#you are being misleading and selfish

[weepycat]

tbh if you're a grown ass adult lying to girls/young women about the real-life risks and realities of pregnancy & childbirth because you don't want to "scare them off having kids", you are genuinely a bad person. this one goes out to all the older women who feel entitled to grandchildren especially

[b4kuch1n]

4, 11 and 13 for the ask game, pls! Thank you and have a good day!

ask game here!

4. Fav character/subject that's a bitch to draw

let's see we can list more of this! I draw birds and wings a decent amount and still every time I draw that I still have to look up one of those wing anatomy charts. I find I'm not well practiced with transparent materials yet, but I hope to get better at that in time. I'd like to get better at figuring out how to lay down a nature scene quickly too, I love to work with that in theory but in practice every time I draw that kind of background I had to stare at like eighty tabs of refs the whole way through. I'm such a city kid through and through...

I'm mostly blessed to not have to worry about hands and shoes too much, I usually have an okay time with them, but I do have days I call bad hand days and bad shoe days the way folks have bad hair days. sometimes even things I like drawing and usually have a good time with don't come out right! just gotta stand up and do something else for a bit

11. Do you listen to anything while drawing? If so, what

absolutely! especially nowadays. I rotate between my current favourite albums and youtube videos/stream VODs. the most consistent caveat is I cannot listen to anything with a plot. that will distract me way too much to draw at the same time.

I also call my friends and hang out in vc while drawing sometimes! especially if I really need to get something done. this is honestly the only way to subject me to new medias I don't know about

13. A creator who you admire but whose work isn't your thing

ahh this is hard... I usually don't look too hard into things I don't actively care about. I guess I'd say the Phong Dương comic team, they're immensely talented people who practically carried Vietnamese comic on their back for a while, and I love Thành Phong's inking style, I just... can't read their comics. for some reasons. they just flow off the back of my skull! I still have all three volumes of Long Thần Tướng currently out on my shelf, but every time I try reading them they just don't stick. I'm honestly kinda mad abt this lol

[everymlmhybrid]

ALSO @ anon from a few weeks ago who asked about my fic read that ↓↓↓ bc somehow i explained it way better this time idk what happened to me last time

[7nuh]

MR. CRAWLING YANDERE HEADCANONS !

CW 𓂃 gn!reader, gaslighting, canon-typical violence

AN 𓂃 ik i said i'd have HCs for all of them but this ended up being too long so... 🧍‍♀️ also unedited bc i have an exam later ill be back to edit this later pls

Mr. Crawling is the protective type. He spends half of the entire game following you wherever you go and going through great lengths to protect you from the other residents of these cursed apartments. However, I can see how that protectiveness can get twisted in the long run when you remain completely helpless and unable to defend yourself. Mr. Crawling would have no choice but to step in and make decisions for you instead because he cannot afford to lose you just like that.

Out of all the homicipher men, mr. Crawling is the one who has the most respect for your choices and boundaries. He leaves when you tell him to, patiently guides you throughout this maze, and comforts you when you are upset— and he's never violent unless threatened.

Such a sweet and gentle guy would never hurt you intentionally. He loves you too much to hurt you.

That being said, though he'll never intentionally hurt you, he doesn't realize it whenever he's being possessive and suffocating you instead. After all, having wandered these halls for so long has desensitized him to violence and made him forget all his human memories. Simply put, his concept of love is warped in its own way. He doesn't understand nor remember how to healthily love another person by societal standards, but he (usually) means well.

He may not understand love but he knows one thing for sure— you're very precious to him. You're so full of life, so kind (to him), and so persistent to find your way home despite everything. Everyone else just kind of does their own thing around there... but you need him. You give him purpose and he's ready to give himself up for you in return.

But as much as he respects you, he knows you sometimes don't know any better. You almost got yourself killed multiple times despite his numerous warnings, and he's not confident you completely understand him just yet. So whenever he feels as though something got lost in translation, he won't hesitate to push you aside or cover for you in that instance. Thankfully, you can now regenerate your limbs.

You don't know any better. This sentiment becomes a mantra that repeats itself in his head over and over again. The two of you haven't made any significant progress on finding an exit, but you've almost died more than a dozen times by now. How are you supposed to survive without him?

What even is your home like? How can he be sure that you aren't going to get yourself killed over there too? Can he follow you there too to protect you? Can't you just stay here with him instead? Would that be so terrible? Of course he wants you to find whatever you're looking for...! it's just that...

The thought of losing you only intensifies his anxiety and over-protectiveness. Whether by departure or death, he cannot stand to be apart from you. Why are you so eager to leave this place anyway?

Mr. Crawling is gentle, but love can force him to be violent. He's not as cruel as the rest, but it doesn't mean he won't be when you're put in danger, especially when his possessiveness and overprotectiveness spiral out of control. He doesn't want to restrict you in any way because he loves and respects you too much to do that, but you just keep getting yourself in trouble. He overcompensates and goes overboard instead trying to protect you, even if it means killing someone.

And the thought of you moving on and forgetting him depresses him. He knows you had a life before this, but he wants a life with you in it. He'll be selfish just this once, but never again. He'll make sure you're safe here you so don't worry about that! Just don't leave him. Just stay with him, please.

It starts little by little. He starts telling you to rest more often and misleading you farther away from the elevator. Sometimes, when you tell him to leave you alone, he pretends not to understand you anymore. When he sees that dreaded green light from a distance, he tells you there is something malicious up ahead. In times like these, he's glad you're so blindly trusting of every word he says. It's difficult for him to watch your resolve break down, but it's for the best. When you're with him, you're safe and that all that's matters.

I can see some of the others like Ms. Bride and Mr. Silvair being in on it. Ms. Bride is very excited that her wedding garments will be used for their actual purpose this time whereas Mr. Silvair finds your unconventional relationship an interesting area of study. Whenever you find yourself 'lost' (escape from Mr. Crawling), they will redirect you back to him.

Eventually, you do give up. Maybe you even become more monstrous by the day and accept that you're better off here. He loved your persistence, but maybe he can show you giving up and that staying here isn't so bad. After all, you have him. He makes sure to be extra affectionate and cuddly after you give up <3

You'll learn to accept it, won't you? For him? Whatever's beyond those elevator doors can't possibly be better than being loved unconditionally and safe within his arms. You're even free to be yourself down here! You can be as violent as you want, and Mr. Crawling will happily watch you bludgeon someone to death on the sidelines with nothing but adoration.

Alternatively, if you do find your way home, he WILL follow you whether you like it or not. But if you don't want him there... well, do expect a few inconveniences. Whatever it takes to convince you to let him stay or to convince you to come back, really. Maybe like blood on the walls spelling 'me love you' and 'me miss you' or a cold pair of arms wrapping around your waist at night.

[a-case-of-attachment]

A continuation of this.

Astarion was relentless in his need to get you away from Gale’s wandering lips and pathetically sad and hopeful kicked puppy attitude, silently seething as he dragged you along behind him. His grip was tight on your arm, probably too tight if he was being honest but he couldn’t bring himself to let go of you. He knew he was being foolish, but Astarion couldn’t help but feel that if he let you go you would be gone, running back to Gale like a moth to a flame.

You had looked so happy sat there with Gale, all bright smiles and casual affection like it was nothing to open yourself up to another. Had it been that easy for you to be like that with Astarion? He could recall your smiles, your gentle laughter along with the teasing and somewhat sarcastic back and forth you two had going. It had felt easy at the time, but had it actually been so or were his memories tainted by his own need for you to want something from him?

Astarion knew he could be charming and sweet. After all, those were the traits that had made him such an effective seducer, but he also knew that he could be difficult sometimes, rude and a little shut off from others even when honesty would serve him better. He was selfish, there was no denying that, but he was also cold and calculating, often working out how best to use someone to his advantage before using his charm and tempting smiles to get what he wanted. Astarion was trying with you though. Trying to be a better person and letting you in closer than he had anyone else in the better part of two centuries. But was it enough?

He hated the fact that blasted wizard was getting to him, but Astarion couldn’t stop himself from beginning to question why you had stayed by his side for so long. Gale wouldn’t hide himself from you like Astarion had. He wouldn’t deny you any part of himself whilst trying to cover it up with pretty lies and sugar-coated words. Everything about Astarion was a performance, designed to misdirect and mislead the audience. He didn’t want people looking to closely, didn’t want the attention the truth got him. The sad reality was he simply didn’t trust people, couldn’t trust people, not after everything he had been through and he wasn’t about to show weakness to just anyone when he needed to be strong and untouchable to survive. You were infuriatingly different though. You did care, Astarion was sure of it and if there was anyone, he was going to let see him at his most vulnerable then, well, it could only ever be you. So why did he feel so hollow all of a sudden? Like he had already lost you before he had the chance to really have you in the first place.

The trees and undergrowth suddenly gave way and Astarion stumbled slightly as he stepped out unexpectedly into a clearing. It’s not that big, probably smaller than the average tavern and if he was so inclined Astarion could probably make it to the other side with a few long strides. It is unassumingly quaint though, the gaps in the otherwise thick canopy allowing the silvery moonlight to give the small space an almost otherworldly glow. In any other circumstance it would be disgustingly romantic, somewhere Astarion would have whisked you off to to whisper sweet nothings in your ear whilst making your body singing under his skilled touch. Not tonight though. Tonight he couldn’t care less, taking a few seconds to gain his bearings before he took a sure step forward, intent on getting you across to the other side and as far away from Gale as he could. You apparently, had other ideas though.

“Enough!” you shouted suddenly, digging in your heels and yanking your arm from his grip. Astarion let you go, coming to a standstill at the edge of the clearing and looking back at you with thinly veiled impatience. You glared back, fists clenched at your sides and shoulders noticeably tensed. “What in the hells was that Astarion!” In a nearby tree birds took flight, frightened away from their nests by your angry yell. Astarion flinched slightly, shame settling uncomfortably in his chest. There was a possibility, and a small one at that, that he might have overreacted, but could you really blame him? Gale had overstepped yet again, and you had just looked at the walking bomb like the idiot you were, all lost and confused like you couldn’t possibly fathom someone was actually interested in you in such a way.

Astarion had every right to whisk you off. Had every right to be angry and jealous too, but that didn’t mean he liked it. He hated being forced to feel all these emotions that he had stamped down for so long, unaccustomed to anything but pain and desperation. It left him feeling exposed and raw in a way he wasn’t used to. Unfortunately, when he was feeling cornered and out of his depth Astarion had a bad habit of lashing out at people, uncaring as he spat honey covered poison in an attempt to regain control of something he probably never would.

He hated himself for it, even as he practically leered at you, his lips curling up into a smirk. “Come now darling, I was doing us all a favour,” Astarion laughed, waving his hand dismissively in the air. “It was starting to get a little sad.” Your breath caught, Astarion able to hear your heartbeat pick up ever so slightly. It had been the wrong thing to say but it had come so naturally, to be dismissive and cruel when it came to the feelings of others. Especially now when his own emotions were getting the better of him, uncertainty and doubt mixing with anger and jealousy. “Honestly, for a man who claims to be so smart he can be rather dense.”

Your eyes narrowed; arms now crossed over your chest and very clearly unimpressed with his cruel words towards the wizard. “You done?” Astarion’s smirk fell slightly at your sharp tone, his centuries worth of skill faltering when faced with the rather real possibility that he was ruining the only good relationship he had ever had. Fear crept in, Astarion unable to stop his intrusive thoughts from taking over his already compromised mind. He had been afraid of losing things before, things like his freedom, his food, his life. Never before though had he been so scared of losing another person before. He didn’t like it, the panic making his throat feel tight and his hands twitch in some sort of aborted need to touch you. To wrap his arms around you and pull you tight against him, refusing to let you go ever again.

Astarion swallowed noticeably, trying to force the lump that was forming in his throat down. Scoffing, he adjusted his stance, making sure he looked as casual and unbothered by all this as he could. “I don’t know what you are talking about darling. All I did was save you from having to suffer through Gale’s rather pitiful attempts of seduction.” They really had been atrocious, awkward to, like the man didn’t have a suave bone in his body. You hadn’t needed to be subjected to that and lucky enough for you Astarion had been there to chase the cretin off. Unless, of course, you hadn’t wanted the wizard gone.

“Astarion,” your voice was thick with warning, the muscles in your jaw visible twitching as you clenched your teeth. Foolishly though, Astarion didn’t listen. He was on a roll, his anger and jealousy in full force as he let his emotions taint his words. “But if you’re into tragic little magicians who are already hopelessly in love with a goddess then please, accept my sincerest apology for disturbing you.”

“Astarion.”

“Though if you are planning on slipping into his bedroll tonight might I suggest you get him to cast a silencing spell beforehand. I doubt any of us want to hear him grunting like a stuck pig. Oh, and maybe get yourself a healing balm. I would imagine that beard of his would leave an awful rash between your le…”

“That’s enough!”

Astarion’s mouth snapped shut at your angry outburst. He wouldn’t be surprised if they had heard you back at camp, having shouted loud enough to cut through his rude and somewhat crude words. You looked so angry, shoulders tenses and hands curled into fists at your sides. He had seen you angry before, all righteous fury on the battlefield and smouldering hatred when pretending amongst the absolute. You had never been angry at him before though. Annoyed and suspicious yes but never angry, not even when you had awoken to him hovering over you, mouth open wide and fangs glistening as he practically salivated over how perfect you would taste on his tongue. He hadn’t thought it possible for you to look at him in such a way, but it seemed he had been mistaken because there you were, eyes dark and dangerous as you watched him intently, waiting for him to do or say something but for once Astarion found himself at a loss, his quick wit and sharp tongue failing him spectacularly.

You sighed loudly when it became clear that he wouldn’t be the first to break the tense silence, your shoulders slumping and the stench of pain and disappointment thickening in the air. “Look, I don’t know why you’re being like this or what you think you're going to accomplish here but I can’t do this with you anymore.” You sounded tired, heartbroken even and Astarion felt his own chest tighten in response. Some part of him had known it was coming, that things had been too good to be true, but it still hurt none the less. Even more so knowing that he only had himself to blame, but who had he been trying to fool? Someone like you was never going to find their happy ever after with the likes of him. After all he was just a broken and twisted monster with nothing to his name apart from the trail of pain and suffering he had left behind him. He had been delusional to think this thing between you could be anything more than the tentative and somewhat convenient friendship you had allowed it to be.

“Well,” he said stupidly, not really knowing what to say, “best I not keep you then.” Astarion stepped back slightly, angling his body to create a space for you to slip through and make your way back to camp and most likely right back into Gale’s open arms. Shame and rejection burned heavy in his heart, so much so that Astarion couldn’t bear to even look at you. He turned his head to the side, his eyes slipping closed as he waited for you to move past him. He heard you sigh, the rustle of fabric as you moved and the slight crunch of grass under your booted feet as you slowly made your way towards him.

He felt so alone, a pathetic and useless mess of a man as he let you slip through his fingers like grains of sand. It had been so easy to begin with, all charming smiles and flowery compliments that had you practically glowing under his attention. It had all been an act then, a means to an end that was supposed to keep him safe and protected within your close circle of confidants and friends. He had planned it all out but the one thing he hadn’t taken into consideration was, well, you and now he was left with nothing to show for his efforts other than a few tainted memories and the knowledge that he had been the one to drive you away into the arms of another man. He truly was incapable of doing anything right, just like Cazador had always said he was. A beautiful idiot.

A gentle hand cupped his cheek and Astarion startled, his head whipping round as his hand shot out to curl around your wrist, preventing you from moving it away or any closer. You were smiling softly at him but there was nothing happy about it, the sadness crystal clear in your eyes. Astarion could taste your unshed tears, see them clinging to your eyelashes. He wanted to reach out, to gently run his thumbs under your eyes and wipe away the tears as he whispered his apology, but he had never been good at admitting he had been wrong or even saying he was sorry. He hated that you were looking at him like he had broken you but despite how badly he wanted to take it all back the words wouldn’t come. So instead, the two of you just stood there, staring at one another and waiting for someone to do or say something to break the silence that felt like it was going to suffocate him.

