#walker-extended-universe

[teenwolfpackincorrectcaptions]

Liam: You're going to have to forgive Theo, he's very temperamental.

Theo: ...

Mason: Yeah, half temper, half mental.

[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

[laf-outloud]

I have loved the Unpopular Opinion posts about Walker. The account that does it is so respectful, kind, and explains their position well. Even if I disagree on points, it’s done out of so much love and respect for both the show and Jared, with an understanding of differences of taste, it’s wonderful to read.

Absolutely! Thank you @walker-extended-universe for generating and facilitating respectful discourse for Walkerverse fans!

I also love that when one of us gets something wrong (as is bound to happen), the anons or other fans providing corrections also do so with respect. It's a great fandom to be a part of!

[lgspears]

I nominated Patrick R. Walker, Demetrius Shipp Jr. or Tristan Wilde as the #Michael Holt Mister Terrific version in the DC Extended Universe.

[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

[still-searching-for-something]

I want to go back to how things were.

I want to go back to when I believed that the progressives were on the right side of history, fighting against oppression in all its forms, and had critical thinking, honest compassion, and understanding in a way that the right--inundated with racist conspiracy theories and absurd lies--did not.

In many ways, I'm a perfect demographic fit in the pro-Palestine circles. I'm bisexual. I'm a young university student who's been progressive for as long as he knew what progressivism was, and I never experienced genuine economic insecurity or wondered if I'd eat that night. In another timeline, maybe I'd be there marching and shouting their horrible slogans. But there's one, teeny little thing that ruins it, which makes me fall through the cracks and renders me politically homeless, outcast by the progressive left and the MAGA right.

I'm a Jew.

And I'm trying so, so hard to hold compassion for the suffering of minorities who have not extended us that same compassion. I'm trying to maintain my progressivist urge to go out and help minorities in solidarity, but it's so hard when they make it clear that they hate us and want our state dead and gone. I supported BLM, but Al Sharpton, Leonard Jeffries, Alice Walker, James Baldwin, Louis Farrakhan, Malcom X, Jesse Jackson and many others either were or are wildly antisemitic, especially Sharpton and Walker, and so are the BLM movement's leaders, who openly sneered at Jews for being shocked by them by announcing, "I guess their activism was just transactional. How (((Zionist))) of them!"

And the queer community forced me out of their ranks for merely questioning whether the war in Gaza is a genocide, for pushing back against them saying that Hamas is fighting oppression. And spread antisemitic lies about me, claims of harassment and supporting genocide to my friends because I dared to question them. And they've chosen to side with those who would throw both of us off roofs for being queer. Cast out by the outcasts.

Like, what do I do? Our only allies are Hindus, Iranians, Kurds, Republicans, and Christian Zionists (respect to all of these groups for that... even you Republicans. This is one of our only points of agreement). That's literally it. No loud show of from indigenous nations supporting what is effectively the most successful anticolonial land back movement in human history. No push from "antiracist progressives" against rising antisemitism and genocidal terrorism from a reactionary fundamentalist group against a historically discriminated group.

And they aren't even just leaning back and being silent--many members of these groups are being actively antisemitic--especially the progressive left, which has morphed into the most antisemitic mainstream political movement since the Nazis. Instead, we're 'Zionazis' and genocidal colonizers who aren't even oppressed anyway, that's just evil Jewish Zionist lies designed to stoke sympathy for their unrelentingly evil nature, which we can't even help. The notion that Jews are intrinsically predisposed to evil acts and deception--never heard that one before.

So now, when I look at pictures of Pride Parades, a celebration of an identity of which I am a part and would have previously killed to attend--I wonder... would I be allowed to hold up a rainbow flag with a Magen David on it? If I asked any of their views on the state of Israel, what will they say? What about on Zionists who support its existence? Would all parts of my identity be respected, valued, and celebrated? Or would I be forced to leave the Star of David flag at home, pretend I don't notice their antisemitic views, and pass the litmus test of disavowing Israel before being accepted?

I feel suspicious and wary of the very community which I am 'supposed' to belong in. I feel uncomfortable. I hate, hate, hate that I feel this way. That I've become more closed, more cynical, more angry. Those of us who fall through the cracks, who hold multiple marginalized identities--queer and Jewish, black and Jewish, Indigenous and Jewish--we are ignored and silenced, our voices and experiences entirely spat upon as being a front for 'Zionist crimes' or whatever new buzzwords they create.

I've decided that first and foremost, I am Jewish. The me that was proud to be a part of the queer community is dead. I want to support the progressive causes of antiracism and social justice, but they hate us. They want us dead. They wouldn't view my participation as being a genuine gesture of solidarity, but an evil Jew Zionist seeking to con them and co-opt support in order to aid our evil apartheid genocidal settler-colonialist white supremacist illegitimate entity in a land that should really be given to Hamas anyway.

How am I supposed to hold space for other minorities when nobody is holding space for us right now?

[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 hadn't answered before :(

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…”

[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.

[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.

[aborddelimpala]

Cordell Walker appreciation day | "Back"

@walker-extended-universe

[cripplecharacters]

Hello! I have a OC with dwarfism and I‘ve been thinking about ways to make this a bigger part of their character/story and wondering if you maybe have some ideas?

For context: they are about 1.10 meters big and have a BFF that‘s about 2.5 meters (this is a setting where characters this tall aren‘t super uncommon). They also are from a culture where having a ton of cyborg-parts is very common, so they have too. They are very comfortable with their size, even finding it practical for their job a archeologist/explorer as they can fit into smaller spaces, and other characters treat them with a lot of respect due to their knowledge and high rank. They also travel the galaxy in search of ancient technology and are quite old.

I hope you all have a wonderfull day!

Hello lovely asker!

I really like this it's sounds so fun! One thing I'm curious about is in this setting you said someone whose 8'3 isn't uncommon so I wonder if that extends to your other OC too? If so, how does the world change around them? What I mean is in a world where something is deemed "Normal" then the world would be built around them and accustomed to them for easy use.

Other than that, I think one of the first steps is deciding what type of dwarfism your OC has, that is if you haven't already decided. There are hundreds and hundreds of different types of dwarfism, all that come with their own unique characteristics.

You already have a height set for the character so I would do research around that and see what type of dwarfism would fit and you want your character to have. It doesn't have to be stated what type they have, especially if this is in a sorta sci-fi setting, but you knowing what type will give you a better idea of their body build and more characteristics to include in this character. For instance, starting with do you want them to have a Proportionate or Disproportionate type of dwarfism might be a good starting point of research too.

Depending on what type of dwarfism you choose, like I said, there's going to be other characteristics and what I mean by that is there is often health complications that come along with almost every type of dwarfism I can think of. Bone structures change, hormone deficiencies and such, breathing/respiratory issues, chronic pain, research will very much be your friend here.

Mobility aids along with other aids are also something to consider. Someone with OI (Osteogenesis Imperfecta) might use crutches, walkers, wheelchairs/power wheelchairs, all depending on what type of OI they have. Crutches, forearm crutches, wheelchair, power wheelchair, walker, canes, rollators, you name it. Magic aids are also an option if it applies for the universe this is set in, or even making up your own aids. I think the only thing to watch out with these is making sure the created aids/magic aids don't erase their disabilities. (You also mentioned that this character is older too so mobility aids would be an option their too.)

I also want to say this should all extend to the other character who is very tall as well. Do they have Gigantism? Marfans syndrome? Sotos syndrome? Again, it doesn't need to be stated what condition these characters have (in our terms) but doing research so you know the characteristics helps builds the characters better.

Also interactions depending how comfortable they are around each other should be fluid. By this is mean the taller probably wouldn't pick up the shorter one (especially if one or both of them are using a mobility aid). If there are things out of view/out of reach but rather bring it down to their height, and vice versa also. If it's a situation where they can't bring things to each others height, they might assist each other in other ways. The taller finding a path or stacking stable items that shorter can navigate/climb up on to see what the other is seeing, the shorter oc clearing a path so that the taller can lean down comfortably to see something or perhaps finding something/somewhere they can sit down on.

That's all I can think of for now but I hope this helps some. Have a lovely day and good luck writing!

~ Mod Virus 🌸

[thisbelongsto-nohbodys]

So, post-series headcanons on Luz, Amity, Willow, Gus, and Hunter?

I'm mostly waiting on any creator/crew post-series Q&A interviews to really dive into major headcanons but here's a few off the top of my head that I have atm:

Luz: After finishing University (with flying colors), Luz became a writer/comic artist in the human realm and both a writer and explorer in the demon realm. With King's new glyphs, Luz got not only to see which old glyph combos still work but also test out new ones that she thought of in the 3+ years that she had before King figured out his Light glyph.

Amity: Due to taking over her dad's factory and working on both new abomi-ton inventions and exploring Amity got buff, her muscles are not as large as Willow's but Amity could dead-lift Warden Wraith's weight. Amity got to meet Mildred Featherwhyle at a human convention Luz took her to, Amity got all of her books signed and keeps them behind glass cases guarded by new abomi-tons she designed.

