

"Not a princess. More like the magnificent queen you truly are."

Barbie chortled, and you joined in, feeling the atmosphere in the room finally lighten. "I mean it. You're beautiful, fun, sweet, and open to imaginative possibilities. You don't need a knight in shining armor, real princesses are perfectly capable of writing their own happy endings. Ken doesn't realize how lucky he is."

She swallowed hard, brushing away fresh tears with trembling hands.

"This is your life, Barbie, and I can't tell you what to do. I just hope you'll make the right choice for yourself. That guy's a perfect idiot, too immature to see how amazing you are."

As you stood from the bed, she sighed shakily, drawing her knees to her chest and curling into a ball. "Y/N… can I ask you something absurd?”

“Of course.”

“Do you think I'll ever be able to dream again?"

As you opened the door, you glanced back at Barbie's huddled form. Without Morpheus' insight, you couldn't fathom the fate of dreamers severed from the Dreaming by the Vortex. Lacking this crucial knowledge, you found yourself unable to offer a concrete answer to alleviate her sorrow.

Nevertheless, your heart told you there was only one logical, compassionate answer.

“I’m sure of it.”

The moment you left her to her own reflections, Barbie silently opened the bedside table's drawer, rummaging for an object she had discreetly tucked between books. As she retrieved it, she stared at the rose quartz pendant in her hand, now cold and lifeless, its power inexorably spent.

She clutched the pendant to her chest, inhaling deeply before exhaling, her resolve crystallizing.

As your first week in Florida concluded, your collaboration with Andrew grew more intensive with each meeting. More briefs poured in, shaping the project's trajectory for its official launch. When the first prototypes emerged from the workshop, it became clear that additional revisions were necessary. You had to conced that some of your ideas hadn't translated from concept to physical materials as seamlessly as you'd hoped. Undeterred, you offered to refine the sketches, either by incorporating crucial missing elements or starting anew with concepts that seemed to spring effortlessly from your imagination. This time, Andrew's approval wasn't required; his expression alone conveyed that the newly sewn sets embodied the perfection he had envisioned.

Meanwhile, Ken avoided approaching you in the house, hanging his head like a scolded puppy and barely mumbling greetings in the mornings. The atmosphere grew tense as Barbie silently declared her breakup with him by moving out of their shared room and into Rose's and Lyta's vacant chamber. Unsurprisingly, Ken's futile efforts to win Barbie back were nothing short of ridiculous, every excuse failing spectacularly, as if he were hurling himself against an invisible, elastic barrier.

To compound matters, Hal—Ken's sole confidant—had finally summoned the courage to permanently leave. With newfound confidence, he was determined to reunite with Rose and her family, bolstered by his belief that he could make it on Broadway. 

You had to admit, upon seeing Hal fully prepared with his suitcase and giant bag, he would likely be the person you'd miss the most in Cape Kennedy. Although Gilbert had quickly become your favorite (for reasons that now made much more sense), Hal had treated you like a best friend from the instant you emerged from Andrew's vehicle, seeing past your 'celebrity' status and addressing the authentic you with complete naturalness.

Moved by an irrepressible need to repay his kindness, you offered to create the perfect costume for his Dolly persona in the future, a gesture that made Hal's eyes sparkle with pure excitement. The prospect of wearing your design on stage made him feel like a star, and you eagerly anticipated seeing him perform for audiences worldwide.

As the days passed, the house grew more solitary, transforming into an unrecognizable place. Even Barbie decided to depart for New York by the tenth day of your stay, unwilling to endure Ken's omnipresence and compelled to rediscover herself through a new beginning. One by one, they were all witnessing their lives completely turned upside down, for better or worse, by the hand of Destiny. A fate that was clearly set in motion by the Vortex's influence, affecting their Waking World just as much as their dreams.

"Thank you, Y/N. You're a sweetheart," Barbie uttered gently, embracing you on the threshold. Her hug was so tight it nearly squeezed the breath from your lungs. "Let's keep in touch. I'd love to see you again sometime.”

"Absolutely," you said, gently rubbing her back. "Take good care of yourself, Barbie."

“You too.”

As the taxi pulled up, Barbie strode out of the house without a backward glance. Inside, Ken slumped on the couch, his face a portrait of total defeat. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he had royally messed up, with no hope of mending the rift he had caused.

Barbie radiated a diva-like aura with her impeccably styled hair, flawless lipstick, and chic sunglasses that gave her the stunning look often adorning magazine covers. She waved at you, Chantal, and Zelda before entering the car, occupying the backseat with the grace of a regal swan. A large pink pendant hung from her neck, one she had never worn before, glistening and glowing under the sun.

In fact, it shimmered more brilliantly than any ordinary gemstone, causing your own necklace to suddenly warm against your skin. Before you could take a closer look, Barbie was gone, leaving her former home behind for an uncertain future.

You shook your head, dismissing that persistent feeling of déjà vu. Your attachment to the Dreaming was simply playing tricks on your mind, causing you to see things that weren't actually there.

Probably.

During your final days in Florida, you toiled relentlessly at Andrew's workshop, scarcely finding time to return to the B&B for rest. Chantal and Zelda seemed now solitary figures, quietly enjoying their drinks in the hushed house. Ken often disappeared into town, presumably in pursuit of a new conquest to seek solace in new companionship. Yet they looked unperturbed, their sweet smiles ever-present and nary a complaint voiced. 

While they genuinely missed their friends, Chantal and Zelda were self-sufficient women who found complete contentment in each other's company.

On the eve of your return to London, you had another vivid dream. While the recurring image of a newborn crying in an empty, bluish space persisted, your nightly visits to the Dreaming were becoming increasingly lifelike.

Morpheus accompanied you on most of your explorations, walking beside you or standing amidst the evocative landscapes of his realm. He always welcomed you with the warmest expression the Lord of Dreams could muster, his subtle smiles illuminating his face at your arrival.

After much hesitation, you finally broached the subject with Morpheus about Barbie and how the Vortex had removed her from the Dreaming. 

"Is there anything you can do to help her?"

Morpheus shook his head, giving you a thoughtful but firm response, rooted in his views on the purpose and temporality of dreams. “Each dream has its time, its arc, and its end. Her connection to The Land was severed as part of a larger design, one that is beyond any individual's desires, even mine."

Noticing your crestfallen countenance, he elaborated. “Dreams are both gifts and lessons, my love. They are there to guide mortals, but they must also be let go when their purpose is fulfilled. To restore it now would be to disrupt the path she must walk."

"So, she's unable to return to her dreams?"

"One day, perhaps. A dream is alive only when it meets the dreamer’s true need."

You averted your gaze, allowing his words to settle in your mind. After a moment, you turned back to him, your eyes glistening with emotion. "If I were severed from this world and from you, it would be unbearable. I can't imagine my life without the Dreaming, I would probably die."

