#to name a few outstanding designs:

[girlkisser13]

ares cabin headcanons

children of ares

• it’s more difficult to break a weapon in a child of war’s hand (with the exception being if someone was a child of the big three).

• they can pull of any shade of red.

• camo EVERYTHING. they just have a weird obsession with camo.

• a lot of them obsessively collect sneakers.

• they have nicknames/call signs for all their members, they don't choose one when they join, it'll be given to them sooner or later.

• leather jackets, military boots, aviators, chains, chokers and metal rings are the norm.

• there's always that one kid that likes to show off their butterfly knife tricks. (i’m sorry if that’s you.)

• every one of them has a scar somewhere, usually they got it even before they came to camp. they treat scars like tattoos—the bigger and more obvious they are, the more badass they are.

• all the armies on the loosing side are forced to serve them and their father so they can summon them at a time of battle and increase their power by invoking their father’s powers.

• they’re the best fighters in camp, but that doesn't mean all they have is physical strength.

• they have the strength to stand their ground and defend a point that is so strongly that many of them become outstanding politicians.

• they don't just teach people how to fight monsters, but they also basic self-defence for anyone who feels unsafe in the city.

• the tradition of capture the flag initially started as a dispute between the ares and athena cabin, with the other camps joining one of the two.

• it has always been a ceremony for the two cabins to always be against each other.

• they all have excellent posture because they’re always training, so they’re always wearing breastplates. (i’m assume breastplates improve your posture the same way corsets do).

• rumor has it there's an underground fight club that's invite-only (but you didn't hear that from me).

•those who have a taken a vow of nonviolence run an anger management group for their siblings who want to gain a little more control.

cabin exterior

• the cabin has a rugged, fortress-like appearance, with sturdy stone walls that seem built to withstand a siege. the front door is made of reinforced steel, adorned with battle scars and dents.

• it also has heavy punk rock aesthetics, which is ironic considering how much discipline is enforced within its members.

• various weapons, such as swords, spears, and shields, are displayed prominently on the walls, either as decoration or trophies from past battles. some are enchanted to glow faintly, adding an aura of intimidation.

• the cabin is adorned with tattered banners and flags, each representing a different battle or conquest. the ares symbol, a wild boar or a spear, is prominently displayed.

• the walls are covered in graffiti and markings made by the cabin members, depicting their victories, names, and personal symbols. these give the cabin a rough, lived-in look.

• the cabin itself might show signs of past conflicts, with scorch marks, cracks, and patched-up sections that hint at the intensity of the cabin's training sessions and disputes.

• at the entrance, there are statues of ares himself, standing guard and setting the tone for those who enter.

• the stuffed boar head at the front of the cabin acts as a surveillance system, it’s enchanted to squeal when there are intruders.

cabin interior

• the cabin has a minimalist, utilitarian design, with few decorations and a focus on functionality. the beds are simple, sturdy cots, and personal belongings are kept to a minimum.

• the bunks are arranged in a regimented, military style, with each camper's area neatly organized. personal spaces include a footlocker for storing gear and a small, sturdy nightstand.

• ac/dc is constantly playing in the background?

• every available wall space is utilized for weapon racks and shelves, holding an array of swords, spears, axes, and shields.

• the cabin has an area dedicated to training, with punching bags, weights, and practice dummies. there is even be a small sparring ring in one corner for indoor practice.

• various trophies from past battles and quests are displayed inside the cabin, including weapons, monster teeth, claws, and other memorabilia. these serve as a testament to the cabin's prowess in combat.

• large maps detailing various battlefields and strategic locations are pinned to the walls. they have markers and notes, reflecting ongoing planning and strategies.

• the interior features rough, durable materials like stone and wood, designed to withstand heavy use and combat-related activities. the floors are covered in animal skins and thick, worn rugs.

cabin traditions

• for every child of war that has died in battle, a spear bearing their name is placed on the roof of the cabin.

• they have a ritual where members show off their battle scars and share stories of how they got them, celebrating their bravery and toughness.

• they have regular evenings dedicated to cleaning, sharpening, and maintaining their weapons and armor, often accompanied by storytelling or strategizing.

• they have CONSTANT meetings where they plan strategies for capture the flag and other camp activities, often held in a militaristic fashion with a focus on tactics and leadership.

• they have regular sparring sessions where they challenge each other to friendly duels to improve their skills and rank within the cabin.

• before major events like capture the flag, they paint their faces and arms with war paint as a symbol of their readiness for battle and to intimidate their opponents.

divider by @sunkupng

[mariacallous]

“If it should be, and he came to London, with his teeming millions. … There may be a solemn duty; and if it come we must not shrink from it.”—Bram Stoker, Dracula

A vampire must avoid direct sunlight to avoid crumbling into ash, yet few folk horrors have been subject to more scrutiny than the transformative bloodsuckers who dominate the night. A new and absolutely terrific cinematic take on the myth, Robert Eggers’ Nosferatu, has hit theaters, and its most notable element, in addition to outstanding performances, dialogue, and production design, is that this new version really amps up the lusty goth quotient. (So much hallucinatory writhing and moaning!) However, its release so close to the inauguration of a U.S. president who has stoked fears of immigrants draws out xenophobic elements inherent to the text, and an inner tension with its own reactionary origin is part of the genius of this new film.

If you aren’t a subscriber to Fangoria magazine, you may not know the Nosferatu backstory. The first version, released in 1922, is a landmark of German filmmaking that plundered intellectual property as if it were the grave of a Victorian noblewoman buried with her jewels—a fate some of the characters in Dracula think has befallen poor Lucy Westenra, before it is revealed she is actually an accursed undead demon!

Unlike his most famous literary creation, though, Irish-born writer Bram Stoker does not walk the earth a century after his death. As such, the theater manager who wrote books on the side would likely be surprised at the strength of his legacy. Dracula, published in 1897, was only a modest success at the time. It was not even the first book about vampires published in English; how it became the wellspring for vampire iconography—to the point that is used to sell breakfast cereal—is perhaps due to vivid, dueling film interpretations.

In 1921, a German film producer with an interest in the occult created a new studio (Prana) with an eye toward making supernatural-themed films, and kicked things off with an adaptation of Dracula. He hired Henrik Galeen, who co-wrote the outstanding expressionist The Golem: How He Came Into the World, to write the screenplay, and F. W. Murnau—who would later make Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans, one of the undisputed masterpieces of silent cinema—to direct. But he did not pay for the rights to Bram Stoker’s book. Instead, Galeen changed the names of the characters (Count Dracula to Count Orlok) and the location (London to Wisborg, a fictional German city), and made some additional tweaks to the narrative. The title, Nosferatu, is a word used in Dracula to categorize vampires, meaning undead. (The etymology of this word remains debated, but it may have its roots in the Greek nosophoros, meaning “disease-bearing.”)

Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror was released to significant acclaim, but one person who wasn’t happily chomping on popcorn was Florence Balcombe, Bram Stoker’s widow. An anonymous informant sent her a handbill from the movie’s lavish premiere at the Marble Hall of the Berlin Zoological Gardens. The promotional material boasted that the film was “freely adapted” from Dracula. Balcombe took this to court, won her case, and bankrupted Prana, which was ordered to destroy every copy of Nosferatu. Clearly, this did not happen, as you can still watch the movie today—and, despite the iffy ethical origins, you should; it’s terrific.

But what Balcombe did next was key. Springboarding off the increased interest in the story (and to guarantee proper payment on copyrighted material), she greenlit a stage production. The show ended up being a hit in London in 1927, then moved to New York later the same year. That version starred Bela Lugosi. Four years later, Lugosi reprised the role for Tod Browning’s film version for Universal Pictures, the first talkie in the Universal Monsters series. It was a sensation, and Lugosi’s sharp-toothed Transylvanian is now an early screen icon on par with Chaplin’s Little Tramp.

Other Dracula movies were soon in the works—a Spanish-language version was actually shot concurrently with Browning’s, using the same sets—and have never stopped. Hammer Studios in Britain made several classics starring Christopher Lee; there’s the Andy Warhol-presented Blood for Dracula; the disco era’s comedy Love at First Bite; Francis Ford Coppola’s stylistic version from the 1990s; and then there’s Adam Sandler’s Hotel Transylvania cartoons. Moreover, Lugosi knew a good gig when he saw it. The actor reprised his role for comedy (Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein—and also the Count!) and special appearances (a gig on Fred Allen’s top rated Texaco Star Theater radio show is just one example), and also starred in several Dracula-esque horror titles like The Devil Bat. While Lugosi’s lines from Dracula were instantly quotable (“I never drink … wine” is certainly my favorite), behind it all was the less hokey, dreamlike silent film version of Nosferatu, sprung from illicit origins and filled with striking sinister imagery.

Shadow of the Vampire, released in 2000, imagines that the original production was cursed because actor Max Schreck, who played Count Orlok, was truly a vampire. (Willem Dafoe was nominated for an Oscar for his performance of Schreck in this behind-the-scenes comedy, which is especially amusing because he plays the part of Prof. von Frantz, a spin on Stoker’s Dr. Van Helsing, in the new film.) Shadow of the Vampire’s premise—the cover up of an unsettling (fictional) aspect of the original Nosferatu—works because, while the intentions of Murnau and company are hard to know, it is easy to see how German audiences of the 1920s could read Nosferatu as antisemitic.

The film and its source material read like a laundry list of antisemitic tropes: The Count comes from “the East,” a backwards, superstitious land. (Transylvania, while certainly a real place, means “beyond the woods.”) He has somehow amassed a fortune despite living apart from the villagers who fear and despise him. He is a non-metaphorical bloodsucker. When he gets to civilization, he immediately starts preying on women. In most versions of the story, the first woman he assaults turns into a vampire herself, then starts draining the blood of babies and children, recalling the many examples of supposed blood libel used to excuse antisemitic violence throughout the previous centuries. When the character of Mina Harker (called Ellen Hutter in Nosferatu) is finally penetrated by the count, she declares that her blood is “unclean.” The Count’s curse demands that he sleep each night in the earth of his origin, but he comes up with a sneaky loophole by packing several coffins filled with Transylvanian dirt. One way to interpret the Count’s actions is metaphorical: The immigrants are unwilling to assimilate and they taint our family lines and drag their traditions along with them from the old country. But on a much more literal level, it is quite bluntly blut und bloden, blood and soil, a Nazi rallying cry since the 1920s that, unfortunately, persists to this day.

While these symbolic plot elements exist in the 1897 novel, it was the 1922 German film that dialed them up, adding some undeniable antisemitic visual tropes. Count Orlok, compared to the Spirit Halloween-ready Count Dracula, has a hooked nose and rodent-like clutching hands, an exaggerated reinterpretation of the Count’s features compared to how they are described in Stoker’s book. (Lugosi’s Dracula from 1931 eases up on the visual stereotypes considerably, but he does wear a six-pointed star the first time we see him.)

Murnau also added a plague element to Nosferatu’s storyline. When the Count’s ship comes to Wisborg, it arrives with rats and a rapidly spreading sickness. This “verminization” goes hand-in-hand with the notion of the “dirty Jew.” It is believed that Julius Streicher, editor-in-chief of the Nazi mouthpiece Der Stürmer, was a fan of the film, and Hitler himself, in Mein Kampf, compared Jews to vampires.

So hold on a second, you are telling me that a major motion picture studio has released a work of antisemitic propaganda, and it’s in theaters right now? Do I need to send an angry letter? No, not at all. Please do not cancel Robert Eggers, one of the more brilliant directors on the scene today, whose take on Nosferatu tamps down the antisemitism. (This is his fourth film, following The Witch, The Lighthouse, and The Northman, all very sharp plays on genre storytelling, and all worth watching.). Now, Count Orlok just has a weird and striking nose, not a hook nose. He is also less of a schemer. He is compelled to come to Wisborg, as if it is part of his burdensome curse. If one were to ask, “Why make this movie again?” I’d say that, apart from the exemplary sets and performances and cinematography, Eggers emboldens the supernatural, psychosexual connection between the Count and Ellen. Yes, the town leaders of Wisborg—ostensibly the heroes—remain understandably xenophobic. But Eggers adds a top layer of tragedy, by making the subtext text: The Count and Ellen should be able to get their telepathic freak on, but the social codes of the 1830s are so stifling that even the Prince of Darkness can’t fight them. This creates a tension to the story (and its anti-immigration strain) that feels entirely new.

Considering that hardly anyone watching the new Nosferatu will be unfamiliar with vampire tropes, Eggers is well within his rights to essentially copy-paste elements from the more problematic version and build on it. The added shading, leaving the audience wondering if maybe the Count isn’t such a villain, is enough nuance to keep this from feeling like a definitive political statement. After all, the first thing you’ll likely talk about after seeing it is Ellen’s (Lily-Rose Depp) several moments of bed-ridden, prurient murmuring “he’s coming!” from a dream-like haze. For a director who has made three sharp movies dealing with the supernatural or fantastic, this story is in Eggers’ blood.