Your shoulders slump, the sad little smile you had been supporting slipping into a frown. He can see it in your eyes, see you searching for the right thing to say and Astarion wants nothing more than to run before you get the chance to break his heart before you had even known it was yours to shatter. He’s moving your hand back towards you and already stepping away when he stills, your words nothing but a whisper but they seemed like a shout to him. “I’m sorry.” He doesn’t think he would be able to keep the confusion off his face even if he had tried.

He doesn’t understand. Are you apologising for ending things between the two of you? Not that either of you had actually put a name to what the two of you were doing. Maybe you were apologising for turning your fondness towards Gale? It hurt, more than Astarion would ever admit to, but he had expected something like this to happen, waiting for the moment you got bored of the pretty little elf and moved on. That’s all he was. Something to pass the time with that looked good both in and out of his clothes and knew how to leave their partner satisfied. No one has ever given him an apology before, not that he can remember anyway, and he doesn’t know what to do with one now that you had whispered it so sweetly to him. Astarion doesn’t understand you or this entire situation and it frustrates him to no end because how is he supposed to react in a way that will please you if he has no clue what you are even trying to do here?

His grip on your wrist had gone lose whilst he panicked externally and without him keeping you at bay you easily put your hand back on his cheek. Your warm, so much warmer than him and it feels so much like being bathed in sunlight to feel you against him. Despite knowing better Astarion can’t help but turn into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed as he basked in your sunlight. What was the harm in enjoying this for just a second longer? Astarion was a selfish creature at heart, and you would be gone soon enough, so why not? Why not take this one thing for himself. Just this once. Just this.

“Astarion.” He doesn’t want to look at you. To look at you would be to acknowledge that this confusing and all consuming thing between the two of you was over. He doesn’t want that. Wants to hold onto you for just that little bit longer. You are insistent though, using your hand on his cheek to turn his head towards you and no matter how much he wishes to prolong this moment Astarion knows that isn’t his choice to make. So he looks, opening his eyes and meeting yours, waiting for you to throw him away just like everyone else had.

@mangomonk @skittleabyss @i-cant-get-into-my-other-account @atsv-obsession @duckyhowls @tamwritesstuff @unrestrictedbyreality @dinstailor @vhaldren @ammistorm @aoirohi

I think that’s everyone! Please do let me know if I have missed anyone though and if you want to be tagged in the third and final part!

[azrielwingspan]

SOON (THEO NOTT X READER)

Summary : Theodore Nott was just another Slytherin asshole to most of Hogwarts. But to you, he was something much much more.

Themes : Mild kissing and swearing.

A/N : This is my first Theo fic AHHH. Just thought I would give it a shot. Let me know how it is!

P.S.- This is strictly a one shot. There will be no part 2.

"He is quite charming isn't he?" Ginny commented sneaking a glance at Theodore Nott. Seated at the Slytherin table between his usual rowdy gang of friends, he smirked at something Lorenzo had said.

"I think the word you're looking for is enigmatic, Gin. For all we know, he could be Voldemort in disguise." you stated flatly, stabbing a piece of potato on your plate. Earning a smack on the arm for using You-know-who's name so boldly, you ignored Ginny's attempts at convincing you to attend the party being thrown tonight.

"Help me understand why you're so bloody against the idea?! Is it because you have to bring a date?" she raised her eyebrows in question.

"That may be a part of the reason." you refused to meet her owl like stare, instead choosing to focus on the copy of the Daily Prophet in front of you.

"Why would that be an issue ? I can name five people off the top of my head who would say yes instantly." she prodded further, thankfully choosing to redirect her gaze towards the mail she'd received. Taking advantage of her momentary distraction, you snuck a glance at Theodore again. The sleeves of his uniform were rolled upto his elbow and you greedily took in the sight of his veiny forearms.

"What are you looking at?" Ginny broke you out of the reverie, your eyes immediately flitting towards the shawl Pansy was wearing.

"Pansy's new shawl. I can't recall which store I've seen it in but it looks very familiar." The lie rolled out smoothly, misleading Ginny. The pang of guilt ,that never lessened in impact, hit you yet again.

"Oh. Yeah, it does look quite familiar now that you mention it." She went off on a tangent about clothes and you let out a relieved sigh.

Ginny couldn't know. Not for now atleast.

The morning went on, your focus elsewhere during most of the classes. Ginny hadn't brought up the party again but you knew it was unavoidable. You were definitely acting quite strange. Not being the one to turn down an invite, your sudden refusal to attend this massive party did come as a surprise to your friends.

You had your reasons. Utterly selfish reasons.

However as the evening rolled by, Ginny had cornered you into agreeing. On bringing up the issue of the date, she'd simply shrugged and said "I took care of it."

That did not sound very reassuring.

It was worse than you had expected.

"CORMAC MC FUCKIN LAGGEN ?!?" you hissed at Ginny , your back to the boy in question.

Ginny looked away sheepishly and said "He told Hermione who told me that he had a thing for you. So I thought you guys could talk? I mean you don't have to really. Just drop him off in a corner."

"Drop him---" pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration, you whipped around to face Laggen and gave him a saccharine smile.

"Nice to meet you Laggen but I'm not interested."

He looked astounded, trying to wrap his head around the rejection. After a few seconds, he managed to sputter out "We haven't talked yet. How can you--"

"Yes. Yes I can. You have my permission to tell everyone I'm your date but please don't approach me again. Bye." you sauntered off into the party, Ginny keeping up behind you.

"Where's Harry anyways?" you asked, straining your neck to see past the crowd.

"Running late. Neville set his pants on fire so Ron and Harry are helping him out."

Shaking your head in amusement, you let your eyes run around the room searching for him.

There.

Theo sat on the couch near the fireplace, one arm thrown around the back , a glass of amber liquid in the other. The smoke from Mattheo's cigarette made his figure hazy.

"I'm gonna go grab a drink." Ginny said her voice floating by. You nodded distractedly , your attention held captive by Theo.

As if sending your presence behind him , he turned his head around and met your eyes. Slight confusion marred his face making his eyebrows furrow. He hadn’t expected you to be here.

Signalling to you with a quick nod of his head, he excused himself from his group of friends and made his way to his dorms. You stayed down for a couple more minutes , getting yourself a drink to throw off suspicion.

“Hey, I didn’t think you’d come tonight. Ginny change your mind?” Pansy popped out of the blue , startling you.

“Uh.. Pansy, hey. Yeah you know how Gin is.” Pansy was a bit of a talker. Aware that this conversation could go on forever , you tried to come up with an excuse. “Hey listen, I’ve got to use the bathroom real quick. I’ll find you again alright?”

Not waiting for a response , you made your way in the direction of the bathrooms and took a sharp turn in the opposite direction once you made sure Pansy had redirected her attention. Sneaking up the stairway to the boys dorm, you took a moment for yourself outside Theo’s dorm room, straightening out your clothes.

“Took you long enough.” His voice drawled as you entered his room, the familiar surroundings providing a sense of comfort.

“Pansy almost started a conversation.” You said laughing lightly at his wide eyed expression.

“Didn’t take you long then.” He corrected his previous statement , prowling towards you.

“No. I guess it didn’t.”

Wrapping an arm around your waist, he pulled you into a searing kiss that had you holding onto his shirt for balance. The words 'I missed you' played at the tip of your tongue struggling to be let out.

He nipped at your lower lip , a breathy sigh leaving you as you tangled your hands in his hair.

"Cormac Mc fuckin Laggen? Seriously?" Theo muttered , lowering his head to place soft kisses across your jaw. Leaning your head back to give him more access, you let out a soft laugh. "That's exactly what I said. Ginny is the real culprit."

A strangled moan left your lips as he sucked at your neck, immediately soothing it with a sloppy kiss. "T-Theo..you idiot. That's gonna leave a mark." He just hummed in response seemingly lost in the pleasure. Tugging his head back, you made him meet your gaze head on.

"If we stay up here for any longer, they'll suspect." A shiver passed through you as his hands trailed lower and cupped you arse, pulling your hips to his. "Let them." he said dropping his head to capture your lips once more.

"THEO, YOU IN THERE ??" Blaise Zabini's voice boomed through the door making you jump. A string of Italian curses left Theo's mouth as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Yeah give me a minute!"

Cupping your face in his hands, he leaned down to your face placing you at eye level. "It'll all be over soon alright? We won't have to hide anymore. We can be free." The promise in his eyes lit a spark of hope within you, a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

"Soon." you whispered , your eyes fluttering shut as you placed a kiss on his Dark Mark.

[synergysilhouette]

Things I'd want for an an "Ever After High" reboot

As much love as "Monster High" has gotten--and as much attention as it's gotten, thanks to 2 reboots--I think it's time for a reboot of Ever After High, for the lore/show if nothing else (and yes, I know it was all for the dolls). And note: I say "reboot" instead of "revival" because the show had a gaping flaw with it, and I'll include it in one of the things I'd like to see in a Gen 2 of EAH:

More nuance--The BIGGEST issue with the show was how biased it was when it was trying to see itself as a complex story. The Royals were written as selfish, hypocritical, and vain when discussing the future and their legacies, and it made being a Royal unlikable, which was probably done by the writers to make us sympathize with the Rebels more, not to mention the fact that Raven was always kind and level-headed, making Apple come off much more disingenuous. It wasn't even a "the Rebels are slightly more right"; the Rebels were written as 100% right and the Royals weren't "good" people until they came around to the way the Royals thought. I'd enjoy them embracing the Royals' positive side (which have been shown when not involving the RvR debate), as well as highlighting the fact that following tradition isn't always a bad thing, and that those who followed their destiny didn't have to follow it to the letter, but were allowed to make changes here and there (ie Apple marrying a prince; it didn't have to be Daring). As such, destinies are vague, giving you a beginning and end while omitting the in-between parts. And given this change to what is considered a Royal, there are no in-between groups like Roybels.

2. Don't forget the guys--Part of what made EAH an engaging "girly" show for me was the fact that they still had significant male characters (usually it's like a 10-1 ratio; here it feels like 5-1), all of whom have unique designs and appearances. I'm pretty sure this wouldn't be an issue, but I still wanna point it out.

3. Headmaster Grimm is more altruistic and wise--I swear, "Wish" has ruined me forever. I'm on a Magnifico kick. Headmaster Grimm, while still lying to the students and kinda misleading them, doesn't do so just because of the flimsy "This is how things are done"; he's more of a lawful neutral/true neutral character, where he understood after years of seeing people try to change their destinies it either comes true anyway or ends up getting their own Happily Ever After, but it does more damage than good for everyone else. As such, he understands the fact that good cannot exist without evil, and vice-versa, explaining his own motivations for manipulating events at EAH, with the proposed destinies being what he believes to be the best-possible scenarios. (Plus the evil headmaster at school is so cliche to me at this point. It feels very juvenile.)

4. More lore in the show--Albeit, less confusing. I don't remember the show exactly, and I didn't get into the novelizations, but I do recall that the books fleshed out the Legacy Day ceremony a bit more, citing that the current students at EAH were descendants (rather than children) of fairy tale characters, and embracing your destiny was something done for generations--with one disturbing detail being that Ashlynn's mother would eventually die and her father would marry one of her stepsisters, making the new stepmother's daughters Ashlynn's new stepsisters who would make her enslaved. AND EVERYONE KNEW THIS. This circles back to #1 about making being a Royal less terrible. Put emphasis on following your destiny and the history of the world, but I'd prefer to avoid the "we do this every generation" thing; the characters are still descendants of fairy tale characters, but it hasn't been a wash, dry, repeat cycle; it only happens when the descendants' circumstances start to match up precisely with their ancestor's, and it's believing that by following their destiny, they preserve the balance of good and evil. Not to mention, most of the other students don't get to accept or deny their destiny; they're just regular people in that respect, while the special descendants (let's say that Maddie, Raven, and Apple are only a small handful of people who have Legacy Day this school year) get to see what their futures hold. Not to mention it'd be fun to see more of the characters' lives outside of the school, ie Briar's relationship with her younger brothers and the fact that her mom is always tired and her dad (who needs a name; can we avoid nameless characters here?) is always slaying monsters.

5. More emphasis on fairy godparents (and magical characters in general)--I'll always question why Cupid coming to EAH didn't reinvent her as a fairy godmother or something similar. In any case, I like the idea of fairy godparents and their children being one the only major characters in fairy tales who's destiny was flexible and no one had any qualms about it; they were above good or evil (though they typically chose good), and had a business where people would pay for their services, powered by their wish and conviction. Grimm being a fairy godfather would also make sense for his grey mentality in the series. Plus I feel like we don't have enough magical characters, with Cerise, Farrah, and Raven being the few that come to mind.

6. It's not just about Raven--Something I liked about "Monster High" was that while Frankie started off as the main character (before she sadly became underrated), many other characters got the spotlight outside of her. Given that the EAH webseries was story-driven, they gave Raven the spotlight. But I'd like to focus on other characters who may be dealing wit the consequences of following/rejecting their destiny, as well as more people fighting with their "inborn" morality issues, similar to Raven fighting her evil urges.

[hedwig221b]

Fic authors self rec!

When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤

I got tagged by @cozyrosykay, thank you, love!

This is gonna be interesting…

Predators

He was born for this. Nature itself whispered into his ear where he should put his hands, how to twirl his tongue just right and when to bite. Stiles knew well enough that his saliva was currently working its magic on this unfortunate man, making him hungry, lustful, and insatiable. Soon, all his thoughts would be consumed by Stiles.

And, just this once, Stiles would allow Derek to consume him.

I still consider this my best work (yet! bc I'm writing something currently and y'all… it's a contender). But it's so fucking good, I'm sorry, but it is! Each time I finished writing another piece, I closed the doc and told myself that this is the best thing ever. I love how gentle Derek is with Stiles, I love how persistent he is with his love, almost arrogant with his confidence. He's like oh well, Stiles is confused but it'll pass. I'll be here anyway. Forever. !!!!!! I love Stiles as a creature, and I love him embracing the darkness and being unapologetic about it. I love this fic so much.

Eros Mania Amor

“I am just reminding you that Stiles is married. To me. All you can do is imagine, and I get to do all of those things you’re dreaming of to him. Yes, I know. I know everything you and others think,” Hale opened his eyes and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. His smile was despicable in its selfishness. “I know what you dream of when you look at his lips—”

“Stop it.” Jordan shook his head.

“— because I am the same as you,” the wolf ignored him. “I imagined everything you did, it’s just happened that my dream became the life that I get to live. He is here,” he tapped his own temple, “and here,” he tapped his chest. “And you would have to kill me to get us separated.”

This fucking fic… I was high on reading Dracula, and I love classics, and I definitely put all my love for it here. I love the language in this, the intrigue, the misleading. I also love when sterek's love is so overwhelming and unbreakable. I also kinda ate with the imagery in last sentences... I ate in general with this fic lmao

Torn Apart and Set Anew

“Someone’s here,” Stiles whispered, feeling weirdly numb.

The metal latch clicked. With ice filling his lungs and his fingers shaking terribly, Stiles swiveled his head in the direction of a window and froze for a beat of a second.

There was a face behind the glass.

Forgettable and plain, but at the same time familiar face.

This deserves more attention, and it's probably my fault for putting a weird summary resulting in it not getting a lot. Anyway, I love the suspence. I love Stiles' stubborness and I love the plot twist. About that: I like how I make it obvious who's the villain and (I hope) the reader thinks they already got the plot twist... But then the real plot twist comes and it's like... FUCK. Also Derek in this is soo…. ugh... and the ending!!! Asffgghjjkhgrjsskr

Treasure

“I know you don’t trust me,” Derek grunted. When Stiles inhaled to retort, Derek caught his chin and pressed a finger against his lips, making the boy freeze in place, eyes impossibly wide. “Don’t argue. I expected it. Wolves don’t trust easily, too. I just wanted you to know that… I’m sorry. I was selfish and didn’t see what was in front of me. You don’t need to worry. I’ll take care of everything.”