Your words deeply moved him, though he tried to conceal it behind his characteristic gravitas. "You would not be disconnected from me, my love. Not truly. No matter the forces at play, I told you I would always find you, in dreams or beyond them."

He reached out to touch your face, offering comfort and promise, acknowledging your compassion and worries without dismissing them. "If ever such a fate were threatened, I would bend the realms themselves to keep you close."

Your smile returned as your fingers toyed with the lapels of his coat. "You would, wouldn't you?"

"Even the King of Dreams is not immune to the fear of loss," he admitted. "And you possess a unique quality that no other mortal will ever match."

"Are you implying that the Dreaming would suffer without me?"

"Not only the Dreaming. I am its ruler, yet above all, I am a being irrevocably bound to your heart."

That very heart raced with exhilaration, sending waves of warmth cascading through your body like a gentle fireworks display.

"You’re so sweet,” you expressed.

“Sweet?”

You tilted your head. "I know you're all powerful and mighty, and that 'sweet' isn't typically associated with you. But with me, you're so wonderful that I doubt any other being in existence could ever compare."

He grinned mischievously, his eyes twinkling with veiled intentions. “Perhaps I should remind you of my true nature, my love. As befits the King of Nightmares.”

You laughed, crossing your arms with a glint of curiosity on your face. "Oh? Is that a challenge? Because, Your Majesty, I'm not one to run away so easily."

For a moment, silence blanketed the space between you. The air grew still, charged with electric anticipation as Morpheus's posture shifted. An otherworldly darkness seeped into the scene, dimming the ambient illumination. Cold moonlight took its place, casting elongated shadows on the ground. The world around you transformed into a vast canvas, painted in shades of deep blue and ink-black, completely bereft of stars.

With a flick of his hand, Morpheus stepped back. The space stretched into an endless void, where whispered secrets echoed and your surroundings dissolved into an illusion of midnight sky. His form began to transform, subtly at first. His robes billowed like storm clouds, infused with silver strands that glinted like trapped starlight. His eyes glowed with pale fire, and his hair flowed freely, no longer tethered by gravity.

Despite the imposing figure before you, you felt no fear. In fact, the beauty of it—the raw, infinite greatness—thrilled you to no end and made you shiver in awe rather than terror. He embodied everything he claimed to be: powerful, enigmatic, and fearsome—yet he remained, undeniably, the man you loved.

He circled you slowly, his breath ghosting over your ear as he leaned in from behind. His voice boomed, almost demonic, though unmistakably his own. "So bold… and so fragile. Will you not bend and yield to your Lord?"

You recognized this as an enthralling performance, a thrilling roleplay that left you completely spellbound.

"You are magnificent," you breathed, your voice brimming with admiration and something else. "Truly, I don’t need to tell you how willingly I'd surrender to you. You already know."

His hands wrapped around your waist, strong and secure. "It seems," he said with a wry smile, "that even the King of Nightmares cannot dissuade you."

"Never," you replied, tracing delicate patterns on his hands. "Not when I know that you'd never harm me."

His dark and menacing guise melted away, replaced by a soft chuckle as he reverted to his normal form. The inky blackness dissipated, giving way to the previously vibrant colors of the dreamscape.

With a touch of reverence, he lifted your hand to his lips. "Perhaps," he murmured, "I shall remain 'sweet' for you alone."

You threw your head back, sinking against his chest as laughter bubbled from your lips. Your eyes sparkled with immense happiness and love. "Now I wish I never had to wake up."

For the remainder of the night, Morpheus granted your wish, keeping you blissfully ensconced in the realm of fantasies.

As you settled into your seat on the plane home, you went through a curious distortion of time. The fortnight in Cape Kennedy and week in the Dreaming had passed in a blink, yet paradoxically left you feeling as though you'd been away for eons.

You were exhausted, the jet lag evidently taking its toll on you. Readjusting to your regular routine proved unexpectedly daunting, as you had to deal with frequent migraines and an unsettling tendency to nod off at inopportune moments throughout the day. 

You missed the friends you'd made, the cozy ambiance of the former B&B, and the tranquil Floridian nights that contrasted so starkly with London's bustling soundscape.

The newborn continued to make sporadic appearances in your dreams, but the crib remained just out of reach, its cryptic message undecipherable. Curiously, this recurring vision didn't unsettle you; upon waking, it often slipped from your mind entirely.

Upon returning home, you quickly established regular long-distance communication with Hal and Rose. They now shared a peaceful home as a family, along with Jed, Lyta, the baby, and an intriguing man—a friend of Rose's—who had seemingly won Hal's heart. Rose had finally submitted her college application and begun brainstorming ideas for her future book. Meanwhile, Hal was actively pursuing a career as a Broadway performer, eagerly anticipating news of a potential audition.

After carefully considering numerous options, Lyta finally settled on a name that perfectly suited her son: Daniel Hall.

Corbyn & Jones was busier than ever, inundating you with work the moment you stepped into the office. The company overflowed with orders and requests for new projects, which Ella presented as promising opportunities for the future. With the Fashion Show behind you and sales skyrocketing across online platforms, local stores, and social media, your friend decided to entrust you with an equally creative venture, one with the potential to become the company's crown jewel. Both figuratively and literally.

"Are you serious?" you asked, your eyes wide as you stared at her face in disbelief.

"I don't see why not. You've always had a passion for jewelry, and I distinctly remember you designing some back in high school."

"Those were just early experiments, hardly worth mentioning."

She grinned, casually tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You used to say the same about all of your sketches. Yet here you are." 

You sighed, massaging your throbbing temples and stifling a yawn. "Fine, you've got a point. But I'm wondering, are we really prepared to take on more work? It's not exactly difficult for people to find quality accessories from other sources."

"We've received numerous requests for jewelry to complement our products. It's a bold move, but we can't afford to ignore our competitors."

You brought your finger to your lips, contemplating. "I guess you’re right."

"Look, I know you've just returned from Cape Kennedy and haven't had a chance to catch your breath, I can see how tired you are. Still, you're the only one I can trust with this," Ella explained. "Whenever I scroll through my social media feed, all I see are the same products being marketed as 'exclusive drop collections' by different brands or influencers, simply because they're trending. I don't want to slap our name on a generic necklace, bracelet or ring and claim we made it. I want something special, something that only you can create."

Ella had always been fiercely competitive. Seeing an opportunity to make a real impact, her eyes lit up with a reinvigorated enthusiasm.

"I'm not asking you to do anything complex, I swear. You have an excellent sense of style, and you're very distinctive. You emanate this constant aura that's simply goddess-like."

You couldn't help but chortle, amused by the unintended accuracy of her statement. Whatever she saw coming from you was no longer a coincidence, now that you were aware of your true origins.

"I'll cover the material costs, and Oliver has connections that could help with soldering services and gem sourcing. Perhaps you could do some research? Visit a few places, gather inspiration, and compile elements you find appealing?"