10 Vampire Streaming Recommendations

Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror (1922), dir. F.W. Murnau: The original nightmare.

Dracula (1931), dir. Tod Browning: The birth of a franchise. Warning: Though there are many classic moments, much of this movie is dull.

Dracula Has Risen from the Grave (1968), dir. Freddie Francis: The third Christopher Lee Dracula picture, and one that likely influenced the new one—as it was, for its time, a bit on the randy side.

Blacula (1972), dir. William Crain: An 18th century African prince is transformed into a vampire by Count Dracula himself, and ends up in 1970s Los Angeles. Released during the first wave of blaxploitation films, this was the first one to get supernatural.

Love at First Bite (1979), dir. Stan Dragoti: The Count comes to groovy New York and is faced with nonstop schtick. Richard Benjamin plays the famed vampire hunter Van Helsing’s grandson, a neurotic shrink named Dr. Jeffrey Rosenberg.

Nosferatu the Vampyre (1979), dir. Werner Herzog: Before Eggers, there was this German-language take focusing on Count Orlok. A slow-paced film that goes heavy on the plague storyline, featuring a substantial number of rats.

Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1992), dir. Francis Ford Coppola: Gen X Dracula, with Winona Ryder, Gary Oldman, and Keanu Reeves.

Thirst (2009), dir. Park Chan-wook: Not a Dracula film, but an unpredictable spin on the vampire myth from one of South Korea’s great filmmakers.

Only Lovers Left Alive (2013), dir. Jim Jarmusch: Cinema’s king of deadpan cool presents artists and rock musicians as vampires eternally on the fringes of society. (A documentary?)

El Conde (2023), dir. Pablo Larraín: Perhaps of particular interest to Foreign Policy readers, this Spanish-language picture, available on Netflix, suggests that Augusto Pinochet was actually a vampire, and takes it from there.

[blueiscoool]

'Exquisite' 1,700-Year-Old Lamp Bearing Temple Symbols Discovered in Jerusalem

"The exquisite artistic workmanship of the lamp, which was found complete, makes it outstanding and extremely rare."

A rare ceramic oil lamp dated to the late Roman period that bears images of items used in the Second Temple was discovered in Jerusalem, the Israel Antiquities Authority announced on Thursday.

"After the Roman emperor Hadrian suppressed the Bar Kochba rebellion in 135 CE, Jews were expelled from the city. The Mount of Olives lamp is one of the few material traces of a Jewish presence around Jerusalem in the 3rd-5th centuries CE," said Michael Chernin, excavation director on behalf of the Antiquities Authority.

The Antiquities Authority explained that the lamp was a "unique find" and that, judging by the soot marks on its nozzle, it was used about 1,700 years ago.

The Temple symbols that decorate the lamp include a depiction of the menorah used in the Second Temple, an incense shovel, and lulav (date palm branch used in Jewish ritual).

"The exquisite artistic workmanship of the lamp, which was found complete, makes it outstanding and extremely rare,” said Chernin.

Chernin also explained that the symbols on the lamp, which connected them to the Temple, were "particularly surprising" because there has been "very little evidence of the existence of a Jewish settlement in and around Jerusalem from this period."

Israel Antiquities Authority research archaeologist Benjamin Storchan said the lamp belongs to "the 'Beit Nattif' type, named after a production workshop identified in the 1930s near Bet Shemesh."

'Exceedingly rare' find

He explained that "oil lamps with menorah decorations are exceedingly rare, and only a few similar Beit Nattif-type lamps can be found in the National Treasures archive. The choice of symbols on the lamp is not accidental. This is a fascinating testimony connecting everyday objects and faiths among ancient Jerusalem’s inhabitants. It seems that the lamp belonged to a Jew, who purchased it because of its religious affiliation and memorial to the Temple.”

"It is evident that the lamp maker dedicated a great deal of time and effort to its decoration," Storchan added.

He then continued to elaborate on how the lamp was made, saying the maker "delicately and intricately carved limestone molds using drills and chisels."

"The molds were made in two parts (upper and lower). To create the lamp, the potter pressed the clay into the molds and then pressed them together. Finally, the vessel was fired, and it could be used. This method of producing lamps in molds allowed for refined designs, as well as the addition of delicate and intricate decorations," Storchan continued.

Heritage Minister Rabbi Amichai Eliyahu remarked on the correlation between the time of the finding and the Jewish holiday of Hanukkah.

"This unique oil lamp, which in an exciting manner bears the symbols of the Temple, connects the lights of the past with the Hannukah holiday of today and expresses the deep and long-standing connection of the nation of Israel to its heritage and to the Temple’s memory.”

Rabbi Eliyahu also stated that the lamp would be revealed to the public for the first time during Hannukah "alongside stone molds used to make ceramic lamps."

[lxmelle]

“Best Friend” / 親友

I’ve been mulling over this for a few days, wondering if I’m overthinking things, or if there is actually something to it.

Gojo and Geto are like a pair of parents. And I think it’s deliberate. Hear me out.

See, from a non-native pov, I can pick apart this coined phrase for best friends, shinyuu “親友” or “family friend” into its individual kanji: 親 and 友

The first kanji on its own, oya “親” can be read as “parents”. The second kanji on its own is tomo “友” can be read as “friend”. How a kanji character is read changes according to context within a sentence, topic, or what it is paired with. It can be difficult to explain if you’re not used to the language, so I’ll leave it at that for the purposes of not complicating this post.

They both considered each other their 親友 - best friend. There is only one pair of people who considered each other this “best friend” terminology in the series. Gege could have used Nakama 仲間, or Brother, or even just Tomodachi 友達. TaisetsunaHito 大切な人 is definitely a step too far. No other best friend. Yuji is several people’s “brother” but not best friend. Gojo and Geto are a pair. A duo. The canon-confirmed “たった一人の親友” my one and only best friend status is mutual.

As friends, we know they split up. There is no mention of 親友 / best friend-ism at this point. But they unequivocally considered each other as such, and they never ever had another 親友 until their dying day.

The fact that there is the kanji for “parent” in the phrase for “best friend” is poetic. “Oya/親” is obviously the same word used by Gojo in the kfc breakup scene, because that’s the kanji for it, and that’s what Geto did - kill his parents.

I’ll use this to illustrate:

親 = parents (consisting of mum + dad).

親友🤍 + 親友🖤

To add to the latter, this potential theme, they both go onto adopting kids. Their different parenting styles speak for themselves ofc, but that’s by the by.

Gojo and Geto’s separation played a part in setting off this huge domino effect too. Geto also described how his parents are not his only family now. We also know he considers close non-blood-related persons to be as “family” - like how he offered Kuroi the acceptance of her feelings towards Amanai as “family”. He saw Gojo and the school as family - that is, until he saw how the system was willing to sacrifice their own kind. It isn’t a stretch to see the parallels between what Geto is sharing about severing that bond with his parents (and also with Gojo) and finding another “family” by choice.

Obviously Gege isn’t drawing the parallel by bringing parents into it just due to their best friend status. I headcanon that it was to start anew, not be a hypocrite, to spare them from the monster he’d become, and to eliminate the likelihood they’d be used against him in any way. The last 2 reasons would be to drive in the emphasis that there is a similarity with Rika (who was rumoured to have been the reason for her parents’ deaths although they occurred separately) and... that this would mean that Geto was also separating from his “family” in HI - the duo that was Gojo and Geto. Gojo ascended without him in his quest to become the strongest, and Geto descended to pursue his twisted form of meaning to make his ideal a reality.

It might just be reaching and a coincidence, but I remember that Gege loves these little itty bitty details in character and lore design - like birthdates, dates, flower language, religion, specific kanji used for names, etc - just to name a few. It helps him illustrate significance and I guess adds a touch of sophistication and layering in his storytelling. I absolutely love it. We know by design SatoSugu / Gojo and Geto are meant to be counterparts, so black & white, yin and yang, light and dark, elite and common, even their names are quite fitting, GojO SatoRU and GetO SuguRU .

The kanji / characters selected are also deliberate - Satoru 悟 being “enlightenment” and Suguru 傑 being “outstanding”. The Gojokesa 五条袈裟 was also deliberate, Geto 夏油 has the word “summer” as part of his name and his birthday is setsubun (1st day of spring) where ghosts/evil spirits are chased away. Gojo’s is the heaviest snowfall.

My examples are limited to just satosugu, but you know other characters have similar situations with how the kanji for their names were chosen - e.g. simplest that come to mind is 七海建人 Nanami : 七 = 7 and his ratio technique 7:3 and his hair style too 70%30% parting, 海 = sea, 建人 = human builder (…lol, Gojo entrusted Yuji to him after all…); utahime 歌 = song/music, etc.

My point is that there are a lot of little details like these, so I concluded that I’ll just share this thought I had. The pair of 親友 breaking up is a bit like “partners in crime” no longer being partners anymore, and went about their separate ways but fostered “families” of their own.

TLDR: scene in front of the KFC was really a breakup (◞‸◟)

[leveloneandup]

(Photo: Katelyn Mulcahy/Getty Images for Angel City FC)

Christen Press set to return to Angel City training

Christen Press is returning to Angel City FC training this week, the team announced on Monday. Press, who tore her ACL in June 2022, has had a lengthy rehabilitation process that included four surgeries. While she has been training individually for the past few months, her full return to the team’s training environment is set for Tuesday.

“My first day, I’ll do the warm up and the passing pattern with the team, but it will still be the first time I’ve done a legitimate passing pattern with a bunch of bodies on the field and checking angles, because it’s just been one-on-one training for two years,” Press told The Athletic on Monday. “We really are looking at — I got my first ACL surgery June 22 (2022), a week before that I tore my ACL — so really coming up on a two-year mark since the last time I played soccer, the last time I’ve been in team training. When I first told Angel City (about my return), I was thinking, let’s just keep it closed, let me come in on a day when no one’s going to be there and let’s just see how it is. Then I reversed, I changed my mind, because I was like, ‘Shoot, who knows how many milestones I have left to celebrate? Who knows what’s going to happen after this first team training?’ So if this is something we can all celebrate, let’s just go for it, because this journey has been really, really long.”

In January, Press spoke to The Athletic while still officially designated as having a season-ending injury. At that point, she did not have a firm timeline for her return, though she expected it to be at some point during the 2024 season.

“The first thing I need to do is get into training, but then I can get into games, then I can score goals, then I can have an outstanding season, then I can play on the national team again,” Press said. “I don’t have anything ruled out. But the most important thing for me right now is just the first step: getting back into training.”

With that first step now imminent, Angel City has not yet given an estimated return for Press in a NWSL match. The team is currently in 12th place in the standings through 11 matches played.

The timing also should prove a tough turn for Press to get herself into Olympics contention with the USWNT. New USWNT head coach Emma Hayes is expected to name the 18-player roster by the end of the month ahead of the final two send-off matches in July, but considering the depth of the forward pool and Press’ absence for two years, a return to the USWNT is far more likely to be a long-term goal.

“If you’re looking from a nine month perspective, I’m already past that right,” Press added on Monday. “A 9-12 month ACL perspective is not too far off, if we just look at my last surgery. But for whatever reason, I never really looked at the Olympics. With all the trauma of missing the World Cup, then watching the World Cup, then doing the show for the World Cup, I was like, I can’t do this again with the Olympics, because no matter how chill or zen I seem when I talk about it, there’s no way your mind can’t start doing the math, right? There’s no way. I’m like, ‘Oh, I’m not like every other athlete, I can handle this.’ Then I’ll catch myself in the middle of the night counting how many weeks I have left. You can’t stop that. You can’t stop the dreaming, and you want that. That’s part of it, but it’s also the torturous part of it, and the balance of trying to believe you can do something incredible hard and the balance of not getting too excited.”

[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) ->

[inventors-fair]

Prime Playthings: Child's Play Winners

~

Our winners this week are @bread-into-toast, @corporalotherbear, and @wildcardgamez!

@bread-into-toast — Barby Doll

To be completely honest, this placement is at least 30% because of the outstanding pun. Not to sell the rest of this card short, though! Weaponize is a delightfully creative mechanic, acting as both a mirror of the Crimson Vow disturb spirits and an extremely natural-feeling offshoot of reconfigure, with some very smart wording to ensure the whole thing plays like a dream. I do slightly worry about the equip cost (I assume, based on its place in the reminder text) being set to 2 potentially constraining design space, but being able to set the initial cost means you already have a degree of fine control over how hard it is to get this attached to something. While the effect barring weaponize isn't super exciting, it's serviceable enough as something good you'd like on an equipment as much as a creature. Plus, it works excellently with the overall flavor, making it a delightful all-around package.