It was a thought that grew in his mind, spread to his heart and took root there, reincorporating into a deep desire and a vital need. Derek will take care of him and his little pup, he’ll bring the hearts of his enemies and put them at the boy’s feet. He’ll court and he’ll conquer.

I have my issues with this fic but ELI!!!! KIRA!!! DEREK!!! iykyk lol but yeah I often go back to this fic just to reread Eli parts, I loved writing baby Eli, he's gonna come back in Jane Eyre au for sure. I also never cried this hard during writing a fic, not before and not since. That scene... One of the best scenes I've written, the grief is so raw and scolding... shit I might reread this...

your fangs against my skin (the sound of your bones)

This was it, then, huh? It was that easy for Derek to invite someone to his den. Someone other than Stiles.

He healed the wolf. Stiles killed his tormentor, mended his blood and bones, and let him sleep beside him. But none of it was enough.

He wasn’t a spark, after all, but a witch — evil and alone, locked up in his tower.

Witches didn’t get happy endings.

One of my recent gems, I would even call it mild in terms of darkness and angst. It's a comfort fic for me. I love how relaxed Derek is around Stiles, how both of them crave each other's comfort and give it so easily. I also loved Stiles' witchiness, he's so weird and fun lmao, also LYDIA

.

Tagging gently in case y'all already did this: @dear-massacre @renmackree @endwersed @nerdherderette @thotpuppy @invisible-storyteller @eevylynn

[stromuprisahat]

Why don't I buy Malyen's sudden change of heart in R&R, pt. 3*

*It's the last pages of S&S actually

Why Does He Do That?: Inside the Minds of Angry and Controlling Men- Chapter 3: The Abusive Mentality - REALITY #6: He is manipulative.

I went through a few of the last chapters of Siege and Storm to find examples. Some fit better, some would need a bit looser interpretation, but I don't have the strength to go through more rn.

Few abusive men rely entirely on verbal abuse or intimidation to control their partners. Being a nonstop bully is too much work, and it makes the man look bad. If he is abusive all the time, his partner starts to recognize that she’s being abused, and the man may feel too guilty about his behavior. The abuser therefore tends to switch frequently to manipulating his partner to get what he wants. He may also sometimes use these tactics just to get her upset or confused.

There are some signs of manipulation by abusers that you can watch for: · Changing his moods abruptly and frequently, so that you find it difficult to tell who he is or how he feels, keeping you constantly off balance. His feelings toward you are especially changeable.

Right after deciding about everything.

· Denying the obvious about what he is doing or feeling. He’ll speak to you with his voice trembling with anger, or he’ll blame a difficulty on you, or he’ll sulk for two hours, and then deny it to your face. You know what he did—and so does he—but he refuses to admit it, which can drive you crazy with frustration. Then he may call you irrational for getting so upset by his denial.

Sure, here it's Tolya confronting him, because Alina would NEVER...

· Convincing you that what he wants you to do is what is best for you. This way the abuser can make his selfishness look like generosity, which is a neat trick. A long time may pass before you realize what his real motives were.

· Getting you to feel sorry for him, so that you will be reluctant to push forward with your complaints about what he does.

· Getting you to blame yourself, or blame other people, for what he does.

· Using confusion tactics in arguments, subtly or overtly changing the subject, insisting that you are thinking or feeling things that you aren’t, twisting your words, and many other tactics that serve as glue to pour into your brain. You may leave arguments with him feeling like you are losing your mind.

Alina wants nothing but to accomodate him, so he accuses her of lying about it:

· Lying or misleading you about his actions, his desires, or his reasons for doing certain things, in order to guide you into doing what he wants you to do. One of the most frequent complaints I get from abused women is that their partners lie repeatedly, a form of psychological abuse that in itself can be highly destructive over time.

Her attention. That's what he wants. Not her being safe from rumours, but choosing to spend time with him instead of her duties.

· Getting you and the people you care about turned against each other by betraying confidences, being rude to your friends, telling people lies about what you supposedly said about them, charming your friends and then telling them bad things about you, and many other divisive tactics.

In some ways manipulation is worse than overt abuse, especially when the two are mixed together. When a woman gets called “bitch,” or gets shoved or slapped, she at least knows what her partner did to her. But after a manipulative interaction she may have little idea what went wrong; she just knows that she feels terrible, or crazy, and that somehow it seems to be her own fault.

[mehriigss]

Rottmnt weird drabble/one shot because I have anxiety so Leo has anxiety too.

Based on a headcanon you can find here.

Leo was at the verge of a panic attack. No, he was going into a full anxiety spiral. The best part? He was currently having a family dinner.

Everyone was having fun. Raph was stuffing his face with Mikey's meatballs, April was trying to prevent him from choking, his twin was recording everything with his phone, his father was scolding him for using his phone during a family event, Mikey was still cooking in April's kitchen and Draxum and himself were having a smooth conversation about biology. About literal photosynthesis to be precise. He might hate him but he has to admit Draxum really knew how to get him to talk.

There were oh so many details in every single thing his family was doing right now, but he's brain chose to focus on himself. How selfish.

Draxum was rambling about his favourite photosystem when it hit him. The increased heart rate, the tunnel vision, the distorted hearing, the nausea, the damn choking sensation and that fucking piercing pain in his chest that just won't go away for the rest of the week.

Why did his anxiety have to be such an opportunistis?

He stared at Draxum like he was trying to read his soul out loud. Leo could hear him but he wasn't listening. No words seem to get into his brain but the usual 'you're nothing but your brothers', 'too little too late for redemption', 'you'll never change', 'under that mask is a scared little boy'.

Did Draxum just make him a question? He could tell by Draxum's body language.

"So?" Said Draxum to the turtle that barely registrated anything but the strong static in his ears.

Masking this kind of things was easy for him. He just had to ignore and endure it in equal proportions and play face man. He could do it, he was the face man! The actor! The lier among them! Misleading was his specialty.

He would just put on another layer of paint to his mask and flee forward.

"I'm not sure." Leo said a bit too low but steadily nonetheless.

"Well, if you are not sure, I could suggest a few scientific articles". Draxum replayed, apparently content enough with the poor answer.

Draxum was suddenly silent, already used to Leon's seemingly infinite energy for conversation, waiting for him to say something.

So he said the first thing he could muster, the quickest he could: "I-I'd love to read t-them".

That was clearly not a good plan.

It had begun. The stuttering, because his poor mouth couldn't keep up with his anxious brain. He hated that. He's good hiding his panic in plain sight but his stupid stuttering is something he can't control or cover! He could only go mute and hope he's not asked many questions because of it.

But going mute would be extremely suspicious when he's literally in the middle of a conversation!

"Ok...?"

Ok, Draxum was a bit confused, he could work with that. That is fixable. As long as he can keep a low profile he's good.

But his breathing was getting more and more erratic and being and acuatic turtle didn't actually help keep the need to just breath at bay.

Could he fix this?

'Of course not, you're useless!'

'You're eyes are watering, you big crybaby!'

'Just flee. They're not gonna miss you anyway '

'They're better off without you'

He took a big, deep, audible, shaky breath and surrendered.

"Are you ok, bro?" Mikey, bless his soul, had just entered to room and immediately noticed his struggle, taking over the conversation. "Barry, mind if I steal my brother from you for a sec?"

Mikey did not wait for an official answer, he grabbed Leo by the wrist and forced him out of the room. That, in all honesty, scared the holy shit out of Leonardo. And everybody else.

He felt a little naked now that he wasn't around his whole family, but at least the living room smelled like April. It was a nice smell to focus his mind on.

"Leo... It might not be anything serious- and I hope it isn't! -but..."

"I-I'm hav-ing a p-panic a-attack".

Another shaky breath was all it took for Leo to become a hyperventilating and sobbing mess.

That image just fits too well 😙

[despairots]

- my blood is singing with your voice , #o. dazai!

description, osamu dazai’s a kid. he still is, but it’s fine; he’s been exploited at 14, yet he’s terrifying. you never met him one on one, only observed him from a distance. | ( r’s opinion and history with the port mafia! ) ( a continuation of my special oneshot of “a night to remember” )

— story contains, swearing, suicide jokes, self harm implied, r! being insane, mafia activities, murder? violence, mental health, obsessive love disorder ( reader! ) please tell me if i missed anything! gender neutral! reader. age 15 - 18 ( 15 arc and dark era )

this is a continuous series of “a night to remember!” r!’s ability is based off rofū miki’s book: the sick rose (their overall genuinely character is based of the author aswell) r!'s ability: the user possesses poisonous blood they can use against their opponent or when threatened. if someone were to touch via skin contact or inhale the smell of their blood, the person will become severely ill. they wear any port mafia would wear; white button up, black blazer, and pants but r! wears a gauze around their neck.

you hardly remembered what it felt like to admire someone from afar. when it involved someone like dazai, the first initial thought was to fear him. from his list of crimes, his intelligence that extended to the title he was given.

“the demon prodigy.” a title he earned at the age of 15. although, a name like that should fit him, it doesn’t for some odd reason. maybe because he was still a kid like you, a kid who was mislead their entire life.

osamu dazai doesn’t know you, you know him though— after all, his name and position gives him a lot of attention. you’re a simple mafioso who’s been taken because of your ability, there was nothing all that special about you.

it’s scary that someone around your age can cause such destructive and damage, but at the same time, it wasn’t scary. you’ve never seen a boy climb up the ranks so aggressively fast. dazai’s extremely talented, yet so young that you wondered; was he always this much of prodigy when he was younger?

spectating (more like stalking) afar says a lot about your character and the community you grew up in. the port mafia taught kids to commit crimes to grow the port mafia, dazai joining caused the criminal organization to sky rocket.

he’s laid missions with no casualties (if you minus the mobs getting killed), his missions going smoothly and he’s the right hand man of mori, not only that, the youngest port mafia executive.

although, he carries such a terrifying image and name, you’re someone who does not care about that. if he hurts somebody, or if someday hurts me, the same red blood will be shred. only you can see his blood seeping through the wounds he inflicts on himself.

you would choose him, even if it meant destruction of the world. it’s a selfish, atrocious choice. and yet, it looks more like love.

acting is like love; you can’t do it alone. if you know how to surrender, then you know what to do when you act. loving another is an act of total surrender. love only appears when you surrender your heart, ego, and whole self for someone else.

dazai has a tone that sinks into the abyss of the spirit, and deep, dark eyes that seem to hold the conviction that the sun will never rise again.

you admired him… and the world he created. a universe without him, you can’t even imagine it. he’s poison to you. everything he says, his whole being. he can circulate within you and you can feel him changing me from the inside.

he could be your downfall.

[itskindofidontknow]

What dreams know about love?

Chapter 12

Dream of The Endless/Morpheus x Love!OFC

Summary: The Queen of Love has grown used to the absence of her husband, the Dream King. After banning her from the Dreaming, they only saw each other when Morpheus summoned her for social or marital duties. He would go decades without calling for her, enamorated by a variety of mistresses. It broke Love's heart. Not that her husband cared. However, after being imprisioned for a century, The Dream King wants to regain his Queen's love. She doesn't believe him, not after centuries of neglect. The question is: Can dreams repair a broken heart?

Tag: Established relationship, arranged marriage, regency romance, eventual happy ending, angst, morpheus is a dick prepare to hate, love is eoster from west germanic mythology, typos are to be expected

TW: Sexual content (+18)

“Tell me he at least gave you a good fuck” Love almost chokes on her tea when Lady Honesty spoke. “Honesty!” They barely sat with afternoon delights and tea, at the table under the white marbled gazebo covered in lilac wisterias just outside the palace, a sceneary worthy of protraits. Love hadn’t seen her sister in a while and forgot that Honesty was never kin on pleasantries, she preferred going straight to the subject. Some, like their Aunt Prim, did not approve this kind of behavior, saying that Honesty may have the look of an ethereal nymph with her long black as night locks gently curled and an intense purple stare with full lashes, but she had the tongue of a demon.

Love always thought that it matched perfectly with her sister, she didn’t shy away from controversy, often getting the truth behind any second intention or misleading speech. Honesty constantly repeated that if someone wasn't going to say what they really meant, then there was no point in having a conversation.

Eoster found it truly entertaining to see her in action. It was never boring to have her sister at the table. And she truly needs some of her high spirits to distract her from Morpheus, the Dreaming and all that mess.

Love just didn’t expect that Honesty would want to talk about exactly what Love wanted to avoid.

“What? I am only asking what everyone has been wondering”. The sister shrugged it off, while taking a sip of the lover's tea. And Love raised her eyebrow “And who, might I ask, are those ‘everyone’?” She perfectly knew who, but wanted to see if Honesty was going to out them. “Your dear sisters who have been crazy worried for you.” Love bited her lip at the judgmental look her sister was giving her. It was a bit of her fault.

She did not answer their letters, nor went to the gathering they often held, or went to visit their offspring when they recently were born. All her sisters have children by now. She knew she should’ve gone, after all she was named godmother of most of the newborn children. And of course she was beyond happy for them. But, at the same time, however, she didn’t have the strength to see them. None of her sister's marriages were perfect.

Well not perfect as Love defines a ‘perfect marriage’ but perfect in a deviant way.

Their husbands were avid cheaters, but so were her sisters. Although they would constantly complain about their husbands being stupid mules with barely a sense of direction, and their kids being clingy brats, anytime Eoster saw her sisters with their spouses and offspring, she could feel a genuine love. They were not unhappy. Messy, yes, but not unhappy.

And she knew it was selfish, but Love couldn’t stand being with them. Her sisters were blessed with love and she, the Queen of Four Loves, stuck in a loveless union. What did she ever do to deserve such cruel fate?

“I don’t think my intimate life has anything to-“ Honesty didn’t let her finish slapping the hand on the table, almost spilling the tea “ He didn’t! Fuck, I just lost fifty years in servitude to Pride. I hope you are happy, Love Dove” How could she be angry with Love when Love herself had nothing to do with it?! Besides the fact that her sisters were betting about her intimate life made her furiously blush and brutally exposed. How was she, the most discreet of her sisters, with the most antisocial of husbands, the one with a marriage that was a hot topic among everyone she knows?

Of course none of them had an Endless husband.

And of course, if they were betting on it, they were discussing it, and Love remembers quite well when they were all maidens how graphic and detailed they would talk about the tender intimacies of other entities. Just thinking that they might be discussing her like they did with those poor entities made her want to hide her in the most isolated room in all the Garden and never come back.

“I didn’t tell you to do a foul bet with Pride. And you should know better not to bet with her.” Her older sister Pride was addicted to gambling and the only reason why it wasn’t a problem that required intervention, was because Pride would always win. That was how she got married. Winning her husband on a bet.

‘And they are still in a happier marriage than me’ Love often thought. Honesty pretended not to hear the scolding tone in the brunette’s voice, taking a bite of a delicious sugar coated cake while explaining her betting plans “The odds seemed in my favor. You, lonely, faithful, in a cold large bed on the Dreaming, wet dreaming about those long pale fingers sliding under your silk nightgown, caressing your tights, pushing your undergarments out of the way, that deep soft voice saying how he missed your cu-”

“ Honesty!” Love interrupted before she would describe the most coarse of actions. Looking to the nearest weapon of choice, a napkin, and angrily throwing at her sister. Eoster would never admit to her sister, but that description was vivid in Love’s imagination while alone, in baths, after Elijah finally left her to soak under the water. Very similar thoughts would creep in her mind. Morpheus surprising her at night with an intense drive of passion that he couldn’t contain and only Love could take care of, how desperately he needed her, how she was made for him.

She knew it was cliché, hell, she invented those clichés, but was it wrong to want to live them, to deeply desire them? They are not supposed to happen to mortals, but to inspire them to get a love as close as possible to those. But Love? She was supposed to have a cliché romance and the most passionate of all marriages. She was supposed to inspire mortals and entities with her marriage. That was the reason she waited to get married, to find that exact someone who would write new clichés with her or inspire her!