Willow: Willow is a coach for the new Hexside's Flyer Derby team and really likes helping the kids, she still plays with the original Emerald Entrails but as they have their own thing she's had to remake the team and will have her team skirmish against the Hexside team to help them get better. She helped Dell and Eda rebuild the Palistrom Woods with the help of the Plant Coven Artifact (before turning it over to the new Plant Coven Leader). While not the Plant Coven head now, rumor has it that many are considering suggesting her in a future Coven Head election.

Gus: He and Vee run the University of Wild Magic's Human/Witch Exchange Program, however it's less sending witchlings to human school and more an extended summer field trip (less likely to be hounded by authorities for kids not in school in summer as Luz and Vee points out early on), Gus and Vee help show witchlings around the human town of Gravesfield and teaching them about human things. He has yet to make peace with the Giraffes but he's getting close.

Hunter: After doing some digging into the history of Caleb he discovered that he's related to the Clawthornes, Eda tried to make a "little nephew" joke but Luz pointed out that since Hunter is a Grim Walker clone of Caleb that he's actually Eda's Great Great Great (insert more) Grandpa. This new family connection brought him to Dell who taught him Palisman carving alongside Eda also helping. Hunter considers both Darius, Eberwolf and Camila as his parents, all of whom consider him as their kid.

[steelbluehome]

Screen Rant

10 Superpowers Bucky Barnes Still Hasn't Used After 13 Years In The MCU

By Alexander Valentino

September 28, 2024

Bucky Barnes is one of the most gripping and capable heroes in operation in the Marvel Cinematic Universe today, but has still only scratched the surface of his potential from the comics. First introduced in Captain America: The First Avenger, Bucky is one of the few Phase 1 characters still active in the MCU. With the powers of military and assassination expertise, a lesser version of Steve Rogers' super soldier serum, and an advanced cybernetic arm.

In the comics, Bucky didn't originally have any inherent powers other than those granted by his arm, being a peak human with an impressive array of gadgets and weaponry. While his comic arsenal presents some interesting options Bucky never gets in the movies, his eventual ingestion of The Infinity Formula turns him into a super soldier similar to Steve Rogers, granting a suite of enhancements more potent than those shown in the MCU. Between his upgraded serum enhancements and his more expansive gadgetry, comics Bucky is far more intimidating.

10.

EMP Blasts

Bucky's arm does more than just punch and grab

Bucky's most defining characteristic as The Winter Soldier is his trademark cybernetic arm. Emblazoned with the red star of the Soviet Union, Bucky was outfitted with this prosethetic during his deployment as The Winter Soldier in both the comics and the films. Where the two differ, however, is in the arm's capabilities, which are much more expansive in the comics.

One of the most recurring abilities Bucky channels through this arm is the use of powerful directed electromagnetic pulses capable of temporarily disabling electronics. Bucky can use this effect in either wide areas or directed at short-range, instantly bricking technology even as fanciful as Iron Man's armor. The perfect tool for clandestine assassination missions, Bucky's EMP blasts might finally see use in The Winter Soldier's appearance in Thunderbolts*, with the majority of the film's action likely taking place under the radar of public perception.

9.

Extended Reach

The arm is so much more than a simple prosthesis

Potent EMP blasts aren't the only trick The Winter Soldier literally has up his sleeve in the comics. In some instances, Bucky's arm is also able to extend and stretch itself similar to Mister Fantastic, more than doubling his reach and threat radius. The Official Handbook of the Marvel Universe A to Z #2 lists Bucky's arm as having an extended reach of up to at least several yards.

Here, Bucky's bionic arm is able to unfold into many strips of prehensile cabling, allowing him to hook enemies in or devastate them with a powerful strike of writhing tendrils. Perhaps Bucky's new vibranium arm in the MCU can be revealed to have some hidden properties such as this, beyond remote deactivation at the hands of the Dora Milaje in The Falcon and The Winter Soldier.

8.

Electric Touch

The arm's lightning-charged powers go further than EMPs

Considering Bucky's arm is capable of generating a powerful EMP, it stands to reason that his arm would have to be capable of producing dramatic bursts of electric power. Sure enough, that power can also be channeled in a much more straightforward way via a disarming electric touch. Bucky gets a lot of mileage out of this functionality in the comics, instantly taking down the likes of super-spy villain The Man With No Face.

Cybernetic tendrils aren't the only obscure functionality of The Winter Soldier's arm to be utilized in Bucky's kit in Marvel Rivals. His electric shocks have also found their way into the game, with Bucky able to fire charged balls of dazzling lightning at his foes. Meanwhile, in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, electricity is actually a weakness of Bucky's, able to travel through his arm and electrocute him badly as shown in his fight with John Walker in The Falcon and The Winter Soldier.

7.

Remote Arm Operation

Bucky's comics arm can operate on its own

As if telescoping to increase in length didn't make the range of Bucky's terrifying arm expansive enough, in the comics, the device is capable of functioning even when removed from his shoulder. In one instance, upon being stolen and experimented on by a group of scientists, Bucky's confiscated arm is able to take out a whole room of people literally single-handed. It's also shown to be able to activate its electric functionality while detached from Bucky, zapping one of its helpless foes into submission with a touch.

It's later explained that Bucky controls his arm through a "cyber-link", an implant allowing him to control its movements with thought alone. It turns out that this link isn't necessarily severed when the arm is popped off of Bucky's torso, allowing him to stay in the fight over impressive distances. In practice, this gives Bucky similar powers to DC's bizarre character Arm-Fall-Off-Boy, rebranded as Nathan Fillion's "TDK" in The Suicide Squad by James Gunn.

6.

Teleportation

The cybernetic arm isn't Bucky's only tech asset

For a long time, Bucky was a normal human without any superpowers outside of his bionic arm, albeit a highly-trained one operating at the fictional cutting edge of training as depicted in the comics. This somewhat pigeonholed him into a role as a more gadget-based hero in most stories, leading to him accruing an impressive suite of advanced technology over the years. One of his most cutting-edge pieces of gear is his teleportation device.

Bucky gets this piece of technology, alongside a litany of other powerful pieces of equipment, during his tenure as "The Man on the Wall", a superhero identity used by Nick Fury in Marvel Comics. With this piece of equipment, Bucky is able to summon crackling portals of lightning a la the time travel devices in the Terminator series that he can step into, teleporting vast distances in an instant. Considering the MCU has yet to give even Deadpool his iconic teleportation belt, it's unlikely Sebastian Stan's Bucky will ever get this piece of gear during his film run.

5.

Undersea Suit

Comic Bucky is ready for combat in all environments

For the most part, in the Marvel Comics, The Winter Soldier is somewhat limited to being a street-level hero, even if he is near the top of the food chain. That being said, when push comes to shove, he's able to operate in unfamiliar and straight-up hazardous environments, thanks to the help of advanced technology from S.H.I.E.L.D. One such piece of gear is an impressive undersea operations suit that allows him to resist even the hostile forces of the sea itself.

Bucky wears this suit during a joint operation with Namor in the comics, teaming up in order to take down a group of drug smugglers trying to move their goods through the cover of the ocean. Amazingly, the suit withstands the immense pressure of the Marianas Trench, the single deepest-known undersea location on the planet. Not only that, but Bucky is quite deft with his movements while in the suit, able to effortlessly evade gunfire while moving through the water.

4.

Planet-Busting Guns

The Man on the Wall is quite threatening

Bucky has worn quite the number of different superhero personas in the comics, from being Steve Rogers' sidekick to the deadly Winter Soldier to even taking his own tenure as Captain America himself. However, his most dangerous persona is easily The Man on the Wall, an identity he assumes from Nick Fury. The title was originally given to Fury by Uatu the Watcher, commissioning him to silently protect Earth from countless alien threats in space through morally questionable means.

Part of being The Man on the Wall includes access to an absurd armory of world-killing guns, used to take out powerful beings or even entire populated planets at once. Some of these weapons include a Gatling Gun capable of taking down Ego the Living Planet, Gamma Bullets that are able to deal damage to the likes of Thor, and the prized Kazurr rifle, a sniper that uses vibranium bullets and can accurately pick off targets on Earth from the Moon. Paired with Bucky's natural gift for marksmanship, these weapons make him a deadly Man on the Wall.

3.

Enhanced Longevity

The Infinity Formula has done wonders for Bucky's age

In both Bucky's Marvel Cinematic Universe journey and his original comic appearances, cryogenic stasis during his time as The Winter Soldier kept him from aging normally, keeping him physically only a little older than Steve Rogers by the time of his operations in the modern day. In the MCU, it seems as though Bucky is aging normally, even if he does lose five years of age compared to half the population as a victim of Thanos' Snap. In the comics, he eventually gains powers that prevent this from being the case.