As Ella elaborated, you found yourself increasingly drawn to the idea. You couldn't shake the concern about managing deadlines with yet another project on your plate, but it was worth a try if it meant outperforming competitors and surpassing market projections.

"I've already got a couple of places in mind for you to check out."

Your gaze drifted to your wrist, where your mother's bracelet and Morpheus' bangle gleamed under the artificial light. With these treasures as inspiration, you realized you might already possess the guidance needed to excel in this new endeavor.

“Fine, let’s do it,” you declared.

"Really? You're on board?"

"I mean, you're still my boss. We might be friends, but that's no excuse for me to slack off or neglect my responsibilities. Besides, you might be onto something here, and I'm genuinely curious to give it a try."

Ella slammed her hand onto the desk with such force that you nearly jumped out of your seat.

"Ha! Those businesses better brace themselves. We've got a secret weapon right here!"

"Come on, Ella. I'm hardly a secret weapon."

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to us. And to me, because I've found my bestie again. I'm absolutely thrilled to be working with you!"

You nodded, a nostalgic smile playing on your lips. "Right. Remember how we used to daydream about this when we were teenagers?"

"How could I forget? I always wanted to run my own company with you as my creative genius. You'd tell me it was too good to be true, but I never stopped insisting it was possible. And now, look at us!"

"Indeed, I was wrong. I must admit, I was quite the pessimist back then."

Ella rose to her feet, placing her hands on her hips with an air of confidence and satisfaction. "Yeah, and I definitely prefer this version of you."

"I could take offense to that, but honestly, I feel the same way."

“Yaaaaas! Slay!!!”

The office door swung open, and Oliver strode in, clutching a handful of papers. His eyebrow arched quizzically at the scene before him. By now, you were certain he'd grown accustomed to his wife's antics, yet the expression on his face was absolutely priceless, especially as he caught sight of her, arms thrust triumphantly skyward.

"What's all this ruckus?"

"Oops, sorry, love. Was I too loud?"

"I'd wager they heard you clear across the street," Oliver quipped, his lips quirking into a sardonic smirk.

Ella waved off his comment, taking the papers he offered. "Is this the list you mentioned?"

"Yes. I assume you've already informed Y/N about our new quest?"

"Indeed, I have. We were just discussing it."

Oliver pushed his glasses up his nose, turning his attention to you. "Given Ella's reaction, I take it you've accepted our proposal."

Your friend’s bouncing movements reminded you of a cartoon character, the passage of years only enhancing her comedic charm.

You gracefully crossed your legs, settling into the swivel chair with your arms and back comfortably supported, ignoring the looming fatigue and headache. "When do I start?"

Once again, you found yourself wandering through an unknown landscape, a twilight meadow bathed in the deep, velvety indigo of night. The profound quiet was broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves as you stepped forward, drawn toward a soft radiance in the distance. Fireflies danced around you, their tiny lights twinkling like celestial guides along your path. The air carried a mysterious warmth, a gentle weight that felt both calming and comforting, as if something unseen were embracing you.

As you moved closer, the glow revealed itself to be a single flower blooming amidst the grass, its petals as bright and sparkly as moon dust. Intrigued, you knelt down, extending your fingers. The petals pulsed with a gentle rhythm, reminiscent of a soft heartbeat. Your hands hovered over it, sensing the energy of something alive, tender and delicate, yet infinitely strong. A deep connection stirred, an instinctive awareness that you were being entrusted with something precious.

When you touched the flower, warmth spread through your palms, wrists, and elbows, life itself flowing into your veins. You closed your eyes, breathing in the faint scent of lavender and sweetness. An overwhelming tenderness rose inside your heart: a love you couldn't describe, a caring that was simply boundless.

A delicate whisper drifted through the meadow, a soothing voice that seemed to come from both earth and sky. "This light now belongs to you," it echoed. "Soon, it will flourish. And so will you."

The flower dissolved, sinking into your chest like a subtle pulse settling inside your heart. You tried to speak, but your throat constricted, silencing any sound. A thin layer of bright blue fog descended, and then you heard it again, the familiar cry of a child, the now visible distant crib beckoning you.

You attempted to rise, but were anchored to the grass as if you were a deeply rooted tree. Strangely, you felt no desire to resist or struggle. A flicker of concern crossed your mind, yet an underlying calm reassured you that there was no cause for worry.

This time, your voice emerged, speaking a single name, the only one that occupied your thoughts.

“Daniel…?”

The baby neither reacted, cried, nor moved. Suddenly, silence blanketed the scene, and everything around you faded into nothingness.

You awoke, the residual warmness from your dream still occupying your chest—a mysterious sensation yet to be understood. However, as comforting as it felt, the moment you pushed yourself into a sitting position, reality struck. You were drenched in sweat, your nightgown clinging uncomfortably to your skin. A wave of nausea surged from the pit of your stomach, twisting your face into a grimace. 

You dismissed it as insignificant, attributing it to the minor anxiety that had followed you from the realm of dreams into the Waking World. The recurring presence of that child in your subconscious remained an enigma, leaving you uncertain about its nature. As Morpheus had explained, Daniel Hall's conception during Lyta's dreams forged an unbreakable bond between him and the dream realm. Could the newborn be reaching out to you in Morpheus' domain for some unknown reason?

Despite wracking your brain for answers, you were simply left with even more questions.

You tried to lie down again, pushing aside the bedsheets as you took deep breaths. Unfortunately, the queasiness persisted. Instead of easing, it grew more intense, significantly so.

And then you felt it, that dreadful urge to expel whatever was churning in your stomach. You leapt out of bed with lightning speed, one hand clamped firmly over your mouth as you raced to the bathroom. You despised it and fought to contain it, but whatever it was, it refused to subside on its own.

Unable to hold it back any longer, you hunched over the toilet, your body convulsing as you violently ejected the remnants of your dinner. The ordeal continued relentlessly until you felt completely hollow, as if you'd purged every last morsel from your system—intestines and all.

When it was finally over, you relished the relief, washing your mouth and face to rid yourself of the sticky residue of sweat on your skin and the acrid taste persisting on your tongue. Your abdominal muscles contracted painfully, as if you'd just completed an intense set of sit-ups at the gym.

Good lord. You felt like a wrung-out dishrag.

Whether you had eaten something bad or were experiencing delayed symptoms of travel burnout, you desperately wished for this nausea to leave you alone. It had ebbed and flowed throughout the night, barely relenting even as you left the house. 

It was unusual, you rarely had digestive issues. Considering the whirlwind of your recent trip, flying to Cape Kennedy, physically moving in and out of the Dreaming, and then back onto the plane home again, it probably made sense that your body was finally feeling the strain. 

Fortunately, you made it through your workday without a repeat of your previous night's disaster, successfully keeping your lunch where it belonged. You convinced yourself it was just a random occurrence, a fleeting ailment that would pass as your body naturally recovered.