Love shook her head, trying to physically get away from those thoughts. Her sister was largely laughing, almost threatening to fall off the chair, even after a napkin attack “ I’m teasing, I am teasing! I guess we can’t ever count on our Lord of Dreams to do anything right. Not even his most sacred duty.” Marital Duty. Love smiled before taking a sip of her tea, not realizing her sister stopped laughing and was looking over her with a very analytical attitude “ Unless-“

Love tilted her head “Yes?”

Her sister snapped her fingers and slammed her hand against the table, making the entire tea set threatening to fall. Love would’ve killed her if any piece broke, since it was a gift from Lady Death. One of the few Endless siblings she actually liked. It was supposed to be at the Dreaming, but Dream never cared about those gifts, so Love kept them in the Garden, where she could actually use them. After all, why have a tea set in a place where there was no one to have tea with?

“Oh, Love, you cold heart bitch! You didn’t let him fuck you senseless back to happiness!” Love eyes widened at her sister, a thought went across her mind if it would be appropriate to stuff one of those sweet cakes into Honesty mouth until she choked with her words. Probably way more appropriate than continuing with this conversation.

“ My stars, you are spending too much time in Aesir!” The nordic pantheon was known to be nothing but an unmannerly pit. “As Lady of the Four Loves it’s my obligation to tell you that the Lord of Dreams could not do anything to bring me happiness.” Love stated but as the words left her mouth she was not sure that was entirely true.

She fixed her posture and put an annoying curl behind her ear, shifting in her seat. The Love Queen told herself the reason she was bothered was because this wasn’t an appropriate talk to tea time, and any of her cupids could hear and gossip around.

But the truth was more selfish than she wanted to admit. Desire always joked that she looked uptight, tense, frigid. Love never took the offense to heart, it was annoying but she always took that as a way the sibling had to embarrass Dream and his abilities as a husband, especially since Desire considered Love an easy little thing to please. And that wasn’t a guess from the Queen, Desire told her more than one time to her face.

Now she wondered if someone could actually tell just by looking at her that she was never fulfilled or satisfied with any of her private encounters with Dream. Like she had a tag in her forehead with a written trope of ‘unhappy stepford smiler’. Love carefully made herself to always look bright and full of energy and happiness in every single social she had to attend, so entities would not even think about her being miserable. Of course, they knew about the cheating, but not about the unhappiness. Or did they know? And pretend not to out of pity?

Honesty shrugged it off. “Of course he can’t. No husband can, really. Do you think Wodan makes me happy? No, but my stars, he makes me feel good while trying.” The brunette Queen furrowed her brows, her sister smirked knowingly. Eoster didn’t believe Wodan didn’t make Honesty happy. Between threats of death, poison and tries of sacrifice, what her older sister called ‘love games’, Love knew if her sister wasn’t happy she wouldn’t put up with Wodan.

Of course, what he does to keep her happy was not a mystery to anyone, their love making were famous and spoke to it in its frequency, volume and duration. There was a reason they were no longer invited by anyone in their right mind to spend the night in another’s realm for a longer festivity.

And Love could be Lady of Eros, supportive of passionate nights and devoted spouses, but thinking of her sister and spouse made her nauseous. She didn’t spare an unladylike groan throwing her back against her chair “Spare me the details of your marriage, I can feel the tea in the back of my throat.”

Eoster never liked Wodan from the first time they were introduced, she knew exactly what he was: a rake, a brute, a classic god of war, thirsty for bloodshed, unfaithful, who saw naive maids as conquests, luring them with false promises of love until he had them exactly where he needed them, and then, discarted them, and moved to another.

A terrible match to Honesty, who Love always saw as witty, independant, enlightened, smarter than her sisters. She always thought Honesty was too smart to fall for the cheap rough charm of Wodan and would prefer someone that was an intellectually worthy adversary.

Besides, Wodan previously tried to court Love. “Court” would not be the proper word, since in the first five sentences they exchange, the norse god began a very pleasant discord on how some other gods (and he highly suggested other Love’s suitors) considered a lady’s place to be at the childbed, but he truly believedthat a lady’s place was in a man’s face, and he continued his lovely discourse describing how mortals were calling the act of cunnilingus the ‘devil’s lunch’ and how it may be but ‘yet is a fabulous meal any time of the day’, giving Love, who was vigorously blushing and praying for a way out, very suggestive looks. He only gave up when Eoster threatened to destroy all the harvest from mortals who worshiped him, if he ever spoke to her again.

An uncouth rake that Lady Honesty happened to fall in love for.

Love constantly questioned her sister's good senses and sanity, and Honesty dismissed Love, using her older sister tone: ⅔ condescending ⅓ full of mockery by saying ‘You are the one that likes them all broody, intellectual and sensible’ or ‘ I didn’t marry to have deep philosophical discussions’.

Love would defend herself by saying it wasn’t a preference for 'broody, intellectual and sensible'. She only wished for someone she could have a conversation with beyond the bedroom. And Honesty argued that that is what sisters are for.

And when arguments got heated, Honesty would throw in Love’s face that her husband might be all what Love disaproves of, but at least he married her out of his own desire and heart, she was invited into his life and he treated her like his queen. Unlike Dream, that on paper seemed all that Eoster wanted it, but was forced to welcome an univinted wife into his life and treated her like an unpleasant clingy mistress he got tired of. ‘If you wanted an Endless so desperately, you should have invested in Desire or the Prodigal one. You could’ve convinced him not to leave’. Even that, Honesty made it seem like Love’s fault. When fights like this would occur, they would spent decades without talking to each other.

The dark haired lady shifted in her seat, acquiring an older sister posture ready to lecture her reluctant younger sister. “Well you should listen. As your older sister with a senior marriage, it is my duty to teach you the ways of husbands.” Love rolled her eyes at ‘the ways of husbands’ as they held mysteries beyond the surface to be analyzed and discussed. Love could feel the torture that was yet to come “Oh, please!”. They had very different marriages, with very different husbands, whatever advice Honesty had, it wouldn’t work on Morpheus.

Wodan was a god of war; he yearns for a conquest, for the thrill of it, Honesty only needed to play hard to get for a moment before he is challenged, moving worlds to have her back.

Morpheus was lord of dreams, nightmares and stories. He didn’t yearn for any conquest. If she played hard to get, he would just move to someone more interesting. That was why even in discomfort Love never denied him in the bedroom, because at least she would have him there, not with someone else. He could think about others while inside her, but, at least for a few moments, he was with her. He was hers.

At least, before. Now, she could not understand what her husband was planning, let alone, wanting.

Honesty pretended to not listen to her sister's complaint “A repentant husband like yours will try anything to make his wife happy.” Love stubbornly refused to give in to Honesty. Even if Morpheus did go the extra mile to try to have Love live in the Dreaming again. “And you, my darling, should take advantage of that.” Love was about to ask Honesty if these so-called “advantages” included losing two realms to Morningstar.

Her lecture was interrupted by Matthew, the raven, flying over, dropping a letter with Dream’s seal, landing on top of Love’s porcelain’s plate.

Excitement, happiness, eagerness, all those feelings that were conditioned by the arrival of a letter, rose in Love’s chest at the same speed they were crushed, leaving her speechless. Color dropped from her face, and she looked at the envelope as if it was a ghost from the past, making no mention of opening it.

She knew it was ridiculous, to want to escape a paper. But she couldn’t stop wanting to disappear, run as far away as she could from that single stupid piece of paper.

Love received thousands of these same letters but written by Desire. Maybe the raven cackled something about the letter being from the Dream King, since the queen was behaving strangely towards it. Matthew could swear she threatened to jump away from her seat, when she saw the letter, like he was dropping a literal bomb on her lap.

She couldn’t answer him. She couldn’t take her eyes off the letter. A single letter made her feel small, a young Queen again, pushing her lips in a smile every time a dove was seen in the horizon. Love remembered running desperately down the stairs, wanting to beat down every cupid that wanted to deliver her a letter that would made a marvelous day in the Garden thanks to the Queen’s humour. Sometimes running so carresslesly, that she would rip her flowy dresses on pointy corners. Love didn’t care. She wanted to be the first and only one to read his words.

Looking at the seal, she couldn’t believe how she was deceived. Of course her husband’s seal would be deep purple, almost black. It suited him. Very different of the scarlet one Desire used. She should have known. How didn’t she notice it before? Was she that naive? Did she close her eyes for the truth? The clues must be all obvious as this one. Did she suspect through all their court but wanted to go on with it anyway? Was it loneliness? Was it desperation of not finding someone like she dreamed of, so she clenched her fists into fantasy, hoping for it to become true?

Did she conspire with Desire and told herself she was an innocent maiden in all of this?

Love’s head hurt.

Honesty dismissed the bird. Since Love seemed to be too stunted to move, and her sister was not the most patient woman, she took matters into her own hands, hovering over the table and grabbing the letter trying to break the seal with a desert knife.

That was enough to make Love wake, and jump over the table, dropping a few cinnamon cakes on the floor, and sugar syrup on her dress, trying to get the letter off her sister's hands. Whatever was in the letter, if her sister read, all of her siblings and their spouses would know, and in a snap of fingers, the whole universe would soon know too.

“Give this back!” Love screamed while attempting to get the letter from Honesty hands, that jumped away from her sit, trying to push Love away with one hand and open the letter and read the cursive with another. “Your husband's cursive is awful, I can’t read this! Damn, Love! Stop! Stop smothering me! You’ve gone fat! Out! Out! Let me read it!” The dark headed woman struggled, was grabbed by the arm by her sister to keep Honesty unable to escape. Love was now with her knees smashing down a tower of strawberry cupcakes, throwing her left arm and torso over Honesty trying to reach the letter on the free hands of her sister.

And for goodness sake Love hated those long arms of Honesty!

“It is not yours! Give it back! It must be something serious”. Honesty in a poor attempt to get free from Love, use the letter as a weapon, hitting Love with it. Probably thinking that a paper cut would made her take a few steps back. She clearly did not saw the stupidity in doind this “Than. It. Is. Better. That. I. Read. It.” Honesty said every other punctuated with a paper hit “You are too sensib- Damn it!”

With a now-or-never decision love took an impulse and throw herself in her sister’s hand, successfully grabbing the letter, as her sister took a step back to get away from her, due tot the now free hand, Love had no one to hold her free fall, and she hugged the air, falling with her face to the grass. She quickly ignored the pain and scanned the letters.

His cursive was really terrible. Different from the rounded vows, heavy pressure that Desire used. His writing was fast, pointed consonants, narrow “L” loops, slanting to the left. Even the writing was obviously different.

It was a short letter, direct but she couldn’t make sense of what he wrote. Actually, she could. But those words in a sentence coming from an invitation from her husband made no sense.

Honesty thinking it was taking an eternity for her to read the message, couldn’t contain a needy and demanding “Well?”

She was almost asking again or going to her sister to a second round in trying to get the paper from her. Love was paralyzed, before dropping the paper on the floor, looking at her sister and saying “ He wants us to go for a parade. In the Dreaming.”

Honesty frowned. Love was delirious that was it. “Parade? For what? Does he think it is great doing escape from a mortal after a millennia in imprisonment?” It was a century. Love didn’t know why she felt the impulse to correct her. It didn’t make a difference. Well it did. A few thousand years of difference. But she shouldn’t care. She didn’t care.

“And I heard if it wasn’t from a small mistake, he would still be there. Great achievement.” Her sister was sarcastic but right. His return was not from great victory, it was an escape. It didn’t make sense celebrating. But Dream didn’t want to celebrate his return.

“No. He says that he wishes us to parade through Dreaming, since we didn’t have a parade for the marriage.” A parade meant Love would be shown off to the dreamfolk, an introduction to their queen, so the people would get to know who the Dream King was marrying. It would have made sense, a few centuries ago.

“But you are not newly wed.” Honesty pointed out the obvious. “ I know”. Love could only answer. What did he want? To make her feel guilty of not helping the dreamfolk through all the years of his imprisonment. Well if he did, she would make sure to tell them that he was the one who forbade her to come.

“And you know the Dreaming, obviously” Honesty said, trying to make sense of the letter. Maybe he created new territory and wanted to show Love. The Dreaming was always changing, didn’t someone tell her that? It wasn’t stable like some realms due to the nature of dreams and nightmares. “Of course.” Love hesitated answering a bit too long. Enough to make Honesty suspicious.

“You don’t, do you?” Honesty knew the expression of a liar when she saw one.

“ I know the palace.” Love annoyingly answered. It was a blessing and a curse having a sister that was honesty herself, able to tell a small, minuscule half-lie from the truth. And Love couldn’t understand why Honesty was pushing her lips in a smug victorious smile “ And he wants you two to go on a romantic parade through his realm. Sounds like-“

Love raised herself from the floor, feeling a sting on the left leg, the one that hited the ground first, she ignored the pain, not realizing she was raising her voice to convince her sister that this wasn’t a romantic tale of some sorts “I don’t want a parade!”

The queen’s eye widen with realization, the permission to Elijah leave earlier, hitting her strong like a quick in the stomach. Suddenly the meeting made sense. A piece of a puzzle finally found! “Do you think that is why he asked to see Elijah?”

Her sister frowned, unable to understand that connection. Was Dream conspiring with a cupid and for what? Take over the Garden? Isn’t it already his? By marriage? Did he went insane after imprisonment? ‘Does he know how natural gossipers Cupids are?” Honesty just hoped she eventually would hear what this audience was about “Did he have an audience with Elijah, your Cupid? Why? Were you unavailable?”

Love grabbed a napkin from the floor, walking back to the gazebo, whipping out the sugar syrup from her champagne dress “No, I was here.” She answered while passing by Honesty, “ Of course it’s the parade. Since when does Dream know how to plan anything?” Besides, of course, their doom. Love spoke to herself making sense on that meeting, and the invitation. She just didn’t know why Elijah didn’t tell her.

Honesty bited her tongue not to tell Love that he obviously wanted to surprise her, feeling that her sister might kill her if she speculated anything good of Dream’s intention. Love might be Love but she felt her dear younger sister could stab a man (preferably her husband) if anyone suggested that he could do anything slightly amorous. Better to stay in safe territory. “And when is it?”

Love sighed. “ Tomorrow”. Don’t they get better and more important things to do than parading? Besides that amount of time together, after everything. It would be a disaster for both of them.

“ My stars! And do you have a dress?” Honesty took her hand to her chest, as having a dress was the most urgent life-depending matter at the moment.

She also thought that her brother in law 's desperation for her sister's good favors was quite smothering. If Wodan prepared a parade in such a short notice he would be parading alone, a woman needs time to decide her wardrobe.

Love rolled her eyes, not knowing how a dress was more important than the fact the Dream wants to parade around the Dreaming! “Is that what you are worried about?” Since when her sister was this frivolous? Or since when is Love not that frivolous?

“Well, forgive me for wanting the dreamfolk to see you in your best.” Honesty looked down on her sister wearing a loose fit champagne dress in a thick fabric that looked more like cotton, pushing her lips down, in the opposite of a smile. Love looked like a maid from southern France, not a Queen “Not whatever peasant phase you are going through now. You need to look like a Queen. I never would thought thatit would come from me of all people to tell you that”

Love’s eyes sparkled with a glimpse that worried Honesty because it meant she had an idea. And by her state, that wasn’t a good one. “I do have a dress. I do” Love smiled childish before running through the lavender garden, straight to the palace. Her sister followed her trying to keep her pace, but her small heeled shoes did not allowed to go a lot faster. Both passed through some of the palace staff who wriggled out of the way to not be knocked out, or surprise to see the Queen running around like a child, something she didnt do for centuries.

As soon as Honesty got to the door at Love’s bedroom, she saw her sister taking the dust off one of the most atrocious crimes any seamstress has ever sew. “Oh no you don’t.” Honesty took large steps grabbing the outfit from Love, holding it in front of her sister, so she could proper see what she was choosing. “Have you gone mad? You are not going to wear this awful looking thing that Aunt Temperance gave you. No, I forbid you.” Eoster quickly took back the piece before her sister would throw it on the flames. Rationally speaking “It is very traditional and a wedding gift. It is more than appropriate. And I think it is rather… Happy. Isn’t that what he is planning on making me? Happy? According to your great knowledge of husbands?”