@corporalotherbear — Commercialize

I'll freely admit that I did a cartoon spit take on reading the art description, so immediate points there. Does a petrified corpse count as its own monument? Eh, I digress. I'm always a sucker for when reanimation gets more creative than just plonking the creature back on field good as new, and within that niche this card solidly swings for the fences. In exchange for a restriction to legends and a potentially hefty size down, you get twice the effect of the legend of your choice. Or more, as you now have free reign to copy the copy as much as you want. It's the flavor that really gets to me, the sheer comedy of turning larger-than-life heroes of old into marketable figurines.

@wildcardgamez — Possessed Button Eyes

I was absolutely in love with all the delightful creatures this week, but suffice to say a lot of the noncreatures caught my eye. As a sort of bizarro-Equipment this card immediately has my attention, and insofar as I can tell it works like a charm. It's a bit like the cadre of artifact-animating auras, but trading granted indestructibility and/or prodigious size in order to evoke traditional equipment's biggest strength. Namely, re-usability. The ability to turn a stray token or an artifact that's quite interested in going to the graveyard into a credible threat at a moment's notice is pretty strong, especially at instant speed (is that intentional, by the way?) unlike more traditional equipment. Plus, I love the twist on the flavor here, using the tropes and trappings of the haunted doll but decidedly declawing it into more of a Pinocchio affair. The doll's animated with horrible dark magic...to be your best buddy. Cute!

~

There's a few things left in the box, so hold your horses for imminent runners up! —@spooky-bard

[yuzurujenn]

[2025.01.28] SO-EN March 2025 issue - Yuzuru Hanyu's costumes at Echoes

MIKIKO

"The role of clothing is extremely important. It’s no exaggeration to say that it can determine the success or failure of a live performance. Of course, clothing can make a performance look more beautiful, but whether the performer can move comfortably can also affect their mental state. So, clothing plays a very sensitive and important role.

Nova is named ‘VGH-257,’ which means 'a created being.' When designing the costume, we wanted it to embody a sense of uniformity, futurism, and a powerful life force that could survive in this world. With that idea in mind, we proceeded with the design commission. When expressing a futuristic feel, I gave the instruction to be careful not to make it look like a cosplay costume.

Additionally, since Hanyu's transition to a new career, he has appeared more often in fashion magazines. In these magazines, he wears high-end brand clothes and strikes various poses that look very beautiful. I thought to myself that if we could incorporate similar cuts and silhouettes into his performance costumes, it would definitely give a refreshing impression. So, I suggested this idea. This time, we realized that when Hanyu wears slightly oversized clothes, his physique and presence stand out even more. Moreover, because he has worn many different styles of clothing before, his ability to handle costumes in performances is outstanding. He can understand how to manipulate the fabric in just a few seconds, making the clothing stand out and enhancing the beauty of his skating movements. This truly surprised me."

2. Satomi Ito

About 'First Echo':

"Hanyu has always viewed costumes as part of his expression since his competitive days, with a strong dedication to both design and functionality. Although the costume may appear separate, in reality, it is one cohesive piece. This is a crucial design point. The colors are always chosen by Hanyu himself, and this time, the design was drawn based on the color he originally proposed and the concept of the program. The costume for First Echo mainly features white as the base color, with accents of yellow-green. Inspired by the image of something just emerging from a cocoon, I used a design wrapped in organza. The side of the pants is adorned with rhinestones to create a vine pattern, and it connects to the light, yellow-green, stretchy material of the top, integrating the image of vines stretching and flowers blooming into the whole outfit."

About Aqua's Journey:

The design of Aqua's Journey seems to condense the elements of the costumes Ms. Ito designed for Yuzuru Hanyu, which is quite impressive.

"I was told that the program has an image of water splashes, so I decorated the elastic mesh with organza resembling the shape of a water surface. I also used long sequins and rhinestone hand-embroidered lines. Although the design is very much in Hanyu's style, organza doesn’t have elasticity and tends to fall off, so it cannot be used for competition costumes; it’s a material unique to ice performances. Both costumes come with custom thumb gloves made specifically for Hanyu. For the gloves of Aqua's Journey, as per Hanyu’s request, only the fingertips of the right hand were made in yellow-green. You can feel his desire to transmit a bright image right through his fingertips."

"A costume only truly becomes valuable when it becomes one with the wearer. No matter how extravagant the design or how dazzling the decorations, Hanyu is able to perfectly control the costume with his technical ability and unique style, never allowing the costume to overshadow him. During the process of making his costumes, I felt a unique joy—creating costumes that only Hanyu could truly bring to life. From his time as a competitive athlete, he has shown extraordinary creativity, and now in his post-competitive career with the ICE STORY series, I feel that he is fully expressing his worldview, including through his costumes. Hanyu looks even more radiant now."

3. Takahashi Tsuyoshi

Takahashi Tsuyoshi, a costume designer who has worked across various fields such as music, film, and animation, designed the costume symbolizing the protagonist NOVA. This costume appears in the main visual, video segments, as well as at the beginning and end of the ice story. The keyword Takahashi repeatedly mentioned was "near-futuristic."

"During the discussion based on the concept art, I came to understand the theme of the performance: 'What is life?' 'What is life and death?' I also learned about the background of the protagonist NOVA. NOVA seems like a wanderer who embarks on a journey to explore the meaning of their own existence. Though there’s no clear set time period, it is likely set in the near future. So, I decided to deeply explore this aspect in the costume design. The outfit consists of a short, collarless jacket, a long vest with pleats, a high-neck inner piece resembling a bodysuit, and wide-legged tapered pants. To embody the futuristic look, I considered incorporating more straight lines and constructing the design using 'flat, geometric shapes' as much as possible. The back of the jacket is largely hollowed out to expose the vest with a printed pattern. This is because if pleats were added to the jacket to ensure ease of movement, the fabric would become too soft and loses its straight-line structure. The front of the vest is left open and is secured with hooks at the V-shaped front, to accentuate the edges. The pleats are also designed with sharp, clean edges. By highlighting the corners of the garment, I wanted to express a sense of tension and a near-futuristic feel."

His pursuit of this concept is also reflected in his choice of materials.

"The jacket and pants are made from a matte polyester fiber, while the vest uses a glossy, thin synthetic fabric, and the spliced parts are made with satin. Even with the same black color, I wanted to create a contrast in depth and shine. Not using cotton fabric was an underlying theme for me. If the setting is 100 years later, the way clothes are made might have changed, and cotton might no longer be used as a fabric. As for the zipper on the jacket sleeves, I decided from the start to use 'Excella' (a zipper brand) which has a strong reflective effect."

This was the first time Takahashi designed a costume for Yuzuru Hanyu, and when he saw Hanyu performing on the ice while trying on the outfit, he said he was "deeply fascinated."

"When Hanyu stood on the ice, he completely transformed into NOVA. His posture was just so cool... This was the fastest I've ever seen a wearer move in a costume I've made. The pants with side openings and decorative buttons were designed to catch the wind while gliding, but the actual speed far exceeded my expectations, which really amazed me. I was deeply moved and learned a lot. As an athlete, I certainly have great respect for Hanyu, and the fact that he can express the Ghost in the Shell soundtrack through figure skating is incredible. To collaborate with someone as creative as him is a true honor. In short, I’ve become his fan."

Design Notes on the Drawing:

Top left: Leather strap, repression and liberation

Middle left: Tapered pants with side openings

Bottom left: Pants that change their silhouette when blown by the wind, embodying a sense of life

Top right: Maybe add a decoration on the chin? To express incompleteness

Middle right: Asymmetrical jacket, constructed with straight lines for a futuristic look

Bottom right: Stiff pleats in the skirt, obviously to show movement while conveying the message of "standing firm even in a strong wind."

4. Toshihiko Sakurai

About Mass Destruction:

The costume no. 16, which appears to be a basic white shirt and pants, actually hides some clever design elements.

"Under the armpits of the shirt, I added large pleats to allow for easier arm movement. In the elastic pants, I also included large diamond-shaped pleats that allow for a full 180-degree split. The seemingly ordinary polyester and wool georgette skirt is actually a dress. To prevent snags, I added piping to the pleats at the skirt's box pleats. The short-cut shirt, pointed collar, and volume of the sleeves were all designed with balance in mind, especially from the perspective of an audience member watching from the stands."

About blue/eclipse:

The light blue set was finalized after multiple discussions over the styles and color schemes.

"I discussed with MIKIKO-sensei and thought about what kind of costume could stay true to the character of Nova. We talked about how (Yuzu) had never tried wide-legged pants before, so I decided to take on the challenge and explore the right width for the pants, ultimately creating a fitted, tapered wide-leg design. To ensure the costume wouldn't lose its shape during movement, we secured the shirt, jacket, and pants together with snaps. However, to avoid the costume looking too tight or unnatural, I used ties around the waist area of the shirt and jacket for adjustment, and added some elasticity. Additionally, a seam was added from the back of the jacket to the waist to create a soft effect, with hand-stitched piping. This isn't a typical A-line jacket; instead, the design flares out below the waist, leaving space at the front. This was also done with the consideration that the back wouldn't puff up when exposed to wind."

About Utai:

What kind of costume could make the performance on ice more beautiful and captivating? The exploration for the golden-colored costume took the longest time.

"Hanyu and MIKIKO-sensei both wanted the costume to resemble wings when the arms were spread wide. I designed it based on the image provided by MIKIKO-sensei of a ‘ceremonial and mysterious’ feeling. The initial version of the costume had too much fabric, which didn't spread out well when skating. After many attempts and adjustments, I finally designed ventilation holes and slits at the hem of the wings-like coat to allow air to circulate. I used the lightest organza fabric for the material. Around the waist of the inner coat, I added a belt, and at the center of the back and symmetrically on both sides, I incorporated a framework to tighten the back and waist, keeping the upper body stable. As long as the wearer grips the support on either side, the wings can fully expand to a full 360 degrees. We also inserted magnets around the waist, so when the arms are released, the fabric naturally falls and fixes in place. Following MIKIKO-sensei's suggestion, we designed the outline of the jumpsuit into a flared shape so that the fabric would gracefully unfold when spinning, which worked very well.

Creating a beautiful yet practical costume under such powerful wind speeds and pressure is quite different from designing costumes for dance. Our entire studio tried various methods and poured all our efforts into it. Hanyu quickly mastered the costume during the brief fitting time and, while caring for all the staff involved, also delivered a performance that deeply moved everyone. He is truly an incredible person... Actually, we had considered adding fabric flower decorations to the golden costume, but in the end, we only kept the embroidery on the chest, which resulted in a simple design. Looking back, the key to this costume was its ‘ease of movement’ and ‘dynamic proportion.’ The goal of the costume is to maximize Hanyu's charm on the ice. If it helped enhance the world of the performance, then that would be the ultimate success.

The embroidery on the chest is very attractive, and there is a similar pattern on the back. It is sewn with the image of "omamori" to encourage Nova who is beginning to explore what "I" is. (*protective embroidery traditionally sewn on the back of a newborn's garment by parents to bless the child)"

Source: https://weibo.com/6473801248/PbO9tclzt https://weibo.com/6473801248/PbFzIlJND https://weibo.com/6473801248/PbGYryD2o https://weibo.com/6473801248/PbE0SmcCA

[galacticnova3]

Gotta say! Never expected you to be someone who enjoyed something like LOOK OUTSIDE, but in hindsight, considering your flagship oc is basically boat body horror turned boat body horror but with teeth and eyes and flesh, it isn’t that surprising.

1. Neither did I, but what can I say, I like me some good body horror every once in a while. I watched a video covering the demo a few months ago and was intrigued, but only found out that the finished version had come out out yesterday when I didn’t have 7 or so hours to throw at the no commentary videos I was watching. The writing is stellar, the music and sound design are fantastic, and of course the creature design is top-notch. More spoiler-y thoughts under the cut. Huge recommend to anyone who likes body horror and eldritch horror!

2. PLEASE NOT HIM I CANT LET HIM BE MY FLAGSHIP OC

The teeth family storyline is heartbreaking and really shows the heart of the game with how you’re able to play with the one kid before he completely loses himself, the whole Fredrick storyline is a great mix of sad and hilarious(the way god Fred just drops the act and lights a cigarette when called out on it being a scam was GOLD), not to mention all the character interactions being pretty realistic. I love how even some of the most horrifically warped people are still sane and trying to just live their lives. I love the rat baby thing but honestly my favorite party member is probably the roaches just because of how nonsensical yet charming they are. The way it starts as just one roach writing little messages on a scrap of paper because you didn’t kill it, and then it draws a little picture, and then eventually you get to recruit a bunch of roaches in a trench coat? THE COMPLAINT ABOUT HAVING TO FILE TAXES INDIVIDUALLY? Incredible. Outstanding. 10/10. Not even the apocalypse will save us from taxes I guess.