You pored over your sketches and scoured your Pinterest boards for further inspiration. With an array of gemstone pieces and chains spread across the table, you let your creativity flow, crafting designs that were both unique and original. Ella desired something innovative, jewelry that stood out from the current market offerings, and you were determined to exceed her expectations.

The process was unexpectedly enjoyable and fulfilling, surpassing your initial skepticism. Your research and material acquisitions produced impressive results, with several of your creations already sent to the workshop for soldering and welding. Weariness was a constant companion, testing your resilience and mental focus over the following days. Nevertheless, a few stifled yawns and tired eyes paled in comparison to the joy of seeing your efforts appreciated.

Just as you were ready to forget about your mysterious illness, the nausea suddenly resurfaced one day as you walked out of the shower. It lasted only a few minutes before subsiding, allowing you to sleep without feeling sick or making another dash to the toilet. 

Over a week had elapsed since your return, and with your appetite slightly diminished, you began to question whether your random symptoms were truly related to the trip and the tumultuous circumstances you had encountered in Florida. Ella and your colleagues appeared unaffected after your recent restaurant outing, yet you couldn't shake the suspicion that something on your plate might have caused potential food poisoning. 

On the other hand, you wondered if this physical disorder was merely a result of exhaustion. Your father had noticed your pallor and evident fatigue, expressing concern about how unsteady you seemed on your feet. With the new jewelry project underway you'd been bustling about, visiting stores and different studios to source new supplies. You hadn't exactly been cautious, willingly pushing yourself far beyond your limits.

During your walk home from a fruitful excursion, you had to stop multiple times due to unexpected breathlessness and lightheadedness. These strange manifestations left you feeling disconcerted, as your body behaved in ways you didn't recognize.

Ultimately, you dismissed your condition as a mere stomach bug or something equally benign. You saw no reason to fret over what you believed would be a short-lived malady.

Yet, was it truly so insignificant…?

You hadn't seen Hob Gadling since before your trip abroad, and your work subsequently left little room for socializing. In spite of his persistent invitations for drinks, you regrettably had to decline repeatedly. Hob, true to his nature, remained incredibly patient and understanding, encouraging your professional growth while reminding you to prioritize self-care.

Finally meeting him felt like reuniting after an eternity apart. His bright smile was better than any medicine, his company one of the most precious things in the world. To be honest, you felt so sleepy and generally under the weather that you were tempted to reschedule. However, you knew that finding a better opportunity in the near future was unlikely.

"Are you sure you just want tea? You're not ordering anything else? It's my treat, you know."

"I know," you replied. "It's just that I've been feeling a bit off lately."

"Oh, is that so? Sounds like you might be burning the candle at both ends again."

"My job keeps me busy, but it's nowhere near as hectic as when I worked in Wych Cross. I can sit for hours without being called away."

Hob bit into a piece of tart, humming in response as he chewed. 

"How are things going at school?" you inquired.

"Some students can be quite a handful,” he said after swallowing. “But you know how it is."

"You've become a role model for so many young people. That's something to be proud of," you observed.

"Well, when you've lived as long as I have, you inevitably accumulate quite a trove of useful experiences."

"It's not just your extensive knowledge that makes you awesome, Hob. You're intelligent, kind, and always attentive to those who need support."

"If you'd known me back in 1600, you might think differently."

"But I know you now, and I truly appreciate the man sitting in front of me."

His grin widened as he reached for your wrist, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Or maybe, I have the best influence right here."

"Oh, come on. You were already like this when we first met."

Immersed in the joyful atmosphere, you savored the shared laughter and companionship of a treasured friend. While you loved your creative job, having a day free from work finally gave you the chance to unwind and momentarily set aside thoughts of impending deadlines.

The afternoon progressed perfectly until an unexpected disruption occurred. As the waitress approached the adjacent table, a potent coffee aroma wafted through the room. The scent went straight to your head, compelling you to abandon the remaining of your tea as a sudden wave of sickness engulfed you all over again, reminiscent of a rising tide.

"Are you all right, Y/N?" Hob asked, his eyebrows knitting together.

"Yes, it's just... isn't this smell a little too strong?"

“What smell?”

“The coffee.”

Hob furrowed his brow in genuine confusion. He sniffed the air, taking a moment to analyze it. "I don't know," he said. "It smells like normal coffee to me. I don't find it particularly overpoweri—"

You abruptly sprang from your chair, weaving through customers and tables to reach the mercifully vacant bathroom. Stunned, Hob followed in your wake, gently rapping on the door and calling your name with apprehension. Curious onlookers paused their conversations to observe the scene, while the waitress craned her neck inquisitively.

You heard him, but couldn't respond. Doubled over and coughing, you felt your fluids rushing out uncontrollably. The malaise hit you with full force, dropping you to your knees as your body eliminated its contents a second time, leaving your throat raw and burning. 

"Y/N, please say something. What's happening?"

Only when you were certain you had nothing left to expel did you open the door. A searing pain shot through your forehead, and the entire path from your trachea to your stomach felt inflamed, as if ready to burst from the inside out.

"I'm sorry about that," you mumbled, your voice hoarse. "I'm fine."

"That didn't seem like 'fine' to me. Would you like me to drive you home? I think some rest might do you good, Shortcake."

Completely drained, quite literally, you nodded silently and returned to your table. You gathered your belongings, leaving behind your dinks, unfinished and forgotten. Each step felt leaden and sluggish as you made your way to Hob's car, shrouded in a thick, uncomfortable silence. With a heavy sigh, you leaned back against the seat, shutting your eyes and clutching your bag's strap tightly.

"I'm so sorry," you apologized dejectedly. "I've ruined our outing."

"I'd rather see you feeling well than keep you out when you're sick to the bone. Why didn’t you tell me? We could have postponed it to another day."

You pouted. "I really wanted to see you today, though."

"And I want you to take care of yourself. I can't die, remember? I've got all the time in the world."

"I just don't get it,” you protested, your voice wavering. “I can feel fine for a few days in a row, and then suddenly I'm puking my guts."

"How long have you been experiencing these symptoms?"

"I've been feeling a bit strange since I landed last week, but nothing major, really. Just the occasional headache, fatigue, that sort of thing."

The car halted at a red light, its engine rumbling in the quiet street.

"You mentioned the coffee smell was particularly strong."

"Yes, I don't know why. I could not stand it."

“Mh.”

Noticing his unusual quietness and the contemplative look on his face as he mulled over your words, you narrowed your eyes. "Why?"

"Ah, it's nothing, Shortcake. I've heard there's some sort of stomach bug going around. You might have caught that."

The car resumed its journey, winding through the thoroughfares of London as you gazed out the window, your eyelids feeling impossibly leaden. “Yeah. Could be.”

Morpheus strolled through the library, his presence as ubiquitous as the tomes on the shelves and tables, as if they were fragments of his very essence. He returned the volumes borrowed from Lucienne: various dream records he'd examined to evaluate his realm's current state and its power's impact on the Waking World following the Vortex incident. 