She look confident and pleased with her witty response. Love had one of the most extensive wardrobes. She was the one that always impressed with her choice of dresses. Always on theme, always dazzling. From all her sister's gowns that never saw the light, why use this one?

Honesty scoff trying to appeal to REAL reason “It is medieval and makes you look like a fairy godmother missing only the wand with a star on the point. And that hennin. Please don’t tell me you are wearing that hennin.” She shouldn’t have said it because Love threw the dress in her pink bed and disappeared into her hat closet, appearing back wearing the pointy silk garment with a long veil falling in her back. “A fairy. Good. Might remember him of Titania and bring back some memories.” .

Honesty eyes open wide to the mention of one of her husband's former mistresses. Honesty didn’t know she knew about others. Love always seemed to be most resentful of the muse. Honesty couldn’t blame her. Calliope was the one that bore her husband’s cub, and Love never got pregnant. It caused quite a talk at the time.

Whispers and jests began to rise questioning if Lady Love was as warm as lovely, or if she was as frigid as beautiful.

Honesty would not waste her time arguing with those who were making awful hypotheses about her sister, but she sure did put Wodan to shut them up. And the dark haired lady was pretty convinced that their Aunts helped in shutting the rumors down. All the help was needed since her husband either was completely oblivious to gossip or he did not care what it was being said about his Queen.

Dream could impregnate Love anything he wanted to, have a proper heir, something his wife could love and that would love her back. It would even make it easier for him, if the problem was her being too clingy and noisy (not that Honesty believed it was the case). Hell, husbands did that all the time to get rid of their wives without breaking the marriage. But he chose to impregnate the other woman.

A boy that would later die for love.

A cruel fate but a well-deserved punishment for Morpheus. Not only Love’s sisters would agree on this, but most of the lovefolk.

“Titania would not be caught dead in that pink mess' ' Honesty snapped out of her thoughts turning to her sister that ignored the comment and sat down at the bed stretching the fabric of the dress. “Well if he is so willing like you said, he won’t mind. He will appreciate my company.” Honesty rolled her eyes, sitting at the bed. “And will you be a company to be appreciated?” Honesty was too smart for Love’s tactic of vague words. She knew her sister would not make the slughtest effort to be a good company.

“I will abide to my duty.” She shrrugled her shoulders, looking down at the dress corset a mix of dusk colors, majority pink but tones lilac and blue sprinkled across it.

Honesty throw her back against the soft mattress giving up any tries to convince her of other clothes and other attitudes. Speaking freely, giving her opining even if it risk to be choked down with the atrocious dress petticoat “My stars, Love. He is trying. Don’t try to make your marriage more difficult than it is.”

Love dropped her childish face, looking her sister dead in the eye, she sounded hurt. She was feeling stab by her own sister. Honesty seemed to be taking Dream’s side on this. Like she forgot everything he did. “I tried, do you not remember? Years of trying. And now you expect me to drop at his feat because he suddenly remembered his wife is not part of decoration but actually his queen, and he might start treating her like one?”

It gutted Honesty to tell her that. It hate her to not be able to give her words of comfort, to take her away and find her another husband, since her sister avidly deny any lover. She wished Love didn’t fall into a trap setted by that awful Desire. Honesty wished a lot of things to her younger sister that she could not do it. Love was stuck in a True Marriage. The only way to be free from it was a walk in Lady Death’s realm, which Love had no interest in doing.

She knew Love was feeling corned into a place she did not like it. It was not about sides. It was about reality. Their roles, their duties, their differences. “Love, you know it is different for them. And you suffered so much through your marriage why tire yourself more? Could you not just enjoy his tries? You do not need to forgive him, just let him adore you.”

The brunette eyes were wet with tears she refused to let them drip through her cheeks, but she looked to Honesty with disbelief like she could not believe how her sister, her closest sister, did not understand her feelings, or the situation.

“He hurt me, Honesty.” She clearly said. “More than you would like to imagine.” Honesty might be older, but Love often thought that she was oblivious to miserable marriage real struggles since hers seemed like a game with no losers.

This time Honesty raised her upper body angrily answering her sister that patronized her. As she was a naive nymph oblivious to the problems of the universe. “What? Cheating? Dragging other goddesses, stars and nymphs to your bed? While you pretend not to hear their screams while taking polite tea with your ladies-in-waiting in the other room? Taking you when he couldn’t find anything better to warm his cock? Pain in your lower stomach that you get drunk to forget? Crying yourself quietly to sleep because he doesn't like the sound of your whimps and you know that he will leave your bed if he hears your cry and you prefer his cruel company than a cold bed, because at least you can pretend that if you shared a bed, you are happily married? Please sister, don’t patronize me.”

Love thought in reply that Dream never complained about her crying because they didn’t share a bed, as a statement that her situation was even worse, But was it any winners in this scenario? Was it really worse?

She didn’t reply, winking a few times, taken aback by what her sister was describing. “I didn’t know Woda-“ If he did do such things, Love was right in hating him from the start, which did not bring any rush of pride that she thought she would get from being right. After all it meant her sister was in pain, and not only that, she was a better stepford smiler than her.

Honesty dismissed this with a gesture “Wodan wouldn’t dare. He is a good husband.”

Love rolled her eyes when she saw Honesty smile. “He is an uncouth rake. Weren’t you trying to curse him last time we spoke?”

Honesty shrugged it off. Cursing husbands was a passtime to her sisters. “Probably. He is a good husband, not a perfect one. Besides the point is: You are not the only miserable wife in the cosmos, and I am very good listener.”

Love threw herself in the mattress along her sister “You are a very good gossiper”

“Potato, Potatoh” Both of them smiled at each other, and Honesty lied back turning to her sister, looking compassionately at her face, raising her hands to let her thumb caress her sister cheek. Love delve in her touch. Beautiful green eyes and thick lashes, a smile curved in full pink lips. Her sister was beautiful, she was the most beautiful of the siblings, although Honesty would never admit that to her.

It pinched Honesty’s heart that she could also see the eyebags underneath her eyes, the purple from terrible slept nights, and the lack of glow she had when they were maidens. She wished she could offer some way, some path of a crazy adventure to restore some secret gem or magic dust, a visit to a sea witch, an offering to the Fates, anything that a brave warrior or a pure heart heroine could pursue in order to gain her happiness or at least freedom.

But the truth was they weren’t any of these things, and these weren’t choices available to them. They had duties, obligations to realms, to subjects and mortals. They were bound to them. They could turn their unberable suffering into bearable, misery into contempt. Honesty couldn’t give her sister a magic sand to make her pain disappear, but she could advise her in not hurting herself more.

“ Dove, don’t go on a crusade to punish him and hurt even more of yourself. An Endless like your husband does not have a heart to be wounded.” If he did have a heart at all, which most of the times Honesty doubted. Love sighted sarcastically, rolling her eyes at her sister, repeating her words empathically “An Endless like my husband wasn’t supposed to be locked away for a century by a mortal who barely understood what he was doing.” Which wasn’t a lie, after all wasn’t he trying to trap Lady Death?

Honesty couldn’t help to laugh with her sister “Touché.” She took a minute, both starring at each other eyes in a silent understanding of caring. Love and Honesty could have entire conversations just by deeply looking at each other.

As a spell broke, Honesty took a deep breath before taking an impulse out of the bed, returning to her usual bored and sophisticated tone of voice “I must go now Love Dove, thanks to your hate for orgasmic bliss, Pride waits with who knows what plans for poor me.”

Love frowned confused, raising herself from bed “ I thought she invited you for cricket.”

Honesty fixed her hair with a dramatic wave.

“The torture already began. If I don’t make it, remember me, dear Love”

——————

The parade was everything Eoster loved. She did not expected so many dreams and nightmares that wanted to see her, and give her flowers. They knew that Eoster was goddess of spring, and flowers apparently were the only suitable gift they thought of. She was not expecting to be received with such a warm embrace from them. Even the most awful nightmares seemed to be in their best behavior just to have a chance to exchange a few polite words with Eoster. Morpheus was clearly tense when Love was exchanging pleasantries with the nightmares, after all he was their creator he knew what they were capable of. He had no idea if Love had any knowledge superficial or deep about what they would inflict in a mortal's head, how they would even turn anything they hold dear into an awful horror during their sleep. But she acted with such kindness and gentleness that Dream questioned if she knew, she wasn’t parading only for dreams.

“Those were nightmares.” He said in a matter-of-fact tone, while she was delivering her bouquets to Elijah. The cupid and Lucienne were a few steps behind them, giving them some privacy. She looked at him as if he was oblivious to reality “I know, husband. Even nightmares deserve kindness. “ She said between smiles and cheerful ‘thank yous’ “Do you have any objection to kindness to nightmares? Maybe I should send them straight to the darkness, like my lord husband. ” Love ironically spat with a smile plastered on her face before turning her back to him, the veil of the henning slapping his face, as she continued her walk.

The parade was not what the Dream King imagined. He did not count that so many of the dreamfolk would appear, and that they were eager to see Love up close and talk to her. She seemed in her most natural environment. He was dressed in his usual black attire, and Love was dressed as a fluffy sunrise. A gown with voluminous skirts mainly pink but the fabric reflected lilac and blue depending on the angle, puffy sleeves, a tight corset that made her breasts more apparent than she wished, and her high hennin with a long veil, that she was using as a weapon to slap Dream any opportunity she had.

She looked like a child’s idea of a tooth fairy.

Their day started with a light fight, of course, since Dream had planned to go in an open carriage through the Dreaming, but Love insisted on going by foot. It ended when he argued in favor of her feet and she replied that he was never concerned about her well-being and he did not need to start now. The carriage would give them more privacy, which was what the king intended, just like Elijah suggested. But the queen, suspecting of what her sister said, was avoiding any situation where they would have the slightest of privacy. She even avoided holding his arm while parading. Only doing it when it was extremely necessary or it would look like she was publicly avoiding him. She did not need the dreamfolk to start enquiring about her marriage.

A part of Love was constantly thinking of her own words. ‘He hurt me’ countless times of being cold, stoic, uncaring, making her feel guilty, undeserving of love, having his way with her because it was easy, not caring if it was unpleasant to his wife or not, and she drank to forget it and drank to let it happen. ‘He cheated on me’, dragging every lady that showed the slightest interest in him to their bed, to their realm. ‘He humiliated me’ Having a muse pregnant, never wanting to share a life together, making her cry in empty hallways wrapped in sheets, condemned to live in eternal misery.

Strong arguments and memories, undeniable truths that kept them separated and her heart close.

Another part of her, one that kept opening a small creek in her heart and was fed by the way he kept starring at her during the parade, anytime he thought she wasn’t looking, how his face brightened when he saw her in the ‘atrocious pink dress’, the warmth of his hands when he guide her down the stairs before the parade. She could have denied it and walked by herself, but being alone with him, no Elijah, no Lucienne, it clouded her mind, and before she knew it, she was thinking how soft and warm his hand felt against her and awakened recent memories of his hands holding her face. How she suddenly wished he would do it again, have him close, inches away, feeling the familiar warmth of his breath and his touch. How she hated to feel cold when dropping his hand, to walk in front of him, to give away fantasies. The sweet words of his promises. The yearning. A new beginning. A start over. Hope.

“We will see three more dreams.” Love winked, lost in her thoughts realizing that the dreams and nightmares were scarce now. And Elijah and Lucienne seemed to be discussing an important matter that had both of them checking their notes in their respective notebooks and pointing to the horizon. Dream offered his arm to her and Love crossed her fingers resting them against her corset “ I thought all dreams and nightmares were invited to our parade. I do not believe any of them would risk your wrath of not coming to it.” She might fantasize about a husband she could love but it would not mean she would would be easily swayed by her real one “ Besides I am exhausted”

“ I did offer you a carriage, might you remember” Morpheus didn’t see when the answer slipped from his lips. Arguing with her came so easily. Love was not drunk, she was difficult and stubborn when drunk but he could tell the difference even after centuries apart, this was his sober wife that although didn’t disobey or cause any scene during the parade had been exhaustively petty, offering disguised insults through passive aggressiveness comments.

Love widened her gaze to Morpheus, groaning loudly, reaching for her skirts, turning her back and walking away. She would depart to the Garden immediately. And when he opened his mouth to appeal to reason, Love turned back fluster in angry “ Might I remind you, lord husband, that you wanted a marriage parade that I immediately agree, doing once again your bidding, performing my decorative role as your wife, and now I wish to return to my Garden.”

“Love, please” Morpheus walked a few steps close to her, not enough that she would feel threatened but enough that she could hear him. Love didn’t know what shocked her more, the fact that her name was dropping from the lips of her husband for the first time, without any title before it, or the fact that he was pleading. And Morpheus remembers quite well the words of the Cupid ‘don’t summon, invite her’. He cleared his throat and assumed the posture of a gentleman, one hand in his back and the other extended to her “Will you be kind enough to accompany me? Those dreams aided during my return. Besides, I would be delighted with the pleasure of your company. “ She took a second looking from his eyes to his hands before accepting it. “Any subject that aided my lord husband in his return, deserves my deepest gratitude.” Love stoically replied, a hint of tiredness in her voice. Morpheus looked at her trying to read any emotion, but Love did not look back.

Lucienne and Elijah were nowhere to be seen. And Love tried not to think about them being alone, she specially tried to avoid the thoughts that kept creeping in her mind about their last encounter in her quarters. How close they were, she could have kissed him. Despite the hate and the hurt. She could blame them for fear of losing their realms. Take his coat and shirt off, feel his arms, slide the point of her fingers all along his defined marbled torso, hear he groan in pleasure, feel him under his pants, his desire for her, the warmth of his breath in her neck, his mouth against every inch of her body, his tongue across her painfully hard nipples, while his hand took the other giving both his indivisible attention. Love would loudly moan in pleasure, keeping her fingers in his hair and eyes locked with him putting her hand on top of his, showing how she liked to be touch, desperate to teach and feel him everywhere, but he would want to savor every piece of her body, trailing kisses from her chest to her belly, skipping where she most needed him only to open her tights wide, Dream would flustered, his eyes darkening in lust, contrasting the delicate moving of his fingers finally reaching where Love most ache for him. She would let him beg for forgiveness every night between her legs.

“Your nails.”

Dream made her mind snap away from her deviation. She was starting to feel warm for nothing. She immediately relaxed her nails, realizing she was digging into his arm. “Forgive me. My feet are starting to tire me.” She lied, Dream noticed the red in her cheeks, but couldn’t possibly think why pain in her feet were a reason to be embarrassed. Maybe because she didn’t want to give in that he was right in using a carriage.

The raven haired king kept quiet during their walk, mostly because it was a difficult walk. Love nails started to dig into his arm a long time ago, he didn’t think she was having any difficulties in walking, but they were digging deep. He promised to himself that the path to her heart if there was any was through courting her properly, the very traditional way of courting, being invited to picnics, dinners, tea, dances in ballrooms, letters, slowly trying to gain her favors. But he could not help to wonder those same nails digging into his back or in both of his arms, having Love under him, feeling a hot wave of white pleasure across her whole body, digging her nails to keep him unbelievably closed, like being inside her wasn’t enough. His pants were starting to feel tight, and he tried his best to focus on the way. Cain and Abel, and Goldie. It didn’t help that the side of her breasts kept constantly nudging against his arm and through the side of his eyes he had the perfect view of her low neckline, which was more evident thanks to the tight corset he wanted to free her from.

He knew he had long lost his right in imagining her like this, to crave her like air, but he did both.

The couple walked in complete silence, before reaching two decaying Victorian style houses. The ground was covered in dry leaves, and the air smelled like autumn, which for Love didn’t make sense. She was about to question if she was able to be grateful to the houses. When two short men appeared. One looked quite cheerful, as the other had a cranky face. They were similar but at the same time, very different. No one needed to tell her they were brothers.

“Cain, Abel, this is Queen Eoster, Lady of the Four Loves, Princess of Springs, and Ruler of the Garden of Lovers and The Dreaming. She is my wife and your queen.” Love could not remember if she was ever introduced by Dream. Everyone already knew who they were, and she did not know how to feel hearing him actually telling others that she was his.