Bucky finally gains proper powers in the comics after Nick Fury revives him from near-death using the Infinity Formula, a potent concoction first created by Isaac Newton (Go figure) with mysterious restorative properties. Acting as a super soldier serum of its own, this formula not only restored Bucky to health, but gave him enhanced strength, speed, reflexes, and durability typical of a Captain America. As a curious side-effect, the formula also dramatically slowed down his natural aging, keeping Bucky spry for (theoretically) decades into the future.

2.

Regenerative Healing

Bucky's comic powers are decidedly stronger

There's one more aspect of the Infinity Formula's effects on Bucky's physiology that isn't represented by the Marvel Cinematic Universe's copycat super soldier serum made by HYDRA. For one, the level to which Bucky's physicals are boosted in the comics are far more dramatic than in the movies, meaning that the original Bucky is actually stronger than his film counterpart. In addition, Bucky enjoys a regenerative healing factor not shown as one of the serum's effects in the film.

While this healing factor isn't on the same level as those of Wolverine or Deadpool, it can still get Bucky back in a fight far quicker than his movie self could after a similar injury. Captain America's comic powers also give him this benefit not seen in the MCU, putting the two on similar footing after years of Bucky remaining as a peak human. This allows him to bounce back from broken bones, deep cuts, and gunshot wounds in a matter of days rather than months.

1.

Environmental Mapping Mask

Bucky's arm and costume work in tandem in the comics

One of the coolest aspects of Bucky's arm not fully explored in the movies that is present in the comics is its integration into his standard superhero suit. Unlike in the films, comic Bucky wears a classic domino mask during his escapades as The Winter Soldier, hearkening back to his days as Captain America's chipper sidekick in World War II. Not just for show, this mask actually has a genius piece of tech integrating it into Bucky's arm.

The classic red star on Bucky's cybernetic shoulder is shown in the comics to be able to emit a radar ping that uses echolocation to map out the surrounding area. The arm can then feed this information back into the lenses of Bucky's mask, giving him an instant 3-D awareness of his surroundings via a digital map. This is one power that would be appropriate for the Marvel Cinematic Universe to give Bucky Barnes, and hopefully he can use it at some point in Thunderbolts*.

See the original article for illustrations from the comics

[rainbowmoonstonestories]

Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings | Chapter 17

Chapters: 17/? Fandom: The Sandman (Netflix 2022, minor content from the Comics) Rating: Explicit Relationships Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x F!Reader  Characters: Dream of the Endless/Morpheus, Lucienne, Matthew the Raven, Mervyn Pumpkinhead, Hob Gadling, Death, Rose Walker, The Corinthian, other minor Sandman characters, Original Characters. Warnings: 18+ content (minors DNI), explicit sexual content, POV switching, very long chapters to read. Summary: You always dreamed of becoming a successful Fashion Designer, sharing your creations with the world and making your father proud. But with him being very ill and so many costs solely weighting on your shoulders, things didn’t go as planned and you had to take a different path instead. An interesting offer led you to the elder Alex Burgess and you were hired as a new housemaid for a very good pay. However, your kindness and outstanding empathy convinced the man to give you an additional task for a doubled compensation; gaining the trust of Dream Of the Endless, held captive into the basement for over a century. Despite the shock of finding such an ethereal entity stripped of all his clothes and contained into a confined space, you had to accept for the sake of your father. But the more you got to speak to the mysterious anthropomorphic personification who didn’t utter a single word, the more you were lost into his eyes that, conversely, seemed to contain the entire universe. A deep connection formed between the two of you, separated only by a thick layer of glass.

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

Credits: The moon dividers were made by firefly-graphics

Tagging: @number-0-iz, @emarich7, @jaziona92. If anyone else wants to be tagged in the next updates, let me know! I noticed that Tumblr sometimes won't let me tag everyone for some unknown reason, so if it comes to that I can at least send you a message to notify you.

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

You believed that your sojourn in Cape Kennedy would be explicitly for work, but what started as a simple business trip evolved into a much more complex situation, teetering on the brink of catastrophe.

Andrew turned out to be significantly more enjoyable to spend time with than you actually remembered. During your university days, he was much more timid and insecure than the person who rushed up to you outside the airport, surprising you with a tight, joyous hug that instantly dissolved all the peculiar anxieties you were feeling upon landing.

Truth be told, your memories of interactions with him during your evening outings were sparse, as he tended to stick close to Ella, engaging more in conversations with her than anyone else. After many years without seeing him, you even reached a point where you forgot his existence. It's astounding how the progression of time and accumulation of experiences can unveil a person's genuine character and unearth the finest qualities they've kept concealed.

Just a handful of phone calls and a smattering of text messages were all it took for you to grasp his newfound confidence. He didn't need an extended conversation to establish a comfortable and friendly rapport with you. His messages were punctuated with a barrage of emojis, more than you had ever received at once, and his gif reactions were so humorous they had you doubling over in laughter.

His style was impeccable, with that colorful shirt that seemed a tad eccentric but in a balanced way, blending perfectly with the sophisticated black jacket, jeans, and shoes he had selected. His light brown hair was partly styled in a sort of pompadour, but the gentle breeze was lending it a pleasingly disheveled look. His stubble was barely noticeable, enhancing his handsome face with a mature touch due to its well-groomed appearance.

His car was quite luxurious, but you couldn't expect anything less of him at that point. The seats were incredibly comfy and the interior exuded a scent of white musk. While he drove, keeping the radio at a soft volume to ensure clear communication, Andrew finally provided a comprehensive explanation of the purpose behind your trip to Florida.

"So, I already mentioned this, but I've been following your work for quite a while now. And let me tell you, your creations are phenomenal.”

"Why, thank you," you responded with a smile, sweeping your hair away from your face. The salty scent of the ocean wafted in through the open windows, instantly reminding you of the beach landscape in the Dreaming.

"Now, the reason I sought your help is for a new collection I want to curate for the summer season. My goal is to merge innovative design with sustainable practices, demonstrating a commitment to environmental consciousness and ethical manufacturing methods.”

"That sounds wonderful."

"Indeed. I want to draw inspiration from the colors, textures, and patterns found in the aquatic world. Each piece in the collection needs to exhibit intricate detailing and innovative fabric choices.”

You nodded, mentally cataloging all the information he was sharing.

"I envision the collection to be versatile. I'm not planning to just create swimsuits, but essentially a complete range of summer attire that one could wear.”

"Of course," you agreed.

Andrew's face lit up. "Now, imagine having the perfect match, maintaining a consistent theme but with originality and diversity so that it doesn't all look the same.”

The wheels in your brain were already turning at full speed, sketching out what could potentially become the first set of drafts to propose.

"Obviously, I don't want anything in the typical ‘mermaid style’. That's just boring. But there's only so much I can do with my creative process.”

"Well then, you've contacted the right person for the job," you declared, wearing a broad grin.

Andrew raised his hand, his chuckling robust and contagious. It took a moment for you to understand that he was soliciting a high-five. You couldn't even recall when you last partook in such a lighthearted interaction. It elicited a comforting warmth in your heart.

As you slapped your hand against his, he exclaimed, "You bet I did, girl!”

The car ride was brief. He pulled up directly in front of his workplace, a shop that seemed quaint in size, but instantly made you feel welcomed with its glowing neon sign. The store's beautiful mannequins were adorned with impeccably tailored clothing, arranged in a professional display that mimicked the beaches of Cape Kennedy. The shop windows were truly extraordinary, an authentic work of art. You could tell that they had intentionally incorporated real sand and seashells into the composition.

"Wow," you gasped, your gaze fixed on the spectacular view. "Andrew, I haven't even stepped inside, and I'm already smitten.”

He chuckled softly. "I can't take the credit, I'm afraid. This is all the work of my window dresser.”

"Well, there's undeniable talent on display here.”

"Oh absolutely, she's the best in the business. I enjoy updating the shop's aesthetic quite frequently, and without her expertise, I'd be utterly clueless.”

Guiding you gently inside with a light touch on your back, he announced his presence. The woman behind the counter, a striking young lady with untamed red hair, sparkling green eyes, and a smattering of adorable freckles across her cheeks, whirled around so quickly she nearly collided with the table.

“Oh hey! Hi!”

Named Charlotte, she was no more than 20 years, with her primary role being the management of the shop's sales, encompassing both the physical store and online transactions. Andrew regarded her akin to a younger sister; she looked quite vivacious at first impression, yet proved to be exceptionally proficient and reliable in her role.

Without missing a beat, Charlotte promptly offered snacks and drinks to both you and Andrew, ushering you towards the back where the true magic unfolded behind closed doors. Their laboratory was surprisingly larger than the retail area itself; it resembled a lavish loft, complete with expansive industrial windows and the cozy glow of fairy lights.

The window dresser, an elegant woman in her 50s, was diligently constructing props in a distant corner. Despite her long, red nails, she glued and cut materials together with remarkable precision. As you walked by, Andrew introduced you to his tight-knit team, each member of which showed exceptional openness and kindness.

Positioned at the farthest end of the room, a welcoming lounge space beckoned, replete with plush couches and a variety of seating options. The area was bathed in soft light emanating from an oversized lamp, exquisitely fashioned in the shape of a flower. To you, a good workplace needed to reflect the comfort and coziness reminiscent of home. The relaxed ambiance was not just perceptible, but it was also nurturing an environment of seamless harmony among the team members.