He scanned the spines of the books before him, striding along the rows of shelves with his customary regal bearing. A faint smile played on his lips, a testament to his renewed control, now bolstered by your unwavering support and endless affection.

His fingers glided along the leather bindings, caressing centuries—if not millennia—of transcribed stories. From across the library, Lucienne and Matthew's distant voices wafted through the atmosphere, lively and tranquil, signaling the full restoration of every fracture caused by the previous disturbances.

Morpheus experienced an unprecedented, profound sense of bliss and inner peace. After innumerable centuries of existence, he finally grasped the true meaning of being cherished, and his understanding of love had undergone a drastic metamorphosis. A human had taught him more in a brief span than eternity ever could, smoothing the sharpest edges of his being. You had believed in him when everyone else saw him as a monster, perceiving his past misdeeds as steps in his growth.

Little did he know that his newfound self-assurance was about to shatter in the face of an imminent revelation.

As Morpheus turned to depart for the throne room, a whisper from behind arrested his attention. A large, weathered tome jutted out from the long row of books, awaiting the Lord of Dreams to hold it. The Endless paused, pivoting slowly, and gazed at the book with surprise as he approached. 

Its cover was pitch black, adorned with faintly scratched embroideries and devoid of any visible title. As Morpheus lifted it from the shelf, he was struck by its physical lightness, yet felt a spiritual weightiness emanating from it. Gingerly, he opened the volume, unsure of its contents. The title was emblazoned in large, inky letters on the first page:

Morpheus felt his blood run cold, his fingers turning even icier. He had heard of that name before, old tales circulating from one shaman to another, handed down to priests and storytellers until they remained nothing but a legend with no foundation. It was described as a book full of dire predictions, destiny itself written upon its pages, bringing forth catastrophic prophecies that were never proven.

Not once in his eternal lifetime had Morpheus encountered this book in the castle's library, or in any library, for that matter. He had long dismissed it as nothing more than a fanciful myth. 

Its sudden appearance in the Dreaming could only mean one of two things: either it was a product of someone's vivid imagination, or it heralded an impending catastrophe. Morpheus dreaded the latter possibility, considering all that he and the Dreaming had endured over the past 106 years.

The second page lay blank, its rough, ancient parchment unyielding beneath his ethereal touch. He flipped it over, and the third one featured a Celtic-inspired illustration in black and gold ink, depicting a tarot-like tableau of a full moon reflecting on still waters, with a solitary female figure wading into the depths. In the center, a short paragraph had been inscribed.

Morpheus's entire form tensed as he continued leafing through the book, only to discover another image, a counterpart to the previous one. Instead of the moon, the sun now dominated the landscape. The same woman stood with her back turned, clad in a long gown, still traversing the vast ocean ahead. In the middle, another caption stood out.

Morpheus staggered, clutching the shelf before him for support. These images weren't unfamiliar; everything depicted on those pages represented only one thing—what he treasured most in the entire universe: you.

He pressed on, both terrified and desperate to uncover more. With each turn of the page, he saw more of you, and even himself, intricately woven into the written lines and painted details. The book revealed something he had never wished to know, yet somehow, deep in the core of his love for you, he had already foreseen it.

A once-distant fear, something he fervently hoped would never recur as it had in the past, now a tangible possibility.

As understanding dawned, Morpheus sank to the floor, his legs buckling beneath him. His chest tightened agonizingly, as if a hidden power sought to tear his heart from his body and destroy it. He was in agony, metaphorically shattered into countless fragments, as the mental image of you splintered like a fractured mirror, your radiant smile morphing into the deepest frown.

Sequestering himself in that spot, he read the enigmatic messages obsessively, only to conclude they portrayed the most unfavorable fate imaginable. One he was determined to protect you from, no matter the cost, even if it meant sacrificing everything you represented for him.

And for the Dreaming.

Mere moments ago, he was elated at the thought of having you by his side, bringing out the best in himself, shaped by your unconditional love for all that he was.

The next, his eyes closed, a solitary tear tracing a silent path down his pale skin at the devastating prospect of what he had to do for your sake.

I'm sharing this for reference, so you have a clear image to associate with it; the bangle Morpheus placed in the memory box is essentially like this one. I purchased it online recently, and it reminded me of The Sandman and my fanfiction, so I've decided to include it. ✨

What did Morpheus find in the library just now??? 😱 😶 🙊 😭

Also, if you're wondering what I suspect you're wondering, the answer is… it could be either yes or no. 😏

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

[zahri-melitor]

Recent Reads:

Barda (2024): I am always interested in judging what they do and don't put into the young adult stories. I thought this was a solid adaption of Barda's backstory and the Furies, to my mind. I'm not across all the versions, but it felt true to what I was hoping to see in the story, which included Barda's positioning both in terms of what it's like to grow up in Apokolips but also the harm she has done as leader of the Female Furies and complicity in torture.

I enjoyed it! It's worth seeking out.

Batman: One Bad Day - The Riddler: well this sure was a comic written by Tom King and drawn by Mitch Gerads. Even if I had not looked at the title page I could have told you that from the specific way their collaboration lays out a comic.

It's a very Tom King prestige comic, with all that that implies. This one isn't openly hung up on the military. (His prestige work tends to be his best work. Don't fight me on this)

This is not even near my favourite conception of Eddie, though it's also not at the bottom either. Definitely trying to lean into him as a threat. It doesn't, however, show him having fun with his puzzles, and I think at the heart of all the best Riddler depictions he needs to be both cocksure and personally entertained by what he's doing. Even (especially) when it's particularly dark.

(if you want favourite characterisations, Cliff Chiang's Catwoman: The Lonely City and the way Paul Dini writes him, particularly in 'Tec #845 are highlights)

Batman: One Bad Day - Two-Face: Mariko Tamaki did a good job here. I particularly think she has a solid grasp on Steph's character, because she had Steph argue with Bruce over Harvey and whether he's worth redemption and second chances.

"I hate it when villains aren't just villains. Maybe it's not fair to the Dents of the world, but I like to think it protects me from the creeps."

Steph's whole thesis here is that they shouldn't be making an extra effort for Harvey, just because he was Bruce's friend, because villains are villains and they can't and won't change, and even when they do, they'll ultimately backslide. It's a very conservative view of criminalisation, and it's one Steph's had since her creation by Dixon, and which makes a lot of sense given her background and her problems with her father.

Bruce and Steph then have a fight over "Harvey isn't Arthur". What makes the fight particularly interesting to me is that Steph's arguing that if Harvey was committed to changing we would see it, and she hasn't, while Bruce still believes that Harvey can change and is trying to, because he's seen Harvey work on it. While Steph has absolutely no trust or belief in her father. And they're talking past each other here while having a conversation.

