#walker-extended-universe

[acakeyboi]

whats the biggest mischaracterization ur fave gets? what do you wish was discussed more about them? :3

[persephones-scribbles]

Masterlist

Clark Kent

Napoleon Solo

Sherlock Holmes

Geralt of Rivia

August Walker

Walter Marshall

[nozhdyved]

i need more cam hcs!!! maybe w lump/colin? sorry im obsessed with that socially awkward man

im a lump x cam truther and that does naawwwt show at all thru my headcanons for cam!!!!!!!!not at aaalllll omfg neveerrrrrrrr!!!!!!!:) <3

-x- cam grew up catholic, wearing a cross around his neck and attending church every sunday. it was something that he hated, not necessarily because it felt wrong, but because he felt like he could be spending his time doing something.... better.

-x- even as a young adult, the cross necklace he keeps in his pocket still seems to weigh on him and all the decisions he makes.

-x- his favorite color is a calm shade of sage green- because it's the color of his curtains in his childhood bedroom. the child psychologist said that particular shade helps with night terrors, which cam was very prone to as a little kid.

-x- he grows up thinking he wants to be a vet, until his dad had to put their family dog down and made cam go along with him. that day on, cam never gets pets and has an aversion to them.

-x- gets kicked out when he's 17. his mom remarries and his stepfather thinks he's "queer and too quiet," so he's sent out with just a box.

-x- meets lump at a homeless shelter, right as he's getting kicked out for nabbing some bread off of a little kid's plate. cam says something like, "oh- no, no, he's with me, it's fine. he's just... slow" and they let lump back in. from that day on, lump sees himself as cam's protector.

-x- lump has really hot hands and cam is always frigid. lump's always giving cam his layers, and if need be, stealing some new jackets for him.

-x- lump finds the ad looking for a new writer at pc zone, and though it hurts him to see his best friend moving on without him, he brings it over to cam and urges him to go to the interview.

-x- cam's able to afford a tiny flat after like 8 months into the job, and somehow, lump knows where he is. he shows up, a big grin on his face and two joints in hand. "missed me, mate?"

-x- lump fucks cam. send tweet!

-x- cam is really clumsy and easily breaks things, so his flat is always dim, because he always breaks lamps.

-x- he's always tripping and making tiny tears and holes in his clothes, so he clumsily teaches himself how to sew. most of his jackets and jeans are patched up with shitty dollar store thread.

-x- cam went out of his way to visit colin when he got the job to write the thronglets preview. would show up at the tuckersoft building, lying about an extended cut of the interview, just to listen to colin rant about black holes and timelines... whatever.

-x- cam built his computer, and he's always shocked when he comes back home and sees the throng still running around on screen, not yet killed or the computer not yet blown up.

taglist: @yardofbrunettes, @forgetmenotnympho, @ferventdisciple, @strandedbread, @banderdyves, @aurorlia, @jesuistrestriste, @sweetheartfaist, @irysque . click here to join !

[shevr]

favorite aunty donna sketch?

wah h have i mentioned aunty donna somewhere lately or are you just making that guess on me or is that just coming back at me for an older mention of it. either way yeah good wait hi

very bad at favorites but hh h hhu uh i'll pick "Stuck" as a less appreciated fave & then list other good'uns in tags

edit sorry nevermind anything i said i forgot about

[evilminji]

Okay... so it COULD be because, as a writer, I'm an ASSHOLE to my Characters...

BUT YOU KNOW WHAT'D BE FUNNY?

Danny, innocent, gets YEETED into DC. As ya do. And he's a bit messed up. But! He's a Baby Ancient in the making. Gonna be master of Spaaaaaace(~~~☆!) one day. Very exciting, only slightly relevant.

See, Ectoplasm? Dumb. That's why we need Cores and Brains etc. Never let Ectoplasm decide things. It WILL chose the "technically correct but now the buildings on fire" option EVERY SINGLE TIME. And you are running out of fire extinguishers.

Because it is dumb.

Very, VERY No Brain, Just Goo, Dumb.

And THIS Goo has a life to save. A Halfa too maintain in Peak Performance(tm). Because THIS Goo is VERY smart Goo(according only to itself) and TOTALLY knows what it's doing! Damaged meat bits? Oh that's EASY! You just FIX that! Replace with meat bits! See? It's BRILLIANT Goo. 10 out of 10 stars, me!

Small problem.

The instructions have been damaged.

PANIC.

Wait! No! We got this! We are Very Smart Goo(tm). And have Space Powers. This is FINE. We'll... we'll just FIX the instructions! Hand me a hammer! If we smash enough bits together, it'll sort? Of look right? Close ENOUGH? Yeeeeeah. We're GENIUS Goo~

Use THAT!

But where did they GET their ill begotten DNA? Well OBVIOUSLY the place all the OTHER DNA they had was stored, DUH? Keep up, says the Goo with literally no braincells making horrifying choices for an unconscious man. It's Earth.

As in... the planet.

It's not even HIS planet. It's AN Earth. A Planet CALLED "Earth" that dwells in the DC universe, not his, and is covered with ZERO(0) Fentons but plenty of superhumans and aliens. THAT planet.

The Goo grabbed the Very BESTEST Meat Instructions it could FIND! The Goo is also a collective and did not AGREE on what the "Best" WAS. But it's... okay, no, I can't lie to you, it is NOT fine.

But thankfully it IS stable.

Because Ectoplasm may be dumb and indiscriminate as super-bacteria with a flamethrower, but it is a MASTER at the jigsaw of Life. It can reanimate ANYTHING.

Including the now SINGLE MOST CHIMERAD MAN you've ever SEEN. Who is he related too? YES. His left knee is Kryptonian, the fingers on his right hand are Tameranian, his skin tone has shifted to the most ambiguously multi-ethnic tone imaginable (think that future of humanity mock up, where they combine every ethnicity on the premise that inter-racial marriage will becoming increasingly common up to the point where we all just kinda look averaged out thanks to the ease of travel) because it's trying to do all of them at once and none of them are willing to back down, because all of them got the instructions "Be Skin". He might have Slade Wilson's cheek bones and hair.

Danny wakes up and basicly is half Ectoplasmic Goo, half the extended Super Community.

AND CANT GET BACK HOME TO FIX IT.

Because of course this IS fixable. It's just medical shape-shifting. But without HIS template, undamaged. His body is REFUSING to change from what is OBVIOUSLY the CORRECT form. And he keeps getting clocked as "probably related to me".

With the Fenton Luck kicking in? The parts of him people manage to swab and/or get DNA from? Keep MATCHING them. Danny doesn't know WHO is behind this but-! *spots a giggle child with a cat* !!!!!!

You.

Klarion you little SHIT!

So now he's wearing a face that's BARELY his, running from very determined superhumans who want to parent him, trying to steal enough technology to build a portal. AND vowing to kick the witch boy's ASS.

This ISNT FUNNY, KLARION.

His body is Frankenstein's FEVER DREAM! Every time he gets hurt, it tries to "FIX" itself! He lost a chunk of his should back there and HIS ENTIRE BODY CHANGED SKIN TONES. He's pretty sure if he SITS funny, his teeth might fall out and regrow POINTY! He's handing you over to WALKER you horrible little gremlin child!

Just? Take the "Danny is related to X" and "Danny is sick" and turn them uuuuup. Make EVERYBODY concerned except Danny. This is just another fucked up adventure in a long string of fucked up adventures. Give him his DNA back. If he has to suffer the Fenton Luck then he should AT LEAST get to keep the Fenton "built like a tank"!

*gets hit again*

*is GREEN now for some reason* The fuck?

Garfield, aka Beast Boy: I HAVE A CLONE SON!?

Danny: Zone DAMN IT not another one!

@ailithnight @hdgnj @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter

[ginnysgraffiti]

Paul Atreides x reader? Where the reader does not believe in the prophecy of the Lisan-al-Gaib or in any god or Messiah that they say will come, to which Paul is interested in her but also feels anger because the reader does not show fear or submission, and when inquiring about why she has no faith in anything she reads or gods is because she went through many horrible things and when she prayed for it to be a nightmare but it never happened, and that's why she believes in nothing but herself.

thanks for the request! sorry if i haven’t answered sooner :(

PAUL ATREIDES x yn.

your people lived on arrakis under one name: the fremen. people who have inhabited arrakis for many millennia, originally arriving after an interplanetary diaspora.

your planet became the center of immense interests of the empire following the discovery of the powerful drug called melange or spice, capable of significantly extending the length of human life and increasing.

you have been trained in guerrilla warfare since childhood, reason why you're considered among the best fighters in the universe, the only ones capable of holding your own against even the emperor's ferocious sardaukar.

people can comfortably call you interstellar nomads who follow a particular philosophy, people who live together in desert tents and who are more like a big big family or army.

therefore, you don't hide the fact that you get along very well, despite the fact that fremen have challenging, ambitious characters, and you often want to prove our superiority by fighting or calling sandworms.

if someone has already heard the famous prophecy "blessed be the creator and his water" well, that's you, these are the fremen. that's your prophecy or the thing people think you believe in. or at least, your people believe in.

you worship shai-hulud, the sand worm, a gigantic and dangerous creature that populates the deserts of arrakis and is the source of the spice cycle. your religion, like almost all those of the primitive worlds of the empire, was profoundly influenced by the bene gesserit missionaria protectiva.

if you ask stilgar, he will answer you by saying he believes in the arrival of the messiah, of the lisan al-gaib. so please, don't ask stilgar.

lisan al-gaib, in your fremen language, "the voice from the outside world".

in later use the name messiah specializes to indicate the "anointed one" par excellence, sent as a savior of the fremen, the chosen people, and to turn the desert into the green paradise it used to be. this is how stilgar would happily explain it to others.

bullshit.

the biggest lie you've ever heard.

you have waited ages for the messiah, and the only conclusion you managed to get was that even foreign people made fun of you all by saying they were the famous messiah you had been waiting for. really funny, right...

"the walker of the golden path" they say, just they don't know how much you have suffered or how different you feel about your people's adamant beliefs.

you know paul since a few weeks, and you hated every second of it, and you knew he did too.

at first you avoided him, dodged him or threatened him with your eyes as if he were an harkonnen. or, if you were in a bad mood, you ignored him completely, especially when he entertained stilgar with inappropriate and absolutely not funny jokes but that made the whole for-dinner-tent laugh.

you knew that everyone was at his feet, that they would even lick the sand he walked on.

you often heard your fremen friends talking or chatting about him, and you could have sworn some of them even wondered out loud of it would be to have sex with him.

you had never thought of paul as someone to have sex with, mostly because you hated him on principle.

for the first week you loved showing off your fighting moves when he looked, or throwing barbs at him to shut him up.

you knew that he was intimidated but also angry towards you, that he was curious about your people, and therefore you could show yourself superior anyway. you wanted to crush it like a desert fly and rejoice while it dies under your sole.

then, everything changed.

it was afternoon, and the wind was gently blowing, but not enough to make the sand rise.

he was a little too snuggled up next to you, on the highest dune you could reach from the fremen camp.

at first, you didn't even like the idea of starting a conversation, but paul was the one who talked first.

he told you about his visions first, about his nightmare correlated, about the mental torture he had to kneel upon when he used to live on caladan, because everyone thought he was the kwisatz haderach.

he told you about his training, his father's death and how he felt so alone, abandoned by the little people he loved and betrayed by the ones he barely knew.

something about it woke up a new feeling inside your chest. you felt understood.

and he was not there forcing you to go on your knees and pray the messiah and his rise to power.

he was simply chatting, his eyes almost tearing, playing with some sand in his right hand.

he wanted to understand you, to understand why you were the only one who refused to believe the prophecy and yet the only one who captured your attention.

your mind returned to the morning where a few of your friends wished to have sex with him, but right in that moment, when the sun was melting under the dunes, far away, you could only wonder how plump and soft his lips could become against yours.

that same evening, you got confirmed paul atreides was the best kisser you had ever known.

in your tent, with a slight scent of spice and body

skin and sweat, he held you close as if you were

his only lifeline, as if you were about to become

small microscopic grains of sand, and he would no longer be able to hold the right ones in his hands.

you stood there, under his slim and perfect body, stroking his curls in a slow and sleepy gesture, until he closed his eyes and let his cheek rest against your breasts.

messiah or not, you believe he was the love of your life.

[cultofdixon]

Falling for you…wasn’t meant to hurt

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • The two of you grew close because the universe thought you were meant to be. But Daryl agreeing to let you help him find Carol’s daughter, he didn’t expect anything bad to happen • ANGST/SFW • TW: Impalement / Injuries / Anxiety / Restlessness

Requested by: Anon

“If you’re gonna go search for the kid, don’t go alone.”

“Fine” Daryl made his way toward the camp outside the farm house as Rick gave him a confused look.

“Who are yea takin’?”

“Y/N” He states without a second thought in mind as Rick quickly grabs his shoulder stopping him.

“You sure that’s your best option?”

“I trust her more than you, Rick. She’s more than the best choice” Daryl retracts from the man continuing his way over to the tent city they have going on as Y/N’s was on the side closest to Daryl’s.

________

“Who’s that?” Merle elbows his brother to look at the woman seated on top of the RV.

Daryl looked over trying to get a good look at her face but when he couldn’t. He gave up and told Merle not to go there knowing damn well his brother was going to holler at her.

Then later in the night, Daryl went over to the camp fire they always have going when dinner was made from whatever he and Merle caught. He went to get him and his brother some dinner only for the woman from the roof of the RV to hand him two prepared plates before he could ask somebody to.

“It’s Y/N by the way”

“What?”

“My name. I’m the “who’s that” from the other day” Y/N gave him a small short lived smile before looking down at the book laid in her lap.

Daryl stood there a bit awkward while holding the plates as he cleared his throat to get her beautiful E/C eyes to look up at him.

“Daryl”

Her smile shot back instantly making his heart beat quicken.

“Don’t be a stranger, Daryl”

________

“Do you trust Rick?” Y/N asks Daryl as he was getting one of the Greene’s horses strapped with a saddle.

“Don’t know yet, more than Shane if it came to that though”

“Ugh. In those terms I agree…I just. Don’t understand how he’s so blind to their nonsense” Y/N frowns looking over to the camp while Daryl did his thing but his attention seemed to always fixate on her when she didn’t seem alright.

“Ready. Least I think I got this shit on right”

“You ride a horse before?”

“Uh. No, shouldn’t be too hard”

“If we had the resources like the old world, I’d tell yea to wear boots. So your feet wouldn’t slip from the stirup” Y/N stared watching Daryl get on with ease extending his hand for her as he kept his cool when her smile practically shot him. “Don’t do anything too crazy, cowboy”

“Wouldn’t dream of it” Daryl chuckles lightly as his mind was running miles at everything she did, even if it was the smallest thing of wrapping her arms around his waist. “Alright, let’s get”

God I really hate horses Y/N thought as she held onto Daryl for dear life wishing they went on foot.

I can’t focus On the other hand, Daryl’s mind raced having her this close.

But a good thing can’t last forever in the end of the world.

________

Daryl cared, but he also didn’t. In the moment he didn’t care about anybody else except her when he returned from Atlanta to find out a herd was crashing through.

Not that she needed any help given every walker that came toward her, met the short end of the stick.

Once the horror show came to an end and many were mourning, Y/N dropped her axe before falling to her knees and trying to wrap her head over all the happened. Her mind was flooded until she felt hands carefully take a hold of her face. Her eyes instantly locked onto his piercing blues.

“Are yea bit?” Daryl frowns waiting for her to answer as she shook her head, bringing a whole wave of relief. “Alright, c’mon. Let’s get yea cleaned up”

________

They can handle anything

Daryl jolts awake in a bit of a haze feeling the pain in his side realizing he was impaled by his own arrow. But given the racing situation at hand, it didn’t remain in his side as he quickly pulled it out while scrambling to get his crossbow in order to shoot the walker getting dangerously to Y/N’s unconscious form.

The second he landed the shot, Daryl dropped his crossbow rushing the best he could over to Y/N and rolling her onto her back noticing the branch embedded in her side.

“Fuck” Daryl frowns removing his shirt wincing when he agitated his injury and wrapping it around her middle to secure the branch. “Wake up, wake up, WAKE UP” he didn’t meant to shout so loud at the last part but it got her to jolt awake wincing in pain immediately. “Sorry. I’m sorry”

“W-…What a way….t-to wake a dying p-p…person” Y/N scoffs wincing more feeling the branch move when she took a breath.