Although your jet lag was already starting to take a toll on you, you managed to stay alert throughout the remainder of your visit to the shop. Andrew penned a list of essential points for you to memorize, letting you savor your tea on the most comfortable bean chair you had ever sat on. The enthusiasm he injected into everything he described, including the addition of sketches and adorable emojis scattered throughout the paper, marked him as a kindred spirit in creativity. Although he might not possess a specialized skill for complex projects demanding a unique approach, his talent in overall management was clearly evident.

Your collaboration with him had just begun, yet you found yourself already envisioning future partnerships.

As the day progressed, you noted the sun beginning to set. Andrew made sure you had everything required to start on your drafts, but his clear and concise manner of speaking left no room for questions. Ideas were already flooding your mind, and you were eager to begin sketching them out. But as strong as your creative desire happened to be, it was matched by a pressing need for rest and rejuvenation.

Thus, Andrew led you to his car once more, steering it towards a quaint Bed and Breakfast that he had personally reserved for your stay under your name.

"Hal, a good friend of mine, owns the place," he elaborated. "He's a great guy. I'm certain you'll find his company pleasant.”

"I appreciate this, Andrew. You didn't have to go through the trouble, I could have arranged for a hotel room."

"It's really no trouble at all. Besides, it was I who invited you here. It's the least I could do," he replied. "I've known Hal since I moved to Cape Kennedy. He was literally the first friend I made here. I prefer to have you stay somewhere I know is safe."

You couldn't help but smile. The thoughtfulness he was extending was truly heartwarming.

"Then, I'm confident I'll be in good hands.”

As the car came to a halt, you took in the sight of a lovely establishment, surrounded by a lush expanse of greenery. The entrance, painted in white, exuded a touch of rustic charm yet retained an aura of elegance. A solitary lantern hung just above the front door, adding to its appeal.

As you stepped out of the car, Andrew fetched your suitcase from the trunk. Simultaneously, the door of the Bed and Breakfast swung open, revealing a man with short hair, mostly silver, with a prominent black section over his right front, and shorter strands on the left side. He was dressed casually in a short-sleeved black button-down shirt, jeans, and dark shoes.

Andrew immediatly greeted his friend, embracing him in a warm hug. "Hal, it's good to see you!"

Hal reciprocated the gesture enthusiastically, sporting a broad smile. "Good to see you too, my friend."

Feeling a tad shy, you took a small step forward, subtly tucking your hair behind your ear.

As Hal and Andrew broke their embrace, the owner of the B&B shifted his focus to you. His eyes lit up in recognition. "Ah, you must be Y/N! Welcome, it's a pleasure to meet you in person. I’m Hal Carter," he greeted warmly.

"Nice to meet you, Hal," you responded politely, extending your hand for a handshake.

"To be honest, I might be a fan of yours," he confessed, gently enveloping your hand with both of his in a sign of admiration.

"Really?”

"Oh yeah, he was practically over the moon when I told him who you were," Andrew chimed in.

"Come on now, it's not every day I get the opportunity to host a celebrity," Hal playfully retorted.

To say that you were feeling bashful at their comments would be a gross understatement.

"I'm flattered, truly. But I am no celebrity by any means," you said humbly.

"There's no need for modesty, darling. Your name has been creating quite a buzz around here."

"Wait, it has?"

"Oh, didn't I mention it?" Andrew scratched his cheek nonchalantly. "The Corbyn&Jones brand has been hitting the roof in online sales recently.”

You were aware that your company had gained significant popularity in the UK, but you had absolutely no inkling that it was expanding overseas at such a rapid pace.

"You certainly did not, but thank you," you chuckled, giving Hal's hand a gentle squeeze.

"No, thank you. It's wonderful to have you here. Our little odd family seems to be growing today."

Once Hal let go of your hand, Andrew picked up your suitcase and trailed behind his friend, who was now guiding the way towards the porch. However, he didn't proceed inside, preparing to head back to wrap up some last-minute tasks and shut the shop for the day.

He bid his goodbyes with another warm embrace to Hal and a hug for you, expressing his gratitude for your contribution to his project. Though being left alone among strangers often made you a bit agitated, Hal had a knack for making people feel comfortable. With his effortless charm, he could put you at ease and bring a smile to your face without even trying.

Upon entering the main hall, you were guided to meet your future housemates, each one more unique than the last. First up were Barbie and Ken, an apparently cheerful couple who could easily be mistaken for real-life versions of the famous dolls. Barbie was undeniably beautiful, her long blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes catching your attention immediately. Ken, on the other hand, was the epitome of a ladies' man. With dark brown hair shaved at the sides and neatly tied in a small bun, coupled with a grin that came across as slightly mischievous, he certainly fit the part. You even suspected that he might be flirting with you, considering the way he looked you up and down and the tone he used, which was typical of a man trying to make an impression.

Barbie's features visibly hardened, although she attempted to hide it.

No, this guy was undeniably a massive red flag. It would be best for you to maintain a wide berth from him.

The other two women were somewhat harder to characterize, mainly because they appeared strikingly similar in their looks. Dressed in head-to-toe black ensembles, they wore dark veils over their faces and sported long raven hair with straight fringes. Their ebony lipstick and eye makeup further accentuated their gothic aesthetic. Introduced as Chantal and Zelda, they immediately offered their congratulations on your success, conversing as though they had known you for a long time. Zelda, seemingly more reserved, would whisper her sentences into Chantal's ear instead of speaking up. Whether they were twins or lovers, it was hard to tell, even for Hal.

You also learned about another guest, named Gilbert, who mostly stayed to his attic room and rarely ventured out. He was described as being quite reserved, often preferring to spend his days engrossed in reading.

After a careful exploration of the place, you found yourself growing fond of the building's old but warm interiors. It radiated a sense of coziness and was easy to navigate, with your room situated on the second floor, adjacent to Barbie's and Ken's double chamber. The space was generously proportioned, maintained with meticulous cleanliness, and supplemented with a private bathroom. The allure of the king-sized bed was nearly overpowering, but you managed to resist the temptation of flopping onto it face-first.

You opened your suitcase and began organizing your belongings for the upcoming days. You didn't bring a lot of changes of clothes with you, being certain that you would indulge in some shopping during your spare time. Utilizing the Wi-Fi password supplied by Hal, you initiated your laptop to review your emails and incorporate Andrew's annotations into your Notion documentation.

Since the night of the Fashion Show, an increasing number of journalists and influencers had reached out to you for exclusive interviews or sample requests for promotional purposes. Although your company didn't take the distribution of free products lightly, Ella suggested to participate in a handful of interviews as a strategy to enhance your public image and thereby increase followers and sales. Regrettably, your time had been exceptionally limited, which led you to decline those offers until you could find a moment of respite.

You allowed yourself a moment to lie back on the comforting mattress, your gaze unfocused as it rested on the ceiling, while the events of the past months replayed in your mind. The dramatic and swift transformation that your life had undergone since the day you met Morpheus was almost beyond belief. At times, you harbored a fear that you might wake up to find it all had been nothing more than a beautiful dream.

Once everything was in place and the empty suitcase stowed under the bed, that strange feeling in your gut that you had nearly forgotten about began to resurface. This time, it was even more intense than before, sending a sudden chill through your bloodstream. Instinctively, your eyes darted around the room, half-expecting it to collapse and swallow you down, unable to comprehend the cause.

What on earth was going on with you?

You took deep, calming breaths to stave off the discomfort. You had grown familiar with this physical reaction, but you staunchly refused to accept it as an omen of impending misfortune. Your life seemed to be finally heading in the right direction. You were satisfied, your job was highly fulfilling, and your success had even brought you Abroad. What could possibly go wrong?

Could it just be a projection of your subconscious, a subtle onset of panic manifesting due to your residual insecurities? Could it be due to that faint voice inside you, suggesting that it might all be too good to be true?

Rising to sit on the bed, you pulled out your phone to start a mini investigation of your own, sending texts to your father, Hob, and Ella at the same time. Given that they were a few hours ahead, you didn’t expect an instant reply. Nevertheless, you were eager to at least eliminate the possibility of them being in any kind of trouble, particularly your father.

Luckily, he was the first one to get back to you. His message was filled with joy, knowing that you had landed safely and were having a good time. He wished you an enjoyable stay and invited you to visit him upon your return. So, at least with him, everything was in perfect order.

Soon after, Hob's text came in, equally buoyant and accompanied by a host of heart and hug emojis. Ella's response took a little longer, but once she replied, you spent the following fifteen minutes exchanging voice messages. The sinking feeling in your stomach seemed to slowly dissipate again.

You exhaled, slipping your phone into your pants pocket. For a few minutes, you sat there in silence, attentive to the clock's ticking and the distant voices emanating from downstairs. Whatever it was, you knew you couldn't afford to dwell on it for too long. Perhaps it wasn't anything significant.