It's some great character work. Because Bruce at his core is fundamentally committed to rehabilitation and hoping that everyone can be saved. While Steph, for extremely good canonical reasons, thinks that criminals remain criminals, and that if they want to stop being criminals they have to show the work for people to trust them; because she was betrayed while growing up.

(The actual plot of this story was good too. But people like to say that Steph doesn't have any good characterisation post Flashpoint, and I'm here to point wildly at things like this and Tynion's 'Tec run and ask what their issues are, because this is another extremely solid congruent-with-pre-War Games-Steph story)

Batman: One Bad Day - The Penguin: I could definitely tell this was a John Ridley story. I think part of my discomfort with this was that it wanted to be canonical and non-canonical at the same time. It's very clearly set in approximately the 2022 present for Bat comics (Renee Montoya is Commissioner, Oswald has recently been kicked out of Gotham)...but it's also very much an alternate history, where instead of pretending to be dead, he's been replaced by "The Umbrella Man" who has stolen Ozzie's life. It's rather like a rerun of the Emperor Penguin plot except for the fact that The Umbrella Man is a random black man (yes, thanks Ridley) who points out a bunch of class disparity issues to Penguin.

It's just a very odd plot choice to run for an specific oneshot at this point in the storyline, because completely separately we are in the process of doing "Oswald vs his children who have killed all their siblings to inherit the Iceberg" in main continuity. Get a second Penguin plot please.

Mostly this is a parable about accepting who you are and not being a bully, or the Penguin will rip out your throat. Or something. It worked, it was just...really obvious nobody knows what to do with a Penguin plot. Just do mafia and black market stuff!

Batman: One Bad Day - Mr Freeze: I don't recognise Gerry Duggan? He's apparently done about 2000 Marvel comics and a whole 8 DC ones. Oh! But he wrote Arkham Manor! Oh my gosh so many things suddenly make sense, including the fact that the motif of this comic was Victor making snow angels.

I loved Arkham Manor and particularly the way Victor was characterised in it, even though that characterisation wasn't exactly standard Mr Freeze (it was comedy Mr Freeze). What we got this time was hmmmm a very self-absorbed Victor, where the plot specifically removed some of the pathos of Victor's devotion to Nora by showcasing a number of ways he was overly obsessed to the point of harming Nora before she passed away. It wasn't quite the direction of depth into Freeze we've seen other stories go recently, but it definitely committed to him being potentially quite harmless if you frame things around Nora in the right way to get him to focus how you want him to.

I have to say though, I don't think Duggan has a particularly good grasp on Bruce or even Dick. There were a bunch of moments where Bruce calls a completely random street thug an "irredeemable villain" and that "he belongs in the deepest hole we can throw him in". I'm sorry, did I pick up a Bruce Wayne comic or a Jason Todd one? Because uhhhh that's not standard Bruce personality. Alfred was even snarking at Bruce about how "Forgive me gentlemen, I must be suffering from a senior moment. I thought Master Bruce just said he though a criminal could change."

YES! YES HE DOES THINK THAT! THAT'S BATMAN'S WHOLE THING! HE BELIEVES HE CAN SAVE EVERYONE! HE BELIEVES THAT THEY CAN CHANGE! We literally just had the Two-Face story two titles before this be all about how Bruce is overcommitted to believing that Harvey can recover and trying to help him!

Okay poor Bruce characterisation aside, this was a fairly fun Year 4 setting for the story, and it was the requisite Christmas episode, which I did also appreciate as thematic for release date and chosen villain. Tiny Dick is highly amusing in how he thinks he might be about to get to drive the Batmobile for the first time...and then the autopilot engages. He really wants to drive and comments on how he doesn't have his learners yet (and 7ish years down the track he can end up amused and irritated that TIM got his learners at 14)

I assume Duggan got given a slot on the strength of his Marvel work, and that's fine, except...the off characterisation makes it pretty clear he doesn't have a particularly good or current grasp on at least one of the two main characters of the title. Which is just slightly important for a special high profile series on Batman and His Villains. And I'm saying that as someone who liked Arkham Manor, but enjoyed it for being a quirky offbeat, tonally dissonant story in the middle of the unending angst that was Batman Eternal.

Everyone else in this set has big set piece previous stories involving the characters to point to as why they got picked. Duggan seems to have scraped through on "Big in Marvel, has written one of the few focused on Victor Fries stories in the last decade".

[overthemoonx]

I Love Amy: The Coolest Webcomic I’ve Ever Read

⚠️MINOR SPOILERS AHEAD!!! I TRIED TO BE AS VAGUE AS POSSIBLE⚠️

Usually I’m extremely picky with webcomics, as I’m not afraid to drop them the moment I lose interest. So when I say this webcomic is interesting, it’s INTERESTING.

In fact, it may be one of my favorite ones.

“I Love Amy” is a webcomic released under Peanutoon back in 2022. It follows Bibi Reden, a cutesy girl with a bunny motif who has an obsessive crush on a boy named Peter. Once she finds Amy Lee, a shy girl in her grade talking to him, Bibi immediately befriends her and tries to get Amy to help her get with Peter. But plot-twist…they fall in love with each-other instead.

Psychological horror, drama, romance, and comedy? I’m hooked.

My first impressions were that it was gonna be a stereotypical yandere story, with Bibi set with the motive to KILL Amy in the beginning for talking to her crush. But it’s much more than that.

Bibi is a canon psychopath, who portrays traits of the disorder that are commonly expressed. But even so, the author definitely did their research. Bibi is low on empathy, has a tendency to lie, and can’t decipher right from wrong. But unlike contrary belief, she not incapable of love; she just loves people in her own special way, wanting to “keep them forever.” This is shown how she obsesses over Peter, and then later on, Amy.

What makes this series amazing is that her disorder is not her only “personality trait.” (Which by the way, disorders aren’t.) Bibi is very energetic, cheerful, and sticks to her ideals. She’s unique and is still able to think about others (or those she likes at least). Bibi is so well-written, how could you not fall in love with her? And speaking about love, this is where her love interest comes in.

Amy Lee is the definition of “plain-“ until you look a little bit deeper.

After a traumatic event involving her mother as a child, Amy lives with her aunt. Though she is loved and cared for in her current household and those around her, she still exhibits clear symptoms of PTSD. This causes her to be socially anxious and withdrawn, showing more signs of a social phobia than just pure introversion. But, she remains kindhearted and loyal. Amy is very down to earth too- a trait that’s personally to die for.

With Bibi’s eccentric personality and Amy’s closed off persona, they are like night and day. So, how could two different people possibly fall in love? Simple; naturally, like any other person. Even with their complexities, they are still able to love each-other whole-heartedly.

The webcomic also deals with themes about the effects of trauma, friendship issues (which I will get into another time), and sheds light onto family issues and grief. For such a cutesy-art style comic, it deals with every topic in such a unique and accurate way that I was really impressed.

So please, give this webcomic a shot!!!