I appreciate how varied the designs are and how they gradually get more and more fucked up over the course of the story without just universally devolving into incomprehensible gunk— body horror tends to lose my interest when it just gets to the point of just being like, miscellaneous flesh slop with eyes or whatever. At that point it’s less body horror so much as just gross-out horror; if you can’t tell it was ever a body in the first place, and there’s no buildup to it being unrecognizable from a previous state, it isn’t really BODY horror anymore. LOOK OUTSIDE perfectly manages escalating the horror without relying purely on making it more grotesque via the “more eyes more flesh more teeth” route. You get that to some degree, but you also get a monster made almost entirely out of needles, or ones that are made up of one or more people now fused to and spilling out of various twisting pipes, the ones that are just people made of different combinations of hands or fingers, the worms, the security guard fused to a bunch of TV screens and a chair, the meat cars, etc. So much creativity.

Also this is a relatively minor thing but I think a lot of the names are also really good, too; the Cop Car, Typewrither, and Not A Cowboy Hat come to mind, though I’m probably forgetting a lot that appeared earlier. OH YEAH. PHILIPPE. Giving a regular human name to any kind of monster immediately makes it funnier. I want to hit them with a car

[usafphantom2]

There’s something about seeing your name on a jet for the first time…

Aircraft assignment was usually based on seniority in the squadron— you got in line when you arrived, and if a tail opened up before you left, you got assigned to it. Some squadrons held “auctions” for tails— the 47th Fighter Squadron, with each tail being assigned a personality and character from the Li’l Abner series was a good example of this. For some reason, most pilots bid high on the jets with characters made more popular by Frank Frazetta… Odd.

And it’s just as true today as it ever was— we may get our names on the jets, but they’re not “ours.” They belong to the Crew Chiefs who break their backs and bust their knuckles to keep these warhorses ready to go. They put our names on them so we treat them better, so the story goes.

80-177 was the first A-10 I got to see my name on, and had a great idea for her ladder door art. The whole concept of nose art has fascinated me since my time at the Academy. I had a few books of aircraft nose art, and each had a section for the A-10s of the Desert Storm era. Our AOC was a DS Vet in the Hog, and during room inspections, he’s stop by and flip through the pages— “I remember this one… this guy had this jet…” It was a very cool introduction to the bond between machine and pilot, and it always stuck with me.

I’d have to come up with a suitable name for my first Hog.

Researching the great names from WWII, I kept returning to the name Miss Behavin’— just seemed like a very proper name for an A-10. At the time, 80-177 was the last green A-10 in the fleet, and she wasn’t very happy— spending more time down than in the air and nearly approaching Hangar Queen status on more than one occasion. As fortune would have it, I got selected to go pick her up from the Depot in Utah and bring her back to Korea in her new grey paint scheme. After a few attempts to get the journey started, we made it to Hawaii where she promptly broke, necessitating a Maintenance Response Team, which included her new Crew Chief. He and I talked about ideas for a name and door art, and agreed on the design, which I hand painted when he managed to get the door to me for a week. Since I graduated from the Academy in 1996, we went with a classic pinup idea and put the 1996 Playmate of the Year, Stacy Sanches, on the door.

The jet flew amazingly after that— only time I saw her down for repairs was when a taxi light burned out. I’d like to say it was the name and art, but all credit belongs to her Crew Chief— he really babied that bird and kept her in top shape.

Miss Behavin’ was only the first— I was lucky to design many ladder doors over the years, and saw my name on some outstanding birds. 80-177 will be retired this Fall, and if luck works out, I’ll get the chance to take her home. It’s way too early, of course, but it’ll be one great, last ride.

A great footnote to her story: I got to design her “forever” door art in concert with her last assigned pilot. He too went with a Playmate motif, and we put all of the previous ladder door art across the design as a tribute to her past.

Her last name: Miss Behavin’ To The Very End.

@Thundercrate6 via X

[traineecryptid]

Merch: Xilaimian and Yucun House 3D Puzzle

In January of 2024, MOEGOODS announced a collab with DMBJ to produce a 3D puzzle of Xilaimian and the adjacent house that Wu Xie built. (Note: MOEGOODS frequently collabs with DMBJ to make merch!) So, when I came across this a few days ago, I figured that it'll be good reference for fanworks. Under the cut, you'll find photos taken from the official MOEGOODS weibo of the model from various angles as well as a translation of the design notes.

Photos of the 3D Puzzle (source)

Design Notes (source)

Translation Notes

[Hidden Dragon] is part of the proverb 卧虎藏龙 lit, lying tiger and hidden dragon, that refers to outstanding figures who have hidden their identities and keeping it on the downlow. 

[I’m joyful when sleep comes] is an expanded reading on the phrase—and also restaurant name—Xilaimian. 喜(xi) means joy, the feeling of liking something. 来 (lai) means come, arrive. 眠 (mian) means sleep, slumber.

[Wood-make] is a term I made up ‘cause I couldn’t find a word that means “made from wood fibers, might be MDF, but there’s a non-zero chance that it’s actual planks”. It’s probably MDF though.

And here's Google Drive folder with all the above resources (in case tumblr messes with the resolution of the photos)

[toonnationfemoct]

Something say for The DragonBall Franchise that has Been on My Mind for a While is how Fa ns talk so Much on DragonBallZ, How Fantastic/Innovating from How Action Packed it is with Fight Scenes that are Spectical to the Eyes.

But Yet Not Many Would Take Mention on How It’s Early Roots Were Like; and Would tend to Forget How it all Actually Started.

This Start of Year I Got the Chance to Look At The Original Dragon Ball(the Anime from 1984) and I Must Say I Might Actually Like this Version that it’s Sequels. It’s Simple Story of a Boy Going Off on an Journey to find DragonBalls to Learning the Way of Becoming a Martial arts Fighter, the Soft and Fun Design of the Characters with a Unique Detail for the Mechanics, the Fun and Colorful Cast of Characters a few that been Forgotten in the Franchise(LUNCH) and Overall Silly and Fun Adventures it Brought to the Table.

It Saddens me how it’s Ignored from it Predecessor, I Understand and Get How DBZ Became something more Outstanding for New Viewers plus it’s intensity and Thrill Store lines Giving Us the Iconic Sayains and Their Power Ups. But Something About the Original Before the Sayains give a Whole New Vibe that Brings something Special in it own Unique Way. Honestly Miss this Kind of DB History as Many have as I said Forgot this Version making Old School Characters Become Irrelevant unless they are Connected to Sayains; and Again these Guys had Greater Impact when the Series just Started Out. Granted there have been Attempts of Emulating the Original in the Franchise, DB DAIMA Being an Example but Still aside from Bulma the Others Get Left Behind while the Big Names Go Off on the Journey; not saying that it’s Bad and I Plan to Check it Out as it Toriyama Final Work on the Series but My Points Still Stands.

At the End of the Day Something I Like Fans Checking Out and See What it Like in its Early Roots, What Characters Like Krillen Yamcha Tien and Roshi Ment for the Series and it Simple Action that gives Nod to Marital Art Movies and Actors of the Time. Seriously if ur a DB Fan that Hasn’t Yet Seen This Version I HIGHLY RECOMMEND IT

[u-are-my-sun-shine]

Swing Rhythm and Beauty Brought by Tourbillion Watch

Keeping rotating, rotating and rotating. This is used to describe the state of most click here outstanding achievement even gained of watch making – tourbillion.

People who have a sight of tourbillion would be attracted by its framework, for structures such as balance, regulating mechanism and escapement device and wheel are frequently contained in the small space. All these small, smart and complicated parts would keep rotating constantly. The waist watch lovers will definitely lost in their appreciation on tourbillion.

Abraham-Louis Breguet, the Swiss watch making master invented tourbillion in 1795 and gained the patent in 1801 in Pairs. The original attention was not out of aesthetic reasons, but to deal with the deviating issues of accuracy and precision caused by the location of the pocket watch – regularly a pocket watch was always fixed in someplace (table, nightstand or pocket) for long time at that time.

The invention of Breguet settled down influence of fixation by designing the rotating frame of a tourbillion. To the watch itself, the location issue isn't that several due to the co-movement of the watch and the wearer. However, it has been proved that watch of the kind is the most precious mechanical watch - persuasive evidence is that Jaeger-LeCoultre was the winner in the first international Astronomical timekeeping event with the sponsorship by Chateau des Monts, and another tourbillion watch also gained the second success.

The ultimate complicated function

The tourbillion watch which is named as ultimate complicated enjoys a high evaluation due to the fact that it is very difficult to design and make an excellent watch of the kind. Only those best manufactures have the condition to produce such complex device in some degree.

The point that make it a big different from other kinds of watches is the point that the structure keep constant rotation. Beauty of the dynamic movement and its powerful function make become king in among watches rapidly and help the manufacture gains a lot of reputation in the watch making industry. However, the watch is not the hot when compared with several years ago due to the declined freshness to the public and its rapid development. There were only few makers have the ability to make tourbillion watch in the past, but new which would inspire the watch lover is that more and more maker begin to supply watch of the kind and the price is more affordable. Even though the number of the watch increases in a large scale, but we should keep it in mind that the manipulation of tourbillion making techniques are still a remarkable achievement.

As the core of the producing tourbillion watch, the framework is definitely a skill of art. The device itself contains more than 50 small parts and each is of a very light weight (for example, the whole framework of the Vintage 1945 Tourbillion of GP has three gold support and is combined by 70 different parts weighing only 0.3 grams.)

Artistic sublimation: application of enamel to draw stunning watch Not any watch maker is able to assemble a tourbillion, but those who are with skilled crafts can deal with such complicated structure. An ordinary watch is frequently assembled by a group of craftsmen together, everyone just take charge of only a determined small part in the whole process.

However, it is a whole difference for a tourbillion watch maker. In the whole process, the professional mater would assemble the watch from even a small detail; every part should be assured to be put in the right place, and polishing, grinding, decoration, check and control of the watch should be manipulated in hand. The whole process would costs a lot of time to make sure that every watch is unique enough cause polishing and check would lead to the slight difference. Therefore, it can be said that every piece of tourbillion is a unique artwork in some degree.

[hubristicassholefight]

Preliminary Round: Revue Starlight

Propaganda below cut

Hikaru

Battle girlfriends with Karen Aijo. Competes in sword fights to decide who is the “top star.” Also sings during these sword fights. Commonly uses swords as props in plays.

Karen

There are so many other Revue Starlight characters I could submit because so many of them have swords (one even has two!) but Karen is the main character and has a sword so I think she deserves this personally. Her sword is, depending on your translation, called either Possibility of Puberty (which I find funnier) or Possibility of Youth (which I prefer but it's also so much less silly)

Nana

She has a double Katana and I think out of all the revue starlight girlies she’s the coolest. I’m sure someone smarter can talk about the symbolism of her swords. Regardless of that tho, she’s so strong even if she doesn’t appear as a strong contender, she won a sword fight competition for 60 times in a row resulting her creating a time loop. If that isn’t cool enough she has an entire fight with epic music of her taking on her entire class and winning. Like a full 1vs 8 fight and she won and looked so cool doing it; She’s literally the messiest theatre lesbian I’ve ever seen and it shows in her sword fights. Like no one sane would win a sword competition in an underground stage over and over again every year only to use the “wish” to turn back time and repeat it again and again.

Well, she has two swords. BUT this is important cause in revstar, blade length signifies someone's brilliance as an actress. So this immediately means that Nana is overpowered compared to literally everyone else.(oh and she used the swords/brilliance to trap everyone in a time loop due to her childhood loneliness but I don't know how important this is to this poll)

Maya

maya wields a rapier with a white gem, as coordinated to her image colour, for a pommel, named odette the mavericks. the sword is eponymous to its name and significant as to her major motifs—the rapier is forged with a long, slender blade, as well as a golden grip assembled with the shape of a swan’s wings. whilst there are a number of swordswomen within revue starlight, maya undoubtedly takes position zero when it comes to the effortlessness and swiftness of swordsmanship within the revues—effectively winning against a wide majority of her opponents and cutting them down effortlessly, all whilst putting on the greatest performance. https://youtu.be/SX8-exfskeo https://youtu.be/c3rrQpwKwPI (yes, she loses in this one, but her PERFORMANCE is outstanding). a few notable moments of maya’s swordswomanship throughout the revues are, The LIVE #1, in which, during a revue against saijou claudine, she uses mavericks to stab her in the shoulder and cut down the button of her pelisse jacket, achieving position zero and winning said revue. https://ibb.co/kSWjvFX Starry Diamond, in which, during a revue teamed with daiba nana, she effectively cut down her opponents and decided to further cut down nana as to further achieve position zero on her own—cutting into both of nana’s arms before soon removing the button from her pelisse jacket, as well. https://streamable.com/fx1edd The LIVE #3, in which she is set against three separate opponents, each with varying weapons—longsword, axe, bow and arrow—and continued to best all three of them simultaneously. https://streamable.com/gp430d https://streamable.com/n8tucw https://streamable.com/c7roo1 https://streamable.com/syno6z . . . and, again, everything about THIS revue. https://youtu.be/c3rrQpwKwPI

Claudine

A simple design, the handle a gold. Someone has stated that it looks like a Lego sword if you shrunk it and I think that's funny. Saijo Claudine throws her sword in one episode to help another character get higher and I think that's cool; She's french and is aligned with silver and her rival is always first place but Claudine is also really good and her sword deserves more attention 🤙🤙

[rainbowmoonstonestories]

Chapters: 6/? 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

Warning: This chapter includes detailed smut. Please don't read if you happen to be underage, or simply find this type of content uncomfortable.