Just as you were preparing to stand and join the others, an unexpected knock at the window caused you to startle. You spun around, staring out into the darkening sky but seeing nothing unusual. Then, a second knock drew your gaze to a black figure with large, flapping wings, incessantly tapping the glass with its beak as it fluttered in the air.

Puzzled, you approached the window to open it. The black bird perched on the sill in front of you, fluffing its feathers and looking up at your confused expression.

"Hey Y/N!”

“Matthew? What are you doing here?”

He clicked his tongue. "Well, it's quite a story.”

"Did Morpheus send you?”

"He did, but it's not you I'm supposed to be keeping an eye on this time.”

"I don't understand.”

"See, I'm not sure how much I'm allowed to tell you about it.”

You leaned in slightly, bringing your nose closer to his beak. "You're here now, aren't you? Go ahead, spill it.”

Matthew exhaled a sigh. His reluctance to speak suggested that your intuition may have been justified in its alarm. Whatever was transpiring, it could explain the knot in your stomach that kept fluctuating.

"So, there's a girl who arrived here. The boss and Lucienne need me to monitor her because of the... uhh… abilities she possesses.”

If anything, that added to your confusion even more.

“What kind of abilities?”

Matthew paused before continuing, "Look, this is just a precautionary measure. You don't need to worry about it.”

"If you say that, it just gives me a reason to actually be worried about it. Why did you come to me if you're not going to tell me anything?”

“I wasn’t expecting you to be here, of all people.”

The more you heard him out, the more you were certain that something was incredibly wrong.

"It’s a work trip,” you explained. "Could you be a little more specific?”

"Y/N, if you get too close to the Vortex, things could...”

“What even is a Vortex?”

Your eagerness to know was elevating your voice by a few octaves, and you had to tightly shut your eyes to maintain your composure.

"The boss could explain that more effectively.”

"Then let your boss know that he and I will have a chat later.”

“I think he heard that.”

“Good.”

Hal's voice resonated from behind your door, beckoning you and announcing that they were on the cusp of starting dinner preparations. Clearing your throat, you responded loudly, assuring that you would descend in a few minutes to assist.

Matthew waited, ears attuned to the receding footsteps, before speaking up again. "It appears you're quite occupied here,” he noted. “I should probably return to keep an eye on Rose.”

Your complexion turned ashen. You had pushed that memory to the back of your mind, distracted by your responsibilities and the thrill of your new adventure in Cape Kennedy. But now, it was vividly clear as you recalled every single moment, every word spoken, within your dream.

And, above all else, you remembered her.

"I'm Rose. Rose Walker.”

"I'm Y/N Y/LN, it's a pleasure to meet you.”

"Where exactly are we?”

"This is the Dreaming. Or at least, a portion of it.”

"Wait, am I asleep?”

"Where do you hail from, Rose?”

"I come from New Jersey, but I'm travelling in search of my brother right now.”

"Do you have any idea where he might be?”

"I actually do. He’s in Florida.”

It couldn’t be…

“Matthew, you don’t mean Rose Walker, do you?”

“Wait, have you met her already?”

What were the chances that this girl would not only be on your flight, but also expected to stay at the exact location that Andrew had organized for you?

Rose Walker, a name you had believed to be confined merely to the realm of the Dreaming.

“Matthew, she was in my dream. I saw her there.”

“You did? Oh…. oh. That’s not good.”

The way he stuttered, hopping back and forth on his raven legs, did not augur well at all.

"Matthew?”

"I need to go. For now, just... stay alert, okay?”

You had a multitude of questions, but as impatient as you were to unravel the mystery, it had to be postponed until the ensuing night, the moment when you would drift off to sleep and step into Morpheus' domain.

“Take care, Matthew.”

“You too, Y/N.”

You watched him take flight and move away from the house, swallowing down your burgeoning sense of foreboding about something you had absolutely no knowledge of.

You heaved a heavy sigh, shutting the window, and forcefully suppressing the growing sense of worry that had risen to your chest.

Preparing dinner alongside Hal and the others turned out to be an enjoyable experience. The familiar atmosphere you found yourself in was fantastic, and Hal exceeded even Andrew's glowing description. He was amusing, jovial, a person who enjoyed light-hearted banter and voicing his thoughts out loud.

Occasionally, you could feel the weight of a scrutinizing gaze on you as Ken stole covert glances in your direction. Each time you noticed him uncomfortably close, flashing what he likely considered a charming smile (which, truth be told, had no effect on you), you found an excuse to put some distance between you and carry on with your tasks at a more comfortable space. Barbie appeared blissfully oblivious, but you were certain she was doing her utmost to feign ignorance. To an outsider, they projected an image of flawless perfection - so perfect, in fact, that it bordered on being entirely artificial.

She was unmistakably in love with him, that much was evident. However, you couldn't help but wonder if he reciprocated her feelings to the same degree, or if he was merely concerned about maintaining appearances.

Certainly, the fact that he seemed to flirt so openly with other women despite the presence of his lover was enough to cast him in a highly dubious light.

Barbie, on the other hand, was a genuine sweetheart. Even from the limited conversation you had with her, it was easy for you to see that she was highly romantic and imaginative - someone who had far more to offer than what she allowed to surface.

Zelda maintained her communication restricted to whispered exchanges with Chantal, but her smile was soft, belonging to someone who likely had weathered many personal storms. Chantal boasted about their private collection of stuffed spiders, inviting you to take a look. While spiders weren't exactly your cup of tea, a part of you was intrigued to uncover more facets of their personalities.

Gilbert was the only one absent, aside from the other two new guests (one of whom was none other than Rose herself) who had gone off to the foster agency. Though you were keen on making his acquaintance, you opted to respect his apparent need for privacy.

As dinner quickly concluded, you volunteered to assist Hal with the dishwashing and general cleanup. He liked engaging in conversation and delving into people's life stories, so you both exchanged tales of past hardships and the transformative journeys that led to you standing side by side as you were now. However, while you were satisfied and exactly where you aspired to be, Hal was surprisingly discontented. Despite managing his grandmother's house and performing as a Drag in the local nightclub, he harbored dreams of far larger audiences and grander stages, envisioning himself in the spotlight akin to a Broadway star.

The past hour seemed to fly by, and as you took the liberty to prepare yourself some tea, Hal started to get ready for his work shift. A group outing had been planned for that evening to witness the landlord's performance, and you were promptly invited to join them and share in the camaraderie. Even though your inclination would have been to retreat to your room and rest until the next day, you chose to step out of your comfort zone and agreed to tag along without any objections.

Hal had just revealed his ambition to become a celebrated performer. The least you could do was to appreciate his genuine talent and offer your support.

Engrossed in casual banter, the others lounged on the couch while you savored your warm cup of tea on your own. The first sip brought immediate hydration, aiding your digestion and offering a moment of tranquility amidst the heaviness of jet lag and travel fatigue. Being so far away from home was unfamiliar to you, but the thrill ignited by your new project was so powerful that it briefly superseded the returning feeling of your twisted gut.

Eventually, your peace was subtly disturbed when you noticed someone silently glide into the kitchen just as you were settling at the table. Lifting your gaze, you found yourself looking at a middle-aged man dressed in Victorian-style clothing, his gray hair and mustache adding to his distinctive looks. There was something about him that suggested another era - as if he had stepped out of a time machine or leapt from the pages of a Sherlock Holmes novel.

The man smiled, acknowledging his quiet intrusion with a polite, "Oh, my apologies, Miss.”

You didn't recognize this man, and that could only mean he was likely the elusive guest from the attic room.

“Hello. You must be Gilbert,” You replied in a cordial tone.

"Indeed. And you must be one of the new lodgers.”

"I am. Name's Y/N, Y/N L/N. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Before you could reach out to offer a handshake, Gilbert leaned forward, performing an old-fashioned but entrancing bow, while tightly clutching a peculiar cane in his left hand. “Delighted.”

You smiled at how his small glasses stayed slightly askew on his nose. The aura he exuded was strikingly peaceful, uncannily familiar even. You couldn't quite put your finger on why.

"I didn't mean to intrude," he said. "I was engrossed in a book and thought it would be pleasant to have a cup of tea alongside.”

"You're in luck then. I just brewed some for myself. There's a bit of it left, would you like it?”

Gilbert's eyes softened even more. "If it's not too much trouble, then yes, I would gladly accept.”

"It's no trouble at all. I always have the habit of making too much.”

"But one can never have too much tea, can they?”

You released a robust chuckle, standing up to reach for the teapot, and picking up a clean mug along the way. "Absolutely.”

He watched patiently, observing you as you poured the remaining tea, its steam rising invitingly.

"Here," you offered, gently sliding the mug towards him. "It's Earl Grey. I hope it is to your liking, sir.”

"A classic," he remarked. "Always the finest choice, don't you agree?”

His manner of speaking was so reminiscent of a traditional British gentleman that it made your heart flutter. It was incredibly refreshing to witness.

"Finest choices are my preference," you admitted, sporting a grin.

