Tumgik
#//dreamweaving
ertraeumte · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
Die Tage in Moskau waren alle gleich. Elsie kümmerte sich um Teo, kochte für ihn, spielte für ihn. Las etwas, wenn er schlief, oder hörte Musik. Kuz kam vorbei, um ihr mit den Einkäufen zu helfen. Sie redeten viel, oft über Belangloses. Elsie hatte sich inzwischen an die Hackerin gewöhnt und verstand sich überraschend gut mit ihr. Vielleicht, weil sie wusste, dass Kuz den GRU hasste und nur für ihn arbeitete, weil sie es musste. Das verband sie, auch wenn Elsie nicht den Fehler machte, dieser Frau bedingungslos zu vertrauen. Sie vertraute nur sich selbst, sonst niemandem. Als es eines Tages an ihrer Tür klopfte, rechnete sie mit der Russin, und war viel zu perplex, als Jascha vor ihr stand, so dass sie ihn bloß stumm hineinließ. Sein Anblick brachte sie aus der Fassung, weil sie inzwischen schon gar nicht mehr damit gerechnet hatte, dass er sie noch sehen wollte.
Sie saß etwas steif auf dem Sofa, ganz ans Ende gerückt, und die Hände flach unter ihren Beinen. Sie hatte bisher noch keinen Ton gesagt und ließ Jascha reden, denn er war schließlich hierher gekommen. Um sich zu entschuldigen? Seine Worte klangen ein wenig danach, aber eigentlich rechtfertigte er sich nur. Vor sich selbst vor allem.
Elsie presste die Lippen schmal aufeinander und merkte, wie eine Wut in ihr aufstieg, die sich ganz heiß anfühlte. Er tat so, als hätte sie sich all das hier ausgesucht. Als hätte sie den Jungen absichtlich in diese Welt geholt, damit sie eine Familie sein konnten, obwohl sie doch gewusst hatte, dass Jascha das nicht wollte. Er stellte sie als die Böse, als die Schuldige dar, und das war verdammt unfair. Elsie wollte gerade zu einer Antwort ansetzen, als er die Bombe platzen ließ und ihr von Syrien erzählte. Sie musste unwillkürlich an die Szenen aus seinem Traum denken, an den heißen Wüstensand, an die Bomben, an die Panik. Es schnürte ihr die Kehle zu, ihn sich dort vorzustellen - aber hatte er nicht genau das gewollt? Vor vielen Wochen hatte er ihr anvertraut, dass er es brauchte, in diese Krisengebiete berufen zu werden. Jascha nahm es als Entschuldigung für sein Verhalten, aber Elsie sah es als das, was es eigentlich war: er floh. Vor ihr, vor Teo und den Gefühlen, die er mit ihnen verband. Er tat das nicht zum ersten Mal, und er würde es immer wieder tun. Das war Elsie inzwischen klar, sie musste nur dafür sorgen, dass ihr Herz es auch verstand.
“Spielt das eine Rolle?” Teo war auf ihren Schoß gekrabbelt und Elsie hatte ihre Arme um ihn gelegt, streichelte ihm mit einer Hand über den zerzausten Schopf. “Du hast klar gemacht, dass du ihn nicht willst. Ich habe das verstanden. Dann erwarte aber auch nicht, dass ich dir etwas über ihn erzähle. Er wird kein Teil deines Lebens sein.” Elsies Züge verhärteten sich, weil sie sich selbst schützen musste. Sie musste die Mauern, die Jascha Stück für Stück abgetragen hatte, wieder aufbauen. Sie wollte ihn nicht lieben, weil sie das angreifbar machte, und irgendwann würde sie es sicher schaffen, diese Gefühle abzustellen. Noch war sie nicht so weit, was sie immer dann merkte, wenn sie ihn ansah. Denn dann war der Wunsch groß, sich in seine Arme zu flüchten. Sie hatten sich seit Jaschas Besuch in ihrem Hotelzimmer in Belfast nicht mehr berührt, und das wurde ihr in diesem Moment schmerzlich bewusst. Er war ihr so nah, aber trotzdem war es unmöglich, die Distanz zu überbrücken, denn sie war nicht bloß körperlich. Sie wollte nicht daran denken, dass er in wenigen Tagen nach Syrien aufbrechen würde, um dort einer Mission nachzugehen, die ihn vielleicht das Leben kosten konnte. War er hier, weil er sich für den Fall der Fälle verabschieden wollte? Der Gedanke, dass er nicht wiederkommen konnte, war viel zu real. Sie wollte ihn am liebsten bitten, nicht zu gehen und stattdessen bei ihr zu bleiben, aber er hatte sehr deutlich gemacht, dass er das nicht wollte. Er hatte sich für ein Leben entschieden, und so wie es aussah, war dort kein Platz für sie.