UPDATE FEBRUARY 2025: Chapter rewritten to better match my current writing style. It now has better wording and a few more additions.

Chapter 6

Three months later, you could finally learn his name. A name you already knew.

“Hello.”

Your extensive research into sleep disorders and dream phenomena stemmed from a lifelong history of sleep-related difficulties. For a moment, you wondered if this was a false awakening—a dream of something that wasn't real. Or perhaps you were caught between both dimensions, experiencing a common case of hypnagogia.

His silhouette was visible in the darkness, the contours of his face discernible yet shadowed. You reached for the bedside lamp, and with a click, soft yellow light illuminated the room. Dream remained motionless, his steady gaze fixed upon you as you pulled back the sheets. Your bare feet touched the floor as you stood, the silk of your nightgown settling gracefully around your thighs. 

Taking a tentative step forward, you asked, "Am I dreaming?" 

Initially, you thought he might remain quiet or fade away like an illusion, but Dream spoke without hesitancy. "No, you are not."

His voice was like music—deep, warm, and alluring. His voice was mesmerizing, as beautiful as his entire being.

You moved closer, slowly, very carefully. "Are you real?" 

"I am.”

Mirroring your previous action, you kept a respectful distance, your face mere inches from his. The intensity of his energy held you transfixed, your eyes unwavering for fear that even the briefest distraction might cause his form to vanish. 

Then, Dream's attention was drawn to your upper arms, where the fading scars were marking your skin. With meticulous attention, he traced each mark with his fingertips, examining them with the precision of an artist studying fine details. 

His touch sent tingles through your body. Dream observed your scars with worried eyes, his neck muscles visibly tightening with concern. 

To verify his materiality, you extended a trembling hand toward his chest, feeling the soft texture of his coat beneath your palm. Dream's hands descended to your waist with wonderful tenderness, his fingers closing around the silken fabric of your nightgown with a gentle restraint. 

Your eyes met his with, a delicate balance of affection and longing reflected in your gaze. Your heart raced as warmth spread across your face, the cool touch of his fingers creating a delicious contrast. 

The moment possessed an undeniable authenticity, not in the realm of imagination, but in tangible reality. 

At last, you could truly experience him—the warmth of his breath, the magnetic pull of his eyes, the solid reality of him before you. 

You stared at Dream fondly, smiling in delight as you admired his beauty up close. His irises were a soft shade of light blue, like the ocean on a clear day, holding within them a universe of secrets and wonders. His hair was still as unruly as before, with his front bangs swept to the left. A single strand fell across his eyebrow, awakening in you an urge to brush it away. 

Dream watched intently as you captured the wayward strand between your fingers and moved it aside. Your fingertips then drifted across his cheek and chin, relishing the smoothness beneath your touch. 

Each moment with him felt like a revelation, despite the brevity of your acquaintance. His complexity and depth fascinated you, sparking an intense desire to understand every facet of his being. 

An overwhelming sense of dedication filled your heart. You wanted to be a source of strength and comfort for him, to stand by his side through any adversity, if such support would ever be welcomed.

"You're free," you said softly. "Did they finally let you go?"

"They did not."

"Oh?"

"The binding circle has been broken," he explained. "Paul... assisted me in my escape. But they did not grant me freedom." 

"I see. In other words, you simply freed yourself."

"I did," he affirmed, a trace of pride resonating in his voice.

"What happened to them?"

"No one was harmed," he stated, his deep velvety voice carrying a hint of dark satisfaction. "But I did ensure my captor would face... consequences for his actions."

His use of the singular form "captor" rather than the plural suggested that Alex alone faced these repercussions, given Paul's apparent attempt to collaborate to guarantee Dream's release.

Nevertheless, curiosity compelled you to ask for details. “What did you do?”

Dream cast his eyes downward. "I cursed him to an eternal sleep. A nightmare from which he will never wake."

You considered Paul's predicament with empathy. As a devoted spouse, he would undoubtedly face significant suffering over his husband's indefinite comatose state. The psychological toll of watching a partner trapped in endless slumber would be impossible to bear, and your heart ached at the thought of such a devastating fate. However, one could not overlook Alex's actions, as he followed his father's misguided path and inflicted considerable harm upon Dream. Their persistent characterization of him as an evil entity who would bring destruction upon release ultimately made the final punishment appear proportionate. Notably, Dream demonstrated restraint by sparing Paul, the guards, and other household members. His retribution focused solely on Alex Burgess, and even then, he chose a non-physical form of punishment regardless of the extensive deprivation he had endured.

While you could sympathize with Paul and his dramatic situation, Alex's behavior toward Dream, as revealed through his memories, made it difficult to view him as an innocent party.

With a gentle sigh, you offered him a warm smile. Dream's expression shifted to one of surprise, clearly not anticipating such a calm response. Perhaps he had expected you to shrink away in fear?

You were not beyond reproach in this situation. By accepting compensation to monitor and potentially influence him, despite your expressed desire to help him, you had compromised your principles and prioritized personal interests over his needs. 

Therefore, how could you claim innocence?

You traced your fingers along the edge of his collar, absently playing with the fabric. "Dream, I'm so sorry."

You knew an apology couldn't restore his lost years, but what other words could possibly make amends?

However, Dream showed no resentment toward you. He frowned in confusion, parting his lips and looking at you as though you had just said the most absurd thing imaginable.

"Why do you apologize to me?" he asked, his tone deep and resonant.

"Because I was there, accepting their money while treating our interactions like casual tea-time chats," you chuckled sadly. "It makes me feel awful now. I grew attached to you and your company, yet I selfishly put my own needs first. I claimed I wanted to help you, but look at what I actually did."

A deep weariness filled your heart, weighed down by years of sacrifices and sorrow.

"I should face consequences too," you concluded. "I deserve them."

Dream's forehead nearly grazed yours as a subtle smile played across his lips. "Do you desire punishment?" he asked, each word carefully measured.

"Don't you want to do it?"

"No. I do not wish for such a thing," he replied.

"But why not?"

"In a hundred years, not one of my captors showed me a fraction of your kindness and compassion," he stated. "Fear not. I have not come here to harm you."

Still, an undercurrent of dissatisfaction persisted.

"I'm not afraid of you, Dream. I never have been."

"I am aware."

"I wish I could have freed you. I wish I had been able to help you."

"You have done what you could."

"But I failed."

The intervention of security personnel had forcibly removed you from the premises at the crucial moment when his freedom seemed within reach. Your departure, without the opportunity for goodbyes, left you to reflect on the limitations of your efforts with extreme remorse.

Yet Dream held you in no less regard. His penetrating gaze stole your breath, while the richness of his voice made your knees tremble.

"You have risked much on my behalf," he stated, resonating with gravity. "Such courage deserves recognition. Name your wish, and I shall grant it."

"My wish?"

"Yes. Anything within my power, is yours."

You exhaled deeply, releasing all the accumulated tension from your chest. "You don't need to do anything for me, really."

"Perhaps I don’t, but I find myself wanting to do so."

You considered it for a moment, lowering your eyes to trace the contours of his neck, the subtle outline of his collarbones beneath his black shirt, and his chest draped in that long, regal coat.

As you contemplated what to ask for, no clear answer formed in your mind. Everything seemed to be falling perfectly into place—you couldn't be happier with how things had unfolded for the both of you. 

Still, something was missing from the bigger picture—a question that had been nagging in your mind for quite some time.

"I suppose I have only one request," you expressed, meeting Dream's face again with determination. 

"Tell me," he spoke.

"What's your true name?"

Dream appeared taken aback by the request, as it differed significantly from the type of wishes he had anticipated granting. 

"I have many names," he replied.

You have met him before and he has many names.

"What would you like me to call you?"

He is a story, an idea, the living embodiment of dreams and imagination. He exists beyond human understanding—both unknowable and transcendent. To some he remains a mystery, to others a legend.

You looked at him expectantly, though the matter of names seemed inconsequential to him.

Finally, he offered you the answer you had been looking for. “I am Morpheus.”

The revelation of his name triggered a cascade of dormant memories, resurfacing with sudden clarity as he formally introduced himself. The name struck a familiar chord—you had definitely heard it somewhere before.

"Well, you are here presently, are you not?"

"'Here', you say? Could you explain what you mean by that?"

A knowing half-smile played across her lips. "This is The Dreaming. The realm of Dream of the Endless. And what you see before you is what remains of his castle."

She gestured to the ruined structure, its walls crumbling while distant crunching sounds reverberated through the space.

“The Dreaming… Dream of the Endless…”

Your attempts to uncover clarity only yielded an increasingly complex web of uncertainties. "I don't understand... What happened to this place?"

The woman’s expression grew solemn as she adjusted her glasses, her gesture reflecting the gravity of the situation. "Lord Morpheus... he has been gone for quite some time now. In his absence, The Dreaming has begun to unravel, falling into disrepair. And I'm afraid the consequences of this decay have started to seep into your world as well."

Pieces of the palace littered every surface, the destruction reminiscent of a devastating conflict. Even amid the pervasive darkness, an underlying beauty persisted. The stained glass windows cast prismatic illumination throughout, inspiring a sense of optimism, while a mystical force still radiated through the ruins.

"Lord Morpheus... is Dream of the Endless..."

More recollections began to surface.

"Have I visited this place before?"

The man with the jacket stepped forward. "Not here, no. Things are quite different now without Lord Morpheus."

The implications became clear: Dream's imprisonment had tremendous consequences, leading to widespread cases of the Sleepy Sickness. This condition persisted through generations, manifesting as long-term insomnia and an inability to dream. As his domain deteriorated into an inaccessible and corrupted state, the peculiar individuals you encountered there became increasingly difficult to recall upon waking, leaving only fragments of memories that defied complete comprehension.

With the pieces finally falling into place, your smile widened as you pressed yourself closer against him.

‘In the arms of Morpheus’.

"Morpheus," you repeated, savoring the way it rolled off your tongue. "I like it—it suits you perfectly."

You remained still, observing his striking features in the serene darkness. The atmosphere was infused with an intoxicating blend of aromas—mineral-rich sand, briny ocean air, and mysterious fragrances that defied description.

"Is that all you desire of me? My name?" He asked.

You shrugged. "My father is doing better now, and here you are, standing before me, free from that cage and that dreadful place." You paused, unconsciously sliding your fingers further around his neck. "What more could I wish for? I have a roof over my head and people who care about me. I am alive, perfectly imperfect as I am. I'm fortunate to have what I have, and to be here, in your company… sharing this moment with you."

He listened in silence, captivated by the sincerity in your words.

"I’m a simple person, you see. I don't need much to be happy."

Material wealth and eternal life held no appeal for you.

In that moment, you could only feel grateful for the journey that had brought you here. Each adversity overcome, each relationship forged, and every moment—whether positive or negative—had contributed to your growth. These formative experiences had sculpted your character, complete with the nuanced complexities and authentic imperfections that defined your humanity.

His fingers traced soft patterns along your sides, following the silky folds of your nightgown and creating another invisible thread that bound your souls together. His mesmerizing eyes drew you in once more, pulling you into the intricate constellations that flowed into his irises. Their wonderful complexity reminded you of a celestial vista or calm sea waters.

In those eyes lay an entire cosmos of mystery, and your blood heated as his breath caressed your lips.

His lips...

You gazed at his plump lips with mounting desire, longing to feel them pressed against yours in a passionate kiss. You wanted to savor him, to let him devour you. You craved for his touch everywhere, in places so intimate you could barely let yourself imagine them.

That was your true wish—a secret need you dared not voice, believing he would deny it if you asked.

But would he…?

Morpheus looked at you with unwavering fervor. Though his expression remained inscrutable, you could feel the tension in his restraint.

A shockwave coursed through your body as his right thumb and forefinger delicately lifted your chin—not grasping, but guiding it upward just enough to bring his lips precisely where you wanted them.