“Y-Yea ain’t dyin’”

“H-Hurts…though” Y/N finally got a deep breath in, exhaling slowly feeling his fingers press against the pulse point on her neck. “Mm still here…”

“Yea better be by the time we get back”

Y/N couldn’t even wrap her head around that thought. Of making it back alive. She thought she was going to die there or on the way back, but given how hard Daryl was trying and the anxiety laced in his voice. Even with how much he’s talking…she’s not going to feed into the seeds of doubt and let him try, hell…she’s still trying.

“Can’t move yea too much…gonna have to go the long way”

“H…How’d we even…?”

“Stupid goddamn h-horse” Daryl winced to his pain when he tried to get up so he could help her up. Y/N carefully pressed her hand to his injured side getting another wince out of him and when she removed her hand she saw the blood.

“You can’t die for me” The first clear thing she’s said since the fall and Daryl didn’t know what to say. The anger that always laid dormant in him at times, started to peak out when his mind raced to the conclusion that he’s not going to listen to her if she starts talking about leaving her behind.

“F-Find something”

“What?”

“F-…Find ah…” Y/N laid back again in the dirt looking around locking onto the walker he had killed to keep her from getting bitten. “S-Stop the bleeding. T…Ta…Take his s-shirt”

He would listen to her direction but find himself yelling at every moment she closed her eyes. They were both weak, but he’s the only one capable of getting them out of there.

Daryl took the shirt and secured it to stop the bleeding on his side. Then he decided to take the dead’s pants thinking if he could climb up from where they fell while Y/N was wrapped to his back, then they could follow the same tracks that got them there instead of trying a whole new route. But that meant having to cut the branch shorter and warning her was the easy part.

Feeling her nails dig into his arm as he used his knife to shorten the branch on either side…listening to her scream in agony and the blood continued to seep through his shirt that was supposedly secured around her. He was in hell.

Y/N tiredly watches the creek disappear as Daryl carries her on his back taking his sweet ass time climbing.

“Gonna get Hershel, to check on yea.”

“You…”

“Me? Me what? Me too? Yeah no shit. None of’em out there are gonna let me walk around bleedin’”

“…s-someone needs to care”

Daryl was reaching the last stretch in climbing when she said that. He was confused on what she meant but when he finally got onto the main path pulling the rest of her up and beside him. Y/N had gone unconscious again. She wasn’t finished and he wasn’t happy seeing her eyes closed.

“Come on” Daryl shakes her at first, trying to keep the yelling at a minimum because the only thing it’s going to do is draw more sickos toward them. But he wasn’t getting anything immediately. “Y/N?” His fear started to get him as he gently brushes the hair out of the way of her face shaking her head carefully. “Please. Please. I can’t lose you. I can’t.” His voice cracked, his tears were threatening to spill over.

It took a second but she tiredly opened her eyes reaching forward and grabbing a fist full of his tank top.

“Tired…” She sighs feeling his hands rest on her face. “Sorry”

“You’re not allowed to die, alright? I’ll kill yea if you do”

Even in a weak state she couldn’t help but laugh to such.

Soon they were on their feet, Y/N’s arm draped over Daryl’s shoulders as he kept her up the best he could while they made their way back.

“Walkers!” Andrea yells catching everyone who was outside’s attention.

As Rick, Shane, Glenn, and T-Dog grabbed their guns and made their way to the walkers given there was only two. But Andrea decided to take the hunting rifle and get ready to take at least one of them out.

“Andrea don’t”

“Shut up Dale”

Y/N groaned touching her side to see the fresh blood coming out as she gave Daryl a worried look while he kept a stern one. He wasn’t stopping. Then her anxiety got the best of her right when the four approached them aiming their gun.

“That’s the second time you aimed that thing at me” Daryl huffed.

“Oh my god Y/N” Glenn frowns noticing her injury then they all were startled by both Y/N shoving Daryl off and her falling back when the shot rang through. “Holy FUCK!”

The group that rushed over surrounded Y/N as Daryl weakly looks up from his fallen position noticing her unmoving form. He couldn’t quite pick out what they were saying as he tried to get himself off the ground. Eventually T-Dog approached him with an extended hand.

“C’mon man. We gotta get you checked out”

“Is she—-“

“She’s still breathing” T-Dog reassures him as he got Dixon back on his feet bringing his arm around his shoulders. “The hell happen?”

“Goddamn horse” he scoffs feeling his anger bubble inside himself when watching Shane carry Y/N sprinting toward the house.

Daryl found himself at the dining room table letting Maggie do his stitches while the room that once had Carl, now had Y/N being worked on by Hershel with help from Patricia. He anxiously waited and winced every now and then when Maggie pulled a bit too tight on her stitches. She’d apologized immediately.

“Yer dad is good right?”

“Yes. For someone who originally only worked on animals” Maggie states applying the bandage as Daryl immediately got up leaving the house and approaching the camp.

“Who the fuck fired?”

Everyone grew tense with the tone he took as it was obvious given her avoidance to eye contact when he brought it up.

“Who. Shot. Their. Gun.”

“Andrea” Glenn blurted as Dale smacked him in the arm. The guy was nervous. He wasn’t about to lie for her.

“I’m sorry Daryl! You two looked awful and from afar—like walkers. I had to protect—-“

“FOUR OF YALL CAME TOWARD US. WE DIDNT NEED SOME TRIGGER HAPPY BITCH TAKE CARE OF IT” Daryl snaps as Rick stepped between them pushing him back gently keeping mind of his own injuries.

“Look. You’re upset. We all are. We’re worried about—-“

“Nah. She wouldn’t have gotten hurt if you had just trusted me to take care of business by myself. I shouldn’t have taken the one person I care about in this goddamn apocalypse” Daryl clenched his jaw moving his gaze to the floor. “I’m leavin’ if I lose her” he whispered.

“Daryl”

The two quickly turned to Maggie as she kept a relaxed expression but the tension in her shoulders struck Daryl’s anxiety.

“We need you”

Daryl quickly ran toward the house and barging into the room noticing the branch was still in Y/N’s side.

“Why the fuck haven’t—-“

“I stabilized it but she woke up, screamed at us wondering where you were—-“

He didn’t say anything all he did was instantly to go to her side noticing the color that left her face from the blood loss, and the bullet graze on the side of her face.

“D-Daryl. It h-hurts” She whined with tears streaming down her face as Daryl held her hand trying not to fall apart.

“He’s gotta take it out and access yea, sunshine”

“P-Please. Don’t leave”

“Wouldn’t dream of it” Daryl states giving Hershel a look for him to get started as he watches the doc move the bandaging showing the branch that still needed to be pulled out. His heart was pounding in his chest holding Y/N’s hand knowing in a split second he’s going to have to hold her shoulders.

Which happened to be now. Hershel started to pull the branch out and Y/N tried to fight Hershel wanting him to stop but he kept repeating “almost there”. Daryl brought his hands to her shoulders pinning her down as Patricia held her legs down to keep the movement at a minimum. She clawed at Daryl’s arms crying in pain as he knew he would be hearing her screams whenever something went wrong in the future.

Once the branch was removed, the blood poured in new places that weren’t where the clamps were. Leading Hershel to apply pressure immediately while Patricia scrambled to get what they needed. Daryl relaxed but tensed instantly when Y/N’s breathing slowed…slower than normal.

“Goddamn it” Daryl frowns holding Y/N’s face shaking her slightly. “Come on come on come on!” He shouted startling everyone as Hershel took notice and quickly checked her pulse while Patricia kept the pressure.

“Son, you know CPR?!”

“What?! Nah. No she don’t need it. She’s just—-“

“You need to do it or she’ll die”

Then the sound went out in his head. Daryl instantly started to do CPR and tried his best not to instantly break her ribcage with the pressure he was building up to. His shoulder was grabbed when Hershel finished his work and checked her pulse. He did good. Daryl did good.

“She’s gonna be unconscious for a while” Hershel states, about a few hours later as it was now the evening. Daryl hasn’t left her side and he mainly said that in hopes he’d get up to walk around a bit. But he didn’t want to face anybody. “She lost a lot of blood and it’ll take a while—-“

“Use mine”

“Pardon?”

“I’m fucking universal. Take some of mine to help her”

________

“He seriously did that?” Y/N questions Daryl as the two were sitting alone in the room they were sharing at the CDC.

“Got a lot of money out of it”

“But that’s not safe. Taking three pints? How did you not go into shock?”

“Who said I didn’t?”

“Daryl, I’ll fucking kill you if you ever gave me your blood”

“Huh?” Daryl was confused on what she meant and Y/N was getting at, if the situation asked for it. She wouldn’t want him to bleed himself just for her to live. “You ain’t gonna lose a fuckton of blood. Won’t let it happen”

________

Three pints. Fucking moron.

But Hershel only took one a day and gave it to Y/N, letting Daryl take the couch in the living room to recuperate after each transfusion. He had to be a human blood bag, Hershel couldn’t calculate a pint so he had a cut off period. Meaning 3 pints could’ve been less than what was taken.

Daryl didn’t have to give anymore and found himself back in the chair beside the bed staring blankly at the window seeing the group take advantage of the luxury of the Greene farm. Part of him knew it wasn’t going to last. Something in him was leaning toward that, but he wasn’t going to lose her if something bad were to happen.

He flinched to feeling something as he brought himself to cross his arms turning toward her thinking it was just a breeze. But when he noticed her open eyes and extended hand, it was her.

“Holy shit. Holy SH—“ Daryl cut himself off when Y/N brought her finger to her lips to shush him as he leaped out of the chair dropping to his knees directly beside the bed dropping his head onto the bed. She instantly wrapped her arm around his shoulders as her other hand carefully reached over to run her fingers through his hair. “Thank god. Thank fucking god”

“Dar…your arm is bruised”

“Don’t…don’t worry about it, sunshine. I had to do what I had to do”

A sigh escaped her lips making him turn his face toward her as she gently caresses his face watching him relax to her touch.

“I’m always going to worry about you”

“Y/N…you almost died” His voice cracked as her expression saddened gripping the back of his shirt tugging at him. Daryl got the idea as he pulled himself up letting Y/N wrap her arms around him as they both kept in mind their injuries.

“I’m not going anywhere…has to take a lot to take me away from you”

“I love you…I loved yea since I first met you…”

Y/N held onto him with the strength she had feeling Daryl hide his face in the crook of her neck.

“Falling for you, wasn’t meant to be literal” She giggles feeling him pull away so he could get a good look at that smile of hers that he missed so much. “I love you Daryl”

The tears came back when he brought his lips to hers feeling her gently wipe away his tears not breaking the kiss they shared. She returned her arms around his shoulders parting from him to bring him close once again.

“I ain’t letting go, sunshine”

“Good…”

[mariacallous]

Sarah Milgrim was someone who knew “exactly what she wanted out of life,” according to people who knew her well. She was an idealist who invested herself in Jewish life, and in the future of Israel. At her high school, in the suburbs of Kansas City, she was a member of the Jewish Student Union; as a senior, she was interviewed by a local news station after someone spray-painted swastikas on a school building. “I worry about going to my synagogue,” she said. “And now I have to worry about safety at my school.”

Later, at the University of Kansas, she was on the board of her campus Hillel chapter and went on a Birthright trip to Israel. In graduate school at American University and the U.N.’s University for Peace, where she focussed on sustainable development, she got involved in Tech2Peace, an N.G.O. that brings together young Israelis and Palestinians for training in Israel’s high-tech industry. She later joined the American Jewish Committee’s young-professionals program. She considered working for U.S.A.I.D. Shortly after the October 7th attacks on Israel, though, she went to work for the Israeli Embassy in D.C. “She felt really strongly about improving the world and leaving it better than she found it,” Dana Walker, the director of the American Jewish Committee program, told me.

Milgrim’s boyfriend, Yaron Lischinsky, worked alongside her at the Israeli Embassy. He was idealistic, too, though his life had followed a different path. Lischinsky grew up in Israel and Germany. He was an Israeli citizen and he served in the Israel Defense Forces. His father was Jewish, his mother Christian. “Even though my parents had different beliefs, the internal struggles I faced mostly stemmed not from their cultural backgrounds or different religions, but from the tension between, on the one hand, growing up in a religious home and, on the other hand, living in a secular society,” he wrote on an application to a yearlong conservative liberal-arts program at the Argaman Institute, in Jerusalem. He hungered to understand the political and moral thought of the West. Lischinsky was Christian, not Jewish—“a man of belief,” Ronen Shoval, a political philosopher who has been one of the intellectual architects of Israel’s sharp turn toward right-wing Zionism, and who taught Lischinsky at Argaman, told me. Lischinsky “was willing to bond his future to the future of the Jewish state,” Shoval said. “This was a person who was willing to actually change his life.”

On Wednesday, Milgrim, who was twenty-six, and Lischinsky, who was thirty, attended a reception for young diplomats, hosted by the A.J.C., at the Capital Jewish Museum, in D.C. Panelists spoke about increasing aid for the humanitarian crises in Gaza and across the Middle East. At around 9 P.M., the couple left the event, walking out of the museum alongside two other people. According to the F.B.I., video surveillance shows that, as they prepared to cross the street, a man named Elias Rodriguez, wearing a blue raincoat and a backpack, walked past them. Rodriguez then allegedly turned around, pulled a gun from his waistband, and fired at their backs. They fell to the ground. He walked up to them, his arm extended, still firing. Milgrim attempted to crawl away. He followed her, and fired again. She sat up. Rodriguez reloaded, and fired again. Milgrim was transported to D.C.’s chief medical examiner and declared dead at 9:35 P.M. Lischinsky was pronounced dead at the scene. Rodriguez did not enter a plea at his first appearance in court, the next day.

Rodriguez had bought a ticket for the A.J.C. event three hours before the shooting. He later told police officers, “I did it for Palestine. I did it for Gaza.” He expressed admiration for Aaron Bushnell, a U.S. Air Force serviceman who set himself on fire outside of the Israeli Embassy in D.C., in 2024. As police escorted Rodriguez from the museum, video shows, he shouted, “Free, free Palestine!”

There is no evidence that Rodriguez was targeting Milgrim or Lischinsky specifically. It is not clear whether he even knew that they were employees of the Embassy. But their work for the State of Israel has become the dominant fact of their deaths. “I was really upset when I saw the news and all the mainstream news channels said, ‘Two Israeli Embassy staffers shot and killed,’ instead of, ‘Two young people murdered in an antisemitic attack, coming out of a Jewish event in a Jewish museum in Washington, D.C.,” Sharon Brous, the rabbi of IKAR, a prominent synagogue community in Los Angeles, told me. “This person was looking for Jews to kill.”

There is constant debate about where the precise line between anti-Zionism and antisemitism falls. In this case, Rodriguez spoke in the language of anti-Zionism, but he acted with the logic of antisemitism, which has as its foundational myth that all Jews are collectively to blame for the policies of the Israeli government and, often enough, for the ills of the world. Rodriguez allegedly found two people, whose lives he knew nothing about, and made them die for Israel’s sins. That he killed a Christian and a Jew, one Israeli and one American, only underscores that their particular lives and histories and beliefs did not matter.

Members of a group of Americans who have worked for the Israeli government told me that in the past day and a half their WhatsApp chat has been flooded with messages. “Everyone is shocked and horrified and heartbroken,” Miri Belsky, who worked at the Israeli Embassy in Washington a little more than a decade ago, said. “It feels very close to home for all of us. The Americans who choose to take these roles are principled and strong-willed and are trying to forge a better future.” Aaron Kaplowitz, another former Embassy employee, who is currently visiting Jerusalem, found out that Milgrim was murdered while he was sheltering from a missile strike from Yemen. “Why should someone who works for Israel be murdered at an event in D.C.? This is where we are?” he said. “It’s crazy that, in the nation’s capital, someone took it upon themselves to murder two people who were going to an event that was based on unity and peace-building and just shot them, and ended these amazing lives so early.” Lischinsky had reportedly been preparing to propose to Milgrim in just a few days, having recently purchased an engagement ring.

Kaplowitz met Milgrim in September, when they travelled to Morocco on a fellowship with the A.J.C. and a local N.G.O. called the Mimouna Association. The trip brought together Jews and Muslims from America, Israel, France, and Morocco. The group visited synagogues and mosques and sought to build closer relationships with one another. Yasmina Asrarguis, one of the Muslim participants, is a French Moroccan researcher who studies diplomatic efforts such as the Abraham Accords and “the people who work to make peace,” she said. “Sarah was one of those people.” Asrarguis and Milgrim became close during the trip; Asrarguis felt that they were allied in their vision for the future of their countries. “She believed another Middle East was possible, where Jews and Muslims can live side by side and not kill each other for land,” Asrarguis said.