“Du solltest gehen.” Die Worte fielen ihr schwer, weil sie das Gegenteil von dem waren, was sie wollte. Aber es nützte ihnen beiden nichts, an etwas festzuhalten, was keine Zukunft hatte. Jascha hatte ihr Vertrauen missbraucht, genau wie sie es bei ihm getan hatte. Sie hatten sich beide zu sehr verletzt, als dass sie einfach dort weitermachen konnten, wo sie aufgehört hatten, ehe alles so katastrophal schief gelaufen war. Elsie erhob sich, Teo auf dem Arm und deutete mit einem Nicken zur Tür. Sie wollte, dass Jascha ging, denn sie wusste nicht, wie lange sie sich noch beherrschen konnte. Die Wut und Enttäuschung waren zu groß, sie fraßen jedes andere Gefühl in ihr auf und hinterließen bloß eine Leere, die nichts füllen konnte. Elsie wartete nicht ab, bis Jascha sich in Bewegung setzte, sie drehte sich um und lief mit Teo in das Schlafzimmer, um Jascha zu verdeutlichen, dass es hier nichts mehr für ihn gab. Vielleicht würde es das für ihn leichter machen. Sie gab ihm die Absolution, dass er weder für sie noch für Teo verantwortlich war. Vielleicht hatte ihn sowieso bloß sein schlechtes Gewissen hierher geführt. nichts weiter.
Tumblr media
16 notes · View notes
froznwater · 7 months
Text
Tumblr media
Ritualist - Perform a blood ritual on a player at night. If you guess the correct role you will deal an Unstoppable Attack to the player.
Coven Leader - Kill all who would oppose the Coven.
Dreamweaver - You may invade the dreams of your target and attempt to drive them Insane.
Get out of town >:)
lil timelapse or whateva >:)
927 notes · View notes
cqtlatte · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media
dreamweaver
904 notes · View notes
designtheendless · 10 months
Text
Tumblr media
“I love you too” “I didn’t say that”
@lemoneyshipz has altered my brain chemistry I’m sorry 🕸️
635 notes · View notes
parznite · 10 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
I finished my Dusk Strider Moon and Dawn Walker Sun designs for my DREAMWEAVER AU. You can find more of them under the tag "dreamweaver dca AU" More information below the cut or HERE
DREAMWEAVER ( A DCA AU)
The manifestation of Dreams and Nightmares, two deities that control the Dream and Nightmare Realm separately. Both entities, created by the cosmos to protect enlighten mortals of the reasons for their dreams. One of pure dream essence while the other condensed nightmare fuel. While the two deities are very opposite, they work together on the fine line of balance. The two of them having their own wisps that they send out to do their bidding for them while they discuss more important matters. Usually entering the mortal realm to take in the sights and observe the ways of mortals. Dawn Walker blessing those with wonderful thoughts of dreams and daydreaming fantasies. While Dusk Strider instils anxiety and fear, allowing doubts to shine for nightmares later.
Dawn Walker or Sundrop; is the protector and guardian of the Dream Realm. A positive deity with a love of watching others accomplish their wildest dreams and willing them to pursuit them. Dawn usually has his overly ambitions dreams twisted into partial nightmares when Dusk adds his own touch of terror. Dawn has Dream Wisps that carry onto mortals during the day so they may have fulfilling dreams. Similar to Dusks Nightmare Wisps, they are pure essence of which realm they carry. Sometimes colliding with one another, which is a good explanation for those dreams that take a sudden turn.
Dusk Strider or Moondrop; is the protector and guardian of the Nightmare Realm. A pessimistic optimist who dabbles doubts to one throughout the day so night terrors shine at night. Sometimes his nightmare fuel gets out of hand, bringing stronger terrors to peoples minds than anticipated. When this happens, Dusk feels terrible, usually urging Dawn to bring enlightenment the following night. Dusk doesn't like his purpose as much as one would think, usually instilling the doubts for others on himself so mortals will not have to feel that burden.