The brunette queen opened a polite smile, “Blessing from the Garden, Cain and Abel. I offer you my deepest gratitude for helping my husband, in such dire times.” She could see they were lost, looking at each other for a moment, before desperately looking over to Dream, who probably indicated something that they should do a courtesy. And they did, a clumsy one. Eoster could tell the cheerful one was a bit startled, while the cranky one seemed to be looking from Love to Dream, unsure. She realized they looked like a very atypical couple.

Love opened her mouth to break the awkward silence between them, when the cheerful one interrupted her. “My lady, do you like gargoyles?” At the same time, the cranky one punched his brother in the arm. “Do not interrupt her, Abel! The lady was about to speak!” Love flinched at the sudden violence, trying to avoid any conflict. Dream seemed unfazed by the interaction. Was this normal? “No, please. I can not say that I do, Abel. We do not have gargoyles in the Garden.” The eyes of the man seemed to sparkle with that realization. “Than you must meet Goldie. Lord Dream gave her to us. She will always be Irving to me, but please do not tell Cain.” He grabbed her hand, passing through the fallen leaves, Love’s hennin got stuck in a tree, and she turned back to grab, she immediately felt a breath in her back. She quickly turned to see a golden gargoyle.

Gargoyles were supposed to be terrifying, at least according to stories, however this was anything but. “Oh- Hello, hi” Love stumbled into a tree branch, almost falling back, but she supported the queen with her head, stabilizing her before Abel made the introductions mistaken a few of her titles as ‘Lady of the Four Springs’ and ‘Queen of the Springs’ but, the main title he got right, which was Lord Morpheus’ Queen. Goldie did the better bow between the trio. “Goldie likes you… ou-my lady” Cain stepped into Abel’s feet after he took a time not addressing Love by the proper title. Love did not care exactly. Especially because she was starting to grow fond of Abel. Love kept petting the Gargoyle and decided to ask some curiosities of her “ Do you both prefer a more autumnal scenario?”

Cain and Abel look at each other, unknowingly how to give the right answer, so Love explains, circling her finger indicating the environment “The dry leaves, dry trees, everything in orange-brown tones. Autumn.” They still kept quiet. It was not that Love did not liked autumn, she found it quite tolerable, going to the mortal’s world during this season always was pleasant, but it was also quite depressing.

“Your houses have a lovely front, and the soil is good. I can make it spring for you. Don’t you wish for blooming flowers, a light warm sun, trees full of green leaves, soft grass, maybe some carrots for Goldie?” Abel eyes were sparkling, he looked to Cain in excitement, but Cain seemed unsure. Not a fan of changes, Love could sense. “It would be my way of expressing gratitude.” She made a small bow, and that she knew would convince Cain. He was proud, but he would not say no to Love, especially with Dream right there.

Dream! “Of course, if my lord allows it, to shape his Dreaming.” She turned to him, completely forgetting that he was there! Biting down her lower lip almost as asking for forgiveness before the fight. She only wished he saved the lecture when they returned, not here. “You are Queen of the Dreaming, if it is your wish then I have nothing to allow.” He said in the most peaceful manner. Love frowned, taking a second to digest it, trying to sense any hostility, sarcastic, passive-aggressiveness, but he seemed to genuinely mean it. She was Queen of the Dreaming. Love couldn’t believe it.

The brothers sensed how unsure Love was. Constantly looking over to the Dream King as if he would change his mind at any second. Abel was about to tell her that it was no trouble at all. Dry leaves and dead trees were fine. She would not want her to get into trouble, especially after being kind to him.

But as he was about to speak, a cold air came across them, Lady Love had her feet on the ground, her eyes closed, as the next breeze came it smelled like freshly cut grass, and spikes of green herbs started to grow as the tree foliage, damaged tree trunks healed, the vines that climbed against the outside wall of the houses, went from brown to a deep green, as the smell of jasmyne, roses, lilies and lavenders started to rose, the field blossomed. Dream kept watching his wife awakening spring, her hair got fuller, and her skin slightly glowed as she was bathing in sun, she looked more alive than he ever saw her, while the nature besides him blossomed, he could only look at her.

The smell of rain came next. “Forgive me if it is not up to your liking, it’s been ages since I last performed a small spring, especially in front of an audience. We better get inside.” Love put her shoes back, before going to Morpheus’s side, her eyes were a vivid deep green that he never quite seen before. “ It is coming quite a storm to completely awake your spring my dreams, I believe I got too excited. We better go inside, unless you want to soak under the rain.” She expected any of them to lead the way, but Cain and Abel were still fascinated by the awakening happening all around them, Abel was especially charmed by the trail of tiny flowers, growning where Lady Love walked. And Dream kept cursing himself for his lack of control, thinking about his wife soaked under the rain, her dress sticky to her figure, her curls untangled, falling to her waist, the fabric semi transparent, showing her curves covered only by her underwear, that if he remembered were always flimsy lace, “Which house, shall we go?” Love innocently asked, not knowing where Dream’s thoughts were nor the argument this would cause.

Cain argued they should go to The House of Mystery, and Abel wanted them to go to The House of Secrets. Love did not know if she should intervene, for her the houses looked the same, even their names. Weren’t secrets just mysteries waiting for someone to discover them? And isn’t a mystery just an obscure secret? And most importantly wouldn’t they offer the same protection of the spring rain that was about to come? Love intervened when she thought Cain had a murderer look towards poor Abel. “We shall have tea in The House of Mystery! And of course we will have dinner at the House of Secrets. Does that please both of you? Then off we go, gentlemen, please. ” This seemed to settle the argument.

Dinner? She did not want to have dinner and tea with Cain and Abel. Actually she didn’t mind the dreams or the gargoyle, but she did mind pretending to be a happy harmonious couple more than she had planned. But how could she stop the two brothers? Love let the two walk upfront, making the preparations, like a mother that let the kids close the door before fighting with a low voice with her husband. “Would you let the two of them kill each other? Do your dreams mean nothing to you?” She spat, passing her hands through her hair.

“Abel is the First Victim and Cain the First Murderer”. He answered as this was enough to settle her down, when he saw her face continued the same, he further the explanation. “Cain is constantly killing Abel, and Abel does not remain dead. Cain always buries him, but Abel is alive again by sunrise. Cain is trying to avoid killing Abel in front of you. Out of respect”

He did not mention that he was the one telling them to avoid bloodshed, since Love was not fond of manslaughter, nor was herself used to it. Love looked at Dream with disbelief in her eyes. Did he learn nothing with Morningstar? Did he not listen to her? “And you did not thought that was crucial to share with your wife?” Dream crossed his arms in his back “Lady wife, you did not ask any habit of my other creations, I did not think this was any different.”

Love blinked looking at her unfazed husband. Tall, dark hair, pale, and not a hint of annoyance. He was not lying, she could tell. Morpheus did not lie. But he was not being sincere either. Something in Love kept nudging her that he wanted this to happen. It could be insanity, she must be going insane after those days. Better ladies would already give up. But it could be true. Maybe he wants to spend time with her, convincing her that he has changed for the better.

Well, she would give him reasons to regret it.

—------------

Tea time was tense. Abel kept shaking his tea. Cain kept giving murderer looks to his brother that flinched and shaked even more. During a conversation, Dream tried to hold Love’s hand over the table and she abruptly took it away, not breaking eye contact with the brothers that were telling a story. The brothers pretended not to notice the queen’s anxiety, every plastered smile Queen Love offered, every rehearsed compliment, and those half-a-second-blink-and-missed coldly glancing at Dream as a warning. Near the end of the tea time, Love asked a question that changed the course of her later evening “ How did the name Goldie come to you? Was it both of your choices? My sisters and I could never agree on naming clouds, imagine gargoyles!”

Five minutes later, Abel’s blood spills in Love’s face, Dream’s coat, and the table cookies, their chamomile tea acquiring a pink color after a dash of blood mixed to it.

Four hours later, there was no dinner, Cain was outside burying Abel. And Dream and Love were settled in a bedroom that Cain fixed for them to share a night at the House of Secrets. This time it wasn’t Dream who convinced Love, but Cain. He said that they need to fulfill their promise and to wait for Abel to say goodbye.

“If that was the case, then you should have learned how to control your nerves better, Cain of the House of Mysteries.” She scolded the dream. Cain was taken aback by her response. He heard Lady Love was kind, beautiful, generous and very polite, no one said anything about her scolding, how it felt like it was disappointing and betraying a mother. Cain merely nodded with his head down. He was ashamed of something he had done his whole existence. How was that possible?

Love did not caring if her husband would later scolded her for it.

To her surprise he didn’t. At the moment, he looked a bit… impressed. Like he didn’t know that Love could scold or lecture her subjects. Her cheeks turned pink when she realized he was looking at her in awe.

Now, they were stuck in one bedroom. Neither she or Morpheus had the courage to ask for separate rooms. It would be one night. At a dream’s house. What could possibly go wrong?

Love tried to tell herself, as she walked to the couple’s bed, covered in old flowery covers matching the walls, it looked like an old room in a farm cottage. She stopped between the bed and the vanity, untying her dress. Love could not sleep in her gown, it was too big and occupied too much of a space.

She stripped down the gown, and marched away from the two petticoats Elijah put her on. The corset was the last piece missing and she was struggling with the tight knots Elijah gave. It seemed silly, but it has been centuries since she was the one undressing herself, she usually had a dream maid or Elijah to help her, even Lucienne helped her once. She was getting tired of trying to push the knot since it seemed to tightens it more. Maybe she could sleep in a corset. It would crush her ribs. Nothing much.

“May I?” She wasn’t surprised with Dream behind her, she heard his footsteps. Love just didn't expect him to come help her. At first she denied, saying it was fine. He did not move, of course he didn't believe her, a single person could not untie the amount of knots in that dress. He could not understand why Love still picked those laced ribbons type of dresses, but he had a feeling that if he mentioned anything, Love would kill him in bed. “Fine.” She gave up.

Love didn’t want Dream this near to her. She could feel his breath in her neck, and it sent shivers down her spine. She held her breath and become stiff under his fingers when they slightly grazed her skin over the cotton gown. Love could see his expertly hands working through the mirror in the vanity. Even with the corset getting loose it was getting harder to breathe.

Dream pretended to be well composed, but his breath was uneven, and he was sure Love would notice. His mouth was dried and he tried to ignore it, while trying to focus on the ribbon knots, and avoid gazing at the naked skin of her shoulders, the connection point between her neck, and how it moved with every small turn. How he wanted to close the space between them, and kissed and take her scent in, discard that corset and put his hand over her waist, embrace her, let her skin melt against his, as he would slide his hands under her gown, feel her silk skin against his fingers, mark her neck as his.

He turned his eyes to the mirror, trying to get away from those thoughts, especially since he was going to share a bed with Love. He might daydream about his wife wanting to give him her tender affections, but he knew that in reality if Love even suspected he was slightly aroused, she would put her dress back and sleep on the floor. And he didn’t want her to be uncomfortable because he couldn’t control himself. Sharing a bedroom was not in his plans. Spend time with her, yes, but this was pushing the limits.

His eyes crossed with hers, as she was staring at him working on her corset through the mirror. He continuously untied her corset, but he didn’t break eye contact, neither did her. Both of them played a dangerous game, until her garment fell into the ground.

“Thank you” Love shyly said, turning herself to the bed, getting quickly under the covers, even if her nightgown covered every piece of her body besides her shoulders and her ankles. She tried to focusing herself, remembering why Dream was an expert in untying dresses. ‘ Yours he wasn't untying.’ She sat on the bed, braiding her long hair. She didn't had to, but at least it would keep her mind away from her husband stripping in front of her. “If it pleases you, I can sleep on the floor”.

Morpheus suggested standing at the side of the bed. Love looked at him in a normal black cotton shirt and boxers that matched it. Thinking it was a good idea. But also seeing the ridicule of it. They were married. He had seen her naked before, she laid with him, he spilled his seed into her. But even if it sounded ridiculous, sharing a bed in nightclothes was far more intimate then everything they shared “We are married” She shrugged off, it was the answer to their questions, she opened the covers on his side. “Maybe you should have one and I the other”. She pulled one of the covers to her side of the bed, pushing one to leave on Morpheus' side. He looked hurt believing she thought that he would do anything to her during the night. Another sin to carry. That was the type of husband she thought he was. That was the treatment he gave her.

Love on the other hand kept thinking that she just didn’t want to wake up curled into his arms.

She would never have thought that Morpheus would do anything nonconsensual to her during the night, he had plenty of opportunity to do it in the palace, and never did. Why would he start now? With dreams just outside their windows that could hear everything. It would not give him a good look.

Morpheus did not argue with her, merely agreeing.

As soon as he fixed himself, Love blew out the candle in their bedroom. Laying against her pillow. It wasn't fluffy as the pillow from the Gardens nor stained with tears or wine like the pillows from the Dreaming.

It had an unknown smell that was not helping her sleep nor the sound of Cain’s shovel. She closed her eyes trying to shut her internal voices, thinking about the pink milky lakes in the Garden, the sweet melodies her protégés would play, the sound of waves hitting the shore.

It did not work. She turned to her sides, feeling Morpheus was too close or the bed was too small. She decided to lay looking at the ceiling. How many hours did she spent turning on bed? Was it already morning? She needed to sleep.

The more she looked at the ceiling the more she realized she wasn’t going to sleep even if she was tired. “Husband, are you asleep?”

It was an odd question to ask, she realized. She did not know if Morpheus actually slept. He was the Sandman after all, but did he get the chance to experiment his own creations? Or he merely crafts his realm and its people for others enjoyment and misery? Always looking outside but never living it himself.

Both had more in common than Love realized.

He took his time to answer her, and she believed he could be sleeping. “No, my lady. I am not.” Love nodded, even if he couldn’t see. She moved, sitting on the bed resting her back against the headboard “May I ask you a question?”

Morpheus mirrored her, sitting in the bed “Yes.”

Love frowned, already regretting the question. She could have just stayed quiet. “You have to promise not to be crossed.” She didn’t mean to sound childish as she sounded.

“I will not. You may ask.” She could not see in the darkness but could feel Dream smile when answering her.

Love cleaned her throat “How was it?”

“Pardon me?” He could not have listened to her, after all she whispered like a student afraid of answering the wrong question from the professor.

“How was it to be imprisoned all those years?” She took a deep breath, reuniting all the courage to keep this conversation.

“ Why the sudden interest?” Love definitely regretted asking it. She did not know why she asked. It just popped in her head. Maybe because he kept saying his imprisonment changed him, changed how he sees her. She wanted a better understanding. Or it was her stupid heart trying to find any excuses to forgive him.

“ I can’t sleep” She lied shrugging her shoulders

“And details of my imprisonment might aid you?” Love could not contain a roll of eyes.

She stayed silent, both of them. He was crossed, he lied, although he didn’t sound like it. Morpheus sounded more amused than crossed, but Love couldn't trust what she felt he sounded like. It was dark, her senses were frail. She couldn’t trust anything. She turned herself to the opposite side, preparing to lay back and try to sleep or impatiently count the seconds so the night could be over.

“ Lonely.” He took a deep breath. “At first I kept thinking about the Dreaming, how it would be without me, neglected, unprotected, the effects on the wakening.” The Sleeping Sickness. Of course. Love remembers bits of it. She thought it was just an unrelated name to a common sickness, but it rendered dramatic love stories, couples forever apart by a forever sleep. “Then I remembered that you were here and my thoughts turned to your work, if you were getting a hold of it, dealing with dreams and nightmares, my siblings.” He didn’t say but part of him was expecting to come back to war ground, the Dreaming infested with Desire. How foolish it sounded now. “ I thought I was only thinking about duties, about the continuation of things, but as time went by, I realized that among all of it, I truly kept thinking about you. I worried about the dream folk and the realm but I kept always coming back on you. If anyone was helping you understand the Dreaming since I retrieve myself from that duty, if you were tired of bearing my load, if you were staying at the Dreaming or at the Garden, if you slept in my quarters as you were the sole ruler or continued in your bed, if anyone dared to defy your authority. When I realized, I stopped thinking about the work, and kept losing myself in these few memories of you, that were so scarce but fed my hopes of return, your soft delicate hands over mine, your floral scent. I curse myself for not remembering your smile, but clearly remembering your tears, the sound of your cries. I vowed that when I get back, I would make my daily iteration to make my Queen smile, so I could never forget. And if damnation came upon me, at least I have your radiance to remember when walking through my sister’s realm, knowing that I am not responsible for only your tears, but some of your happiness.”