When we spoke, Asrarguis had just got off an informal memorial call with a group of Milgrim’s friends, who all shared stories about her sense of a better future. Even though Milgrim was young, “she did a lot to make her vision become something. She did what she could at her own level,” said Asrarguis. It’s a recognizable profile—the American Jewish kid who threw herself into Muslim-Jewish dialogue and the project of creating peace in the Middle East. “You can’t do justice with injustice,” Asrarguis said. “You don’t rebuild Gaza by bringing more injustice into this world.”

[sparklesandmarvel]

Rewatching The Falcon and The Winter Soldier and I have some thoughts:

1. The Falcon and The Winter Soldier hate was soooooooooooooooooooooooooo forced. Just because this show hit some major social and political issues and people didnt want to deal with racism in the Marvel universe. This was a legit good show.

2. Some people, for some reason, expected Sam to like, to solve racism? And a lot of what the show was addressing was obviously complicated issues that could not be wrapped up in a little bow by the end of the show. The show kinda gave you background for the decisions the characters made/make in the future. This show never pretended to have allllll the answers nor did Sam, but they did address the elephant in the room.

3. I love how Sam never forgot Isaiah Bradley 💗 From TFATWS to Brave New World, he never forgot him. And I honestly think having Sam in his life made him happier in the long run and restored some of Isaiah's faith in people.

4. I need to people to stop saying Bucky was nerfed. HIS ENTIRE ARC IN THIS DAMN SHOW IS THAT HE IS NOT A KILLER ANYMORE EVEN THOUGH HE VERY WELL COULD! He chooses not to kill people, he is choosing not to fight all out. Even when he's fighting Walker, Walker is fighting to kill, Bucky is fighting for the shield.

5. Bucky and Sarah need to be a thing. It needs to be mentioned again, it was just so damn cute.

6. I HATE that Lemar died. Like they could've had Walker think he was dead, but actually he was seriously injured and had to retire from the military. I'm not sure he needed to die to be the catalyst for Walker and the plot. (Still kinda pissed about that, Malcolm Spellman.)

7. What was the best episode and why was it 5? With 4 being a close second!

8. There are a crazy list of things that Walker does that pisses me the fuck off but I think what bugs me the most is that A) He lies to Lemar's family and B) He never learns from his mistakes, never takes accountability but because he saved some people, everyone wants me to feel like he redeemed himself? And this extends to Thunderbolts, because he STILL HASNT LEARNED ANYTHING and is still an arrogant jerk. People online complained so much about Bucky and Sam "being mean to him" but Walker was rude and has an amazing ability to not be able to read a room or de-escalate anything.

9. I don't even want to talk about Sharon....cause like, why Marvel? It feels like they didn't know what to do with her character, but they definitely wanted to bring her back, so they made her the Power Broker, and I'm just so baffled by that decision.

10. I love Sarah and Sam's relationship. He's still protective of her and his nephews, but he's able to be honest with her and talk things out. I think Sarah really gets to understand her brother a little more and put a little of the HUGE load she's been carrying alone on him. It's not just her anymore.

Anyway about to finish the series again and I'm sure I will have more thoughts.........

[avengersmansion-official]

So in my personal research on Bruce banner I’ve had extended interactions with his cousin Jenifer Walter’s, and from daycare’s told me, we apparently exist in a fictional universe, do you have any notes on this? I’ve heard of that insane mercenary mentioning a “forth wall” but he was hardly mentally stable, but from my interviews with both her and Leonard Samson there where no signs of mental instability from Jen.

God damn it, Byrne. Not again...

Sorry. You have no idea how often we get this question, usually from people who have read far too many comic books.

So on the macro view, yes, we exist in a fictional universe. In that all universes are likely works of fiction on other worlds in the infinite multiverse. And sometimes those universes may bleed into each other - for example:

(Daily Bugle photo of Spider-Man and Invincible.)

The above image depicts the hero Invincible alongside Spider-Man. Invincible is a superhero from another world in the multiverse who was dragged here through a portal created by one of his nemeses, and briefly met Spider-Man and the Avengers.

Invincible is also a fictional character created by Robert Kirkman and Cory Walker, star of his own comic series and animated show. This lends credence to the theory that at least some fictional universes also exist out there in the multiverse somewhere. And it's not a stretch to think that ours might be fiction in someone else's world, either.

Now, as for She-Hulk specifically.

(Panels from an issue of Sensational She-Hulk by John Byrne, suggesting that She-Hulk has some sort of meta awareness that she's in a comic book.)

As I've spoken about here before, Marvel Comics has the license to the likenesses and adventures of several major superheroes. Among them is She-Hulk. After an initial series that didn't sell well, writer/artist John Byrne took the opportunity to reinvent the character with a more comedic twist. Byrne wrote her as being aware of the "fourth wall", knowing that she's in a comic book and using that to her advantage at times.

As far as we know, there's no substantiated evidence that She-Hulk has ever possessed such an ability - although she's certainly used comic books to her advantage in her career as a defense attorney. (Did you know Marvel comics are legally admissible evidence in court?)

So we aren't living in a comic book or anything (although the one time the Fantastic Four met God, he did apparently resemble Jack Kirby). At least not in this universe.

[callmebrycelee]

MAN CRUSH MONDAY

HENRY CAVILL

Henry William Dalgliesh Cavill was born May 5, 1983 in St Helier, Jersey. The 40-year-old actor is best known for his portrayal of Kat-El aka Clark Kent aka Superman in the DC Extended Universe. Henry's film credits include Albert Mondego in The Count of Monte Cristo; Melot in Tristan & Isolde; Humphrey in Stardust; The Hunter in Red Riding Hood; Theseus in Immortals; Napoleon in The Man from U.N.C.L.E.; August Walker in Mission: Impossible - Fallout; Sherlock Holmes in Enola Holmes and Enola Holmes 2; and Gus March-Phillips in The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare. His television credits include Simon Mayfield in Midsomer Murders; Charles Brandon in The Tudors; and Gerald of River in The Witcher. Henry is 6 feet and 1 inch tall.

[rainbowmoonstonestories]

Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings | Chapter 24

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

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

Credits: The moon dividers were made by firefly-graphics

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I truly appreciate that, Hob."

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

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

"So this is something new then?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What? You suspected?"

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

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

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

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

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

“Uhm, yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Oh, not again.’

“Y/N….”

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

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

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

"Shall we venture forth to the apothecary today?"

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

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

The remainder of the morning passed in silence as you both finished your beverages, while the weight of the forthcoming confirmation loomed over you, prompting careful reflections of the many potential directions that lay ahead.

Regardless of the circumstances, your thoughts invariably returned to one consuming reality: the excruciating void procured by the man you loved, who had retreated into voluntary seclusion, creating an insurmountable distance between you.

At the pharmacy counter, you purchased three pregnancy tests for a higher percentage, waiting for the bill to be printed as the clerk's well-intentioned but misplaced enthusiasm suggested she had mistaken you and Hob for a couple. Any unnecessary commentary was discouraged by your withering glare, since you weren't in any mood for any sort of celebration. Hob, meanwhile, managed to stay perfectly composed yet amused throughout the exchange.

The designated waiting span indicated by your phone's timer stretched into infinity. With Hob waiting patiently in the living room, you retreated to the bathroom and carefully opened the first test. Though tempted to use all three packages simultaneously, you followed the recommended protocol of spacing them apart at different intervals. While the first test should provide 98% accuracy, you knew this was merely a formality given the unusual situation you were in. After all, it seemed unlikely that the Dreaming would detect a heartbeat in your body only to dismiss it as a mistake.

Perched nervously on the toilet, you watched the numbers tick by with mounting anxiety, finding it impossible to remain seated. Eventually, you rose and traversed the small space, fidgeting anxiously and alternating between wringing your hands and drumming your nails against the sink's edge. Your attempts at deep breathing only served to heighten your racing pulse, forcing you to surrender to the inevitable wait.

Finally, the timer ran out, signaling the countdown reaching zero with a soft alarm that you immediately switched off, nearly dropping your phone in the process. You were breathing heavily, your fingers trembling, as the test stick lay in front of you. With a pounding heart, you carefully lifted it to inspect the verdict, staring at it through tear-filled eyes. The instructions were clear: a positive result would be indicated by two lines appearing in the test display, while a single line would signify a negative result.

Your test was showing two clear red lines, leaving no room for doubt.

Immobilized by the (unsurprising) confirmation, you gazed at your reflection, tears silently streaming down your face as the full magnitude of these newfound complications settled upon you - complications that seemed particularly daunting to face on your own. The crushing realization that you would be embarking on this journey without Morpheus by your side proved to be the breaking point that finally shattered the last bit of strength holding you together. 

When you returned to the living room with heavy steps, Hob immediately sat up straight. "Well? Did you do it?"

“I did.”

"What's it say then?"

One look at your face told him everything he needed to know, with mascara smudges beneath your eyes.

"Oh… Christ. I want to say congrats and all that, but..."

Without a word, you lowered yourself onto the couch beside him and placed the pregnancy test on the coffee table, where the dual crimson indicators provided irrefutable evidence.

"What's the plan? What're you gonna do about all this?"

"I don't know, Hob," you said weakly. "This feels completely surreal. How am I supposed to be a mother?"

"If anyone can handle this, it's you. You're gonna be a brilliant mum, I've no doubt about that."

"Thank you, but I'm not convinced."

"You've got to tell him, yeah? No way around it."

You crossed your arms and sank deeper into the couch. "Yes, I know. And I will. It's just... I need some time to process this myself."

“That is understandable.”

"Still, would it really change anything in the end?"

He frowned. "What, you think he won't accept the little one? Come off it."

"It's not that exactly. Think about it; he left me because he was convinced his presence in my life would condemn me to ruin. What if he believes the same about our child? He might decide to watch us only from a distance, letting me raise the baby alone. All for 'our own good.'"

Hob's eyes darted uneasily. "And repeat the story of your childhood..."

"Exactly… only in reverse."

He exhaled, placing a gentle hand on your back. "Y/N, if the baby made you glow like a beacon last night, it means they've got some of their father's magic in them, right?"

“…I guess…?”

"Then it looks like they’re gonna need you both around."

You rubbed your temples, feeling a headache beginning to form. "Maybe. I can't think clearly right now."

"Just take it easy, yeah? It’s not like you're popping out the little one tomorrow."

You smiled. "Well, wouldn't be the first time I've seen something like that happen."

"Okay, I’d rather not know the details of that one, either."

With a faint laugh, you sought comfort against Hob's shoulder as a gesture of familial trust. "If you want to avoid a headache yourself, then yes, it's probably best you don't know."

As he entered the chamber he had crafted for you, Morpheus was immediately enveloped by memories of your smile. The space resonated with echoes of your laughter, while your essence seemed to suffuse the very atmosphere around him. His attention was drawn to your nightgown, gracefully arranged upon the mattress, like a ghostly reminder of the woman he loved. The garment's embellishments created an enchanting display, as countless glittering points of light pulsed across the obsidian fabric resembling a constellation of stars.

With measured steps, he approached the bed and sat down, taking the nightgown in his hands. He lifted it to his face, breathing in your scent as his eyes drifted closed. His longing for you was profound and all-encompassing; the melodic sound of your voice, your delicate touch, and your unique ability to see beyond his immortal nature and love him for all he represented, embracing every facet of his intricate being. He yearned for you with the aching emptiness of a moonless night.

Gently placing the garment down, his fingertips lingering on the delicate fabric, Morpheus rose and made his way to the balcony, where heavy rain cascaded from the darkened sky. He allowed the torrential water to fall over him, the fierce droplets striking his form with relentless intensity. Within moments, he was soaked through, his dark hair plastered against his forehead.

As his hands rested on the cold balustrade, an intense wave of sorrow pierced through his heart. He wished he could hold every fiber of you—your heart, your body, your spirit. He needed your inner strength as much as he craved the tender sight of color rising to your cheeks. 

He wished for all of it, yet could possess none.

His love for you simultaneously elevated him to euphoric heights while subjecting him to the deepest depths of despair. Nevertheless, if presented with the opportunity to alter the course of his existence and rewrite your story, he would invariably choose the path that led him to you.

The Book of Paradoxes now resided in a remote section of the library, obscured in shadows. Despite exhaustive consultation of its contents, Morpheus had come to accept the finality of his decision while awaiting what fate might bring.

He stood motionless on the balcony, his countenance downcast, while rivulets of rain intermingled with his silent tears, descending in parallel streams down his face.

Another week had passed, yet accepting the discovery of your pregnancy remained an undeniable daily struggle. In order to be thorough, you methodically completed all three tests over the following days, with both additional sticks confirming the initial positive result.

In the Waking World, only Hob was privy to this information, as you had not yet mustered the resolve to share the news with your father or Ella during your regular communications. To maintain privacy, you had cited stress-related health concerns as a reason for your absence, while Hob had extended his leave from teaching duties by claiming a family emergency.

Your experiences in the Dreaming had become erratic, alternating between moments of vivid clarity and hazy visions that primarily conjured fragments of memories or apparitions of your anxieties. Despite your diligent search throughout the realm, Morpheus was still conspicuously elusive. His prolonged disappearance increased your sense of loss, creating an ever-growing emptiness in your existence.

Despite the adage that time heals all wounds, your suffering appeared to be escalating rather than diminishing.

"So, what're those rocks you've got there then?" Hob inquired, glancing up from his laptop to examine the array of crystals and beads arranged on the table before you.

You smiled, absorbed in crafting bespoke jewelry pieces using simple, straightforward techniques that didn't need any specialized welding or soldering tools. "What? The all-knowing Robert Gadling can't recognize these stones?"

"Not like I've had much time for those in my centuries kickin' about.”

"Fair enough," you replied, picking up a drilled, faceted milky crystal. "This is white jade. And here's some rare lepidolite," you continued, holding up a purple piece with silvery sheens. "Plus a variety of high-quality quartz, moonstone, agate, and malachite. Then—"

"Slow down, love, you've lost me there. But looks like quite the fancy selection you've got, I'll give you that."

You smiled, threading beads one by one onto a thin steel wire. "Thanks. My friend at work wanted something unique, crafted from scratch, rather than just reselling wholesale items like most small businesses do."

"Right, all that mass-produced rubbish you see everywhere these days."

You shrugged. "I wouldn't call it rubbish, actually. Most items are good quality. They just lack uniqueness—though that's partly why they become viral, since they follow trends."

He typed a few more lines into his document. "I don't know much about fashion if I'm being honest. But I've got to ask; are these sparkly little things actually selling? Just, you know, wondering if people are actually buying these lovely bits."

"I get it. I was skeptical at first too. Clothes are one thing, but would people really pay extra for unique accessories when they could just buy the trendy jewelry that all the influencers are wearing?"

You paused, concentrating on threading the wire through a tiny bead opening. "But we've been getting lots of requests for that through our emails and social media. It wouldn't make sense to stock common items when everything else we make is completely original."

"If these look half as good as what you've got on now, your customers are gonna be right chuffed with them."

Your eyes lit up. "Really? You like them?"

"Look, I may not know jack, but I'll tell you what, they're absolutely you. Not too fancy, not too simple either. They really make your whole outfit pop with those vibrant colors and sparkles catching the light."

Your jewelry collection had expanded significantly in recent weeks, featuring an array of sophisticated pieces, from professionally crafted metalwork with fine-quality stone settings to delicate beaded accessories that you had assembled yourself. Thanks to Ella and Oliver's strategic sourcing partnerships, you had access to premium materials, including exceptional quality crystals and precision-engineered metals.

The creative process of designing and crafting these creations provided a calming and restorative outlet, drawing inspiration from both the ethereal realm of the Dreaming and the artistic influence that Morpheus had imparted. The ensemble incorporated natural elements that evoked celestial imagery, featuring gemstones and beads in a sophisticated palette including deep oceanic blues and rich forest greens. The decorative charms included an eclectic array of motifs, resembling mythical creatures and symbols that echoed the enchanting essence of your dreams.

Following Morpheus' departure, you had removed the golden bangle he had given you, returning it to safekeeping within the memory box. The Moonflower contained inside, originally enchanted for eternal bloom, had begun to deteriorate and wilt—a reflection of your deepening melancholy and the current state of the Dreaming itself.