Gilbert gently blew on the liquid to cool it down, carefully sampling a few drops. He savored it much like a connoisseur, licking his lips afterward.

"Delicious. Just what I needed to accompany my reading. Would it be all right if I finished this in my room?”

His zeal to return to his book was amusing; it brought to mind your own fervor during your younger years.

"Of course. May I inquire about the book you're reading?”

“Oh, it’s Chesterton!”

Intriguing choice, you mused to yourself. Especially given that the author's name also happened to be Gilbert. Upon giving him another glance, you noticed an uncanny resemblance between him and the images you had seen of Chesterton. What an interesting coincidence.

"Enjoy your reading then. Are you coming with us tonight? To see our landlord’s theatrical endeavor?”

"Yes, I received the invitation. That sounds lovely, doesn’t it? I'll likely join you all later.”

With another understated bow, he excused himself and left the kitchen. As he disappeared up the stairs, you could hear the contented "mmhh" he hummed in appreciation of the tea.

Traveling had always been an activity you desired to devote both time and money towards. It offered opportunities to delve into various places and cultures, as well as meet a diverse array of unique individuals. Having just arrived in Cape Kennedy, you made some intriguing new acquaintances within the span of two hours (Ken being the singular exception). At first, you assumed Hal would quickly become your favorite, but Gilbert seized that position in less than ten minutes.

Sipping the last bit of your tea, you listened to the soft music playing in the background and the continued laughter of the rest of the group. The sound of footsteps entered the scene, and their chattering was interrupted as they began to converse with someone who had just walked in through the front door.

Hey!" Ken exclaimed.

“You’ve returned,” said Chantal.

“How’d it go?” Barbie asked curiously.

You perked up your ears and furrowed your brows. The response that followed instantly froze you in your tracks, causing your hair to stand on end.

“Well, I didn’t make any new friends at the foster agency.”

“You stood up for yourself. I was very proud of her.”

While the second voice was unknown, the first was unmistakably identifiable. It belonged to a girl who you weren't even aware existed in your reality - someone you had seen in the Dreaming, sharing a few tranquil moments together while asleep.

Rose Walker. The very one that Matthew was supposed to be supervising.

Until the very last moment, you tried to convince yourself that you were making a colossal mistake, that none of this could be possible, regardless of the myriad of unthinkable things you had experienced with your own eyes. Prophetic dreams were rare, but you could have at least rationalized the existence of a girl with the same name as the one you had dreamed about.

No, the voice was a perfect match, etched into your mind, ringing in your ears.

Gradually, you placed your empty mug down and left the table, cautiously stepping out of the kitchen and into the living room.

Ken smiled, grasping his car keys with pride. “Well, you can tell us all about it over drinks.”

Barbie interjected. “We’re taking you out.”

You'd be damned if that wasn't indeed the same person you had met on the beach in Morpheus' realm. Same face, same clothes, same adorable black locks streaked with rainbow hues.

Beside her stood a taller woman with dark brown hair, dressed in a long coat and holding a green bag in her right hand. She radiated stunning beauty and sophistication.

“Right now?” The woman asked.

“Absolutely,” Ken replied.

Suddenly, a wave of self-consciousness washed over you, leaving you uncertain of how to approach and introduce yourself. You chose to keep your distance, staying in the shadows as long as necessary.

Rose turned her attention to Chantal and Zelda. "You look so nice. Should we change?”

Both of them shook their heads, but only Chantal offered an answer. "We always look this way.”

Ken and Barbie immediately confirmed it.

“They do. Even at breakfast.”

“Right.”

Your heart leapt as you watched them all stand up, getting ready to leave.

Ken let out an "Ooh" as he downed the rest of his drink, smacking his lips with his hand afterward. “Shall we, ladies?”

You rolled your eyes. Somehow, his self-centeredness was palpable, the fact not lost on you that he was the lone man in the midst of women.

“We’d love it.”

“But shouldn’t we wait for Hal?”

Chantal cast a contented look at Rose. “Hal’s already there.”

Rose raised an eyebrow in puzzlement, clearly unaware of Hal's performance that evening. As Ken, Barbie, Chantal, and Zelda left the house, you grasped the chance to take your action. Before she could move away, with the woman's hand gently resting on her shoulder, you managed to speak, your voice coming out slightly raspy and unsure.

“Rose.”

The duo halted and pivoted, their gazes locked on you. The woman appeared surprised that you knew her friend's name, while the one who was the primary subject of your interest looked completely shocked. Her mouth agape, she stared at you incredulously, while you nervously twiddled your fingers and inched closer to their position.

“Wait, Y/N? Is that really you?”

Could it get any more awkward?

"Yes. It's good to see you again.”

"Do you two know each other?" The woman asked, her attention shifting back and forth between you and Rose.

The girl seemed to be at a loss for words. "Uhm...”

"We met on the plane," you blurted out, not thinking clearly.

"On... the plane? When did you even have time to meet?”

Darn. Naturally, she wouldn't believe that. How could you have been so oblivious as to not realize they had traveled to Florida together?

Luckily, Rose devised the perfect alibi right then and there, despite its implausibility. "You were asleep. We crossed paths during my bathroom break.”

“Really..?”

"Y/N, this is my friend Lyta Hall. Lyta, this is Y/N Y/LN.”

Rose appeared as perplexed as you, evidently anxious and actively steering the conversation away. Lyta didn't press on, instead, she greeted you with a warm smile and a handshake that was both firm and gentle. "Nice to meet you.”

"Nice to meet you too," you reciprocated.

"Are you joining us?" Lyta queried.

"I am. Speaking of which, we should probably get going, before the others start to suspect we've fallen into a black hole.”

They both laughed at your jest, and you followed straight, trying to come to terms with the enormity of the situation you were getting yourself into.

Lyta took the lead, confidently walking along the front avenue. You deliberately reduced your speed, maintaining Rose by your side, who then clasped onto your sleeve with a certain desperation.

"What's going on? I thought you were a dream,” she murmured.

"Yeah, no kidding. I thought the same of you,” you echoed her words, clenching your teeth so that no one else could pick up on your conversation.

"Well, this isn't the only strange thing that's happened to me recently," she revealed. "How can this even be real?”

"Trust me, I have absolutely no idea.”

With her usual sunny disposition, Barbie encouraged you to pick up the pace. "Come on you two, you don't want to be late now, do you?"

Reluctantly, Rose let go of your arm. "Can we talk about this later?”

What could you possibly discuss when you were utterly clueless about the unfolding events? Perhaps Morpheus could provide some insights into the situation the following night.

“Of course.”

Seeing that Ken's car was a genuine Lamborghini didn't surprise you - it was a perfect mirror of the personality you had deduced from his overall demeanor. Rose invited you to ride with her and Lyta, along with Chantal and Zelda who had already staked their claim on two of the back seats. As you laid one hand on the car door and swung a foot inside, the distinct caw of a raven echoed from the roof of the B&B. Once you were inside the vehicle, you spotted Matthew perched atop the porch, an unmistakable indication that he would be monitoring your movements for the rest of the evening.

Or more precisely, conducting surveillance on Rose and anything she might be entangled in.

Yes. Your boyfriend undoubtedly owed you a significant explanation.

Your time at the nightclub happened to be a lot more enjoyable than you had predicted. Hal was undeniably gifted, boasting a star-worthy voice and a charismatic presence that drew people in. The audience was amazed, absorbed in his performance and thoroughly entertained. He deserved all the applause and exuberant whistles he received upon the completion of his display.

Hal was too talented for that diminutive stage. You could picture him on a much grander platform, performing and singing for the world to see.

You saw Rose step out to make a call at one point, and Lyta later told you that she had bumped into Gilbert outside the club and decided to go home, as jet lag was taking its toll on her. Her prolonged absence was starting to stoke your worry, but the text she sent to Lyta didn't hint at any particular disquietude.

And Matthew was nowhere to be seen.

Barely able to keep your eyes open, you hurriedly undressed and slipped into your comfortable pajamas. You staggered towards the bathroom before returning, ultimately surrendering to the beckoning coziness of your bed. The murmurs of Hal, Ken, Barbie and Chantal echoed from the lower floor, gradually diminishing as they each withdrew to their rooms for the night.

The moment you switched off the lights and allowed your eyelids to fall, you succumbed to sleep like a lead weight, drifting off within mere seconds. It took you a while to regain lucidity as you traversed the realm of dreams, transitioning from one scenario to another drawn from your waking life. After multiple shifts in the landscape, you found yourself journeying down a path that could only lead to one destination. You walked faster, a smile playing on your lips, as you crossed the bridge suspended over the lake.

As per tradition, Able was the first to welcome you. Goldie fluttered around him as he tended to the gardens, his little wings joyfully flapping. The baby Gargoyle let out an adorable little squeak when he spotted you, propelling forward to land directly in your outstretched hands.