"Then allow me to give you a gift."

His words barely registered before his lips met yours in a tender, delicate kiss. The warmth enveloping your mouth was spectacular, his lips moving against yours in perfect harmony. The kiss transcended words, conveying things that language could never capture. It made you feel truly alive and cherished, washing away all your worries and fears. It was a kiss that immediately eclipsed all others from your past, a moment of pure bliss you would treasure for the rest of your life.

The kiss was so chaste and sweet that it melted your racing heart, leaving you breathless yet secure in his embrace. Time stood still, as though the universe itself paused to witness what would unfold next.

Your breaths mingled as one when he finally pulled away, leaving you wanting and empty, wishing for more of his touch, his lips, his taste.

Your entire being ached for him.

With newfound courage, you let your inhibitions fade away and pressed your lips back against his before he could withdraw. You kissed him with greater passion, wrapping your arms around his neck as waves of ecstasy coursed through your veins.

Initially, you feared your boldness might cause him to reject you. However, he matched your energy, his grip tightening on your waist as the fire between you only grew. Your kiss deepened naturally, becoming an intimate expression of mutual appreciation.

A soft moan escaped your lips as your fingers traced his neckline before drifting down to explore his chest, your mouths still locked together. His responding groan transformed into a deep rumble that sent shivers down your spine, leaving you dizzy in the most delicious way.

His tongue moved with sublime grace, dancing with yours in perfect harmony.

He was irresistible, like a divine force of nature. When your lungs finally demanded air, you reluctantly broke the kiss—a soft sound echoing between you—and gazed up to find his eyes heavy-lidded with lust.

His expression left you transfixed, excited, and gasping for air. You could see the hunger in his eyes as his Adam's apple bobbed. Morpheus wanted you just as desperately as you wanted him.

"Do you want me to continue?" you asked softly, already knowing the answer in your heart.

"The wise course would be to stop," he murmured with quiet urgency. "And yet, I find I cannot."

Your lips spread into a spontaneous smile, so wide it made your cheeks hurt. "Good, because I cannot either." You brushed your nose against his cheek, taking a shaky breath as one of your nightgown straps slipped from your shoulder.

Summoning the will to step from his hold, you reached for the other strap and eased it down. With both shoulders now uncovered, you clutched the fabric against your chest, keeping it from slipping. He remained still as a statue, watching in silent anticipation as the air grew thick with tension. His heated stare burned into you as you stood in front of him, gradually revealing yourself.

With graceful poise, you let your nightgown cascade to the floor, revealing your bare breasts in their entirety. Standing in just your cotton underwear, the soft lamplight cast a gentle glow across your skin. His eyes traveled slowly over your form, studying every curve with quiet admiration.

Though being nearly naked had you both nervous and vulnerable, his eyes on you made you feel powerful and irresistibly desirable.

Morpheus let his inspection wander, taking in the delicate line of your neck and collarbones before descending to your breasts. Your nipples had hardened in the cool air, and while you felt a flutter of self-consciousness, you reasoned it was only fair—after all, you had seen him unclothed many times before.

Wrapping your arms around his neck again, you pressed your lips to his chin with featherlight kisses, your breath coming in heavy waves against his skin. As his hands caressed your bare back, his fingers discovered the small scar from the piece of broken bottle. The healed wound remained tender, making you shiver at his gentle touch.

Morpheus traced the scar with curiosity, his cool fingertips following its contours with utmost delicacy.

The attraction between you burned hotter, consuming you with an insatiable craving. His hands cradled you as if you were made of porcelain, while his lips traced a path from your cheekbone, along your jaw, before settling on your neck.

Unable to resist any longer, you grasped the lapels of his coat and stepped backward toward the bed, pulling him with you. Morpheus followed silently as your lips remained locked with his, his fingertips settled into the sweet dimples of your lower back.

As your legs met the edge of the mattress, you eased yourself onto the covers, inviting him down with you. The bed dipped beneath your combined weight as he straddled you, his eyes locked with yours as his right hand traced a path along your thigh.

Your breathing grew heavy and labored. Morpheus leaned in close, brushed a strand of hair from your ear, and whispered deeply, "Breathe."

His deep voice sent a tremor through your form, yet brought unexpected peace. As you steadied your breathing, he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead before trailing his lips down to yours.

When his hands found your breasts, cupping them with tender reverence, you arched instinctively into his touch, your nipples tingling at his intimate caress. He cradled them with sweetness, supporting them with the gentlest ministration.

"You are exquisite," he uttered softly.

Though "exquisite" wasn't a word often used to describe you, his compliment made you soar with joy.

He was direct and purposeful, giving you exactly what you needed without any pretense. You hummed contentedly and threaded your fingers through his hair, gently raking your nails across his scalp. His thumbs traced soft, electric circles on your hardened peaks, sending waves of pleasure straight to your core and eliciting a breathless gasp from your lips.

It felt like being touched for the very first time. His eyes remained locked with yours as he shifted down, his palms gliding along your stomach and abdomen. His fingers drew closer to the hem of your underwear, tracing the lacy edge with curiosity and hesitation.

You bit your lip and parted your legs invitingly, silently begging for more. Your desire for him was almost scandalous, but you were past the point of caring. That line had been crossed long ago.

You longed for him to worship every inch of you, to transport you to rapture with his presence alone.

“May I?”

The fact that he asked for consent, even when your arousal was unmistakable, made you lose the last bit of resistance you possessed.

"Yes," you breathed. "Please."

With a shaky breath, Morpheus hooked his fingers under your panties, slowly pulling them down. You lifted your hips to help him, and he slid the fabric along your thighs, down your legs, and past your ankles. His throat bobbed as your panties fell to the floor, leaving you completely bare before him.

Morpheus looked at your naked form with dark, ravenous eyes, taking in your flushed cheeks and swollen lips. His gaze trailed down to your round breasts and pert nipples, following the smooth skin of your stomach to your hipbones. He now had an unobstructed view of your most intimate part, displayed before him like a precious offering.

Your sensitive clit throbbed in tune with your heartbeat, your core clenching with desperate emptiness, as he moved rapidly to fill the space between your legs the moment you spread them wider. His every motion was sensual and fluid—he knew precisely how to make you lose your mind, and you wanted him to take complete control of you.

He pressed his clothed body against yours, his weight pleasantly heavy upon you. As he caressed your cheek with the back of his hand and fondled your breasts, you felt his hardness through his pants—the thick material rubbing insistently against your clit.

"Are you certain this is your wish?" he asked. "I shall grant whatever you seek."

"Absolutely certain," you replied, trailing your fingertips along his jawline. "Take what you want from me."

"I desire all of you," he declared quietly. "If you would permit me such indulgence."

You laughed softly. "Dream, I'm yours for the taking. I can't wait another moment."

Without hesitancy, Dream captured your mouth in a deep kiss, his tongue intertwining with yours into another coreography. Lost in the sensual act, you moaned as his fingertips found your clit, touching it with calculated slowness that made pleasure build within you like a rising tide. Your hips lifted instinctively as his fingers traced tantalizing circles around the nub, lingering there for a moment before slipping lower with the gentlest, most delightful stroke you had ever felt. When he dipped inside your folds, you clutched his hair, pulling him closer as tremors of euphoria rippled through your body from head to toe. Even with such light pressure, you could feel yourself racing toward release.

Sensing your building need, Morpheus paused his movements. You whimpered in protest and took his face in your hands, giving his lower lip a gentle bite. His response was immediate—his arousal pressed firmly against your thigh as he let out a soft groan of impatience.

"Please," you repeated, your voice barely audible.

In response to your plea, Morpheus gracefully rose from the mattress and descended to his knees before you. His elegant coat cascaded behind him like a regal cape, pooling on the floor.

He drew your thighs forward, already parted willingly before him. Bringing his lips close to your sex, he flattened his tongue against your slit in a slow, tantalizing lick—the instant pleasure hitting you like a shooting star blazing across the night sky.

The divine sensation of his tongue made you struggle to keep your eyes locked with his. You longed to throw your head back and cry out his name, yet you couldn't bear to miss even a second of what he was doing to you.

The way he stared heartily at you while lapping at your clitoris with his tongue was the most erotic sight you had ever witnessed during an intercourse. He touched you with devotion, as if you were precious beyond measure, igniting a flame deep within. Unlike your past experiences of rushed, unsatisfying encounters, with Morpheus every sensation existed in a realm beyond ordinary existence.

He demonstrated remarkable attentiveness and consideration, ensuring your fulfillment took precedence over his own gratification.

While you were entirely bare, he was still fully clothed, prioritizing your pleasure above his own as he lavished attention on your most intimate area with his skilled mouth. You could see your clit following his tongue, pulsing rhythmically as the pressure mounted. He savored every second as if tasting the finest delicacy.

He devoured you relentlessly as you slipped deeper into a state of total bliss. His tongue moved like a symphony, playing you like an instrument. With masterful motions up and down, side to side, and in circles, he made you cry, moan, gasp, curse, and mewl. His alternating between gentle, teasing licks and passionate, open-mouthed kisses left you breathless and melting under his touch.

He seemed to anticipate your desires before they fully formed in your mind. He made your body sing as he lavished your clit repeatedly, continuously switching between the softest caresses and vigorous suction while teasing its hypersensitive peak. His fingers curled rhythmically inside you, expertly caressing your inner walls as soft, intimate sounds filled the air.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, holding on desperately. Every movement Morpheus made was calculated and precise, designed to give you the best pleasure you had ever known. You were utterly captivated by his enchantment—and you reveled in every moment of it.

Unable to keep your eyes open, you let your head fall back and arched your spine, tightening your grip on his hair with a gentle tug. When he touched that sweet, spongy spot deep inside your core, probing it in just the right, perfect way, you felt yourself come completely undone.

"Morpheus... I—" your words trailed off into a moan as waves of pleasure consumed you.

"Let me have it," he whispered, his deft tongue vibrating against your clit with rapid, precise flicks. "Surrender yourself to me."

Release overtook you completely, your body trembling as you called out his name in ecstasy. Your orgasm surpassed anything you had ever known, your fingers clutching the sheets so tightly that the fabric almost tore beneath your grasp. The prolonged bliss left you spent when it finally subsided, and as your sensitivity peaked, Morpheus continued his gentle ministrations by drawing out the last remnants of pleasure. His strong embrace held you close as you gradually floated back to earth.

Reclining on the mattress, your breath still uneven, you failed to notice the moment his attire dissipated into ethereal sand. As he positioned himself above your quivering form and embraced you securely, the feeling of his unclothed flesh against yours coaxed a soft hum of surprise.

When you opened your eyes, you were greeted by the familiar sight of his naked form—pale and smooth as the finest marble. Even though he was still lean, his muscles were now more defined, his physique more sculpted and less gaunt. If you had thought him the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen in that bowl, now his stunning appearance nearly brought you to tears.

With a contented sigh, you extended your hand to caress his cheek while your other palm found its way to his chest, your breathing still slightly elevated.

"Clever trick," you said with a smile. "Very convenient."

His lips, glistening with your essence, curved into one of those subtle grins you adored. He raised his slick fingers to his mouth and brought them between his lips, cleaning them with deliberate sensuality.

"Damn," you breathed, feeling desire stir anew as heat pooled between your thighs. "You'll be the death of me."

Morpheus leaned down, capturing you in a soft, affectionate kiss that let you taste yourself on his lips. "I most certainly hope not," he said, his voice low and seductive. "I would be displeased."

Your hands explored his back as he positioned himself above you. When he settled his knees on either side of your hips, your gaze wandered downward, taking in his firm chest, flat stomach, and the defined curves of his abdominal muscles. In the past, whenever he had moved around or stood in the cage, you had politely averted your eyes from below his waist. But now, with his body pressed deliciously against yours and about to take you to new heights of pleasure, you finally allowed your eyes to drift lower.

Your breath caught in your throat as you stared in awe at his impressive size. His erection was mouth-watering, standing hard and proud against his stomach, the flushed tip glistening with moisture that dripped onto your inner thigh. His length moved and pulsed with every shift between your legs, as you watched the prominent vein along his shaft throb and deepen. His perfect glans and gleaming tip were literally begging to be inside you.

Morpheus teased your clit with his hardness, causing exactly the response he sought. Your fingers pressed into his skin as you forced your legs impossibly wider, your soft pants warming his ear. Even as the position strained your injured wrist, the haze of passion made you hardly notice the pain. Heat blossomed and spread through you, your arousal mounting despite the powerful climax he had already evoked from you.

Morpheus craved you just as intensely, caressing you with steady strokes of his tip.

Emboldened by desire, you reached down to wrap your hand around him, gliding it along his length in a slow, steady rhythm. He exhaled sharply, his hips bucking as your fingers caressed all the right places.