The Dreamstone persisted as an essential adornment, however, its presence around your neck seamlessly complementing the rest of your current stack.

"You may not know much about fashion, but you definitely have a good eye," you said, clearing your throat.

"You've got a real talent for this. So tell me straight up; how's the project actually going?"

"It's going so much better than I expected. The response has been amazing, and Corbyn&Jones' established reputation definitely helped. Just a few photos were enough to make our follower count skyrocket."

"Well, it's not really the photos, but more like the subject," he clarified with a wink.

"Oh, I wasn't the only one photographed wearing these. Ella knows several genuine influencers who received prototypes to showcase."

"As the brand's creative director and lead designer, you've become the face of Corbyn&Jones, Shortcake. Your dedication has made the show a tremendous success, and you've created a lasting impression that resonates with your audience far more than any typical influencer campaign."

With a composed gesture, you adjusted a wayward strand of hair, blushing quietly at the compliment.

"You're a proper dream weaver, my dear."

Dream…

Shaking your head, you let out a shaky breath. "There's only one being who can do that, Hob. I deal more with the material world."

Hob fell silent, immediately recognizing his unintentional insensitivity and the emotional anguish his words had caused.

"Ah, shit. I've gone and put my foot in it, haven't I?"

“No, don't worry. I know what you meant.”

With determination, Hob closed his laptop. “That's enough of that now. You’ve been hunched over those trinkets for hours. Can't have you breaking your back, can we?"

“I’m not that tired though.”

"Right then, I'm off to the shops to get us some good treats. How about we have ourselves a proper pajama party with some ridiculous films?"

You tittered. "Hob, that's basically what we do every day."

"Who cares? It's good fun. And you need to get your mind off all this dreary business. Come on now, pack those bits away, put the kettle on, and I'll be back before you know it."

You acquiesced with a gentle smile, acknowledging the futility of debating with his determined spirit.

Shortly thereafter, Hob headed out the door, leaving you alone with your troubled mind again. As another wave of sickness hit, your hand instinctively found its way to your abdomen, gently rubbing it in circles as if to address the tiny life inside you.

"Come on, little one," you said with a smile. "Won't you give your mum a moment's peace?"

For a moment, you envisioned your future as a mother, visualizing the delicate balance between raising a child and traversing the Dreaming realm. In your mind's eye, you pictured yourself cradling your precious infant while seated in your chambers within Morpheus's domain, the King of Dreams standing beside you. The daydream crystallized as you imagined him holding the baby, his face adorned with that subtle, enchanting smile you cherished so deeply.

The idyllic vision dissolved, replaced by the prospect of facing parenthood in solitude.

"Morpheus..." you sobbed, collapsing into yourself. "Morpheus! Please come back. Please!"

Though your heart felt shattered and your spirit weary, your love burned eternal. Despite the daily torrent of tears, your resolve stood unshaken, particularly given that Morpheus had unknowingly gifted you with a child of magic.

The pain was tremendous and all-consuming, threatening to tear you apart from within, devouring every atom of your being.

"Hob, are you serious?" you asked, examining the facial treatment masks he had selected from the store.

"They were on sale! And besides, aloe's good for your skin."

"Okay, but... of all the things I expected you to buy, these weren't on the list."

"I got you some proper snacks too! And don't worry your pretty little head, they're all healthy," he announced, unpacking his haul from the grocery bags. "Got these almonds here for protein, magnesium, and good calcium for the bones.”

You observed with appreciation as he placed the substantial package of almonds on the table.

“And some proper dark chocolate; keeps the doctor away. Or so they say these days."

"You know that saying is for apples, not chocolate, you goof!"

"Dark chocolate's got antioxidant that boost your immune system! I was around when they made these bars."

"All right, all right. Thank you for being so thoughtful."

His expression radiated genuine warmth and affection. "Anything for my pregnant bestie. Besides, if I don't keep a proper eye on what you're eating, he'll have my head for it."

"Well, he's not here anyway. So what's the plan tonight? Snacks, beauty masks, and movies? What should we watch?"

Noting your swift deflection of the topic, Hob tactfully redirected his attention to the evening's preparations. He made his way to the couch with two bowls in his hands, one filled with almonds and another containing cheese and bacon-flavored chips.

The aroma combination wasn't particularly appealing to your sensitive pregnancy nose, but you couldn't bring yourself to mention it.

"Since we both fancy the oldies, we can't go wrong with a proper classic like this one."

You gaped at the VHS he pulled from his bag. "’Who Framed Roger Rabbit’? Oh my goodness, I haven't watched that in ages!"

"Right, let's slap these masks on our faces and settle in for a proper rewatch!"

With practiced efficiency, you examined the package while Hob mirrored your actions, both of you reviewing the application guidelines.

"So, these fancy things need to stay on for just 30 minutes, yeah? Any longer and they'll dry up like a raisin."

"I don't think I could wear it for very long anyway," you remarked. "My skin would probably start to itch."

While applying the facial mask, which transformed his appearance into something both comical and terrifying, he proceeded to load the VHS tape into the player. "And we don't want to muck up that lovely face of yours, now do we? Come on then, let's get comfy."

Once your own mask settled into place, a cool, refreshing feeling spread across your cheeks, nose, and forehead. "Please don't tell me you're going to drool over Jessica Rabbit."

"Oh no. She's fit and all that, but not exactly what I'm after."

You laughed, bumping his shoulder with yours. "Good. She's such a stereotype I can't stand her. And besides, she married a rabbit! How bizarre is that?"

"It's just a cartoon. Well, half cartoon, half real world madness, but you know what I mean."

"Yes, and it's still weird. She's got quite the singing voice though. And the animation is absolutely top-notch."

He awkwardly maneuvered a chip into his mouth through the hole in the face mask. “What can I say. The old stuff is of a higher level.”

"I agree. There was a special kind of magic in the 80s and 90s that's hard to capture these days."

"Indeed. Out of all the centuries I've lived through, those decades were something special, weren't they? Proper good times, if you ask me."

You carefully managed to eat an almond without hitting the fabric of your mask. "Tell me, how accurate are medieval movies?"

"Well, most of it's absolute crap. I mean yeah, they get some stuff right, but the amount of nonsense they put in there really makes me laugh. They are proper creative with their 'historical facts'."

You chuckled. "They should hire you as their consultant. I'm sure movies and TV shows would be much more accurate. Not that I mind fantasy."

"Well, I'm immortal, aren't I? Makes me a bit of a fantastical creature myself."

You turned your head, staring at his face covered in the beauty mask, and couldn't contain your snort. "Yes, but right now you look more like a strange one with that thing plastered on your face."

With an amused expression, he retrieved his mobile device from his pocket. "We've got to capture this moment for posterity. Come here, budge up closer."

"Oh no, don't you dare take a picture of me."

"Come on! I swear on my eternal life I'll keep this picture safe and sound."

With a resigned sigh, you gave in as he placed a companionable arm around your shoulders. "Well, I suppose resistance is futile anyway."

"It ain't that bad now, right? Give me a proper smile!"

Against the backdrop of the movie's animated sound effects, you both smiled for the camera, creating a charming snapshot that perfectly captured your friendship despite the absurd appearance of your face masks.

"Ah, brilliant. We look proper ridiculous, don't we?"

"Absolutely ridiculous," you agreed with a laugh.

After putting his phone away, Hob kept his arm around you, gently squeezing your shoulder in a way that brought solace and warmth. You sank into the friendly embrace as you both enjoyed your snacks, sharing lighthearted commentary about the movie between removing your face masks.

As the film reached its climactic confrontation between the protagonists and villain, your consciousness began to fade as fatigue overtook you. The characters' voices grew distant, blending into an indistinct murmuring.

"Y/N?" Hob called you softly, uncertain whether you were still awake or already surrendered to sleep.

Drowsily content, you said, "Yes…?"

"I know it's not my place to ask, but... you're keeping the baby, yeah?"

Since discovering your pregnancy, you hadn't formally considered all your options. Even if Morpheus persisted with his decision to stay away, whether out of his own conviction or as a misguided attempt at protection, you would have been justified in questioning the difficulties of single motherhood.

And yet, in both your mind and heart, you felt absolutely no uncertainty.

Taking a deep breath to steady your emotions, you gave him your definitive answer. “Yes, Hob. I am.”

You couldn't pinpoint exactly when you had arrived at the library. Standing amidst the towering shelves, you found yourself examining the books before you with unfocused eyes, slowly regaining clarity. It seemed you had wandered through the maze-like corridors for quite a while, having lost track of both time and location.

As you continued your exploration, Lucienne's familiar voice resonated through the distant halls. Moving methodically through the corridors, you traced your fingertips along the shelves for orientation, when suddenly a faint, ghostly whisper echoed your name through the stacks.

"ʸ/ᴺ...”

Turning around, you surveyed the surroundings but detected no discernible presence. After a momentary pause, during which only the ambient sounds of the library persisted, you proceeded forward, allowing intuition to guide you through a winding aisle.

Then that mysterious voice spoke again through the silence.

"ʸ/ᴺ.”

It was both alluring and unsettling, a dissonant element that seemed to defy the natural order of the library and the castle itself. Its unsettling quality felt paradoxical, fundamentally foreign to the familiar ambiance of the Dreaming.

“…Y/N…?”

Startled, you pivoted abruptly as Lucienne appeared before you.

"Oh, there you are! I was certain I heard footsteps echoing through these halls."

"Lucienne, hello.”

"Are you all right? You look as if you've just encountered a ghost," she jested with a smile. 

Your eyes drifted away with disquiet. "No, I... I thought I heard..." You dismissed the concern with a slight gesture. "Nevermind."

"I have some new volumes that need cataloguing, would you care to keep me company while I work?" she asked warmly, her accent carrying a gentle composure.

“Of course.”

"Splendid. Follow me, if you please."

As Lucienne navigated the corridors with practiced ease, you placed a hand on your abdomen and continued the discussion. "By the way, I've looked through those 'appropriate channels' you mentioned, and... you were right."

"About that... I do apologize that you had to learn it from me in such a manner. And Matthew..." She adjusted her glasses with a slight frown. "Well, he really ought to learn when to hold his tongue."

You shook your head. "No, that was actually a good thing. You see, I thought this kind of situation wasn't even possible. I'd been feeling absolutely dreadful for so long that I was starting to worry I had some sort of disease."

“Oh?"

You fell quiet momentarily before responding. "It's part of my family history, something I'd rather leave in the past. But as positive as this might be… well. There are definitely some complications to deal with."

Lucienne decreased her pace before coming to a complete halt. "I haven't mentioned your condition to Lord Morpheus yet. But I strongly advise you tell him yourself, and soon. Trust me, it would be better coming from you than if he discovers it through other means."

"But Luce, how can I possibly tell him when he won't even answer my calls?"

"You've tried to call him? And he's ignored your summons…?"

"Did you think he would still speak to me after ending things?"

"No, but I did hope he would at least maintain some basic courtesy towards you."

"Seriously, I don't know what to do. I want to speak with him about this, but I'm afraid his stubbornness about that book is clouding everything else. He has completely shut me out—I can't find any way to reach him."

Lucienne's expression grew contemplative as she gestured for you to continue walking. "I must confess, I've thoroughly searched every corner of my library for that particular volume, yet I couldn’t find it. This rather strongly suggests that His Lordship still has it in his possession."

"And... is that a good sign?"

"I don’t know. He might still be poring over those prophecies, trying to make sense of them. But whenever I attempt to discuss it, he's rather tight-lipped about the whole thing. He barely even comes to the library anymore, which is quite telling in itself."

When you arrived at her main desk, you gracefully seated yourself in one of the available chairs. "In other words, we're right back where we started."

"I wish I had better news for you, truly I do," she replied with a gentle sigh.

"It's not your fault. You're doing the best you can, I know this isn't easy."

"I will persist in my search," she assured. "And mark my words, he cannot maintain this silence indefinitely."

"Luce, I know I'm asking a lot, but could you please keep the news about the baby to yourself just a while longer?"

"Of course. But you must understand, such things have a way of making themselves known, whether we wish them to or not. Particularly in this realm, with Lord Morpheus himself being so attuned to every aspect of his domain."

Your hand returned to your abdomen, as if to soothe the developing life contained inside. "I know. I'll keep trying to reach him for as long as I can. If he continues to avoid me, then... I'd prefer he learns it from someone he trusts, like yourself."

At your protective motion, Lucienne smiled warmly. "This new life will be a blessing to the Dreaming. I do hope we can sort all this out soon enough."

Clutching the fabric of your nightgown, you released a heavy exhale. “Me too Lucienne. It’s all I really wish for right now.”

The throne room was bathed in its usual muted hues, the cold stillness of the Dreaming's heart mirroring Morpheus' own desolation as a neverending storm raged outside. He stood by one of the tall windows, his figure silhouetted against the vast expanse of stars—now hidden behind a weeping sky. His hands were clasped tightly before him, the sole visible sign of the tempest that raged within.

A faint rustling broke the silence as Astra stepped cautiously into the room. The creature moved with a graceful hesitance, its shimmering fur catching the dim light.

"My Lord," he spoke softly, his voice clear yet tinged with concern. "May I interrupt?"

Morpheus did not turn, his voice low and sharp. "I wish to be alone."

The creature did not retreat. Instead, Astra stepped closer, his hooves making only the faintest patter against the floor. "Forgive my intrusion, but I cannot ignore what’s happening here.”

"Astra," Morpheus said, cold with warning. "I did not request your presence."

"I know, and I apologize for intruding, but... she needs you, sir. Are you going to abandon her in such a state?"

The faintest twitch of his jaw betrayed Morpheus’ struggle, though Astra couldn’t see it. "My decision stands. I will not waver from this path. Nor do I desire to discuss this matter further."

"But is this path truly the right one?" Astra pressed gently. "You have read the book, yes, but have you truly understood it? Where you see endings, there might be beginnings. What frightens you so deeply, My Lord? Why do you choose to give up?"

Morpheus' shoulders stiffened, his tone dropping into a dangerous growl. "You dare presume to understand my fears?"

"Well... I know you fear for her," Astra replied. "You believe you'll bring her ruin. Yet have you considered that your absence might do the same? That she may not survive without you?"

Morpheus finally turned, his eyes blazing with a fury seldom witnessed. His words fell like ice, cutting enough to pierce even the boldest of hearts. "You are but a dream, which I have created. It is not within your authority to pass judgment upon my actions. This is far beyond your role."

"Yet it is precisely because you created me—and your purpose in doing so—that I am able to see beyond the surface."

“Enough. You forget your place. Now go, before my patience wanes entirely."

Astra flinched and lowered his head, his starry dark eyes clouding with sadness. "If that is your wish, My Lord, I shall take my leave."

He turned gracefully on his hooves, moving with heavy, reluctant steps toward the doorway. At the threshold, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder. "You may dismiss me, but the truth will not be so easily silenced. You know where you belong, Lord Morpheus. I pray you remember before it's too late."

Morpheus stood like a stern statue, his eyes dark and piercing as splintered glass.

"Moreover, it is because you made me Y/N's familiar that I understand what is eluding you. If you would only speak with her once, you would see it as well."

Morpheus remained still, though his eyebrows drew together in evident confusion.

"But then again, I'm merely a dream. What could I possibly know?"

And with that, Astra disappeared, leaving Morpheus alone in the cold, vast emptiness of the throne room once more. The Endless turned back to the windows, the fading stars outside seeming even more distant, as though reflecting the weight of his torment.

As time progressed, the emotional impact of the situation became devastatingly difficult to bear. While Hob's companionship provided valuable emotional support and a welcome respite, the circumstances remained uniquely impossible to navigate independently.

Despite your efforts, Morpheus was still inaccessible, withdrawn behind an impenetrable barrier of silence. The child developing within you was as much his as it was yours, yet he remained completely unaware of its existence.

Gradually, you returned to work with reduced hours to resume your professional responsibilities and project oversight. Though you kept a composed exterior at the office, the strain on your face could hardly be concealed. Fortunately, Ella and your colleagues weren't informed of the underlying situation, simply attributing your lack of energy to your temporary health concerns.

Admitting that your relationship had fallen apart was not something you wanted to face head-on, especially since, deep down, you still clung to the hope that Morpheus would return to you one day. Hopefully sooner rather than later.

Your dreams had become hollow and devoid of their former vibrancy, as the Dreaming underwent continuous transformation. This ethereal domain, once so familiar and unique, had deteriorated into a mere vestige of its former splendor.