The warmth and hospitality of the brothers always made you feel cherished whenever you visited. They served the most exquisite tea and sweets, the likes of which you could never find in the Waking World. Goldie, comfortably nestled in your lap, clutched a bit of your dress in his tiny fist. Able and Cain continued their conversation, sharing stories of their day with you and news of something in the Dreaming that instantly piqued your interest.

Reportedly, a Vortex had emerged, prompting speculation about whether Morpheus was taking sufficient measures to address it.

“What's this Vortex everyone's talking about?" You asked. "This isn't the first time I've heard about it.”

"A Dream Vortex is a rare disturbance in the fabric of the Dreaming," Cain explained. "It materializes once in every era for reasons that remain a mystery, even to the Endless.”

"Yes, a Vortex appears as a mortal who temporarily becomes the center of the Dreaming," Able added.

"A mortal? You mean, like a human being?”

They both shrugged at the same time. "That's what the dream folk say.”

You nibbled at your lower lip, apprehension creeping into your voice. "And what does it do, this Vortex? Is it dangerous?”

They shared a cautious look, probably considering what details they were allowed to disclose. Just as Able was about to respond, a booming voice called them from outside the House of Mystery. Morpheus was standing at Cain's door, his hands still at his sides, his long coat swaying in the soft breeze.

Could this have been a strategy to stop them from conversing with you, from revealing things you weren't supposed to learn?

Cain cleared his throat, hastily rose to his feet, and opened his home to the Lord of Dreams, who chose to remain outside.

"Lord Morpheus, what a surprise," Able greeted him, his tone respectful yet tinged with a hint of nervousness. "Would you care for some tea?”

"I am here for Y/N," he stated with authority. "I need to take her with me.”

Cain clenched his jaw, clearly irritated by the King's imperious manner. "But of course, my Lord.”

As you made your way out of the house, you kissed Goldie's snout and handed the baby Gargoyle back to Able. "Thank you for your company, guys.”

"It is always a pleasure, my dear," Cain responded with adoration.

"Please visit us again soon," Able called out, waving.

You gave them a nod and a broad smile, observing as they withdrew into the house and closed the door behind them.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Morpheus's hand. With a subtle gesture, he silently invited you to take it.

"Come," he said, noting your bemused expression.

"Hello to you too.”

Morpheus' austere countenance cracked, giving way to the beginnings of a smile. With a barely perceptible sigh and a quiet chuckle, you grasped his cool hand and gave it a solid squeeze. His fingers immediately closed around yours as he turned, creating a sandy portal in front of you.

As soon as you stepped into it, you were immediately whisked away to his throne room. The transition was so smooth, it felt as though you hadn't moved at all.

It didn't take long for you to pick up on his distress. His retreat into silence, his reluctance to meet your gaze, and his pout resembling an aggrieved cat—these were not things you could easily overlook.

"Morpheus, can you tell me what on earth is going on?”

The Endless' eyes moved from the floor and landed on you.

"What's this whole ordeal about Rose Walker and the Dream Vortex, and why did you instruct Matthew to keep an eye on her in the Waking World?”

Given his noticeable lack of effort to keep you updated, you were uncertain of what to expect.

"Rose Walker is the Dream Vortex," he specified. "Its presence can attract the dreams of others and manipulate causality, causing a series of fateful coincidences to occur around it.”

"That's not a good thing, right…?”

"No, not if it remains uncontrolled.���

“And it is?”

“She does not pose an immediate threat, if that is what you’re asking.”

Then why did the entire situation make you feel so uncertain? Why was your instinct telling you there was much more to it?

"Morpheus, she was in my dream."

“I am aware of that.”

“But why? How?”

"Your connection to the Dreaming is extraordinarily powerful, my love. Your consciousness is awake; you come here to lead another existence, and your perception is amplified.”

He wasn't mistaken about that. Even at this moment, you were speaking to him with pristine clarity, as if you were not asleep at all. Nevertheless, witnessing your dreams intertwining with someone else's was anything but reassuring.

“Be honest with me. What are the dangers associated with a Vortex?”

"There is no necessity for you to be alarmed.”

Despite his attempts to shield you from the truth, you were determined not to let the matter rest.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

"Y/N-”

"I'm not a child, Morpheus. Whatever it is, I can deal with it.”

Was the situation really so dire that he feared it would terrify you? Or perhaps he was trying to avoid some form of harsh judgment?

“A Vortex gathering strength is capable of weakening the walls between dreams.”

Well, that did sound alarming after all.

“Can you elaborate?”

Morpheus paused, searching for the most appropriate words to convey his explanation.

"The rippling effect it would create could extend to the Waking World, with reality itself unraveling and descending into chaos.”

Your stomach churned. "Rose Walker could do that?”

“As I said, she is of no danger to my realm or yours at the current moment.”

What would be the consequences if she did, hypothetically, transform into a significant risk? What would be the fate of the Dreaming and the Waking World if the Vortex were to activate with full intensity?

"If needed, would you be capable of stopping her?”

The ensuing silence was disconcerting, and the response that you received was even worse.

"The only way to stop a Vortex would be to destroy it. As an Endless, I cannot take action against any mortal that is not an active threat.”

If your stomach was already twisted in knots before, now it felt as though it was being turned inside out.

"So, that implies you'd have to kill her? But she's just a girl... and I don't believe she even realizes what she truly is.”

She seemed so pure, filled with hope about finding her brother Jed. When you met her at the B&B, she was just as incredulous as you were to learn that you weren’t merely a figment of imagination.

"No, she does not. Tonight, when she falls asleep again, I will assist her. Together, we will search for her brother, and one of my missing nightmares.”

Your head was reeling. "Missing nightmares?”

He looked up, staring at the colorful windows above the throne. "Three of my subjects have strayed away from the Dreaming. One dream, two nightmares”

Following his line of sight, you observed the glass transforming, with each window producing a different image. The first two depicted unique individuals - a woman with blue skin and a man donning a fedora and black eyeglasses, while the third seemed to portray a lush, vibrant landscape. It took a while, but your focus returned to the second plate as it suddenly sparked a sense of recognition. Where had you seen that man before...?

And then, a light bulb went off in your mind, as you realized you had actually met him in your waking life.

"I'm sorry," you said nervously. "I should pay more attention to where I’m walking.”

"It's alright," he answered with an American accent, helping you to your feet and removing his hand so slowly that you had the impression he was trying to feel you. "The important thing is that you are okay. You didn't get hurt, did you?”

His voice was coarse and slightly deep with a note of allure. At the same time, it served to make you even more anxious in his presence.

“I’m fine,” you replied. “Are you?”

The corners of his lips raised up even more, and you could see his perfectly white teeth gleaming under the sunlight.

“I am,” he nodded. “But please, let me help you.”

You remembered how he daringly stepped uncomfortably close to you. You recalled how he used the pretext of your accidental collision to invite you for a drink. He had a certain darkness about him, but you couldn't identify whether it was the thick glasses hiding his eyes or the strange aura that seemed to form around him.

"Morpheus... who is that man?”

"The Corinthian is a rogue nightmare, one that feeds on the dreamers he was supposed to serve.”

Feeds…

"Why do you ask?”

Even in your dream state, the skin on your face managed to drain of color. Had you accepted his invitation, what would he have done to you? What were the Corinthian's intentions, and was he aware of your relationship with his master? Was that a calculated scheme to ensnare you in his grasp?

Now that you reflected on it, and considering the way his hand had held you, touched you, and reluctantly let you go, you could confidently say that your encounter with the nightmare in question was anything but accidental.

"You're not going to like this,” you declared.

His fingers delicately brushed your chin, gently cradling it between his thumb and forefinger, directing your face towards his. His eyes locked onto yours once more, and his brows knitted together.

“What is it that you are keeping from me?”

Holding back your anxiety, you drew a deep breath and steeled yourself. "He was in London a few months ago. I ran into him on the street.”

If it were possible for his own complexion to turn even more ghostly, you knew it would happen at that instant. His eyes dramatically widened and darkened, and his breath became rapid as the latent anger in him began to surge. His hand dropped, suspended in mid-air.

“What?”

"It was brief, really. I was in a rush. We bumped into each other and my bag fell to the ground. He said he wanted to offer me a drink as an apology, but... he came across as a bit forceful. I declined.”

Noticing how distraught he was, you placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "He didn't harm me, and I haven't seen him since that day.”

“This is my fault,” he admitted. "My absense caused all this.”

"And in what way exactly are you accountable?”

"Had I been here, fulfilling my duty-"

"Oh, come on. It's not as if you took a 100-year vacation, did you?”

There it was again, that vulnerability that you felt compelled to shield. That sliver of insecurity that even he, as the King of Dreams and Nightmares, as an Endless and a being more potent than a God, could exhibit.

"If there's anyone to blame, it's Roderick Burgess for imprisoning you. And then his son, who out of fear, refused to set you free.”

The mere thought of it could still provoke your wrath.

"I cannot absolve myself simply due to a mortal's triviality.”

"Morpheus, life is a turbulent journey filled with a series of unfortunate and unpredictable circumstances. Some may call it destiny, while others might call it misfortune or casuality. Regardless of what it was, I wouldn't wish what you endured on anyone else, not even my worst enemy.”