Love could not keep her eyes away from Dream. His hair was a mess, he had prominent eye bags. His queen could not remember if she ever saw him more human, and under the soft moonlight coming from the thin curtains, he looked more handsome than she ever saw him. And the vulnerability! She was a fool, she knew her sisters would scold her for having a soft heart but she didn’t think properly when she suddenly kissed her husband.

Her lips crashing against his, she meant to pull away in a second, hide under the covers, and pretend nothing happened, afraid he might reject her. But contrary to her anxieties, he quickly responded to her kiss, and moved carefully against her mouth afraid she might break away. Love shyly opened her mouth as he gladly slipped his tongue inside which elicited a needy moan from his Queen that she had not realize it came from her, nor the effect it had on her husband who desperately needed to hear the sounds he could get from Eoster and felt a dire need to have her body close against him, he curled his hands into her hair, as they deepen the kiss.

Love showed no resistance to dwelling in his touch, letting the burning sensation on her body take over. Morpheus pulled her to him, letting Love straddle his lap, her gown pooled above her mid thigh, partially exposing her legs. Her hands resting flattened against his chest, feeling his heartbeat underneath her touch. She can imagine how he would look without a shirt underneath the weak light. They break their kiss for a second as her hands cradle his face, and she rested her forehead against his, even with the low light both staring at each other, their silence being only accompanied by their dorment passion, their chest heaving in synchrony.

Their moment was a brief eternity, Dream kept looking from her eyes to her parted lips, and when Love gave him a gentle kiss as consent to continue, Dream wasted no time, tracing a path of wet kisses from her mouth to her collarbone, following to her pulse point as she tilted her head giving him more access. His lips were warm from their kiss but they sent shivers across her back as he nipped the skin of her neck. Love weakly moaned, her tights tensed pressing harder against Dream.

Her hands went to his soft raven haired hair, grabbing his locks into her fingers, to which he groan in pleasure and Love felt a electric wave through her body. She wanted more. His hand was on her stomach, she could feel how cold they were as his fingertips raised the hem of the nightgown, delicately as he wanted to indulge every second of it.

She didn’t stop her sleeves to fall from her shoulder letting the sight of the top of her breast exposed, a silent invitation to be touched. Dream’s hand went up to her body, feeling every inch of skin, the warmth of his wife, he couldn’t take his hands away from her, it would be a sin, a crime to do it. To have neglected her all those years, he was the one that deserved an eternity in Hell for his foolishness.

Love was unsure if the feelings from her body were clouding her eyes, but she could swear Morpheus was smiling at her, and she was smiling at him. His hand laid over her breast, his palm a warm pressure over her nipple. Love arched her back, moving her hips, pushing her breast more into his hand “Dream…” the neediness in her voice, his name dropping from it like prayer, and if he never wanted or needed worshipers before, he would be content to only listen to her prays. ”Yes?” The rasp of his voice mixed with eagerness, wanting to hear every single need his Queen had. He started circling her breasts, pinching her hard nipple, as she moaned with each touch as he was discovering what would make Love say his name again. She took one of her hands to the other breast, feeling it burning in desire for her husband’s hand. Her palms were not the same as his, she squeezed it a bit stronger than her husband, to mimic the pressure.

The Dream King was mesmerized by his wife pleasing herself, he stopped for a moment his movements just to see her, throwing her head back, and looking deep into his eyes, full of desire, as a whimp escaped her lips “Touch me”.

Both of them shared a look, as she put her hand over his, showing how she wanted to be touched. Love never saw Morpheus take so well instructions from her. He didn’t need to be afraid she was going to break, so she pressed his hands more intensively against her, Love needed his touch as one needed air, she needed to feel his fingers dig in her skin, and as he learn, and Dream was a quick learner, she let go of his hands, holding him by his shoulder and then his back digging her nails in his skin as she pressed again her hips into him, his breath hicks, letting his head fall in her shoulder, his hair tickling her cheek as he kissed her skin, letting love marks all across her collarbone. One of his hands went to her waist to keep her close, she could feel Dream harder under her and his length grazing in her entrance, when he bucked his hips to meet her, sending a wave of pleasure that she wanted to keep chasing.

”Do you like it?” He whispered against her ear, and she stopped for a moment, Dream looked at her, flustered and painting, afraid he might have ruined it. As he opened his mouth to apologize, she kissed him, whispering back “You never asked before.” It was not a spiteful reply, like the ones before, everytime he asked her something about her well-being. It was a lovable answer, full of hope and happiness, like Dream finally asked the one thing that mattered in all those centuries. As a response to his question, she rolled her hips against his, feeling his hard on, and he immediately met her in the same motion, Dream holded her waist down to keep her exactly where she was, and both couldn’t help but moan louder than expected.

After years of their date nights being a painful annoyance only making her feel dirty, having to clean herself and drink tea for pain the next day, she never thought she would get any pleasure from her husband's erection, and she might be wrong or the heat got to her head but she couldn’t remember feeling him so stiff before. And for Garden’s sake, knowing she was the one making him painfully hard, was one sweat reward she never expected to feel.

“The crimes that I blame you for, they mean nothing more to me, my love” His words were sweet whispers as they shared sloppy kisses, while caressing her nude thighs. She was already soaking for him, it was not in her plans to get so easily aroused by him. But how can she not want to make true of every single fantazie she imagined all those years? Especially when Morpheus' was being gentle and attentive, his touch was addictive, her body responded to it as it did not need her mind to decide for it. As it wanted to give all for him. To be drunk on his touch, on his mouth, on his voice.

It wanted to ignore his words, but they kept resonating in her ears. Her body keep screaming to forget, forget and forget, that it didn’t matter, that she would ruin this, what she deserves, being worshiped in bed by her husband. She could smile and let him kiss her pain away, ignore his meaning. In a few moments he would be inside her, Love could tell by the way they kept quickly escalating their innocent kisses, and it would be pleasant, fulfilling, passionate, everything she always wanted. And Honesty would be right, Dream would try to compensate for all the years of negligence. And they would be the couple nobody invited to stay for longer festivities. But her mind kept turning the gears, repeating that he did not say that she was innocent of their forced marriage, he only dismissed it as he was forgiving her. He could not possible mean it, right?

“Crimes that I did not commit.” She lustfully whispered in the middle of a high pitched moan closing her eyes and pressing her forehead against his as Morpheus left her breasts to give attention to her neglected core, circling and pressing a finger over her thin underwear. He knew he was the only one to touch her wet cunt, she never had a lover and although he knew she not only could but should have by the way he treated her, he couldn’t help to feel more turned on by knowing he would be the only one giving her the denied pleasure he punished her with. And how much pleasure he plans to give Love.

His touch was vastly different from her own. It was intense and extremely hot, his fingers where slender and longer than hers, and could reach new spots she would not dream in touching, her insides clenched for him. “My lady, you are dripping for me.” He said as soon as he pushed away her underwear, and pushed a finger over her slit, circling her bud as well as pressing against her entrance. She hated how his words made it more difficult to think, how she grinded herself on his finger to raise the friction. “Yes, only for you, my king”. She felt dizzy and warm and drunk on his touch, Morpheus was painfully hard seeing her getting off on his fingers complemented with her filthy words, he gifted her pushing a finger inside her dripping entrance. It easily slided like it was meant to be inside her, he curled it in his direction, feeling her walls clenched around his fingers, as she cried at the intrusion. For a moment she thought that maybe she could make him say what she wanted if her body and mouth worked to let him be completely drunk on her as she was on him.

But it wouldn’t be true. He would say it merely to seek relise, to have her. Which was exactly what love has been avoided for all of these years.

She resisted the urge to ask him for another finger, although her body craved for it.

Trying to sober herself up from his touch and his warmth. She needed to hear him say. She needed more than any carnal desire. She needed to be believed by him. ”Morpheus?” She said his name for the first time, and squeezed his arm. He looked at her puzzely, she knew by his face that he was about to ask if he did anything to displease her, since her pleasure seems to be his focus. She cupped his face and looked him in the eyes, repeating herself “Crimes that I did not commit” so he would have the chance agree and make her entirely his.

He look at her, the lack of his immediate response set her aback and his next words were the wrong ones “We can move past this” a tired whisper, a string Dream was throwing at Love expecting she would catch. He went to kiss her again, but Love turned her face. The heat among them was lowering, and a wave of cold air ran through them, the rift between them opening again.

Love couldn’t believe that those words spoken in a sweet whisper, while both were entangled in each others arms, could be more cruel than any of their screams amids drunk fights before. How he managed to break her heart more than it was already broken.

Her eyes scanned through his face in disappointment and realization. “You still believe on that, don't you? You are convinced that I conspired with Desire.” Dream saw that he was losing her again, he saw in her green iris something broke inside her. Something drift away and slipped through his hands.

He could have lied, said exactly what she wanted to hear, but he couldn’t lie to himself and he couldn’t disrespect his wife by lying to her. They would be one of those couples that pretended to be happy, shoving everything else in the basement, until one day it came exploding in their faces. Or worse, it could be used against them, which could led to catastrophic consequences.

Love didn’t move, she dropped her hands fatigued, but still staring at her husband. Like holding her stare maybe would make him change his answer. What a romantic and stupid want. Her eyes started to feel dry, and the more she blinked the more she felt tears starting to pool. She felt ashamed of her exposed vulnerability. Not only of her body and how it crave for him, how it was responsive and wanted to ignore his words only to seek a sweet white relief, but her soul, how she let it again be hurt by him.

She was no better than any naive maid who fell for Wodan’s cheap charm. “ I am such a fool”

“ We can move past this” he repeated himself because that was the only think he could say. It was the past. They needed to move on. He holded her face in his hands caressing her cheek, looking at her teary eyes, he broke her heart once more, he knew and she was slipping away again, he wanted to hold her, so he could hold this moment, hold themselves.

Love knew if she nudged against his touch for a single moment, if she let him comfort her, she would not be able to leave. So she snap his hands of her.

She raised herself from him, returning to her side of the.bed, raising her sleeve and pushing down her gown feeling glad it was dark so he could not see the tears falling from her eyes. She wished she could run from this bedroom, whatever promises she made, threw it all to hell and never come back, never see his face again. “Love, please…” he reached his hands to touch hers, but she snapped them away before he could even touch her

She abruptly cut him, a knot in her throat making it almost impossible to speak, her voice was shaky, unstable, she felt herself trembling. “We can’t move past this, we can’t have a future without trust. We can’t hope for it, can’t you see, husband? You don’t forgive. And don’t tell me your imprisonment changed you, because you can say all you want but the proof of your inability to forgive lives in Hell at this moment because she declined you. And even after our marriage, the girl still is tormented in hell, just because you hold your grudges.”

“And do you forgive?! Do you dare say you don’t hold any grudges?!” Her husband snaps at her.

“My grudges are justified and you know it.” Love said in a serious tone

“And mine are not?” Love saw his point, but she would not argued it with him, besides she did not want to give in

“ You can’t forgive her, and you can’t forgive me” Love said it in one breath afraid if she stopped, she would begin to cry. And Love did not want to cry in front of him.

“Love, it is not at all the same, you…I…” Morpheus tried to justify, but what could he say? That Love was his wife, and he would never submit her to such treatment? He already did. He did not sent her to Hell, of course, but he did put her to live in misery.

“Eventually, we will fight again or I will displease you in some manner, and you will turn back to this ludicrous idea of conspiracy, and use it as fuel to punish me in bed and in public, and I will use wine to ease the pain you carelessly inflict on me. And you will say that I carved my own fate when I decided to conspire with Desire. As you said over and over.” Morpheus stayed silent, he couldn’t argue with her, Love knew his behavior too well.

Tears rolled freely from her cheeks, and Love did not make any attempt to clean them up “I am glad you are trying to fix the pain you cause me, I can see you truly repent of it and I am awfully sorry that you had to go through a century of imprisonment to realize your mistakes, but don’t lie to yourself, Morpheus, you don’t forget, you don’t move on and you still believe I mislead you, that I plot with Desire.” She glanced over at him, probably her own tears on the way, but if she didn’t know better, she would say that a tear ran through her husband cheek.

His voice however, was the same “It does not matter to me, it is nothing”

Love screamed in response losing her posture and control “It is everything! And it does matter to me! How can you be so blind?! You still think that some part of me is a vile creature that trapped you and hold you into a loveless marriage and that I conspired with Desire to aid in your demise.“

And pulling the memories, a week after their first night together, when she thought she could not live anymore, Love went to him, in all her innocence and naïveté “I begged you to believe me, I wept, I got on my knees, desperately pleading to you believe in my word, to see reason, to read the false letters, to believe in your wife. And do you know what you did, do you remember it?” At the ocassion she threw at his feet the hundred of letters written by Desire. And Dream, sat on his throne frowning reading a book, glanced at his wife, after the pleads and all was left was his sobbing Queen, on the lower step of the stairs, head in her hands, covering her eyes, as she kept crying.

Love never knew how he could see her crying and do nothing at all. Because that is what he did.

He left. Morpheus remembered it. He thought that Desire had chosen a good actress to partner with and how she patronize him, by thinking he, Lord of Dreams, would fall for a trick as a beautiful damsel in distress, in need of only his assistance.

“You left.” Love said it coldly. How could he not see the pain, she was before?

And Lord Morpheus, who would have dream prefer the silence but when spoke, speak always so eloquent, kept repeating the only thing he could “We still can find way to be together”

Amidst a sob that Love did not mean to escape but it found its way to her mouth before her words, she decided to open her heart, because what else would he do? He couldn’t break her heart anymore, he couldn’t lose her anymore that she was already lost “I love you, Morpheus. I do. I have to say it now because I won’t be able to muster up the courage to say it again. Against every fiber of my being, every pure logic, even knowing you were not the one the wrote those letters, I still see those same traits that made me fell in love, you are dutiful to your work, to the mortal world and the dream folk, you deeply feel and care for those you love even if I never was the one receiving it, I could see. And it hurts, because you never believed in the sincerity of my feelings and I cannot believe yours are anything but starvation of touch and sympathy, I am a fool for even a second thinking otherwise, and I can not bear to risk being misled again. I simply cannot hold anymore pain”

He didn’t know why he tried to speak but he had to “Love, listen-“ he had to at least try to make her stop, to make him rethink. But the doors were closed.

Elijah said Lady Love’s heart was never closed to love, that was her essence, but he was not sure if her Cupid ever saw her like this.

The way Love spoke next, it was devoided of any emotion, any pain, it was a tired speech, but she spoke as it was not up for discussion. And how could Morpheus tried to argue with her?

“After the Festival, I wish to go back to the Garden, with my court. We will call it a holiday. I will not be coming to the Dreaming, unless under your calling, and I deeply expect my lord husband to be less inclined in calling me, and highly advise you to find a mistress that will take care of your needs, for I won’t willingly lay with you anymore.”

She slided under the covers turning to the other side, looking at the window, they both stayed silent. The sound of Cain’s shovel being the only noise filling the space. She heard his sigh in defeat, more wonded than ever before.

“ Very well, lady wife”

@secretdreamlandmentality @littlemoistcarrot @lokigirlszendaya @roxytheimmortal

[w0lp3rtinger]

@biolover9 <3 eeeehehehehe - @lambpaca and I have talked about this. Like, even outside of the parameters of Shadow and Amy getting together. This is just general conversation.

I've mentioned this a bit about it before on the sideblog, but I just... never could see Shadow ever wanting biological children. Truthfully, I don't think he could have them even if he wanted to, not without a massive amount of medical intervention.