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 8/20/2024

a little light this week bc i had a fairly wretched week, medically speaking

listening

hozier's nobody's soldier would have been on every 8tracks mix for every character. THEEEEE blorbo song of all time to the point i am already annoyed at the thought of seeing it on every spotify mix. fuckin owns tho. very fun mod sixties heist taste to the horn arrangement

-

reading

thank you philip.

polished off the Marauders (2019-2022) comics. i liked the first volume way more than these three-- they didn't quite deliver the same quality of art or swashbuckles-per-minute. also this was probably not a great choice for someone who has forgotten what little she once knew about the xmen, even though they came at the beginning of a reboot.

why did i read these? mostly bc they were readily available or with short wait times at my library and my bestie is making me watch all the xmen movies. a girl gets curious about comic books sometimes

surprisingly, i came across this one from the Pocket integration on the firefox new tabs

McDonald likens the functions of Spotify to Google Maps. “Google Maps doesn’t do the exploration for me, but it’s helpful if I go somewhere,” he says. Rather than taking us on guided tours, it provides the tools for us to navigate somewhere new. Much as it shows us what’s nearby and how to get there, and flags notable landmarks others have visited, Spotify helps us access most music, lists global listening trends, and introduces us to artists similar to those we already know. But it’s communities that help us home in on a destination Spotify can help us explore.

part two of breaking down infamous academic paper mill Hindawi and why it was bought by Wiley anyway bc they did seemingly no due diligence, bc as a whole they do very little actual work in the publishing process.

i have included a very long quote bc it is one of only two things that made me genuinely laugh out loud this week (the other was phil unsticking a claw from the couch by backflipping herself out)

One issue of Wireless Communications and Mobile Computing from 2022, edited mostly by Hamurabi Gamboa Rosales, took an average of about 20 days to go from initial submission to revision submission. This is not unlikely, it’s impossible. The easiest way to explain this is with an analogy. Say there’s a pothole outside your house, and you call the council. You tell them ‘there’s a big hole in the road outside my house!’ The person at the other end, rather than tiredly telling you to fill out a form - which is what councils do all over the world, in my experience - instead yells ‘MOTHER OF GOD! WE’RE RIGHT ON IT!’ Twenty minutes later, a bitumen truck comes HURTLING around the corner of your street at full send, with the road workers hanging out the back of it, the driver leaning on the horn and yelling ‘GET OUT OF THE WAY! POTHOLE!’ They pull up outside your house, and you see the brakes go hot. But the guys don’t even wait for it to stop, they jump off while it’s slowing down, and they grab pry bars and a burner and a kettle of bitumen, and they start hammering out the edges, pour the bitumen and start slamming it with hammers almost at the same time. In about six minutes, the hole is filled and flattened, and they admire their work for about four hundred milliseconds and SCREAM off the way they came. No sooner has the truck disappeared, then your phone rings - and it’s the council worker from before. ‘POTHOLE! *pant* *pant* FIXED! Happy to be of service!’ *click* That’s how likely the entire editorial process taking 20 days is.

-

watching

i don't understand why the third xmen movie isn't named x cubed. it extremely is not their last stand there are like a dozen more movies to go. gun to my head i could not tell you what happened in this one. whatsherface did look good as hell though

and now for the movie i actually want to talk about, Monkey Man (2024, dir. Patel). imdb says:

An anonymous young man unleashes a campaign of vengeance against the corrupt leaders who murdered his mother and continue to systematically victimize the poor and powerless.

i am so so so lucky that my favorite kind of fight scene — fast, brutal, right spaces with improvised weapons-- is fashionable. pour it DIRECTLY into my open mouth

i think i generally agree with a broad sweep of reviewers here when i tell you that this movie is gorgeous and grossnasty at the same time, there are a lot of ideas that aren't all quite resolved, and i am much more interested in why it has a hell of a lot of ideas (part of why they don't all get resolved).

patel's first movie, it feels very much like a movie of someone who isn't sure they'll be able to do another one, so throw everything you've got in here. a sort of famously rocky production and shoestring budget, but you would not know it. the club scenes are especially dripping in glitz and, like many stage productions, have a lot of clever editing and strategic deployment of mirrors and repeats. there's a fight scene with hanging mirrors near the end where the mirrors can't have been more than fifty bucks each but it looks SO fucking sick.

i am much more willing to go to bat for this movie and ignore some of the rough edges bc it is so refreshingly earnest, and despite the style references, is very focused on being its own thing. at some points it's going to feel like The Matrix (1999, dir. the Wachowskis) bc every movie made in a post- The Matrix (1999, dir. the Wachowskis) world is going to feel a little bit like The Matrix (1999, dir. the Wachowskis). or like when the above gif happened in the movie it did not make me want to turn it off and go watch the first john wick.

people who live in india or are part of the diaspora are a little cranky about the political parties of the film, which had to be neutered for release. while i don't think i would have grasped all the nuances even if we did have the original cut, i think it's likely some of the characters would have resolved a little cleaner if that original intent was still there.

why did i watch this? i think patel is easily as hot as tumblr darling mifune. while drafting this post i got distracted sooooooo many times trying to pick the perfect gif. some of them are too hot!!!

-

playing

fallow week

-

making

just stayin alive! just livin the fuckin dream!!!

[beesmygod]

"A GHOST STORY" IS A WEBCOMIC I MAKE THAT I WILL BE RE-POSTING, GRADUALLY.

the left is from 2013, the right is from the 2018-2022 re-draw and were drawn in 2021. these are my favorite pages from the re-draw. i think they came out so much better and the re-write is superior in every single way. i've been swamped with wedding planning and haven't been around my desktop so this took a while for me to around to posting.

the use of ecclesiastical latin to beat back the ghost was boring, limited, and was a source of a major plothole in my story that drove me crazy: if magic was as easy as reading a bible, why didn't everyone do it? a better reason is that you have to speak in a language that doesn't REALLY exist. i mean it does, but it doesn't.

the language being spoken is the alphabet of the magi, a 1500s semetic alphabet used by niche occultists. there is very little real world information on this "alphabet", making it a great blank slate for a stupid webcomic to build off of. it would probably be difficult to pronounce a magical alphabet, which is why a witch would (in the universe of "a ghost story") need to be called in to deal with ghosts instead of a layman.

i think there are other magical alphabets in the world of "a ghost story", this is just the one i use the most and the ones that the characters prefer. maxine adjusts her ghost hunting techniques based on what she's facing but this alphabet would be her "go-to" for its practicality and near universal applications.

using blood to corral ghosts will come up again, later in the comic. :)

---

♥ read the comic: A Ghost Story ♥ support the comic for as little as $1 a month on Patreon ♥ donate on kofi ♥ pay what you want for the re-draw of the first chapter on itch.io

you can block the tag "#AGS repost" to keep this off your dash

[yosajaeofficial]

AUGUST/SEPTEMBER UPDATE

Heya everybody! We’re back for a double episode of, “The Monthly Jayce Myles Comics Updates”! The reason why August wasn’t fulfilled like normal was due to college and how busy I immediately got when entering in, which is what I figured would happen so I’m not too surprised with it to be honest. I took some time in order for me to make a fulfilling update instead of doing a rushed one to pump out yk? We’re now gonna get to the updates and bonus content I’m gonna show.