The two of them compliment each other very well when it comes to their powers. Dawn doing what he can to soothe the nightmares Dusk brings to himself and others. While most do not like the nightmares Dusk brings, he knows his powers are just as important. Dusk usually works very closely with Dawn to ensure the doubts he instils aren't to much for a mortal to handle. Usually having the Nightmare wisps do most of his work. Hoping it will allow his mind an ease encase the fuel burns to bright and he has to take the pain upon himself.
Dawn hates knowing his partner suffers from his own terrors at times, but always reassures Dusk that his terrors aren't real. He knows he doesn't mean to bring the negativity all the time, seeing the efforts he puts in to bring said terrors to himself so others can rest easy.
While they have their disagreements at times, they know they couldn't live without each other. Complimenting each other as companions and partners. Through their journies to the mortal realm, they often find themselves with piqued curiosity. Choosing a mortal they will follow with the understanding they are invisible to those around them. That is until they encountered someone who can see them and their antics. Interesting the deities, they decided to drop in on the life of the moral more to discover the wonders of mortals. While also discovering themselves in the process.
The two are painfully unaware that others around them can hear and see them, assuming no one can. Which is why Y/N seeing them is such a big deal to them.. maybe someone should tell them? Occasionally through their travels, Dawn Walker and Dusk Strider find themselves running into the agent of chaos who rules over the limbo. The realm in between the Dream and Nightmare realm, where wisps get lost and dreams fall on deaf ears. Twilight Stalker or Eclipse, a deity who sees more fun in what lies in the middle of the realms, than the joys or horrors of either side. While he isn't the most prominent in their lives, he always seems to pop in when you least expect him too.
410 notes · View notes
undermycoat · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
art for a fic idea i have wherein arthur is a merman distrusting of humans and merlin is a human distrusting of water.
!! lineart under the cut :3
Tumblr media
443 notes · View notes
folditdouble · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Women in Film Challenge 2024: [3/52] K'na the Dreamweaver, dir. Ida Anita Del Mundo (Philippines, 2014)
To become a dreamweaver, you need a strong back to bear the weight of the loom, a sharp eye for detail, nimble fingers to tie knots in the fabric, and most of all k’na – dreams.
94 notes · View notes
resolart · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
she likes that boy 💘
76 notes · View notes
blazingblorbos · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
I’m sorry..
Tumblr media
she...  what?
289 notes · View notes
stevesbestgirl · 11 months
Text
Dreamweaver
Dream of the Endless x f!Reader
Warnings: mentions of depression, a few curses, briefly mean!Morpheus, soulmate tattoo bs, I took liberties with the lore
A/N: I started this forever ago when I was dealing with some stuff with my brother, so if it feels like a self-insert 🤷‍♀️ (no descriptions of reader's appearance)
5775 words
Tumblr media
"Dream."
Lord Morpheus, also known as Dream of the Endless, raised his head from his desk, where he was pouring over a book.
"Dream!"
He heaved a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose before standing.
"Dream of the Endless, I hold your sigil and I call to you."
"Yes Death, I am on my way to my gallery as we speak."
"Forget your gallery, come here."
Morpheus suppressed a sigh. But with a sound suspiciously like the flutter of a raven's feathers, Dream disappeared from his library, appearing instead beside his sister. Death's gaze did not waver; she appeared to be watching a young pair seated on a mattress on the floor of a simple bedroom. One, a young woman, seemed to be comforting the other, a young man with enough resemblance to be a sibling.
Dream spared only a quick glance, "Why am I here, sister?"
Death finally tore her gaze from the two mortals, "Can't you see it?"
Morpheus watched the pair again, unsure of what he was supposed to be seeing.
"Maybe I'm just bad. That's why she left." Dream could see the wisps of despair puffing up around the boy, evaporating like drops of water on a hot pan.
"You took the fall when I broke Mallory's lamp when we were ten. Don't tell me you're bad," the woman insisted despite her soft tone. "And nothing you did made Bella leave."
"Yeah, I guess so."
Dream's gaze swiveled back to his sister, "I am unsure what it is I should be seeing."
Death huffed impatiently, "Open your mind for just one moment and consider that a mortal may surprise you." When he still stared at her, his jaw growing tight with impatience, she rolled her eyes, "She's dream weaving, Dream. You of all people should be able to tell."
"The dream weavers died out hundreds of years ago."
Death grabbed her stubborn brother by the shoulder, twisting him to face the girl again, "Watch."
Dream watched, albeit a bit disdainful, as the young woman continued to speak. She offered musings about their past. Their childhood seemed to have been a difficult one. But she made jokes, reminiscing and reflecting on what they could learn- how they could create better for themselves. And then he saw it.