One night, you traversed through the dreamscape, following interweaving paths that ultimately led to the beachland, where the scene crystallized with stark clarity. The once-radiant sky had transformed into a lifeless expanse of pale grey, while below, the sea lay unnaturally still, its darkened surface reflecting the melancholy atmosphere like a vast pool of sorrow.

Approaching the shoreline, you walked across the darkened sand, its texture coarse and chilled beneath your feet. The weakened waves undulated before you, their diminished force reflecting the somber sky, as you gently placed your interlaced hands upon your abdomen.

"Please," you whispered, your voice trembling. "Morpheus... if you can hear me... I need to see you. I have something to tell you."

As expected, only silence answered your plea.

"Morpheus, I implore you."

The Dreamstone pendant offered no connection to its master. His absence suggested either deliberate avoidance or a complete withdrawal from the domain he once meticulously governed.

Resigned, you lowered your hands as tears welled in your eyes. Gazing at the dark sea, you removed your clothing, allowing the garment to cascade down until it pooled at your feet, leaving your bare skin completely exposed to the elements.

Carefully, you waded into the water, its piercing cold making your dream self shiver and hesitate. Yet you pressed on, moving deeper until the dark ocean reached your neck. It was overwhelmingly real, making you feel every ache as strongly as if you were awake. Both physical and emotional.

You waited, searching for any sign of the King of Dreams—for his dark silhouette to materialize on the shore, for his eyes to find yours, for his hand to reach out in invitation. But only emptiness greeted you, on the desolate shore and deep into your soul.

Hugging yourself, you exhaled shakily as a golden spark appeared beneath the water's surface, emanating from your chest. The light expanded, transforming the ocean into an enchanting spectrum of colors, from light to deep blue, through shades of green and violet. A luminous garment shaped against your skin, taking the form of a golden dress that shimmered like a constellation of stars.

As you emerged from the ocean, you appeared completely dry, as though you had never entered the water at all. A pair of equally sparkling shoes adorned your feet, golden sandals more beautiful and comfortable than any you had ever seen or imagined. Your previous garment lay scattered across the sand, now fading back to its brownish color, stirring gently in the wind.

"I see you've done it again."

At the sound of that familiar voice and approaching hoofbeats, you smiled and turned around. Astra stood there, as majestic as when your light had restored him, his ears twitching gently.

"Astra, it's good to see you well."

"Likewise, though circumstances are... not the best."

"I feel so helpless, Astra. He refuses to speak with me."

"I know... he won't speak to me either. I've tried, but he becomes distraught at the mere mention of your name."

You sighed, brushing your fingers against his smooth head. "He is so maddening. And I can't even find a way to tell him about the baby."

"I'm afraid any attempt to contact him would be futile. He has withdrawn from everything, even us Dreams. His heart aches, and though he struggles to keep the kingdom intact, it crumbles alongside him."

"What can I do?"

"Well... you helped me. Perhaps you can help someone else too."

“Who?”

"Come with me—it's better if I show you."

Wordlessly, Astra pivoted on his hooves and began leading the way forward into the unknown. Gathering the folds of your gown, you followed in his wake as you strode along the shoreline. The surrounding landscape started to transform anew, enveloping you both within a mystical tunnel adorned with nebulae and stars.

“Astra, where are you taking me?”

Your voice resonated softly, rippling through the tunnel's crystalline walls.

"We're almost there," he replied. "Hopefully we'll make it in time."

A light shone in the distance as the tunnel dissolved, revealing a desolate forest. Your sandals rustled against dried leaves, their crisp sound echoing through the air. From somewhere ahead came deep, rhythmic breathing, its force substantial enough to create subtle vibrations in the ground beneath.

“There! Hurry!”

Astra began to run, and you followed through, quickening your pace. Something big and scaly caught your eye; a giant creature that you had seen before, a dragon Morpheus had created at the start of your relationship, during your very first dream together.

Morpheus stood a few paces away, his hands clasped before him. His subtle smile conveyed evident pride in his creation.

"Now you're just showing off," you stated with a smirk. He merely responded with a soft chuckle.

Your throat tightened as you approached the dragon, its once-luminous scales now ashen and battle-worn.

"It's dying," Astra said, gently nuzzling the dragon's head with his muzzle. "Many Dreams and Nightmares are suffering just as this one does. As I did."

Kneeling before the majestic creature, you extended your hand toward its face. Its glazed eyes locked with yours, conveying an unspoken entreaty.

"I don't understand. Morpheus would never allow his world to fade like this."

"No, but I'm afraid he's at a loss right now. His feelings run deeper than anything he's ever experienced."

"But why?" you asked softly.

"Because of you, of course. He needs you as mortals need air to breathe."

"He left me of his own accord—to protect me, that much I know. But why must he face all this alone?"

Astra shook his head. "As you noted yourself; Lord Morpheus is obstinate beyond measure."

"Is there a way I can mend this?"

"I believe so. You restored me, and just now you mended your dreamland. Perhaps you could work that same light magic again?"

"Astra, I have no idea how to control this power. It seems to happen completely at random," you explained.

"Just try. This power, whatever it may be, simply comes from within you."

With careful deliberation, you pressed your forehead against the dragon's weathered scales, closing your eyes to focus your consciousness within the ethereal realm of the dream. As you attuned yourself to the dragon's labored breathing, the Dreamstone's warmth radiated outward from where it rested against your chest. The sensation cascaded through your body, flowing from your heart down to your abdomen, converging into luminous tendrils that flowed from your form. These glowing strands of light merged seamlessly with your attire, extending outward to encircle the dragon in an intricate, spiral pattern.

The creature's scales underwent a remarkable metamorphosis, shifting into brilliant tones of emerald and amber as its respiratory pattern stabilized, becoming more steady and controlled. Little by little, the dragon rose to its full stature, and as you lifted yourself to stand, its imposing height and magnificent proportions became even more apparent.

With a graceful smile, you acknowledged the creature's respectful bow and reciprocated the gesture. The dragon then unfurled its imposing wings and, with a single powerful thrust, ascended into the air. The force of its departure created a substantial downdraft before it vanished into the distant horizon.

"Well, I'd say you're mastering that gift of yours," Astra remarked, moving to stand beside you.

"It's not truly mine though, is it?"

"What makes you say that?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sighed heavily. "I'm completely lost right now."

"Don't worry yourself over it, my dear. You're already doing far more than anyone could expect in this realm. I can see how much you're hurting."

Your lower lip quivered. "I'm so tired, Astra. I miss him terribly. I want to see him, to talk to him, to tell him how much I love him… how desperately I need him in my life."

Astra nodded. "You will, I promise you. Somehow, this will all come to an end. For now, though... you must return to the Waking World."

"I'm not ready to leave yet."

"Don't worry. I'll always be here, and so will the Dreaming. I doubt he would let it collapse… sooner or later he'll get his head out of his rear, as you humans like to say."

You laughed, taking his face between your hands and gently kissing his muzzle. "Thank you, Astra. You’re so precious to me."

"And you are to me as well, Y/N. He created me for you—I'm your familiar. And as such, even when you can't see me, know that I'm always with you."

As you gave him a gentle nod, Astra moved closer and delicately pressed his snout against your abdomen, his eyes falling shut.

"See you soon, my Queen."

With those parting words, consciousness returned as you awakened from the realm of dreams, greeted by the warm, amber tint of daybreak filtering through the windows.

The uncertainty of waiting felt like an endless ordeal. Even with Astra's reassuring outlook, the passage of time only intensified your apprehension about the coming days. 

Your eyes were swollen from constant tears, and although your pregnancy symptoms had slightly subsided, the pain of nurturing this new life without Morpheus felt like an impossible burden to bear.

The Book of Paradoxes could not be found, and according to Lucienne, it seemed improbable that Morpheus was still referencing it. Despite your multiple attempts to summon him, he remained withdrawn, isolating himself in his grief and refusing to engage in any communication with his subjects.

Although he had promised to continue searching for a solution during your separation, the book's alleged disappearance suggested a concerning possibility: Morpheus had abandoned his quest to find a way back to you.

Meanwhile, your dreams persisted, and with each exploration, they grew increasingly enigmatic and complex, filled with cryptic messages and meanings you struggled to decipher.

Until, one afternoon, a seemingly ordinary nap turned into your most impactful dream yet.

Navigating through the library's shelves, you found yourself walking through an extensive maze of books and corridors. An inexplicable force seemed to guide your steps, while the familiar mysterious whisper once again called your name, drawing you deeper into the unknown.

"ʸ/ᴺ... ʸ/ᴺ...!”

"Who are you?" you asked, turning your head in every direction but unable to locate the source of the voice.

"͓̩C͕͓̝̠͔̞͑̈̉̋̒̔͒̐̏́l͙̬̞̥̥͍̦̩̱o̘͇̩̞̗͓̜̥̭ͯ̋ͭ͂̄̈ͪͧs̲̬̝͕̲̦͚̙̍ͭ̓ͦe͕̬͕̰̔͛͌̒ͨ̈́r̯̠̦̩ͨ̌̑..."

You pressed onward, your heart pounding wildly as the rows of books appeared to close in around you.

"͓̩C͕͓̝̥͍̦̩̱͑̈̉̋̒o̘͇̩̞͙̗͓̖ͯ̋ͭ͂ͬͩ̊m̩͈͕̲̦͚̙e͕̬̔͛͌... ̯͍̱c̟͕̥͍̦̩̱ͩo̘͇̩̞͙̗͓̖ͯ̋ͭ͂ͬͩ̊m̩͈͕̲̦͚̙e͕̬̔͛͌ ̯͍̱c̟͕̠͔̞ͩ̔͒̐̏́l͙̬̞̥̥͍̦̩̱o̘͇̩̞̗͓̜̥̭ͯ̋ͭ͂̄̈ͪͧs̲̬̝͕̲̦͚̙̍ͭ̓ͦe͕̬͕̰̔͛͌̒ͨ̈́r̯̠̦̩ͨ̌̑..."

Upon reaching a corner, you came face-to-face with a dead end, forcing you to retrace your steps and pursue an alternate route. The voice grew more persistent, its omnipresent nature evoking frustration rather than fear as it echoed throughout the space.

A somber, misty ambiance permeated the library. This section was unfamiliar—an unexplored wing that seemed to challenge rather than accommodate your presence. You ventured into the perpetual labyrinth of corridors, maneuvering through narrow passages and confronting various impediments. The journey appeared to stretch interminably, leaving you with the distinct sensation of being trapped in a constant loop.

You halted at the center of a circular chamber where multiple passageways converged. The air grew still, and an unsettling silence fell over you, unnaturally absolute in its totality. Footsteps echoed through the distant halls, rendering you motionless, your feet inexplicably rooted to the ground.

"̣̝́Y͇̲̦͚̙̚e͕̬̗͓̜̥̭̔͛͌̄̈ͪͧs̲̬̝͕̍ͭ̓ͦ, ̯͍̱c̟͕̠͔̞ͩ̔͒̐̏́l͙̬̞̥̥͍̦̩̱o̘͇̩̞̗͓̜̥̭ͯ̋ͭ͂̄̈ͪͧs̲̬̝͕̲̦͚̙̍ͭ̓ͦe͕̬͕̰̔͛͌̒ͨ̈́r̯̠̦̩ͨ̌̑... à̜̫͍̣͖̑̉ͧ̿ ̠͔̞̔͒̐̏́l͙̬̞̥̜̟͙͕̎̄̆i̠̜͗̈́ͯ̾͊ͅt͓̙͔̠̜͊̈́ͯ̾͊ͅt͓̙͔̠͔̞͊̔͒̐̏́l͙̬̞̥̲̦͚̙e͕̬̔͛͌ ̯͍̱c̟͕̠͔̞ͩ̔͒̐̏́l͙̬̞̥̥͍̦̩̱o̘͇̩̞̗͓̜̥̭ͯ̋ͭ͂̄̈ͪͧs̲̬̝͕̲̦͚̙̍ͭ̓ͦe͕̬͕̰̔͛͌̒ͨ̈́r̯̠̦̩ͨ̌̑... ̯͍̱c̟͕̠͔̞ͩ̔͒̐̏́l͙̬̞̥̥͍̦̩̱o̘͇̩̞̗͓̜̥̭ͯ̋ͭ͂̄̈ͪͧs̲̬̝͕̲̦͚̙̍ͭ̓ͦe͕̬͕̰̔͛͌̒ͨ̈́r̯̠̦̩ͨ̌̑!"

Your respiration accelerated, resonating prominently in the stillness that enveloped you. The whispers dissolved into an indecipherable chorus, their words interweaving in an almost ritualistic manner.

The footsteps grew more pronounced, their resonance becoming deafening until they halted mere paces behind you. Your hair lifted gracefully into the air, suspended as though floating in water. The atmosphere carried a nostalgic blend of fragrances: distinctive notes of sandalwood intermingled with winter forest and exotic incense, crowned by the unmistakable essence of sea salt.

That unique combination of scents could belong to only one being in all of existence.

As you turned, the breath froze in your lungs. Standing before you was Morpheus, his commanding presence unmistakable in his characteristic black attire. His dark, untamed hair moved in mystical synchronicity with your own, creating an otherworldly tableau that marked the end of your prolonged separation.

His eyes grew wide with astonishment as he beheld you, his breathing unsteady. Standing mere steps away, he filled the space between you with an almost tangible energy. Your throat constricted as you attempted to call out to him, your lips silently forming his name in the soundless void between you.

He was momentarily stunned, the redness rimming his eyes revealing the profound anguish he carried inside. But as soon as he registered your approach, his head turned away—eyes squeezing shut—as he withdrew into the shadows. 

His rejection pierced your soul, leaving an aching void where your heart once beat.

“No, wait…”

With newfound determination, you left the circular room in pursuit, running through the labyrinthine shelves only to discover emptiness among them. Once again, he had vanished, denying you the opportunity for dialogue. He was fleeing from you as if you were a plague, convinced that being with you would only bring pain and devastation into your life.

If only he had known that your lives were now inextricably linked through the child you had conceived together in the realm of dreams, a magical being whose very existence necessitated the presence of their father, with no possibility for compromise.

Consumed by your emotions, you screamed his name repeatedly, searching frantically through the neverending corridors, through every row and shelf in sight.

But then, overcome with exhaustion, you collapsed to your knees as tears cascaded down your face. With trembling voice, you attempted to vocalize the crucial revelation you had been attempting to share with him for days, as he had left you with no other way to do so.

"Morpheus! Please, listen to me! I'm preg—"

However, an unseen power stopped you from revealing it, as a gust of wind surged through the space, threatening to destabilize your balance. Regaining your footing, the library's surroundings began to dissolve into nothingness, leaving you in a vast area filled with misplaced items and twisted paths.

"ʸ/ᴺ…!”

The enigmatic voice beckoned once more, but you remained steadfast in your resolve to disregard its call. Their identity and nature was still an enigma, and you became increasingly weary of your chase with an unknown presence that seemed intent on leading you astray.

At this point, you had become undeniably frustrated with anything relatively mysterious that presented itself as another riddle to solve.

"ʸ/ᴺ!”

“Oh, shut the fu—”

“—ck up!!!”

"Y/N! What's all this about? Are you all right?"

Disoriented, you foud yourself reclining on the couch, a blanket draped across your legs. Surveying your surroundings, you recognized your living room, where Hob stood in the kitchen area, preparing dinner while casting concerned glances in your direction.

With trembling hands, you ran your fingers through your hair as your gaze fixed upon the empty mug on the coffee table. In a moment of blinding rage, you seized it forcefully and, without a word, hurled it across the room. The impact against the wall shattered the ceramic into fragments that littered the floor—a physical representation of your current state.

A guttural scream escaped your throat as you clasped your temples in distress. Immediately, Hob rushed to your side, embracing you protectively while murmuring reassurances.

"Oi love, easy there now! Steady on, you're okay. Everything's gonna be okay."

Your breathing came in ragged gasps as you struggled to calm down, while he offered comfort with gentle strokes along your arm.

"It’s not good for the little one, innit? Come on now, take it easy. Did you have a rough dream? Were you chatting with someone?"

Shaking your head, you sobbed. "He was there, Hob. I saw him. But he wouldn't even talk to me… he just turned away and left."

"Well ain't that just like 'im? Bloody hell, what a right fool!"

"I was so close to telling him about the baby, but... I couldn't. Something kept stopping me, speaking to me, and I just..."

"Shhhh now, love. Best not to dwell on it. Take some proper breaths."

"I swear, this is driving me mad."