Buckle your seat belts, close your eyes and take your hands off the wheel cuz this is gonna be a ride~

THE COMIC

(OFFICIAL W.I.P: PAGES 28 & 31)

The comic’s gotten slower due to college, however, I really needed a break from it in general so I could prioritize my personal life and also refresh myself on drawing what I want to instead of rushing my age physically and turn 78 years old when I haven’t even reached 20 yet. Nothing much to say but showing the w.i.ps because of the slower progress, it’s getting there though. We got to 30 pages! Which means that the first section is sketched out (calculated to be approximately a fourth of the full chapter done, it could go lower or higher in the numbers depending on what I want/vision). I’m hella proud for getting 30 of them pages done honestly. A huge accomplishment for doing this story for a long while.

Ya’ll don’t really know, but I am indeed changing things here and there about the story where I’m shifting small details, doing redesigns, and reboots with other small things overall. I would be honest and say that’s where I’m progressing the most and not the debut chapter, I’m able to have a clearer vision of the story in my head and on paper when doing future chapters yk? I won’t go into details about redesigns or those details being changed since they’re hella spoilerish and a bit unnecessary considering that the JMC hasn’t even debuted yet. Ya’ll will get those details later when the comic functions and I will reveal more in future updates!

Also, last month Jae, no you haven’t drawn the turtles yet. However, we’re close to their debut for the chapter so keep strong! You’re doing great! :3

BONUS CONTENT: Jayce Myles Over The Years

Many of you know that Jayce Myles, whose name is in the title of the series, is our protagonist for this ROTTMNT comic! She’s my OC that I’ve had when going through my senior year of high school. We’re gonna be getting into a deep dive with her as a character and how their designs came to be during the process!

This is the first ever drawing of Jayce that I’ve done, the day I made it is so vivid in my head because I was going through it… I was in my Pre Calculus class and I had failed another test after multiple attempts through the school year. My initial idea was to cry (which I did) but then I just started doodling on my phone and I created this drawing, then from there it was history. This was in 2022, not too long ago. I became a Rise fan a couple weeks after the movie came out (which I didn’t know at the time, it was a pure coincidence) and I wanted to create a Rise OC for a while. So that day in Pre-Calc, I was able to take advantage of my mathematical suffering and create my magnum opus (exaggerated). She didn't have a name at the time so it was actually a stand in for me. Jayce got their full name until a couple days later.

EVOLUTION OF JAYCE MYLES

(October 2022- February 2024)

As you all can see, Jayce did indeed have lots of designs and ideas being sketched out while I created her as my official Rise OC. I had ideas for them to have an androgynous look from the start based off of my own self! I knew they were gonna have a Rise comic, but there were ideas for them to originally come from the 2012 TMNT universe with their "serious demeanor". It was quite interesting but there isn't much media of those ideas since they were cut a bit early on.

(Older Renders of Jayce from 2022)

Their signature color looked like it was gonna be this denim blue for quite a while but then I scrapped it cuz I thought it wasn't showing their personality like how I want it to. There was also another scrapped concept where Jayce's demeanor would be more monotone and "soft" (as in a blank slate, which doesn't give her a true personality). It was cut because it made me think that I wasn't giving her the best potential as the protagonist then I should've been giving them. Jayce was more introverted and quiet, but now they're much more expressive and full of personality. Ya'll will see in a more better light when the comic debuts, I'm not holding back with Jayce's personality anymore.

("Issue 1: Graffiti" Panels from page 1. The only page that was completed until the plot got scrapped.)

There were lots of pitches and concepts for the JMC over the years too, where lots of storyboards got drafted and one of the first of those drafts got their first page completed. However, I'm pulled a Richard Williams and kept being like "No, I don't like this" and kept going back to the drawing board. I like to look back on these old drafts especially after seeing the older interactions and how different they're gonna be in the official comics. I for sure was learning over 2023 and 2024...

Now finally, we're gonna touch on the last thing for this update~

JMC'S FINALIZED PILOT (ADDITIONAL CHARACTER)

We are going to talk just a teeny bit about the debut chapter but I'm able to become vague without spoiling too much since lots of the older pitches were scrapped. But yes, this was when I came up with the idea, "What if Jayce had a job?"

That's where the idea of Jayce working at a deli joint came from. Where she would have to get a 9-5 and possibly fired, it was pretty funny when doing the drafts since I never knew how a real deli worked and my dumbass just used my mom's experience at Denny's as referenced (she walked out and quit after almost a year).

Thus, our pilot was born.

You can go read a non canon comic I did that touched on this concept when it was fresh in development right here! [Jayce and Mikey Phone Call] & [Splinter/Randall and Jayce Interaction]

The shop itself was based off of a friend's film back in junior year. He made a FNAF parody called, "Five Nights At Fernando's" and it was such a stupid assignment but that gave me the idea of making use of the dumbass "Fernando's Shop" and make it a reality. So then Fernando's Taco Shop was created and we had the shop Jayce worked at. We already talked a bit about Archie and his deal in the first JMC Monthly Update and I can't say anymore due to spoilers but he was also involved of the creation of the pilot.

The older pitches had a cashier or a manager be like some NPC ahh character that never was gonna be brought up ever again but something in me thought it would be a cute idea to create an actual character for this manager that wasn't a stupid bossy ass hoe. It was very sweet in the drafts so I thought I could create more with that concept in mind.

Introducing: Rogelio Andazola!

(Rogelio Andazola Evolution: 2022-2023 | Still Not Showing The Finalized.)

His design is one that is the most consistent when compared to the rest of the roster, I guess that I hit the nail with his because I couldn't imagine him any different. There are only minor changes like his gray strands disappearing (bro reverse aged) and his facial expressions are much more expressive after I played around during the soft reboot. Once again (and as annoying as it is), you will all see where I'm coming from when the debut chapter releases! Rogelio as a character has also altered his personality, he's based off of my grandpa, can't wait to show you how that comes into play in the story!

Thank you all so much for sticking around for this very heavy update! I worked way too much for the photos to be sent on here and dug up lots of my old art in order for this to become a reality! It was actually insane that I kept lots of it instead of making it turn into lost media, I'm happy I got to show lots of it instead of having to make it the fuck up by memory (which I wouldn't have done in the first place and is an exaggeration). The comic is slaying in the runway and I'm working on it here and there at my own pace. Maybe next time I can finally show ya'll the turtles in the next W.I.P in the comic section. Have an amazing day/night everyone and we're on the way to victory!