You knew that what truly plagued him was his inability to prevent the incident, his failure to resist, allowing a mortal man driven by greed to exploit his power. But you would defy anyone to act differently, to surrender and accept the conditions set by those humans for their release, amidst the uncertainty of whether their captors would even uphold their end of the deal.

In addition to the heinous act of murdering his raven, right before his very eyes.

You clasped his hands in yours, gently caressing the backs of them with your thumbs. "Please, stop tormenting yourself.”

"Y/N, this is not-”

You silenced his words with a kiss, pressing your lips against his. “Don’t.”

When you pulled away from him, he attempted to speak again. “I-”

"No, hear me out. I am not an Endless, and I'm certainly not you. I can only understand a fraction of what you do, and I would never presume to preach about what is right and what is wrong.”

Another kiss followed, soft and sweet, akin to a peck.

“I understand that you carry the responsibility of the Dreaming and the well-being of the Waking World upon yourself, but if these dreams have left while you were imprisoned, you cannot blame yourself.”

You leaned into him and waited until his body finally succumbed, the tension slowly ebbing away. His hands traced along your back, moving up and down gently and delicately, as if you were crafted from crystal.

"Y/N, the Corinthian was created to reflect humanity’s darkest fears. He has been thriving in the Waking World far too long.”

He was frightened, petrified by the thought of what his nightmare could have inflicted upon you.

“He allowed me to leave.”

“Even so, I require Rose Walker to lead me to the Corinthian, Gault and Fiddler's Green.”

The faster he could find him, and the other two, the better it would be for the Waking World.

And for you.

"How can they elude you like this, when you are the one who brought them into existence?”

"My dreams and nightmares have a certain level of autonomy and independence from me.”

On one hand, Morpheus faced the looming disaster that the Vortex in Rose could create if allowed to expand excessively, and on the other, he needed to leverage such power to find his stray dreams and restore order in his realm. How could a single entity fullfil such a role alone?

You encircled your arms around his neck, letting out a shaky sigh that brushed against his skin. "Oh, Morpheus. I wish I could offer more than just a handful of soothing words.”

"Your words carry more power than any action taken, my love.”

You hummed against his neck, taking in the revitalizing aroma of sand, pine wood, and sea salt.

“Just… be cautious with the Vortex. I don’t have a good feeling about it.”

“I will ensure that no harm comes to you.”

"Yes, but it's not myself I'm worried about.”

You cupped his face, gazing at him with tear-filled eyes. "After everything you've done to reconstruct your realm, I can't stand the thought of it being ravaged again.”

He grasped your wrists, keeping them stationary and secure within his grasp. "Your regard for the Dreaming is commendable. The situation with Rose Walker is under control.”

You pursed your lips. "Well, maybe, but...”

“I will see it more clearly. Soon. For now, live your waking life without shouldering this burden.”

"That's easier said than done. Anything that puts you or your realm at risk, is not something I can simply ignore.”

Then, it was Morpheus who surprised you with a kiss, delicate and feather-light, coaxing your eyes closed as your body relaxed in his arms. It was his way of indicating that he didn't want you to obsess over it, or to overanalyze something that might not even happen in the first place.

You felt your surroundings vanish, dissolving into a puff of black dust, and his fingertips traced down your neck until they rested over your pendant, which glowed and bathed you in its blue luminescence.

His voice echoed, sounding like a distant illusion. "This dream is over.”

The next morning, you were up and active at an early hour, seated at the table with your orange juice on one side, the laptop bustling with work on the other, and your sketchbook open in front of you. Hal continued to express his pride in having such a talented artist like yourself in his house, anticipating nothing but exceptional outcomes from your collaboration with Andrew.

Rose arrived with a hefty stack of freshly printed posters, featuring an old photograph of her younger self standing alongside her brother Jed. The heading was written in bold red letters, stating "Have you seen this boy?" and was accompanied by a description of the little Walker, along with Rose's contact information. Barbie was ecstatic, grabbing a pile of posters to distribute around, while Ken was far from thrilled about it. Although he put on a smile and pretended to be in agreement, you could tell how bothersome such a task was for his vain personality. You didn't think you could dislike him more, but given his obvious lack of empathy, how could it be otherwise?

Zelda and Chantal also offered to take some, serving as clear evidence that appearances can be deceiving, with the two of them being far more compassionate than a man flaunting his material wealth. You would happily spend your day in their company, surrounded by their stuffed spiders, rather than endure even five minutes in the presence of that man.

Hal assured Rose that he would be more than happy to accompany her to hand out the flyers, and although you had little time to be outdoors, you took a handful yourself to make your own contribution.

Lyta was not present, still fast asleep in the room she shared with Rose. As soon as you heard that, somehow, the knot in your stomach made an abrupt return.

Curious.

In the early afternoon, with the house practically devoid of company, you had all the tranquility and calm required to focus on your work. The initial sketches were already done and delivered, and Andrew had sent you merely a few notes for alterations, while the majority of what you had crafted even exceeded his expectations.

According to him, your creative prowess was unparalleled. You had reached a point where your work came effortlessly, and you could generate an original idea in a blink, without having to discard any crumpled drafts. However, you knew that a part of it was attributable to the second life you led in your dreams.

As you composed the day's final email, Lyta made her presence felt in the living room, radiating an odd sense of exhaustion. She bore no resemblance to the woman you had met the previous night, and for a moment, you wondered if she was unwell, which could explain her absence at breakfast. She dismissed it casually, attributing it to the travels she and Rose had embarked upon in the past few days. You noticed that she was getting ready to leave, mentioning her intention to revisit the Foster Agency to convince the woman there to conduct a comprehensive check on Jed Walker. Apparently, the agency refused to disclose Jed's location to Rose due to her unstable financial situation, leading her to print all those flyers in a desperate attempt to at least locate and speak to her brother. You admired Rose's persistence, and appreciated Lyta's efforts to support her friend.

You had gleaned from Hal and the others' penchant for small talk and gossip that she had once been married, but had tragically lost her husband not too far in the past. The revelation caused a pang in your heart, as you could only imagine the profound grief Lyta must be grappling with after losing the one she loved.

And you committed the colossal blunder of imagining yourself in her shoes.

If you were to lose Morpheus, you would feel as if the earth was being swept from beneath your feet, your soul being torn and scattered into a thousand pieces, your breath being sucked out to the point of suffocation. Having been with the Lord of Dreams for just a few months, you shuddered at the enormity of the loss after so many years. After marriage. After laying out a shared future together.

Fortunately, Andrew had scheduled a meeting in the late afternoon, aiming to give you a glimpse of the seaside while further discussing and refining the project. Stepping out of the house would serve as a distraction, helping you to disengage from the persistent, looming sense of foreboding and any other intrusive thoughts you could do without.

Since you had some time to spare before the meeting, you squeezed in a bit of shopping, including picking up some souvenirs for your dear ones, and to take a breather at a nearby cafe. You had brought along Rose's flyers with you and were pleased to see a few of them were picked up within mere minutes.

As you waited for your coffee to cool down to a more palatable heat, you browsed through your phone, responding to the pending texts and emails. Even without you in the office, things at Corbyn&Jones were progressing smoothly, though you were sorely missed by all. The online shop continued to record a surge in sales, and the company's account on social media, managed by Freya, had experienced a significant increase in engagement and views.

A smile graced your lips as you sipped your beverage. Seeing your creations featured in those promotional photos felt surreal - a tangible realization of your dreams.

The waiter briefly stopped at your table, setting down a glass of what appeared to be a Black Russian Cocktail that you hadn't ordered. You watched in silence, giving the young man a questioning glance, only for him to promptly turn on his heels and walk away.

"Excuse me," you called out. "This drink isn't mine.”

The waiter grinned amusedly. "Oh, it's not a mistake. That gentleman over there ordered it for you.”

For a moment, you remained still in thought as the waiter moved on to another table, your gaze fixed on the dark liquid in your glass, mirroring the overhead lights. When you raised your head and glanced at the counter, you noticed a man in a light grey jacket with blond hair comfortably seated on one of the stools. But the moment he turned around to face you, wearing a sly smile and raising his own glass in a mock toast, a rush of sheer terror gripped you.

There, just a few strides away, was the same man you had encountered in London - none other than the Corinthian himself, Morpheus' wayward nightmare.

And it took every ounce of your resilience not to flee, to put as much distance as possible between you and that creature, before he could even consider approaching you.

But when he rose, downed the remainder of his drink, adjusted the collar of his jacket and started heading in your direction, you realized it was too late to take any appropriate action, or even contemplate one.

And as he took a seat in front of you, assuming the guise of a man who enjoyed socializing, you were acutely aware that beneath the facade, he was simply a beast eyeing its quarry.

Regardless of his true intentions, all you could do was hope that, with the safeguard of your necklace and perhaps a generous measure of luck, you could hold out long enough to make it to your scheduled appointment with Andrew.

Preferably alive and whole.

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