Human consciousness, all consciousness really, clung to the Dreaming with tethers. Needless to say, humans clung particularly closely compared to most other sentient life. Each dream, though they varied in strength, was a connection to the dreaming. When a being began to lose the will to live, those tethers weakened.
Her brother's tethers were weak; not quite on the brink of severing, but looking rather exhausted. And while it wasn't possible for her to strengthen the tethers- only their owner could do that, she was reinforcing their connection to the Dreaming. The dreams she was sharing were indeed woven into an intricate web, right on the cusp of his realm.
Her own web was vast, ethereal silver glimmering in elaborate knots and designs, each one a waking dream. This girl's very existence was tied up in his realm.
His only show of emotion was a small parting of his lips, but that was enough for Death. "I told you so."
Dream said nothing, watching the girl speak.
"What are you thinking, brother?" Death prompted, clearly awaiting some kind of response.
"It appears that a new age of Dreamweavers may be upon us, sister."
"Are you going to speak to her?"
"I suppose I am duty-bound to make contact. Soon, more like her will appear, if they haven't already. If they go on unsupervised, they could damage the realm."
Death cocked an eyebrow, "Why do you sound so reluctant? You've never had issue with dream weavers in the past, have you?"
"Not yet. But I have an odd feeling about this one."
*
After departing with Death, Morpheus tasked Matthew with keeping an eye on the girl. She stayed with her brother through the night, the pair of them departing early in the morning and returning a short while later with what appeared to be a third sibling.
Only once the two young men were in each other's company did the girl leave, returning to her own home a short distance away.
She seemed lost in her own thoughts as she puttered around the house, cleaning up odds and ends before changing into a tee-shirt and climbing into bed. Underneath her eyes, dark circles were beginning to swell. She was exhausted.
Morpheus almost felt bad for her; this sleep would not be as restful as she might be expecting.
*
Y/N always had vivid dreams, both waking and while asleep. But she immediately knew tonight was different. Dressed in nothing but her tee-shirt and underwear, her bare feet were chilled against the dark stone floor underfoot.
A shadowed figure sat in a throne at the head of the large room, as though waiting for her.
"Hello?" She took a hesitant step forward, hands clinging to the too-short hem of her tee-shirt, which was barely covering the tops of her thighs.
"Approach, Y/L, L/N."
She did as the voice instructed, stepping forward on unsteady legs. It was male, authoritative and nearly stern. But it wasn't aggressive, or even raised in volume. He simply spoke and expected compliance.
It was also beautiful, deeply toned and unrushed in its delivery. He had an accent she couldn't identify, her mind reeling with thoughts as she approached the throne, still cloaked in shadow.
She felt exposed, painfully aware of his gaze on her. She gave her shirt another nervous tug down, trying to make sure she was covered. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she asked, "What is this place?"
The silence stretched, her fingers abandoning the hem of her shirt in favor of fidgeting with the cuticles of her fingernails. But her hands parted hastily and she sucked in a gasp as she suddenly found herself fully clothed in a pair of dark jeans, socks, boots, and a black jacket over her tee-shirt.
She was relieved for both the privacy and warmth granted by the clothes, but her heart was pounding at the magic, "Am I dreaming?"
The figure remained in shadow, "Yes," he confirmed. "But more importantly, you are in the Dreaming."
She blinked, willing her eyes to make out the figure in the dark as questions bubbled up inside her, "And that would make you-?"
He rose slowly from his chair, towering over her at his full height, somehow still shrouded in shadow, "I am Dream of the Endless, creator of the Dreaming, King of Nightmares."
It suddenly became quite clear to her as she gazed up at him that he wanted her to be intimidated. The question of why still loomed.
"King of Dreams then too, right?" She couldn't find it within herself to give him the reaction he wanted, king or no king.
His voice remained level, "Yes."
"Am I forbidden from laying eyes on the King of Dreams?" She cocked her eyebrow, only slightly, in a challenge. She took a step backwards, inviting him to step into the light.
There was another long pause before he answered, "No, you are not." But instead of moving, the shadows seemed to loosen, pale skin blooming behind the darkness until his face was wholly visible.
It seemed the perfect match for his voice, slim with sharp cheekbones and a shock of deep ebony hair. Long, dark lashes framed his eyes, which were dark, almost entirely black in a way that should have been eerie. But they glimmered like stars, little specks of light dancing deep within their depths and seeming to invite her inside. She felt as though she was falling forward until the darkness swallowed her up.