Hob let out a heavy sigh, clenching his jaw. "If I had that bloody idiot in front of me right now, I'd give 'im a proper piece of my mind."

"No doubt you would. But I'm afraid it would be a waste of breath," you stated.

"Look, I've known him for centuries, right? And he once turned his back on me over some right daft nonsense, which I've been feeling guilty about for over a hundred years. But this? This is about you now, and it's absolutely mental!"

You managed a weak smile. "He has his reasons. Even with all this anger burning inside me, I still can't bring myself to hate him for it."

"Eh, you really do love him. That's what I call proper dedication."

"He's the father of my child, after all. One way or another, he'll need to be informed—assuming he doesn't already know."

He took a seat by your side, squeezing your knee affectionately. "I don't think he does, Shortcake. He might be a right bastard, but I don't reckon he'd abandon both of you like this."

Given the tragic outcome surrounding Orpheus and the deep remorse that followed, it seemed improbable that he would deliberately distance himself from his unborn child merely due to concerns about potentially similar consequences.

Nevertheless, the way he cast you away, prompted by a prophecy within the Book of Paradoxes, made predicting his potential response particularly arduous.

Still, the dilemma of committing to an indefinite wait for his return weighed heavily on your conscience.

Confusion and mortification paralyzed Morpheus' thoughts. Following his return of the Book of Paradoxes to the library, unusual phenomena began to form throughout the realm, particularly inside his castle. Subtle whispers and voices seemed to demand his attention, persistently echoing in his mind like a cruel joke meant to toy with his emotions. 

From what had reached his ears, Lucienne’s thorough investigation could not locate the volume anywhere in the library. Morpheus dismissed the matter as inconsequential, as he was resolute in his conviction that maintaining distance was essential. Your safety from the perpetual darkness that had defined his existence since inception took precedence over all other considerations, and when the voices finally subsided, he concluded the book must have simply transported itself to another location, seeking another soul to ensnare with its dire warnings.

This time, however, the voices returned with greater intensity than before, undermining his authority and throwing the library into chaos. Never did he expect to find you at the very heart of it. 

You, his beloved Y/N, the woman he adored with fierce devotion yet was compelled to push away. The one he had desperately tried to lock out of his heart, erecting walls to shield himself from your desperate pleas. Hearing your voice alone would weaken his defenses and make him question everything—something he dared not risk when your safety hung in the balance of a looming catastrophe.

Your unexpected materialization in the library at that pivotal moment left him paralyzed. You were a vision of grace and beauty that tested the limits of his self-control, and every fiber of his being urged him to lose himself in your embrace and savor the taste of your lips, forgetting all he knew. 

His sense of duty and conviction drove him to turn away, believing that severing your connection was the only gift he could offer to shield you from the consequences that his consuming need for your love might bring upon your future.

But now, doubt began to creep into his being. He questioned whether his interpretation of the book's prophecy had been correct, and whether his choice of cutting ties with you was as warranted as he believed it to be. Did he sacrifice your bond prematurely, based on a misunderstanding fed by his own fear of losing you?

Although every indication within the book pointed to an inevitable conclusion, his certainty in its finality had begun to waver.

Lost in his musings, Morpheus was suddenly alerted to a dramatic change within the Dreaming. A powerful burst of magic made its way through the kingdom's foundation, causing the castle to tremble violently.

His attention was drawn to the floor before the stairs, where a sigil of silver light engraved itself into the marble. Descending step by step, he examined the glowing symbol, recognizing it as a sight that required his respect. The emblem represented an ancient glyph of mercy and balance, a formal summon invoking ancestral protocols to request an audience with Dream of the Endless from another world.

It was an old rite, a petition of parley. And Morpheus knew exactly who was sending it forward.

Bound by cosmic law, he could not refuse this meeting. With silent acquiescence, he remained on the stairs as the Goddess' form emerged from the sigil. Her face struck him like a physical blow—so reminiscent of you, but distinctly different in its own way.

The glyph faded to a subtle outline on the floor. Paregoros was still at its center, fixing Morpheus with an inscrutable expression.

"I acknowledge your presence in my domain, Paregoros," he spoke, his voice guarded. "I bid you welcome to the Dreaming."

"Greetings, Oneiros," she replied with a graceful bow. "I am grateful for your audience."

"I could not deny it. What brings you to my realm?" he asked with a hint of wariness.

Paregoros smiled knowingly, casting her eyes downward. "I believe you understand precisely why I have come to speak with you."

"I must confess, I find such a formal visitation to my realm quite… unexpected."

"Indeed, I have not given you sufficient cause to trust me. That is my responsibility." Clasping her hands in front of her, she took a deep breath. "Look, I admit I held you in rather low regard, and I made it clear that I disapproved of your relationship with my daughter."

"Then you shall be pleased to know that we are no longer bound together," he stated with cold resignation.

With a heavy sigh, Paregoros shook her head with a mix of sadness and reproach. "If that were truly the case, I would not be standing here."

"Tell me then, what service might the King of Dreams provide to the Daimona of consolation?"

"I require no service from you, Oneiros. I come not for myself, but for Y/N."

"Then I'm afraid you have traveled here in vain.”

Paregoros' eyes softened as they filled with her distinctive compassion. "Oh, Oneiros. I see it now. You truly do love my daughter."

"I have made my position on this matter quite clear," he retorted. "But what relevance does it hold now?"

"You did... and I could not believe you at the time. Oneiros, I do realize that I was wrong. Please accept my sincerest apology."

Morpheus gave a stoic nod. “Your apology is accepted. If you have nothing further to discuss, I must return to my duties.”

Paregoros chuckled, whispering to herself, "My daughter truly has the patience of a saint."

Clearing her throat, she adjusted the folds of her dress, straightening her posture. "If you would permit me to speak freely, Lord Morpheus, perhaps I could explain."

"Very well. Proceed," he intoned solemnly.

"I am aware of your situation with Y/N. You chose to leave, claiming it was to protect her from some perceived danger—or perhaps to shield her from yourself.”

His hands tightened into fists, yet he remained silent, allowing her to continue.

"I may have contributed to the problem. I planted those doubts in your mind, speaking against you and using your history with Calliope to persuade her to move on. Though I believed she deserved better than what you could offer, everything she told me about you gave me much to reflect upon."

Morpheus moved down a few more steps. "I can assure you, your words had no bearing on my decision."

"In any case, I urge you to reconsider. I realize this may sound contradictory, but... against all expectations, you two may really be destined for each other."

"We are not," he stated with cold finality. "My past actions have brought only pain and destruction. I need not remind you of the consequences of my affections."

"You don't. But the being I see before me now is not the same one who existed then."

"That is irrelevant."

"No, Oneiros. It is very relevant.”

“How?”

“Y/N saw you in a way that no one else could, not even me or your former wife. Your heartbreak now runs so deep that I can feel its weight from here.”

She paused, pressing her lips together as tears welled in her eyes, moved by what she could empathize with.

“If you believe you deserve this self-imposed suffering, let me assure you: you have nothing left to prove."

"I did not abandon her to prove anything," he stated, his gravelly voice resonating with a hint of barely contained fury. "I left to ensure she has a future. One untainted by the tragedies foretold in the Book of Paradoxes. As her mother, surely you must understand the necessity of my actions."

Paregoros blinked several times in rapid succession, absorbing his words, as disbelief spread across her face. "Wait… the Book of Paradoxes? You ended things with my daughter because of that?"

"You must know the significance that such a tome bears, and the gravity of its pages."

She exhaled deeply, pressing her fingertips against her nose bridge as comprehension dawned.

"Oneiros, the Book of Paradoxes is never as straightforward as it seems. It is far more complex than a vessel of catastrophic prophecies."

"Do you truly believe I would make such a momentous decision without thoroughly examining every possible interpretation? That I would cast aside my bond with your daughter based on a mere cursory reading?"

"You are Dream of the Endless, I would not expect you to take anything lightly."

Morpheus released a heavy breath, closing his eyes for a moment before meeting the Goddess' gaze once more. "I refuse to allow this fate to become a tangible possibility. I will not subject her to that suffering, even if the cost to me is immeasurable."

"I understand. And believe me when I say that I'm truly grateful for your demonstrated care. But that doesn't change the fact that whatever the book presented may actually hold a very different explanation beneath those lines. Especially—"

She abruptly stopped speaking, pressing her lower lip between her teeth as the weight of her unspoken sentence hung in the air.

"Especially... what?" he inquired. "If you possess knowledge pertinent to this matter, I insist you share it."

Her eyes darted back and forth as she brought her hand to her lips, carefully choosing her next response.

"What I can say is that she needs you, Oneiros. More than she ever has before."

"You are concealing something from me.”

"My apologies, Dream King. It must come from another source, not from me."

"First my subjects, and now you,” he said with exasperation. “Why is it that everyone seems to know the answers that perpetually elude me?"

She laughed softly, her melodious voice echoing through the throne room. "The real question is how you haven't noticed. I mean no insult, of course. But given how thoroughly you've isolated yourself, it's hardly surprising."

Intrigued by her implications, Morpheus descended the remaining steps, closing the distance between them to only three paces.

"Enlighten me, then. What is it that I have failed to perceive?"

"You have changed, Oneiros… but so has Y/N. She is no longer the same mortal you met over nine months ago. Her existence has deepened and transformed, and so has yours."

"I must insist you dispense with these allusions and speak with clarity."

Unfazed by his demand, Paregoros shook her head. "If you’re looking for answers, then speak to my daughter. Stop burying your head in the sand like a stubborn ostrich. Pun absolutely intended."

In his solitude, Morpheus grappled with a torment that pierced the very core of his immortal essence. Without you, he felt himself dying piece by piece, molecule by molecule, his heart fragmenting into ever-smaller shards.

"I find it curious that you, who once sought so fervently to shield your daughter from my influence, now advocate for our reunion."

"As I mentioned, circumstances have changed significantly. Oneiros, the Book of Paradoxes never appears by chance. It seeks out specific beings when they are meant to see it, at predetermined moments in time," she explained with gentle patience. "You might think it revealed itself to prevent a disaster on her, but from what I know, this is not an ending at all; if anything, it’s the beginning of something beautiful. If you would only open your eyes to see the truth."

Paregoros, Astra, Lucienne, and Matthew…

What vital message had they all been trying to convey? Something lurked beneath their words, a revelation that had escaped his understanding when it had been right before his eyes all along.

He had fought against his better instincts to preserve your light, to give you a chance at a prosperous future—even if it meant he wouldn't be a part of it. Now the fabric of the Dreaming continued to fall apart, and each attempt to mend one breach seemed to result in new fractures emerging elsewhere, beyond his immediate attention.

An unseen power stirred within his castle walls, drawing him toward you. If even the faintest possibility existed that he could stay with you without becoming the architect of your downfall, he would give up everything he was.

"Dare I contemplate the possibility of redemption? Of making choices that will not lead to the same regrets of the past?" He mused aloud, speaking more to himself than to the Goddess.

“For what it's worth, I believe your redemption lies in my daughter. Promise me, Oneiros. Promise me you won't leave things as they stand."

Finally yielding to a new glimmer of hope, Morpheus acquiesced. "I give you my word."

With evident relief, Paregoros offered a radiant smile and inclined her head in appreciation. She executed another bow, this one carrying deeper sincerity, before activating the sigil beneath her feet.

"This is all I came here for," she affirmed. "I owe you thanks, Oneiros. The life of my daughter, all that she is and will represent for our worlds, is in your hands."

The floor illuminated once more with silvery light, and as Paregoros dissolved into a shower of luminescent particles, Morpheus found himself invigorated with renewed determination.

Perhaps a path existed for reconciliation, one that would allow him to mend the emotional wounds he had inflicted to your heart, and upon himself.

While you both returned to your respective work, Hob graciously extended his stay. You welcomed his continued presence in your home, knowing that solitude would only worsen your contemplative state.

As night approached, a peaceful calm enveloped the apartment, punctuated only by Hob's gentle snoring from the living room and the soft cadence of your measured breathing. The apartment was dark except for city glow filtering through the windows, with occasional car headlights briefly illuminating the rooms. You reclined in a supine position, with one arm tucked beneath your pillow while the other rested gently at your side.

Deep in slumber, you didn’t notice the shift in the air as Morpheus took shape beside your bed. His gaze fell upon you with reverence, though guilt pierced his heart at the sight of a tear-stained tissue on your nightstand. 

He examined your sleeping form carefully, the delicate bedsheets draped to your waist, searching for any indication that might explain the allusive statements he had received. Everything appeared unchanged, your essence as captivating as when he last beheld you. 

Tentatively, driven by his irrepressible need to touch you, he extended his long fingers to your face, softly brushing a few strands away. Though you deserved far more than he could offer, you seemed unwilling to seek happiness elsewhere, and he loathed himself for wishing every mortal man would burn to ash should they dare come too close to you.

His chest constricted with emotion as you shifted slightly in your sleep, his hand staying in place. With calculated gentleness, he traced his fingers through your hair, observing how the strands flowed like silk between them.

That brief touch eased the pain of his yearning, temporarily mending the void within his soul.

But then, something unexpected occurred that made even the King of Dreams recoil in shock.

Suddenly, your skin began to emanate a celestial golden radiance, forming as luminous filaments that extended outward and immediately surrounded his form. He watched the spectacle with wonderment, sensing its gentle warmth against his cool exterior. As he rotated his hand, the responsive light followed his movements with fluid grace, embracing his form like a second skin. 

You lay still in deep sleep as he advanced to examine it. The ethereal illumination emanated from your chest cavity, creating a brilliant corona that radiated outward, its tendrils of light weaving an intricate display throughout the room. 

However, upon closer inspection, he noticed something else. The energy seemed to radiate not only from your heart but also distinctly from your abdominal region, creating two separate points of origin.

His brows knitted in concentration as he extended his senses, perceiving a subtle yet distinct sound. The faint rhythm, though barely perceptible, was unmistakably present.

As he detected a second heartbeat resonating from within your form, the realization finally struck him like a lightning bolt crashing into the earth, bringing clarity to all that had remained obscured for weeks.

"You have read the book, yes, but have you truly understood it? Where you see endings, there might be beginnings.”

"You believe you'll bring her ruin. Yet have you considered that your absence might do the same? That she may not survive without you?"

"It is because you made me Y/N's familiar that I understand what is eluding you. If you would only speak with her once, you would see it as well. But then again, I'm merely a dream. What could I possibly know?"

“Oneiros, the Book of Paradoxes never appears by chance. It seeks out specific beings when they are meant to see it, at predetermined moments in time. You might think it revealed itself to prevent a disaster on her, but from what I know, this is not an ending at all; if anything, it’s the beginning of something beautiful. If you would only open your eyes to see the truth."

“A Child of the Endless…” he whispered, eyes wide, slowly sinking to his knees. “My child."

The real question is how you haven't noticed.”

Indeed. How had he not noticed it? The signs had been there all along—when he summoned you in dreams to end your relationship, during your time in the Dreaming, and most definitely when he found you in the library.

Those whispers were not deceptive or arbitrary in nature. Rather, they served as beacons, guiding him toward what he had to see: the presence of new life inside you. He would have recognized it had he not isolated himself, distancing his mind from the truth that stood bare before him.

His beautiful, precious Y/N, the one true love of his eternal life, now carried his child.

His child.

You had come into his world like a glowing star. Now you were a bridge between your realms, bearing a child of hope, and it was so much more than he could ever claim.

He finally saw deep into your soul, your memories, and your heart. So untainted and pure, with no darkness lurking inside. No lies, and no deceit. He witnessed only light, brilliant and beautiful, filling every corner of your spirit and radiating in his direction. A luminous gleam surrounded your figure, as serene as a star in the night sky.

That day within the basement, he witnessed the same golden luminescence that now shaped physically before him. He had interpreted it as merely metaphorical—a representation of your soul's essence, something figurative. However, this radiance was a tangible force, an innate ability that had been dormant in you since birth.

He had unknowingly left you to navigate these circumstances alone, both the manifestation of an unprecedented ability and the responsibility of his child. If the Book of Paradoxes had intended to guide him toward this revelation, perhaps its contents required a deeper examination.

Assuming he could find the tome once more.

With a delicate touch, he traced his fingers across the fabric covering your abdomen, his vision blurring with emotion, right as the light gradually subsided. Before departing to the Dreaming in a swirl of sand, he made a solemn vow to both you and himself: he would resolve everything without wavering, regardless of any prophecy, for you and for this miraculous new life. 

Morpheus would do whatever was necessary to become the lover and father you both deserved.