"Is this okay?" you asked sweetly, seeking his vocal permission.

"Yes," he purred languidly. "However sublime your touch may be, I find myself at the precipice of restraint."

Though tempted to test his control and see him come undone by your hand or mouth, you shared his urgency for something more; your inner walls were slick and aching to welcome him inside. You kissed him deeply, aligning yourself with his shaft as you waited for him to sink in.

"Please, don't stop on my behalf," you encouraged. "Make me yours, Lord of Dreams."

Your heart, still thundering in your chest, raced even faster as you felt his warm tip probe softly against your entrance. Something primal had awakened in him too—the moment you begged him to take you, he replaced your hand with his and drove himself between your folds with fierce determination.

"You are mine," he rasped. "Wholly and completely mine, beyond any measure."

‘God, yes!’ You thought, sinking your teeth into your lower lip as he slid in effortlessly. He entered you with such ease there was no discomfort at all.

With his first thrust, he struck that perfect spot inside you, burying himself completely into your core. You fit together like two halves of a whole, it surpassed your most erotic fantasies and wildest dreams.

You wrapped your legs around him tightly, pulling him closer as you adjusted to his size. He started with shallow, gentle thrusts while you both grew accustomed to the intimate connection. As his confidence built, his movements became more passionate and erratic, making you whimper and gasp. His breath grew heavy with exertion, his elbows braced firmly on the mattress as he held himself above you. Your foreheads met lovingly, touching with each powerful movement of his hips.

Yet he showed no signs of exertion, his skin remaining perfectly dry without a single bead of sweat.

Looking at him now—so beautiful, so strong, so astonishingly magnificent—you felt your emotions swell and overflow. Tears formed in the corners of your eyes, trailing down your cheekbones and earlobes before dampening your hair.

Your feelings for Dream of the Endless were extraordinary, having grown in the most unconventional circumstances. As he moved inside you, your bodies joining in a rhythmic dance, you realized how intensely you had hoped for his touch since your last relationship ended.

Morpheus slowed his movements, trailing tender kisses across your face and neck before finding the sensitive spot where your neck and shoulder met. He pressed his lips to your skin and inhaled your scent, his hands reverently exploring you like an artist's brush caressing a canvas.

Without exchanging words, he perceived your innermost thoughts, understanding the depth and sincerity of your heart.

You felt his pace quicken as you tightened your arms around his torso, your hand finding its way to his nape to play with the short hair there. He thrust into you with mounting vigor, your form tensing as your muscles coiled like a spring ready to burst.

“Ngh—you feel incredible!”

"Oh, do I?" he inquired, the corner of his mouth lifting as he exhaled. "I find you perfection incarnate."

"Aw, you flatterer!"

Your mutual admiration flowed freely, each expressing appreciation for the other with unrestrained sincerity.

You were deeply complicit, sharing an unspoken connection. Though emotionally drained from days of longing, you felt overwhelming joy having him finally in your arms.

Meanwhile, Morpheus had carried a century of pent-up rage, having endured the loss of everything while being caged like a worthless creature. You welcomed his release of those sentiments as he drove into you forcefully, losing himself in pure ecstasy.

As he nuzzled his face into your neck, Morpheus lifted your thighs higher around his hips, his gestures both comforting and ardent. You matched his pace, rising to meet each downward thrust, your cries of pleasure growing steadily louder. Every motion stimulated you in ways you'd never experienced before, and your second orgasm began building like a wildfire erupting from a single spark.

Morpheus let his fingers run along the curves of your shoulder, collarbone, and breast, sliding over your nipple before moving lower. When his fingers found your clit, he began massaging it in perfect tempo with his thrusts. The pleasure grew so strong that you unraveled like a taut string suddenly cut loose—a fresh wave of rapture hitting you as your eyes fluttered shut. Your inner walls pulsed around him, squeezing his length until you lay completely spent and satisfied.

His thrusts quickened as he moved within you, his hot breath and groans filling your ear. You sensed his approaching climax as his motions became uneven, building toward his peak of sheer pleasure.

Morpheus suddenly lifted himself from the mattress, clearly intending to withdraw. You caught his upper arms and shook your head, whispering breathlessly, "Please don't... I'm protected."

The Endless searched your eyes for any trace of doubt or fear, but only found trust and desire in your resolute expression, remaining deeply sheathed inside you. Settling back onto the bed, he resumed his rhythmic movements, muffling his approaching moans with a passionate kiss. As pleasure overtook him, his mouth pressed even harder against yours, his heavy breaths punctuated by melodious grunts and groans while his hips bucked repeatedly. You felt the warmth of his essence filling you, reaching depths you had thought impossible to touch.

You continued stroking Morpheus' hair, absently running your nails along the back of his head with gentle scratches that he seemed to enjoy. Again, his skin was utterly pristine, making you feel self-conscious in comparison. After reaching his peak, he remained intimately connected, his forehead pressed to yours as he nuzzled your nose tenderly, completely lost in the moment.

As you regained your breath and energy, you listened to the gentle sounds of breathing and occasional contented sighs. Morpheus didn’t move, his softening length nestled inside you as he savored your embrace. Neither of you wanted to part, lying there intertwined, basking in the warmth of your joined bodies.

Time lost all meaning in his arms. You pressed soft kisses to his shoulder before turning to rest against his temple. Your hands wandered down to feel his shoulder blades and trace along his spine, to the dimples above his buttocks. As your fingers glided back up to map the contours of his biceps, he responded with another gentle hum.

Morpheus didn’t protest, letting you navigate his body anew, your fingers gliding along every curve and ridge to savor the definition of his muscles. The soft rustling of your palms against the smoothness of his skin anchored you to reality.

And then, your actions produced a pleasant consequence; his shaft began hardening again between your folds, awakening from its brief rest with an insistent twitch. You couldn't help but smirk at how quickly he responded, feeling a surge of power wash over you.

You rocked your hips and maneuvered your legs, feeling his length grow thicker inside you. Despite experiencing the two most intense orgasms of your life, your desire for him was unquenched. Instead of feeling exhausted, you craved more of him, and more of what he could give.

Morpheus gazed at you, his eyes alight with both arousal and amusement. "You are... insatiable," he said, each word carefully measured and resonating with otherworldly power.

You let out a laugh, confidence and playfulness glinting in your eyes. "And you love it, don't you?"

"Mmm... most assuredly," he confirmed, his voice a velvet rumble in the darkness, low and husky.

He withdrew until only the tip remained, then plunged back into you with a powerful thrust that made your overstimulated nerves quake. His intense eyes as he looked down at you set all your senses aflame.

Enstablishing a demanding cadence that your aching limbs struggled to match, he claimed your mouth again and again, consuming your lips with his quiet zest. His breath grew heavy against your lips as the exquisite friction between your bodies deepened. The sound of skin against skin echoed off your bedroom walls, bordering on indecent.

His girth continued to bump against your cervix, sending electric waves through your sensitive and overstimulated clit. It brushed lightly against his body, the delicate pressure sending tremors through your limbs and edging you toward another climax.

Without breaking his rhythm, Morpheus adjusted his position and rose above you. His gaze traced over your features, drinking in your expressions of bliss as you moved in response to his fervent motions.

"So incredible," you breathed, wanting him to know the depth of ecstasy he was giving you.

Hearing that, he let his hands roam up to your chest, enveloping your flesh with passion and lust. "Share with me the sounds of your pleasure," he commanded.

You were losing yourself, melting into a pool of blissful abandon. His wet tongue traced down to your collarbones, teasing against your skin before finding one of your nipples. He circled the tip with soft, almost timid strokes, making it harden and tingle before taking it into his mouth. As he began to suckle gently, a long, sensual moan escaped your lips again.

Adjusting to a sitting position after releasing your nipple, your eyes met. He looked intently at your face as he thrust powerfully into you, his hands seizing your wrists and moving to pin them above your head.

You winced as a sudden pain radiated through your arm. Morpheus immediately ceased all movement, his concerned countenance meeting yours with clear remorse.

"I'm sorry... my wrist hasn't fully healed yet," you explained.

He eased his hold on your injured wrist while keeping a gentle grasp. With a disarming care, he examined the sensitive area, his thumb tracing delicate patterns across your skin. An indescribable gentleness and compassion overtook his features as he brought your wrist to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss against it with closed eyes. The unexpected gesture caused more tears to well in your eyes, deepening your feelings in an instant.

When he looked back at you, your smile widened, and you pushed yourself upward to capture his lips in a grateful kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. Morpheus altered his position to accommodate you, holding you close against his body as he resumed his lovemaking session. He cradled your lower back with one arm while bracing himself against the sheets with the other. You moved as one, lost in each other's embrace—back and forth in a harmonious pas-de-deux.

A familiar heat coiled inside you as your walls tightened intermittently around him, beckoning him into your depths. Your release approached swiftly—gentler than before yet still explosive, cascading over you in waves of blissful warmth, peace, and relaxation. It radiated from within, culminating in your clit which continued to pulse with each subtle touch.

Morpheus groaned into your neck, unable to hold back any longer. With a few final, frantic thrusts, the clenching around his length sent him over the edge. You both collapsed onto the mattress, panting heavily in a sweet tangle of limbs.

Still catching your breath, you rested your hand against his chest, feeling his elevated heartbeat beneath your palm. Taking his right hand, you placed it over the top of your breast, letting the rhythmic pulses of your bodies create a harmonious cadence that pierced the quiet atmosphere.

Your fingers interlaced with his as you exhaled deeply, your legs trembling from exertion. This precious moment imprinted itself into your consciousness, far exceeding any prior romantic experiences or sexual fantasies.

Morpheus sealed the moment with another kiss before pulling away and settling on the bed, one leg bent before him while the other dangled off the edge. You rose from the sheets as well, nestling beside him as you made delicate circles across his fingertips with your nails.

When the magical ambiance began to fade, reality settled in with sobering clarity. Morpheus had responsibilities beyond the mortal realm - duties as Dream of the Endless that surpassed human understanding—even your own. The prospect of his departure raised questions about whether this night would remain singular and fleeting, or if there was potential for it to evolve into something more substantial.

Taking a deep breath, you moved closer to him and asked, "Will I see you again?"

He contemplated his answer while responding to your touch. "I shall be with you, always... in your dreams."

His answer struck you like a cold shower, and you failed to hide the sorrow that seeped into your soul. "Only in dreams?"

"I am Ruler of the Dreaming," he stated solemnly, his tone carrying both authority and vulnerability. "The Waking World lies beyond my dominion."

"I understand. I wouldn't blame you for wanting to stay far away from my world after what they did to you," you replied. "I know I'm only human, and I have no right to expect special treatment. But I'd love to see you again while I'm awake—to show you the beauty this world still has to offer and share more of myself with you. I also want to learn about you and understand what you do."

His eyes glistened with emotion as his fingers intertwined with yours. With refined grace, he lifted your hand to his lips and placed a delicate kiss upon your knuckles.

"I am far more terrible and cruel than you could possibly imagine," he admitted. "Are you entirely certain that this is the path you wish to pursue?"

"I may not know everything about you or your past, Morpheus, but I've witnessed the cruelty humanity inflicted upon you. Yet with me, you've been nothing but gentle."

"If that is what you wish... I shall make it so."

You shook your head with a soft smile. "Thank you, but... what do you wish?"

"Why do you ask this of me?"

"I appreciate that you want to satisfy my desires, but I wouldn't want you to meet me again if you don't want to."

"You truly believe I have no desire to see you?" he inquired with a mix of disbelief and kind reproach.

"Do you?"

After sharing the best sexual experience of your entire life, you wondered if your feelings matched the depth of his own. You remained uncertain about his true intentions, given both your limited knowledge of him and the vast disparity between a mortal and an Endless being.

Fortunately, his next words instantly calmed your anxious heart. "I would find great pleasure in meeting you again... both in my realm, and here in your world."

You bit your lower lip, unable to contain the joy radiating through your entire being. “Really? You promise?”

“I do.”

Morpheus' considerate and compassionate demeanor toward you, despite the vast divide between your natures, was remarkable. His words were carefully chosen, and his actions demonstrated a genuine trust that overcame any need for pretense.

"I must leave," he intoned with a note of regret as he brushed a strand of hair from your face, studying it with quiet fascination between his fingers. "The Dreaming requires my presence."

You nodded gently. "Of course, don't let me keep you from your duties."

He placed a delicate kiss upon your forehead before guiding you to recline. As your head settled against the pillow's softness, a sudden drowsiness enveloped you. The bedsheets draped delicately around your form as awareness began to fade.

His attire had materialized seamlessly, returning to its pristine state with the same ease as it had vanished earlier.

“Sleep, Y/N,” Morpheus said, his velvety voice soothing.

The sound of your name in his sonorous voice sent a delightful shiver through you, his rich timbre lending it an almost musical quality.