But inside was far from dark. It was a massive stretch of blackness, yes, but far from nothing. The black was a canvas, swirling with color and light and looking like entire galaxies.
A mess of incoherent thought washed over her, driving her own thoughts from her mind. The galaxy showed her a beautiful woman. She felt insecurity, fear, but also something warm and safe she could only describe as love. Then she saw the sun, but the sun as she'd never seen it before. The sun through the eyes of someone who couldn't go blind. And then came pain, rejection, grief-
"You should not be here."
Then she was back in the throne room, balled up on the floor, her cheeks wet with tears. She sat up, hastily wiping her cheeks, but Dream was already hauling her up by the shoulder of her tee-shirt, her extra layer of clothing stripped away in an instant, "You dare to invade my mind?" His dulcet tones were reduced to a mere hiss. "As the King of Dreams, it is my responsibility to warn you that if you or others like you meddle in the affairs of my realm, it will cost you dearly. It seems that every time I show compassion to a human, you are determined to make me regret it. Cross my path again and you will not receive such mercy a second time."
She wanted to plead with him, to make him understand that it had been an accident. She didn't even understand what she'd done- were those his thoughts?
His change in demeanor stung more than it should have. But his sudden rage combined with what little she'd seen made it clear he would not leave himself vulnerable to her, and perhaps for good reason.
"I apologize for any offense, it was not my intent. I will do my best not to get in your way again." She offered him a sad smile, "And I'm sorry for your suffering."
His eyes glimmered in a brooding smolder and then she found herself jolting awake in her bed, a sheen of sweat glittering on her skin. She made a half-hearted attempt to tell herself it had only been a dream, but there was no denying what she'd seen- what she'd felt.
She felt out of place going back to her everyday life, but her work wouldn't wait for her. And there was plenty left to do for her brother, so she put it behind her, hoping that whatever she had done to draw the King of Dreams' ire was a one-time thing. Their interaction had left a lingering bad taste in her mouth.
She had hoped that her responsibilities would drive the memory from the front of her consciousness, but it continued to creep up on her each time she had a moment to breathe, haunting her rare moments of rest with nightmares. She suspected the King of Nightmares was wholly capable of sentencing her to a lifetime of nighttime terrors, but she wasn't convinced this was his intention. But if she was connected to Dream, as he'd called himself, the only way to fix it would be to visit the Dreaming again.
And now she was thinking about it again. She gave herself a shake; she had another long night ahead of her. So she turned up the music in her car and left for her brother's apartment.
*
"I thought I might see you back here, brother." Death looked smug as Dream appeared beside her in the same place they'd watched from last time.
"And why are you here again, Death?"
"To catch you in the act, obviously."
Dream made a disapproving noise at her joke, but didn't press further. He watched as she and her brother played a video game together. He'd done some reading in her book after her uninvited foray into his mind, though mostly out of spite. It had done nothing to reassure him that he'd acted appropriately.
Her childhood had not been an easy one. Teenage parents, poverty, and drug use had rendered her functional guardian to her two younger siblings at a young age. Once he arrived at the abuse resulting from her first romantic relationship, he'd stopped reading.
The two Endless watched for quite some time before speaking again, but surprisingly to Death, it was Dream who broke the silence. "Why are you truly here, sister?"
"It is part of my responsibilities to check on the humans whose ties grow weak."
"Do you spend this long on every one?"
She huffed a sigh, "No." Stealing a glance at Y/N, she admitted, "When she weaves the dreams, that strengthens the connection, giving a weak tie more time to recover."
Dream tipped his head, "Yes, as you explained last time."
"I'm starting to suspect that the dream she's woven around the center tether may be permanent."
"Is such a thing possible?"
"I don't know. Like you said, this could be a new kind of dream weaver." They both watched her laugh, drawing a laugh from her brother as well. "I wish I could just ask her what she's capable of."
Dream looked back on the way the girl had collapsed in his throne room, realization making his stomach sink, "She is unaware of her abilities."
"As far as I can tell." At Dream's silence, Death glanced at him sharply, "Why do I get the sense that you may have done something foolish?"
Dream was silent, reassessing his interaction with this new information. He'd brought her into his realm, exposed and confused, then put on a show of being intimidating and immediately lost his temper, resorting to threats and expulsion.
He refused to feel shame over actions taken to protect his realm, but he couldn't identify the strange pit that seemed to have opened in his gut. She likely thought him a monster, a nightmare himself instead of their king.