You jolted awake, whispering Morpheus' name with a sense of his lingering presence, scanning the room methodically. As disappointment settled in, your bleary eyes caught glimpse of what appeared to be minute grains of sand suspended in the air. 

Though you wished to attribute them to something more significant, the fading golden filaments in your hands suggested they were merely remnants of your power, or perhaps just atmospheric dust floating in the room, creating an illusion of what you longed to see.

Disheartened, you collapsed back into the mattress, another devastating crack forming in your already wounded heart.

"So, looks like we're still in the same boat as before, huh? Just, y'know, stating the obvious here."

Lucienne removed her glasses to rub her eyes, addressing Matthew with an exhausted sigh. "I am well aware we're not making progress."

"I know you're bustin' your chops here, but come on... if that book was anywhere in this place, you'd have found it already, right?"

"That was my assessment as well. But, as it remains our sole avenue of investigation, and given Lord Morpheus' current... disposition..."

"Yeah, we're fresh outta leads here. I get it."

"I'm afraid that's quite correct."

"Well, I'll keep an eye out. You know, do my thing, flying around, being all observant and stuff. Just give me a shout if you need me!"

“Sure.”

As Matthew flew off, Lucienne resumed her methodical search, reviewing her records and setting aside volumes unrelated to her primary focus. While the storms had quieted down, Mervyn was perpetually on edge due to the constant floods inundating the gardens, making his management duties both tedious and futile.

She walked through the aisles, scanning for any shelf she might have overlooked, confirming that all volumes were accounted for in her register. Just as frustration began to set in during her repetitive search, Morpheus' voice suddenly thundered throughout the library.

“Lucienne.”

Surprised, the librarian emerged from between the shelves to find her lord standing at the main table, an increasingly uncommon occurrence as of late.

"My Lord?" she inquired, approaching him with her hands clasped before her.

His face was inscrutable, yet a new glint shimmered in his eyes.

"I trust you have something of great importance to discuss with me," he stated "Something that requires my immediate attention."

His piercing gaze left no room for misunderstanding—there was only one matter he could be referring to.

"You've discovered that she's with child, haven't you?"

"I have. Though I’m curious as to why my most trusted librarian decided to withhold this information from me."

"In truth, I was going to tell you, sir. But she specifically requested my discretion in this matter."

"Why would she choose to conceal this from me?" he asked, hurt and confused.

"She was afraid at first... she needed time to process everything herself. And the moment she desperately attempted to inform you, you… weren't exactly making yourself available."

Morpheus looked down, realizing the extent of his actions.

While she was reluctant to press the point, Lucienne felt compelled to voice her sentiments. "With all due respect, my lord, you've been absent for all of us."

"I have failed you all,” he admitted. “An apology is the very least I owe."

Lucienne offered a gentle smile, resting her weight against the table.

"After the Vortex incident, I thought I had learned from my mistakes. I told you I would listen, and yet... I proceeded to do precisely the opposite."

"My lord, I understand these decisions were not made lightly—"

"No, there can be no excuse for what I’ve done. You all attempted to warn me; you, Matthew, Astra... Y/N. I let the shadows of my past cloud my judgment. In my arrogance, I pushed away those who wished to help, foolishly believing I could face this darkness alone. And The Dreaming paid the price for my negligence. As you did."

"What do you intend to do about this situation now?"

His fingers traced absently along a tome's leather cover, following the embossed letters without purpose.

"I require the Book, Lucienne. And you alone possess the means to aid me in its recovery."

"I was under the impression you were in possession of it still, my lord?"

"I returned it several days ago," he spoke with gravity. "But now... I must read it once more."

Lucienne shook her head slowly. "Sir, I've actually searched the entire library multiple times. And if you have returned it, then I might deduce the Book of Paradoxes simply isn't here anymore. Not that I was able to locate it during its first appearance, either."

His lips curled into a knowing smile. "I am quite certain it is here," he stated with quiet conviction. "Hidden within these very walls."

"And how exactly do you know that, my lord?"

"Because I sense its presence... and I hear its whispers," he replied.

"A whispering book? Great. That's quite beyond even my extensive library experience."

"The book is a Paradox in itself. Its very nature shifts and changes, and it never remains in one fixed location. It uses the fabric of the Dreaming to conceal its true form."

Lucienne arched an eyebrow, her voice dripping with its characteristic dry wit. "How are we meant to find it? Perhaps we should simply wait for it to grace us with another cryptic conversation?"

"I... do not know.”

"My lord, if even you cannot locate this book within your own domain, perhaps we're dealing with something far beyond our comprehension."

“I need your help, Lucienne. Please. I owe it to her, to all of you. And... to my child yet unborn."

Upon hearing those heartfelt words brimming with love, Lucienne couldn't bring herself to refuse her lord's request. Given all they had endured due to the book's influence, and the weeks of hardship both he and you had faced, she was determined not to let this obstacle stand in the way of your collective quest.

With that, she adjusted her spectacles, rolled up her sleeves, and cleared space on the cluttered table. “Very well. Where should I begin?”

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

[nozhdyved]

what this fandom needs is colin being a freak over cameron. i need that man hunched over his work desk reading cameron's review of one of his games while touching himself. i need him in that interview resisting the urge to ride cameron until his cervix is more broken than his limbs after falling from that balcony #BARS (i also need him having a dillemna because he's lusting after a guy whos like 10+ years younger than him.. until he remembers they're both grown adults so who gaf.)

this may be really long. sorry for the yap.

my brain got stuck on colin jerking himself off to cameron's reviews of his games..... im not normal.

like colin staying in his office after hours, scrolling through the pc zone website with his hand around his dick, biting into his shirt as he jerks himself off.

"despite the tight deadline that colin was on, he still managed to finish..."

yeah, colin can imagine something else thats tight. he has fucking tunnel vision, only reading the praises that cam has laden on him and imagining covering the writer's pretty face with his cum. he's such a weeiiirddooooo uuggghh. finally making a move on cam after like five months and being like "christ. i've wanted to fuck you since... since..." buffer error, colin forgot about the age gap BOOMB OOM BOOM its okay his dick doesnt discriminate

[redroomreflections]

A New World

Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff xchild!reader

Note: I don't even know what to call this POV lol.

Summary: Wanda and Natasha received their first foster placements

in the sixteen candles universe available on a03

As they stood on the doorstep of their new home, hearts pounding, hands shaking, and broad smiles, Natasha and Wanda could hardly contain the overwhelming mix of nerves and excitement coursing through their veins. They were becoming first-time foster parents. They had gone through all of the classes. Signed all of the paperwork. Prepared their friends for the change. It was now or never.

The daylight was waning, and the sun veiled behind gathering clouds, signaling the coming onset of nightfall. Merely an hour before the present moment, Wanda had received a phone call. She’d been finishing up with the dishes when her phone rang. Her heart leaped when she realized who it was. It was quick and short but informative. Two young girls, fourteen and eight years old. They needed immediate placement and a place to sleep for the night. So she and Natasha got to work fixing up both bedrooms. Fresh blankets, new pillows, and a stuffed animal for both of them. 

Now they are here, standing in the open doorway, ready and willing to make it work. 

“Hello,” Janice Walker, the social worker waved from the Blue Honda Accord. There’s a slight chill and Wanda wrapped her shawl around herself a bit more. 

The older girl stepped out of the car first, hiding her face under the hood of her jacket. She seemed cautious, taking careful steps as if feeling out of the unfamiliar place. Her body language showed she was holding back, maybe protecting herself from the newness around her.

She was followed by a much younger child. She turned to help her younger sibling, extending a hand in a gesture of support. The younger girl, wrapped in a vibrant pink and white puffer jacket that seemed a tad too big for her, emerged hesitantly, almost appearing smaller than her actual age.

With a gentle smile, the older sister offered reassurance, speaking softly to encourage her younger companion. As she assisted her sibling, she seemed to exude a sense of protectiveness, guiding her with careful attention, mindful of the uncertainties that might be overwhelming the younger girl.

The contrast between the two was striking—the older sister, having a poised demeanor despite her evident wariness, and the younger one, clad in a jacket that could easily engulf her petite frame, radiating an air of youthful innocence mixed with a touch of trepidation.

As the siblings approached, Natasha's heart fluttered with a mix of nerves and excitement. She couldn't help but feel a rush of anticipation coupled with a touch of anxiety. Seeing the two girls, she reminded herself to maintain a welcoming demeanor, despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling within her.

Her hands clasped lightly in front of her, Natasha felt a surge of nervous energy coursing through her veins. A smile graced her lips, although a tad strained as she willed herself to appear approachable. Her gaze flitted between the girls, noting their body language and expressions, trying to gauge their feelings without invading their privacy.

Despite her inner jitters, Natasha knew this moment was pivotal—for the girls, for Wanda, and for herself. She took a steadying breath, silently encouraging herself to remain calm and open-hearted, ready to welcome the newcomers into their home with warmth and understanding.

"Hello, Natasha and Wanda," Janice greeted warmly as she approached, her eyes shifting toward the two girls standing nearby. "This is Faith," she said, gesturing to the older girl, "y/n," she continued, indicating the younger one.

Faith, with a hint of guardedness in her expression, offered a reserved nod in acknowledgment. 

Beside Faith, the younger girl stood, her eyes wide with a blend of curiosity and shyness. Her gaze darted between the adults, and a hesitant but sweet smile played on her lips. Her demeanor oozed a sense of innocence and eagerness to explore this new environment.

Janice's warm introduction seemed to ease the tension slightly. "These two have been through a lot," she mentioned softly, her gaze shifting between the girls and Natasha and Wanda. "But I believe they'll find comfort and care here with you both."

Natasha and Wanda exchanged glances, their expressions filled with empathy and determination. They offered reassuring smiles to Faith and Y/N, silently communicating their readiness to support and welcome the girls into their home.

"Hey there, Faith and Y/n," Wanda greeted warmly, taking a step closer with a welcoming smile. "Come on in, guys. We're so glad you're here." Her voice held a gentle tone, an attempt to ease the girls' nerves.

As Wanda gestured towards the open door, Y/n instinctively clasped her sister's hand tighter, seeking reassurance in this new and unfamiliar setting. Faith, observing her younger sister's apprehension, squeezed her hand gently, silently conveying support and solidarity.

"Make yourselves at home," Wanda continued, her tone soft and inviting. "We've got your rooms all set up and cozy. Would you like a little tour?" she offered, hoping to make the transition smoother for the girls.

Faith nodded her permission. Seems she spoke for both of them. Wanda led the way, offering a tour of the house while Natasha followed closely, ready to support and assist in any way possible.

 Janice and Natasha hung back slightly, allowing the girls some space to acclimate. Janice, carrying their bags, turned to Natasha with a grateful smile.

"Thank you all for stepping up on such short notice," Janice expressed warmly, her gaze flickering toward the two girls. "They’re great kids, truly. Their last foster home just didn’t work out," she mentioned. 

Observing the little one clasping her sister's hand tightly, Natasha couldn't help but feel a surge of empathy. She nodded in response to Janice's introduction, silently acknowledging the significance of this moment for Faith and Y/n.

As they lingered at a distance, Natasha's heart swelled with admiration for Wanda's kindness towards the girls. There was a warmth in her heart as she watched Wanda guiding them through the house, instantly feeling a connection growing within her. 

As the tour wound down and Janice prepared to take her leave, Natasha noticed Y/N had strayed from the group, captivated by an intricately designed elephant statue displayed in the foyer. Smiling warmly, Natasha approached, intending to strike up a conversation about the statue.

However, before Natasha could say a word, Faith swiftly appeared and grasped Y/N's hand firmly, chiding her in a hushed tone for touching things. 

“Don’t you know better than that?”Faith mumbled through gritted teeth. Y/N's expression shifted instantly, her face morphing into a pout, as she looked down, clearly upset by her sister's reprimand.

Natasha paused, recognizing the delicate balance between the sisters. She offered a gentle smile, trying to diffuse the tension. "It's okay, sweetheart," she reassured Y/n softly, her tone warm and understanding. "This elephant statue is pretty cool, isn't it?"

Y/n glanced up, her pout softening at Natasha's kind words, but Faith's protective stance remained unwavering. Natasha nodded at Faith with an understanding smile, acknowledging her concern for Y/N's curiosity while subtly trying to create a welcoming atmosphere for both girls in their new home.

"Y/n, answer her," Faith gently urged, nudging her sister slightly towards Natasha. Y/n, with a shy glance at Natasha, simply nodded in response to her question about the statue. Natasha's heart warmed at the acknowledgment, appreciating the silent connection forming between them.

As this interaction unfolded, Wanda, noticing the budding connection between Natasha, Y/N, and Faith, joined them, standing by their side. 

Faith took a deep breath, her demeanor softening slightly. "Thank you," she said, her voice filled with genuine gratitude. "For letting us stay here," she added, a touch of vulnerability underlying her words as she expressed her appreciation for Natasha and Wanda's hospitality. “I promise I’ll keep y/n in line. She’s just curious that’s all.” 

Wanda, with a reassuring smile, responded warmly, "Curiosity is great, Faith. We encourage it around here. No need to worry. We're here to help both of you settle in comfortably."

As the conversation continued, Wanda's attention shifted slightly, noticing Faith's piercing brown eyes. There was an uncanny resemblance between the sisters despite their age difference. Their facial features, the way they held themselves, spoke of a strong bond, almost making them look like clones of each other.

"Hey, guys, are you hungry?" Natasha asked, her tone gentle and inviting.

Faith replied almost immediately, "No, we're good, thank you," a touch too quickly, almost as if trying to protect her younger sister from being put in an uncomfortable situation.

Noticing Y/n glance over at her sister before responding, Natasha couldn't help but wonder. "What about you, sweetie?" she asked, directing her attention to Y/n, who remained silent, her gaze shifting back to Faith.

As Y/n stayed quiet, Natasha pondered whether the little one could speak. She considered the possibility that Y/n might be feeling shy or uncertain in this new environment. 

"Alright, well, dinner will be arriving soon. We thought pizza might be a safe choice for tonight," Natasha chimed in, trying to keep the conversation light and easy.

Wanda then stepped in, offering to guide the girls to their bedrooms. "Let's get you settled in. We have two bedrooms here. Faith, yours is this way," she said, leading the way towards Faith's room.

As they entered Faith's room, Wanda gestured around, showcasing the space. "Here's your room, Faith. It's already pretty well set up," she mentioned, offering a reassuring smile. "But feel free to decorate it however you'd like. We want you to feel at home here."

Faith nodded in acknowledgment, her eyes scanning the room as she took in the possibilities of making it her own space. There was a faint hint of gratitude in her expression as she processed Wanda's words.

"Y/N, let's head to your room next," Wanda said warmly, leading the way towards the second bedroom. It was just one door down from Faith’s. Y/n followed with a mix of curiosity and anticipation, her eyes filled with wonder as they entered her designated space.

Once inside, Y/n's room mirrored Faith's, adorned with a desk, chairs, and a slightly smaller bed. However, one unique item captured Y/n's attention immediately—a hand-knitted purple elephant wearing a charming dress, placed lovingly on the bed. It was a one-of-a-kind creation, clearly made with care and creativity.

Y/n's face lit up with pure joy at the sight of the knitted elephant. Her eyes sparkled, revealing her deep affection for elephants. It was a moment of realization for Natasha and Wanda—they had discovered Y/n's love for these majestic creatures.

"Do you like elephants, Y/n?" Natasha asked gently, trying to engage with her.

Y/n's lips curved into a wide grin, nodding enthusiastically. 

"What are you going to name her?" Wanda asked, noticing Y/n's affection for the knitted creation.

With a playful twinkle in her eyes, Y/n giggled and gave the elephant a cutesy, silly name, her joy evident in her voice. “Ellie McSnuffles,” She named her. It was the first time she spoke, her voice soft and filled with excitement.

“That’s a lovely name,” Natasha complimented. Y/n’s smile grew even wider. 

After Y/N's joyful interaction with "Ellie McSnuffles," Faith, sensing her sister's happiness, softly requested, "Can I have a moment alone with Y/n, please?"

Recognizing the importance of sibling privacy and bonding, Natasha and Wanda exchanged a knowing glance, understanding the significance of this request. They nodded in unison, respecting Faith's wish.

"Of course," Wanda replied gently, gesturing for Natasha to follow her out of the room. "We'll be right outside if you need anything." With a reassuring smile, Natasha closed the door behind them, allowing Faith and Y/N the space they requested. 