Like... if you're making the ultimate weapon, the ultimate life form, why would you ever give it the ability to make more of itself? That lessens your control over it and runs the risk of causing your enemies to get their hands on a weapon of their own. You don't want that.

(I'm saying 'it' because like... that's how GUN viewed Shadow. 'It'. Even Gerald viewed Shadow as 'it' in the end in his diary. What Shadow wanted didn't matter to them. )

Beyond that though, I can see Shadow looking at their own biology and not wanting anyone else to have to endure it. Especially working off of the idea that they're still young and all the ramifications of genetic testing and mutation on them haven't really come to fruition yet (looking at you, 'immortality'). Why would he be selfish enough to pass a potential curse like that along?

That's not to say Shadow doesn't like kids. We've seen them be extraordinarily patient with characters like Cream, Tails, and Charmy both in-game and outside of game. I think for them to want kids though, they'd need to have certain needs met. They'd need to be free from GUN, they'd need to feel safe, they'd need to make a lot of peace with themselves and grow as a person. Essentially, they'd have to go through hell and then also a lot of soul-searching before reaching the conclusion of, 'I want to be a parent.'

But Amy? Oh without question, I think Amy wants kids. Doesn't matter if they're hers or someone else's. I've joked about her having a vision binder listing out three kids and names and everything. Amy also has been shown to want a domestic future after she's defeating Eggman. She wants to enjoy the peace and the every-day magic of just existing to exist. I think a lot of people agree that Amy would want kids to be a part of that domestic bliss.

Personally? I think there's also this idea that kids are hope for a future. Amy has spent her entire childhood fighting. There's no way to get that time back, no way to undo that which she has seen and had to experience. She forced herself to grow up quickly in order to protect both herself and the world. Amy wouldn't have kids unless she felt safe enough to do so.

I also think Vanilla being Amy's main parental figure that we see in almost every iteration of the Sonic franchise helps. Vanilla is, by all accounts, a loving, kind parent. That would have made a positive impact on Amy not only in regards to who she becomes as a person, but also, her own expectations on what being a parent entails. Seeing someone who wants to be a parent, who likes being a parent, who likes their kids (both their biological kids and the ones they pick up like a wet cat off the street), that means something, you know?

All the Sonic Gang solidify that family is what you make it, family is a choice, but Vanilla shows that parenthood is also a choice, and one that can be done with joy.

How does Gigi factor into this? Well, I kinda touch on it in The Home You Make, and then I show it in Late Evening Talks, but effectively- Amy and Shadow both make each other feel safe, they help the other grow, they help the other be their best selves, and in the moments they struggle, they're there for one another. This creates an environment for the two of them that allows them to entertain and discuss the notion of being parents. Without question, I can see them covering it before they even really start dating. Shadow in particular, not wanting to mislead Amy, would make his stance/circumstances abundantly clear, but now, fully committed and comfortable with one another in a way they were not previously, the subject would come up again not as a nebulous 'well maybe' but as a 'are we gonna do this?'

And they decide, 'yes.'

They'd take the adoption process slow, looking. They’re not really looking for a hedgehog- the species doesn’t matter. It’s the kid that does. I don’t even think the two of them really know what they’re looking for when they start. I mean, how do you put parameters around this sort of thing? Ultimately, Gigi wins them over. She’s funny, she’s creative, she’s sweet even if she’s a hellion, she’s protective, she gets into fights- she’s them. They see her in them. They get this kid. The child care staff warn them about her being 'stubborn and standoffish,' and overall ‘difficult to work with’. That pisses Shadow and Amy off royally. Not like that's unfamiliar territory- they’ve been this kid, frankly. When they meet Gigi, they’re smitten, and frankly, them coming from a place of understanding with her helps her warm up to them. When they fully decide to go for Gigi, they take the process slow, letting her get to know them, letting her decide if their home is the place she wants to be.

And she decides, 'yes.'

[wander-wren]

almost escaped the anti-ao3 posts this donation round but of course today i get smacked with a few, so i go hunting for this year’s arguments, which, as expected, touch a lot on palestine.

what i’m seeing here is a shitton of inflammatory language and very few sources, and even fewer sources that aren’t screenshots of That One Tweet. most of the arguments from both sides are made on things that aren’t entirely true. i dislike this. so let’s clear the air a bit, hm?

1) ao3 is a racist/zionist organization

ao3 has had its scandals, including the 2023 management scandal in its full glory, which you can read about at the linked fanlore article. that covers several different areas where ao3 messed up. i will not defend these instances. i will, however, point out that very few of the current anti-ao3 posts mention them.

additionally, there is this fanlore article specifically about the issue wherein a volunteer was told to remove “from the river to the sea, palestine will be free” from their status, which is the singular piece of evidence referenced for ao3’s zionism. it has been spread that the otw banned or kicked out this volunteer, which is untrue; they left voluntarily. the otw also offered to allow the volunteer in question to change the status to “i stand with palestine,” communicating the same message in a less polarizing way.

you are allowed to dislike this decision. i do. but the otw slack is first and foremost a professional space, and they are within their rights to ask for political discussion to be kept out—or, in this case, to a politics channel so it can be opted out of. i am not currently aware of anyone having asked the otw board to ban or otherwise address pro-israel sentiments in the slack server, so i cannot actually make any statements about unequal decisions, because those decisions were not made.

ultimately i do not disagree that otw/ao3 have made poor choices rooted in racism in the past, but i also believe many of these posts discussing it now are performative, inflammatory, and misleading, which is not helpful

2) donating to ao3 during a genocide is bad/selfish/racist/etc

there are always problems in the world. this is literally the same argument as every previous year with new paint on it. people can care about more than one thing.

3) ao3 is a scam/mismanages money/gets more than they need/is horrible for not paying volunteers

here is a post i made last year breaking down ao3’s budget. what’s funny is, i saw a post going on for paragraphs about how they “calculated” that ao3 has 2.8 million in reserves (assuming their 2023 numbers shook out, it is like $1.5 million at best. these numbers are public and easy to find) and that they have “no idea” what to do with it and are deliberately not being transparent about it (they have publicly stated in news posts exactly what that money is for).

one very confusingly-worded post seemed to argue that it is morally wrong to have volunteer library workers, which is the same as ao3? something about master’s degrees? i just thought that was funny because. like. what. do you think the volunteers are the ones with a master’s in library science, friend?

also, people have said it’s a scam because they don’t update the site, and i’m like….what do you want them to update, exactly? i just want more tags wrangled. i suppose that translates to me wanting an update on the servers or whatever bit of hardware is limiting the tag system. otherwise i don’t see why you have to fix a good thing.

4) ao3 hosts evil bad fanfiction

ah, the age-old “child porn” argument. or racism is a big one this year. do i have to get into this one? it’s so goddamn annoying. just read the about page or a wiki article with your eyes. anti-censorship. yada yada yada. also, if you use the phrase “child porn” i do not respect you or take you seriously.

okay, first of all, fanfiction does not meet the definition of csam. it’s fanfiction. it’s fiction. there are tags for a reason. none of it is illegal. most of it has been published in real books for money before. you can hate it, but it deserves to exist, and with the way explicit material is getting deleted off the internet (see: wattpad’s new policies, google drive’s new policies), ao3 is a last bastion in the storm.

5) you should check out end-otw-racism for more helpful info

honestly i thought this movement was dead by now, but i’ve seen a lot of it mentioned today so i went to check. some things i found, scrolling alllll the way back to august:

a pinned post from SEVEN months ago that is several paragraphs of back-patting from the mods about how much “work” and “goals” have been accomplished and how grateful they are to the community. no mention whatsoever of what those goals were or what specifically was accomplished. also says the mods are going on break for a while, which presumably is still in effect

a few posts about the otw’s board meetings for various months, each rehashing how a board meeting runs and when the next one is being held. no information about what questions or comments the organization wants to focus on for each meeting or specific actions supporters should take

post about substack being a nazi site now (this is the only post i fully respect)

more board meeting reminders of no substance

a post reviewing the board elections, going over each candidate. the post acknowledges that no candidates mentioned the campaign or its specific goals, and instead grasps at vaguely related topics as if to show the volunteers are listening to them and they have done something

more board meeting reminders

a post about an update to the board’s strategic plan for 2023, which also acknowledges that the update does not really do anything end-otw-racism wanted it to do. many instances of “could have been a great opportunity to” do what they wanted. this one DOES finally state eotwr’s “recommendations” for the next strategic plan update, which literally all boil down to “more transparency,” which i suppose is fair enough

absolutely NO mention of palestine whatsoever

post on the weibo scandal, which is fine but generic, and again, not something brought up ever again despite being made in AUGUST

here i will give you a reminder that some of eotwr’s goals, particularly the ones around moderation and censorship, were unrealistic given the otw’s mission. while i believe eotwr started with good intentions, it seems to have rapidly dissolved into something performative and did not have solid enough organization to actually make any difference. their silence on palestine (and they are still posting despite the “break”) also makes bringing them up in convos about otw’s potential zionist leanings very weird.

at the end of the day, support ao3 or don’t. your morals and reasonings are your own. just don’t lie about them in ways that can be easily disproved, mkay?

this discourse also made me realize it’s been a minute since i reblogged a proper donations masterpost for palestine, so i am on the hunt for a good, up-to-date one now. feel free to link me any you know of.

[aclockworkfilmsnob]

While Dune is (still) often misread as a tale about a hero doing the right thing, to view it solely as a warning of charismatic leaders is also misleading.

At least for the films, Paul isn’t really a bad guy for most of the story. Sure, he acts on impulse and is sometimes selfish. But he’s a kid. He’s lived a sheltered existence his whole life. The only friends and family he’s ever known were taken away from him in one fell swoop.

He clearly knows that exploiting the fremen is wrong and is even critical of his father (easily the most morally-sound Atreides in the series) for what he interprets as manipulation. He resents what his mother and the Bene Gesserit did to manipulate them into waiting for a messiah and constantly makes it clear that he doesn’t believe in these things.

Yes, he fancies himself a leader and a hero. But it’s not because he wants to be a God. He wants to be like his father. Noble, kind, heroic and honorable. But he never received the proper training. He sat in on one meeting at a time when he wasn’t even sure he wanted to be Duke.

His biggest enemy, aside from the Harkonnens and the Bene Gesserit, is the ignorance that comes from his youth. The same thing happens to Chani. Paul tells her he can’t go South. He knows what will happen if he does. But she, despite being very intelligent in knowing the danger of an outsider like Paul, believes that the power of true love will get them through any conflict.

Like Jessica, Paul becomes corrupted by the water of life. Any selfish intention he had before is accentuated by the poison. By this point in the film he’s basically a supervillain. In many respects Paul is just as much a victim of exploitation as the fremen are. He had no choice in how Jessica raised him. He didn’t choose to become a target for the Reverend Mother, who purposefully turned the Harkonnens against the Atreides because he was deemed to dangerous.

Paul is a bad guy by the end of Dune Part 2. It’s scary that people don’t see that. His “lead them to paradise” line after he digs his army into a deeper hole than he could have ever imagined clearly demonstrates that he intends to use fear and promises of peace to motivate the fremen to do whatever he wants. But he doesn’t get to this place because he’s always been evil to the core. He got there because he too was a victim of circumstance.

Anyway, that’s all I have to say. Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

[wibble-wobbegong]

Mike vs Selfishness

The sheer number of people who misunderstand Mike as a character, even as fans of his, face one major flaw; they root his actions in self interest. They believe he is selfish. Even with positive connotation, this is wrong.

For some reason, it seems that the world has decided we must have balance between selfishness and selflessness between characters— if Will is selfless, then Mike must be selfish. This is the very trap that the writers set in S4. Their intention was to mislead and misconstrue. Will is shown to be giving up many things over and over and over for Mike, so he’s painted as the selfless hero (which he is). Mike? We mostly see him from others’ perspectives, meaning we only see him take. He isn’t aware of the sacrifices being made for him, but the show is producing the image of him never sacrificing in turn. Your mind will naturally lead you to view him as selfish because of the lack of reciprocity being shown. They want you to go blind to Mike’s sacrifice so the reveal hits that much harder.

But we aren’t blind. Mike is a character so inherently good that even stripping him of any sympathetic connection with the audience cannot hide the love and kindness inside him. The writers are true to their characters, so no amount of hiding will keep Mike’s true nature repressed— you just have to look, and look we have.

If we’re to look at Mike and know he is not what we perceive, how is it that so many people fail to understand that he is as selfless as any other character? Mike is not a boy with a monster hidden under his skin waiting to take what it wants despite how often we see this description of him floating around. This idea is in omnipresent in so many analysis posts or by those who say they’re fans of his imperfect characterization when that isn’t what makes him imperfect.

For example, it seems to be commonplace to believe that Mike is dating El to hide to some degree— not necessarily as a beard, but as an excuse for his behavior; his prioritization if her; his avoidance of Will. Rather than using El as an excuse, it’s much more plausible that Mike legitimately puts El above other people sometimes. When you look at Mike’s story with El it is so very blatant that he wants to do things for her and help her and make her happy. The very beginning of their friendship in S1 had been Mike seeing El and wanting to help. He rescued her and let her stay and took care of her when he first found her— sending her back to Pennhurst was not malicious or uncaring. He genuinely thought it was best for her at the time.

As Mike gets to know her he learns of her tragic past and comes to admire her as a person for her strength and sense of justice. El has lived a life of anger and sadness and abuse and Mike knows this. He sees a good person who has known nothing but suffering and wants to help her live the happiest life she can lead and Mike believes part of her happiness comes from being with him. Of course he’ll do it. He may not love her romantically, but he loves her so strongly in other ways that he’s willing to pretend for her sake. He’s been pretending since the end of S2. She moves to kiss him and he freezes, but they end up at the Snowball together anyway.

He’s giving too much of himself. He takes it too far and abandons intrinsic parts of himself for her happiness— this includes movies, hanging out with friends, music, and more than anything else, Will. Not Will himself but the part of him that belongs to Will. The part that loves him.

Mike’s selflessness reaches the furthest extremes. He’s willing to kill himself for Dustin with zero hesitation. He’s willing to abandon his personhood in hopes El is happy. He’ll shoulder the blame in fights with Will and hide the truth when he realizes Will never meant to hurt him. In fact, he tries to prevent Will from ever realizing he’s angry with him and continues to push him away during the fight at Rink-o-Mania. Mike consistently backs away from any confrontation where he has to address himself and his wants and his feelings when they aren’t there to help others. With Lucas at the beginning of the season, he backs down the second Lucas explains himself. During the rain fight, he’s calm and apologetic until Will brings El into it. Mike will always try to redirect things away from himself and Will is the only person who wont let him.

Normally, selflessness doesn’t take such intense and demanding forms. It doesn’t hurt others. Selflessness is usually shown as positive altruism or as an isolated punishment upon the self. Mike falls into the end of self punishment.

Self punishment always leads to unintentionally hurting others. Usually, se’d see this displayed from the perspective of the punisher. We don’t have Mike’s perspective. The punishments he imposes on himself are not visible to us.

Mike is a good, selfless person. He’s so sacrificial and feels so inferior that he doesn’t value his side of the story and acts as a servant to the happiness of the people around him. He’s rarely confrontational about issues that center around his wants and his feelings. When I say Mike is the prime example of a character who is a victim of themself I mean that he will destroy himself to hand out the pieces to people who he thinks need them.

There is nothing about him that is selfish or holds expectations that can’t be broken down. Mike’s rare selfish acts crumble like worn towers and his sacrifice will never be enough in his eyes. It’s all self imposed, but self imposition does not equate to selfishness. That’s what people miss about his character.

Mike is selfless in the most destructive, dangerous way positive. He has lost any sense of self importance, and that’s pretty clearly reflected in his monologue in the van (which happens to be the only time he really opens up and immediately calls himself stupid for it).

BASICALLY: mike’s not selfish he’s just selfless to the point of destruction and hurts people. hurting people is not inherent to selfishness . bro is big stupid and lives to please lmao