“Thank you, Morpheus,” you murmured.

"For inducing your slumber?"

Pulling the bedcovers to your chest, you let out a silent laugh. "As honorable as it is to be put to sleep by the actual Sandman, no. I'm thanking you for giving me the best night of my entire life."

Morpheus' lips parted, then closed again as he considered your confession.

"I am the one who owes gratitude for your aid and comprehension. Now rest, my dear Y/N," he spoke, carrying the weight of endless dreams.

As you started to drift away, you observed him retrieving an ornate leather pouch from his coat. With practiced elegance, he loosened the drawstrings and released a handful of sand into his palm, which transformed into an infinite, supernatural cascade.

A gentle breeze caressed your face as the shimmering grains coalesced into a spiral formation. Within moments, his figure dissolved into the vortex, leaving no trace of his presence behind.

Luminescent dream-sand lingered in the air, its glow casting delicate shadows across the room. As sleep overtook you, the mystical particles settled upon your eyes and dissolved into your eyelids.

The following morning, you awoke with an evident physical fatigue. As the warm water cascaded over you in the shower, memories of the previous evening surfaced - the intimate moments shared with Morpheus still resonating through gentle reminders across your skin.

Morpheus proved to be an exceptionally attentive and passionate partner, setting an unparalleled standard of intimacy. What you had formed with him during your encounter left you certain that no other potential partner could ever compare, nor did you desire to seek one anyway. 

Your acquaintance with this Endless being was still rather limited, but you found yourself inexplicably drawn to his presence, recognizing him as an essential part of your existence.

While the future was rather uncertain, his words clearly indicated your night together marked the beginning of something meaningful. You felt an unprecedented sense of completeness and vitality, one that even your sore muscles couldn't diminish.

The day was exceptionally bright with crystalline skies overhead. As you made your way through the streets, there was a distinct lightness in your step, a mystical quality to your movements. Your radiant smile captured the attention from passersby of all ages, your genuine happiness emanating outward and affecting those around you. 

Your perspective on life had fundamentally transformed. The challenges of the past seemed to fade into insignificance, and while you acknowledged potential obstacles ahead, you chose to focus on the present changes. Meeting Morpheus had drastically altered your outlook, instilling gratitude and affection in you that surpassed ordinary description.

Finding a vacant bench in Richmond Green park, you settled down with your coffee while inhaling the crisp air, rich with earthy aromas of moss and resin. Though your time at the Burgess mansion made you appreciate your old urban life more, you could not deny that you still held a great interest for natural surroundings. The serene environment provided connection to the earth, offering both stability and rejuvenation.

Upon completing your beverage, you detected movement in your peripheral vision. A raven had positioned itself in close proximity to your feet, observing you intently with a heightened awareness of the surrounding scene.

Birds of prey always demonstrate wonderful cognitive abilities, and their presence in cities contributes significantly to urban biodiversity. Through recent experiences, you had acquired a newfound expertise in distinguishing ravens from crows, despite their similar physical characteristics. What once posed a challenge in differentiating their features had become second nature now.

Your enhanced ability to distinguish avian species could be attributed to the knowledge Morpheus had imparted to you from the memories of his past.

You smiled, gazing at the raven with curiosity. It didn’t move, fixated on you for unknown reasons. "I'm sorry, little friend, I don't have any food to offer you," you said. "It's beautiful out here today, isn't it?"

The raven turned its head toward you and seemed to nod, as if comprehending your words perfectly.

Weird.

"Please, feel free to stay for as long as you like. I enjoy the company."

The raven obliged, remaining in place as you spent the next ninety minutes on the bench, alternating between checking your phone and resting with closed eyes. The bird was particularly vigilant, its obsidian eyes scanning the surroundings and observing each passerby with careful attention. Its protectiveness gave the impression of a dedicated sentinel, keeping watch over your safety from any potential disturbances.

You chuckled to yourself.

At noon, you stood from the bench and adjusted your bag. The raven was still observant as you knelt down to its level, tilting your head inquisitively. While corvids typically exhibit cautious behavior around humans by adopting a defensive distance, this particular specimen demonstrated unusual comfort in your presence, suggesting prior exposure to interaction.

"Thank you for keeping me company, little one. I'm afraid I must go now."

Departing from the raven evoked a sense of melancholy. Unlike domesticated animals that could be offered shelter, this wild creature belonged to the open skies.

As you walked away, the raven accompanied you along a portion of your journey toward the main thoroughfare. As you turned to observe your avian companion, you discovered it had vanished without a trace.

With a contemplative smile, you proceeded onward into central London.

The raven's visit lingered persistently in your thoughts throughout the day.

Ravens held diverse symbolic meanings across literature and cultural traditions. Despite its seemingly ordinary nature, your intuition suggested there was something meaningful about this specific meeting.

While pigeons and crows were common sights in urban parks and streets, encountering a raven was notably unique. The significance of this particular sighting was intensified by the raven's symbolic connection to Morpheus, but you eventually dismissed any supernatural interpretations.

It would be imprudent to fixate on analyzing circumstances that warranted no deeper investigation. 

Ravens have traditionally been associated with themes of loss and foreboding in mythology, but they also serve as intermediaries between the physical and spiritual realm. Your connection, however, was uniquely tied to The Dreaming - a dimension you discovered independently before Morpheus' return.

Others might think you were losing your grip on what was real, considering your current thoughts as something irrational. And yet, your past experiences had proven the reliability of your intuition in recognizing significant moments, even when others dismissed it.

Choosing to interpret it as an auspicious sign, you remained optimistic about its significance. Throughout the day, you found yourself periodically gazing through the window at the sidewalk below your building, harboring a quiet hope of glimpsing Dream's return. 

Naturally, there was no indication of Morpheus' presence. Rather than dwelling on an unsolvable mystery, you redirected your focus to your portfolio work.

That afternoon, you experienced an extraordinary burst of creative energy. As you began sketching, your artistic vision flowed easily onto the paper, transforming your thoughts into precise strokes that seemed to pour forth endlessly. Each page was filled with detailed interpretations and visual recollections, allowing you to immerse yourself completely in your artistic process and find a new sense of purpose.

Aan early attempt to enter the fashion industry resulted in rejection from a potential employer who provided harsh criticism of your work. While the competitive nature of the field was expected, receiving such severe feedback regarding your abilities significantly impacted your self-confidence at the time. This setback led you to reevaluate your career path—a period that coincided with your father's initial diagnosis. 

In retrospect, it proved to be a catalyst for personal development. The timing was not optimal for that particular trajectory, as you required the opportunity to develop both professionally and personally into the woman you had become.

Now you wouldn't let any other color-blind, pompous, and self-centered tyrant destroy you.

Setting aside your pencil, you extended your arms in a careful stretch, mindful of your healing wrist. The evening sky presented a fantastic display of colors, its vibrant hues painting the celestial firmament. After preparing a cup of tea, you positioned yourself in the balcony's Bohemian chair, allowing the urban symphony to soothe you as you admired the spectacular sunset above.

These peaceful moments brought back memories of time spent away from home. During high school, you developed a reputation for being studious, preferring literary pursuits over weekend social gatherings at local venues. Your peers acknowledged your exceptional eye for style, often seeking your advice on fashion and cosmetic choices. However, they struggled to understand your reluctance to prioritize activities outside and romantic interests, particularly when it came to attracting attention from the more prominent students.

Your dating history had been limited prior to college, with previous potential partners often misunderstanding your more reserved and intellectual nature. Prior to recent events, you could only count two significant relationships, both ultimately concluded due to infidelity and fundamental differences in values and lifestyle.

Then Morpheus entered your life, suddenly, like the strangest of fairytales. Your night together deepened your feelings for him, forging a powerful bond you wanted to nurture. Rather than overwhelm him with excessive attention, you decided to let him guide the direction of your relationship, respecting his independence.

Exhaling softly, you took a sip of your tea, which had cooled during your reverie. The setting sun cast a brilliant glow across the horizon, its radiant sphere gradually sinking behind the skyline before you.

A distinct flutter of wings and a gentle tap on the railing caught your attention. As you looked up, you discovered the same raven from this morning perched elegantly on the metal barrier, regarding you with the same composure it displayed before. To ensure you weren't imagining it, you averted your eyes momentarily before returning them to the bird, confirming its presence was as tangible as the ceramic mug in your grasp.

You gazed at it in surprise and let out an amused chuckle. "Hey there. Are you following me around, little one?"

The raven let out a soft caw and ruffled its feathers in response. Had you somehow offended it?

"Oh, don't be mad. I'm only teasing," you said with a smile. "I just didn't expect to find you here, of all places. I'm not used to getting this much attention, you know? Keep this up and I might just have to adopt you," you joked, taking another sip of your tea.

The subsequent event defied conventional explanation, bordering on the surreal.

"Yeah… that's probably not the best idea."

You choked as the liquid went down the wrong way. Coughing violently, you clutched your aching chest and quickly set the half-empty mug on the small straw table beside you.

"Ouch… sorry about that."

The voice you were hearing was distinctly masculine in tone, unmistakably originating from the avian creature before you and articulating in perfect human speech.

Your breath caught as a harsh, scratchy sensation filled your throat and heat rushed to your face.

"Uhh... you alright there?"

The evidence was undeniable - the raven possessed the ability to communicate verbally. With apparent concern, it descended from its perch and approached you across the balcony floor for a closer inspection. While ravens were indeed known for their capacity to mimic speech, this bird’s articulation was remarkably human-like in both tone and delivery.

When the suffocating feeling subsided, the raven flew to the table. You immediately turned and adjusted your position, realizing how lively, and indeed human, his eyes appeared up close.

Just when you thought you had seen it all, life was becoming even more fascinating.

You were absolutely thrilled by this unexpected twist.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 (currently reading) Go to Chapter 7 ->

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Our winners this week are @corporalotherbear, @curiooftheheart and @izzet-always-r-versus-u!

@corporalotherbear — Raucous Celebrators

For a common design, this is a pretty good corner case, and once more I'm pleased with the kind of designs that Battlebond 2HG play has to offer. The ability to confer with a teammate is one of the best advantages that 2HG has over other formats, and even then, in Commander or similar formats the ability to cast two spells and get a free Shatter isn't anything to shake a stick at. Situational, yes, but necessary—in a way that probably comes up more often than not in the formats where it'd be played.

I think this is one of those cards as well where the name, flavor text, and abilities give rise to an idea of the art and mood without having to explicitly spell it out. I can quite easily see the brightly painted faces and the hooting-slash-hollering that would be taking place here. We don't need to see the sighing Sylvia or even the aftermath of the destruction; the implication of an arena already in the process of being decimated is enough. It gives a little bit of humanity to the world, in the sense of connections between our Earth's sports fans and the crowd here rushing the stands. I really love how you've got that subtle story there that's funny, flavorful, and quite polished overall. You know, it just struck me: this card can show either the joy of a winning team, OR the anger of a losing team. Great work.

@curiooftheheart — Jaywalk

I was tempted to just put "10/10 no notes" and have that be the end of the commentary. I've never laughed so hard at a submission, and I really have nothing to add that this card doesn't already demonstrate. Perfect name, perfect vibe, perfect modes, perfect flavor text. I think when I shared this in with the other judges, Florence mentioned that this pedestrian was having a really bad day if they're getting hit with every vehicle at the same time.

Maybe there's something to say about limited? I dunno, it's a removal spell in the right shell and a perfectly adequate combat trick otherwise. Perhaps there's something to be said about the "crime" aspect being, like, situational, but that's not eve what this contest was about. You demonstrated perfectly the kind of fine balance between dark humor and utility. I'll be thinking about this submission and sharing it around for quite some time.

@izzet-always-r-versus-u — Graverobbing

And today I learned about the word "fossor!" I love learning new words, and this card's pretty standard for what we're looking for in a way that elevated it with the other kinds of grave-themed submissions; there were a few this week, which I should've expected, honestly. What I like about this card in particular is the versatility of it and the simplicity that comes from the choices. You gotta have creature cards in graveyards, but maybe you only need one. Double Raise Dead ain't nothing to shake a stick at, but you need the double black pips, so there you go—and blockers slash bodies is important as well.

This one is on the higher end of complexity, but in a world where multi-paragraph commons exist (looking at you, Sticky Fingers), this one isn't the hardest to grok, in my opinion. You gotta pick creatures, yours go back to hand and your opponents' make Zombies. Ain't so bad, right? It could be an uncommon, but that would be situational with the set's gist. Flavor text here is fun, too—it's worded well and reads great. Actually, I love how the Imperial aspect speaks to the nature of the world where the political positions have their backstabbingly-oriented nature no matter where you are. That's how you speak to a greater world without massive amounts of exposition. Phenomenal job overall.

Runners coming up! @abelzumi