As Natasha and Wanda made their way from the bedrooms towards the kitchen, a surge of excitement bubbled between them, evident in their expressions and animated gestures.

"I think they're really going to fit in well here," Wanda remarked, a touch of enthusiasm in her voice.

Natasha nodded, her eyes bright with anticipation. "Did you see the way Y/n lit up with that elephant? And Faith's protective instinct? They're both so unique."

"They definitely have a strong bond," Wanda observed, smiling at the thought. "And Y/n, she's got such a sweet demeanor. It's like she's trying to take everything in without saying much."

"Faith seems so responsible for her age," Natasha added, reflecting on their initial interactions. 

“She does,” Wanda nodded in agreement. They were so excited for the adventures to come. 

***************

An hour later, Wanda was in the middle of making a salad when she sensed someone's presence nearby. Glancing up, she spotted Y/N peeking around the corner, her curious eyes fixated on the kitchen activities.

"Hey there, Y/n," Wanda greeted warmly, setting down the salad tongs. "Do you want to come and see what I'm making?" she asked, offering a friendly smile.

Y/n hesitated for a moment before slowly stepping closer, her eyes alternating between Wanda and the salad. Encouraged by Wanda's welcoming demeanor, Y/n approached, inching closer to the counter. As she walked over, Wanda couldn't help but notice the details of Y/n's outfit. She sported a bright yellow t-shirt featuring the beloved cartoon character Bluey, though the shirt showed signs of wear and tear from being a favorite piece of clothing. Her jeans were slightly oversized, dragging a bit on the floor, indicating they were a touch too long for her. However, it was her adorable pink socks that caught Wanda's attention—they were clean, neatly worn, and undeniably cute.

"You like Bluey?" Wanda asked with a smile, gesturing towards the character on Y/N's shirt.

Y/n's face lit up, nodding enthusiastically as she glanced down at her shirt. She seemed happy to talk about her favorite character, a hint of excitement shining through her shy demeanor.

"Come on over, it's okay," Wanda reassured her, patting the stool next to her at the counter.

Y/n hesitated briefly, then cautiously climbed onto the stool next to Wanda, her feet barely reaching the footrest. Wanda chuckled, noticing Y/n's small stature compared to the counter's height.

"Looks like these chairs are a bit too tall for you, huh?" Wanda remarked, smiling sympathetically at Y/n. "Maybe I should get some shorter stools so you can see better."

Y/n nodded shyly, her eyes widening with a mixture of curiosity and gratitude as she observed Wanda's salad-making process. It was a subtle interaction, but it marked another step toward Y/n feeling more at ease in her new surroundings.

Natasha stepped into the kitchen with a few boxes of pizza, pleasantly surpised to find Y/n sitting at the counter. She glanced at Wanda and they shared a secret smile. 

"Hey, Natasha, mind grabbing the cutting board and starting on those cucumbers?" Wanda called out, dividing tasks while preparing the salad.

Natasha nodded as she reached for the cutting board and began slicing the cucumbers. She worked swiftly and efficiently, enjoying the kitchen activity.

Meanwhile, Y/n, eager to lend a hand, had been observing closely. Wanda noticed her enthusiasm and decided to involve her in the salad preparation.

"Y/n, would you like to help me wash the tomatoes?" Wanda asked, gesturing toward the fresh tomatoes arranged nearby.

Y/n’s eyes lit up with excitement at the opportunity. She nodded eagerly, a sweet grin spreading across her face as she approached the sink where Wanda had set up the bowl of tomatoes to be washed.

"Great! Just take each tomato, rinse it under the water, and put it in this bowl," Wanda instructed, showing Y/n the process with a warm and encouraging tone.

Y/n nodded enthusiastically, taking each tomato with care and delightfully rinsing them under the water, her small hands working diligently to help with the task. The simple act of being included and given a task made her feel valued and part of the kitchen activity, contributing to the warm and welcoming atmosphere.

As Y/n busily washed the tomatoes, a droplet of water splashed onto her t-shirt, staining it slightly. The mishap caused her to freeze, her eyes welling up with tears, and a sense of distress evident on her face.

Wanda noticed Y/N's reaction and quickly approached her side. "Hey, it's alright. Accidents happen," she said, gently inspecting the small water spot on Y/N's shirt. "It's just a little water, we can dry it up in no time, y/n."

Y/N's lower lip quivered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears as she tried to fight back the emotions welling up inside her.

Wanda noticed Y/N's distress and knelt down to her level, offering reassurance. "Sweetheart, what's wrong? Are you upset about the water?" she asked softly, trying to understand Y/N's feelings.

Y/N shook her head, a pout forming on her lips, but her voice barely audible as she whispered, "I don't like that name."

Confused, Wanda gently prompted her, "What name, honey?"

"My name," Y/N murmured, barely audible, her voice trembling with vulnerability. "I don’t like it.”

“Well, is there something else you would like to be called?” Wanda tilted her head. 

I like the name Bunny, but my sister thinks it's silly," she confessed, her voice tinged with a mix of sadness and disappointment.

At that moment, Natasha, who had been quietly observing, stepped closer, offering her support. "Bunny's a great name," she said with a warm smile, trying to uplift Y/N's spirits. "It's not silly at all."

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, a glimmer of relief shining through. Natasha's encouraging words seemed to ease her distress, allowing her to express herself more freely. It was a small yet meaningful exchange, affirming Y/N's feelings and preferences in a safe and supportive environment.

In a quick flurry of movement, Faith hurried into the kitchen, her eyes scanning the room until they found her younger sister, Y/N, standing by the sink with Wanda and Natasha. The sight of a small water spot on Y/N's shirt made her tense for a moment, but she could see her sister was safe and unharmed.

"Y/N, what happened?" Faith asked, her voice tinged with concern, a hint of her protective nature surfacing. “You were supposed to be using the bathroom.”

Before Bunny could respond, she dashed over to Faith and enveloped her in a tight hug, her eyes shimmering with apologies. "I'm sorry, I got your shirt wet," Bunny murmured, a tone of regret in her voice.

"It's okay, it's just water," Faith reassured Bunny, gently patting her back. She softened her demeanor, understanding her sister's worry and quickly reassuring her that everything was alright. “I apologize. She was supposed to be in the restroom.” She looked between the two older women. 

"Faith, it's okay. She wasn’t a bother," Natasha reassured gently, noticing Faith's protective stance over her sister.

Faith glanced at Natasha, her expression a mix of apology and determination. "I'm sorry. I just… we won’t bother you," she responded, her voice carrying a weight of responsibility.

Natasha placed a comforting hand on Faith's shoulder. "We understand. But you know, this is your house too. You're free to go anywhere you want here," she said, trying to ease Faith's worries.

Wanda chimed in, offering support. "Absolutely. It's your home now, and you can explore and be wherever you feel comfortable."

"Plus, it's dinnertime," Natasha added cheerfully, trying to lighten the mood. "Shall we all gather around the table? Pizza's waiting."

The invitation to dinner seemed to alleviate the tension. Faith took Bunny’s hand and they made their way to their dinner table. As they settled in, the atmosphere became more relaxed, fostering a sense of togetherness and acceptance within the newly formed family.

**********

Bunny sat at the dining table, her feet happily swinging back and forth under the chair as she eagerly bit into her slice of pizza. However, before taking a bite, she meticulously picked off all the pepperoni, a smile of satisfaction spreading across her face once the task was complete.

Meanwhile, as the dinner conversation flowed, Faith hesitantly posed a question that caught both Natasha and Wanda by surprise.

"Are you two legally married?" Faith asked, her curiosity evident, yet her tone respectful.

"Actually, yes," Natasha replied gently, her voice carrying a sense of warmth. "We've been legally married for a year now."

Her response seemed to catch Faith off guard, and for a moment, she appeared surprised but intrigued by the revelation.

"Wow, really?" Faith responded, her curiosity piqued. "I've never been around a married couple like you before."

Natasha and Wanda shared a glance, sensing Faith's genuine curiosity and desire to understand. 

"It's different for everyone," Wanda explained, choosing her words thoughtfully. "Marriage can look different for different people, but what matters most is the love and commitment we have for each other."

As dinner progressed Bunny, tugged at Faith's shirt, whispering in a soft voice, "Do they have wedding photos?"

Faith hesitated, feeling a bit unsure about asking, but seeing the eagerness in her sister's eyes, she mustered the courage and addressed Natasha and Wanda, "Um, do you... have wedding photos?"

There was a moment of quiet between them, sensing Faith's hesitancy, but Natasha smiled warmly, understanding the significance of the request.

"We do have some wedding photos," Natasha responded kindly, noticing the genuine curiosity in Bunny's eyes. "I'll show you later, okay?"

Bunny's face lit up with excitement at the promise, and she nodded, a smile spreading across her face. Faith offered a small but appreciative smile, grateful for Natasha's understanding and willingness to fulfill her sister's curiosity.

Now that she was satisfied, Bunny gently tugged at Faith's shirt once more, whispering with curiosity in her eyes, "What are the house rules?"

Faith glanced at her sister, understanding the significance of knowing the rules in their new home. She turned to Natasha and Wanda and gently asked, "What are the rules in the house?"

Natasha and Wanda exchanged a knowing glance, recognizing the importance of establishing a sense of structure and comfort for the girls.

"Well, there are a few basic rules," Natasha began, smiling warmly at the sisters. "Firstly, be safe, always. That's the most important thing."

"Then, be kind to each other," Wanda added, her voice gentle yet firm. "And be respectful, not just to us but to each other and yourself."

"Tell the truth," Natasha continued, emphasizing honesty. "It's essential for trust and understanding."

They paused, considering additional rules that would create a safe and nurturing environment for the girls.

"Also, for screen time, it's best to be in areas where an adult is present," Wanda suggested. "Though we can be flexible with that, especially for you, Faith, since you're older."

"Respecting each other's space and belongings is important too," Natasha chimed in, encouraging the girls to understand boundaries.

Faith nodded, taking in the rules, while Y/N listened attentively, absorbing the guidelines for their new home. 

"Also," Natasha added after outlining the house rules, "if you have any requests for groceries, questions, or anything you need, you can come to us anytime. We're here to help."

Her words were sincere, aiming to make the girls feel comfortable and supported in their new home. Natasha and Wanda wanted to ensure Faith and Y/N knew they could approach them with anything on their minds, whether it was about groceries, daily needs, or simply wanting to talk. 

"Thank you," Faith expressed with a genuine smile, acknowledging Natasha and Wanda's openness.

Bunny, a bit more softly and with a shy demeanor, echoed her sister, "Thank you," her voice barely audible, yet filled with gratitude for the reassurance and acceptance offered by their new guardians.

----> next part

[onlyfrags]

Yoru with a male s/o who's radiant powers give him draconic features and powersof the elements. Their on a date but people keep pointing out and staring at reader features like his horns, eyes or tail etc..

A/N I apologize for this taking forever! Yoru might be a bit OOC and I did not proof read this well, apologies. Its 4:30 AM and I have not slept so :D

Yoru with a Draconic Male Significant Other | Yoru x Male Radiant Reader

Yoru had always been a very prideful man. He took pride in everything. Be that his looks, his skills, and his ancestry. So of course, his pride would further extend to his relationship.

That extended to you.

Initially, he had little interest in you when you first joined the protocol. Sure, your appearance was definitely one of the more shocking or jarring Radiants he had ever seen, but you were just another teammate to him.

For a while, he listened to Phoenixs comments about you. About how odd your eyes were to him and how your stare gave him the creeps. How unnerving it was when he saw how your skin seemed to have visible scales. How your nails almost seemed like claws, and the many many questions about why you would have a tail. It was all so much for the poor man when all he wanted was to get some extra training in.

Then he went on a mission with you. He saw your powers in action. You in action. How you were able to aid Phoenix in guiding his fire a bit farther than before. How you took some of the water from Harbors wall to blind the enemies. How you joined Jett in dashing across the air. How the ground shook to reveal the people who hid.

He was entranced, though he would never admit that out loud.

As more and more missions happened, Brimstone was able to identify how well you both worked together. With you to aid in distractions, Yoru could thrive. You had a deep trust in the rift walker, and you had gained Yorus respect. Something that many weren't able to achieve.

You became inseparable. A duo that the omega universe would theorize about in hushed whispers that sent chills down fellow agents spines.

It was thrilling for Ryo. Exciting. Something that kept his heart racing and spirits high out on the battlefield.

Soon enough, The friendly banter turned to teasing jokes and witty remarks. Competitions would break out between the two of you to see who would achieve more on the field, and then it bled into training as well.

It was only a matter of time truly before someone had made the first move.

You had been relaxing with Yoru in his room, watching the other man from his couch with a mischievous look that he knew all too well. Before he could question it, you flicked your finger in the air causing a small spray of water into his face from the cup he had been holding. The poor man sputtered and coughed as he shook his head. His wet hair fell into his eyes which only further irritated the man.

Next thing you know, he was on top of you. The cup long abandoned as his knees dug into the cushion that was next to your thighs. He pushed you back against the couch, starting a playful wrestling match the same way he had many times before. All the while he loudly complained about his hair having been messed up, and about how he had to change clothes all while trying to pin you to the couch.

Somehow, with a few squirmy movements, you knocked Yoru off balance so he landed in your arms. Trapping him in an embrace, you couldn't help but grin as the smaller man tried to free himself before eventually giving up. His damp hair now pressed under your jaw as you felt him relax a little in your arms. A few moments later, he wrapped his arms around your torso and rested his hands above your tail.

It was silent. Though you knew Yoru could hear your heart pound against your chest. Despite this, not a word was spoken.

Instead, you felt something feather light against your collarbone. And then again. And once more a little farther up against your throat.

Your own breath hitched when you realized that Yoru was peppering you with gentle kisses where your scales met exposed skin. Hearing your little noise only made the man let out one of his signature chuckles before he moved to press one last kiss against your jaw.

His hands gave your waist a little squeeze before he mumbled, "You always were cute when you have your guard down~." His ego showed as he pulls away to admire you with a look of pride. Pride at how he had you flustered, and pride from his own actions.

After that day, you were an unspoken couple. In front of the others, nothing had seemingly changed. The competitiveness remained between the both of you as did your trust in each other. But behind closed doors you found yourself at the mercy of Ryo. A man who struggled with words but showed he cared about you with his actions. A man who was proud of the work you did together. A man who was proud of you.

Eventually, you and Ryo had managed to acquire a few days off. Perfect timing since he had been wanting to take you to Japan for a while now. He wanted you to see his homeland and experience the place he loved.

Yet the trip didn't go exactly as Ryo had hoped it would.

By this time, he had completely forgotten that your appearance made you stand out a bit. Your horns, tail, scales, and slitted eyes had others staring.

Some whispered in hushed voices. Some pointed at you and grimaced, throwing judgmental glances before turning away when you looked back at them. A few people even ran up to ask for pictures with you, asking about your appearance or how you did your makeup. It was an uncomfortable experience. Uncomfortable for you, and uncomfortable for Ryo.

After about half an hour of the stares and whispers as you walked with him to various different places in Tokyo, Ryo was done with it. He huffed loudly, taking your hand in his as he drags you down several different alleys and streets until he stops in front of a small building. A little hole in the wall place that seemed to be fairly empty from the looks of it.

Ryo, also noticing this, took a deep breath and sighed before squeezing your hand a little. A sign that he was there for you despite what all happened, before he let go. Giving you a reassuring head nod, he goes to open the door for you and follows you inside.

Ryo explained that this was his favorite place to come to, a small family owned restaurant that he claimed made the best cold soba noodles to help relax after a long day of being in the sun

"…or dealing with idiots who stare." He grumbled under his breath

And he was right. The noodles and dumplings were easily some of the best you had ever had, and the lack of people around made Ryo much more comfortable as well. The man who usually doesn't say much, babbled. He talked about the different foods he shared with you, the memories he had with the restaurant, and even told you about the history of each dish.

By the time you both finished your food, had a beer or two, and paid for it all, the sun had already began to set. Ryo would hum a little before carefully taking your hand in his own once again. Little actions like this were so uncommon that you couldn't help but feel your heart race.

His fingers laced with your own before looking back at you with a small smile. Taking a step forward, he did the unthinkable. He pressed a kiss to the corner of your lips and gave your hand another squeeze.

He would smile gently at you before he began pulling you down the street once more. This time, he was taking you to the place you'd both be staying so you didn't have to deal with prying eyes, and he could hold you close without fear of others seeing.

[aborddelimpala]

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