"Dream, what did you do?"
Death's voice broke him from his stupor, though he kept his gaze on the girl, "I brought her to my realm and lost my temper."
Death couldn't suppress an eye roll, but Dream didn't seem to notice, "What was it this time?"
"I suspect one of those new abilities allows her access to memory."
There was a long pause. "She got inside that thick skull of yours?"
Dream broke his gaze to send his sister a scathing look, "Yes."
Death sent her an appraising glance, "She seems to be holding up rather well, all things considered." It was meant to be a joke, but Dream thought the circles under her eyes were damning.
"You are typically far slower to admit you are wrong, so I ask you again, brother, what are you doing here?"
"After my meeting with the girl, I spent an entire evening working on new dreams and nightmares. It was the best work I've done in ages."
Now Death did smirk, "She inspired you then? Is she your latest muse?"
"My days of muses are behind me, sister. Aside from the fact that she is a mortal, my realm needs my full attention."
"Of course, brother."
*
That night, when Y/N fell asleep in her bed, she found herself back in the throne room. Muttering a curse under her breath, she stood, grateful that she'd slept in a pair of shorts this time.
"Approach, Y/N."
She did not obey the voice this time, stubbornly remaining in place and gazing resolutely into the dim light, which was only slightly improved from her first visit.
A moment, then two, passed before there came a sigh. "Very well." Several long strides later the King of Dreams had left his throne to stand before her. She avoided his eyes, afraid to repeat her mistakes.
"Dream King."
"Yes, I suppose I deserve that as well."
Tipping up her chin, she nodded, "You do." She seemed to catch herself, "I'm afraid I'm not sure what I did to end up back here."
"I brought you here- in both instances. You've done nothing wrong, I have realized too late."
She was stunned. She hesitantly met his gaze, relieved when her feet remained planted on the floor.
Dream held his expression steady and nodded, "I apologize for my prior behavior."
She surprised herself by tipping her head, "Thank you." She chewed her lip for a moment, "I'm sorry too. For before. I'm really not sure how I did it."
She knew she didn't have the leverage to flaunt a grudge against the Kind of Dreams. She was pleased with her own politeness, but she would not trust easily.
Dream was silent for a long pause, "What exactly did you see?"
She looked away, "Not much. A woman- a beautiful woman. The sun. And I felt-" His eyes seemed to pull her gaze back in, "I felt some of your pain, I think."
"I apologize."
Her brow furrowed, "For your suffering?"
He shook his head, "For yours, at my hands. We have much to discuss, but you will not struggle with nightmares from tonight on."
The corner of her mouth twitched upwards in a smile, "So, I can rest assured?"
Dream either didn't catch the pun or was ignoring it, nodding, "You may. Now come, have a seat." He led her back toward his throne, where a small tea table and a wooden chair sat on the dais beside his own.
She waited, watching him take his seat on the throne before she sat on the wooden chair, ruefully thinking of her own chair at home. And then it was her chair she was sitting in. No sound or movement accompanied the change, it simply was.
Dream raised an eyebrow, as if challenging the action, "Did you just alter the Dreaming?"
Face flushing with warmth, she stumbled over her words, "Not with intention."
His gaze seemed inquisitive, "Have you always manipulated the Dreaming so skillfully?"
She raised a brow, a reluctant smile forming at the corner of her mouth, "I'm not sure that was a compliment."
"Simply an observation."
"Sounds a bit sinister though, doesn't it? 'Manipulating the Dreaming.'"
"What would you call it if someone were to create their own clay sculpture on a block already used by someone else?" Dream wasn't offended by the action so much as he was curious.
"If it serves a new function, I would call it repurposing," she replied thoughtfully.
There was a long pause, "Indeed." She couldn't decipher his tone. "What if I told you that the person who made the original sculpture also created the clay? And that the only clay that would ever exist was his creations."
She sobered up a little, "I'm sorry if I've ruined your work. Once again, not my intention. I have a lot to learn about your realm."
His gaze trailed over the chair she'd conjured, noting the details. The golden colored thread in the stitching that glinted in the dim light of the throne room. The slight wear to the fabric around the arms. Dreams were often vague, even half-formed, because mortals struggled to shape the Dreaming. But Dream suspected he'd find a perfect match to this chair if he were to visit her home.
"Clay is never ruined for having been used for creation. However, some do not take kindly to their working being- repurposed. But that is what I brought you here to discuss."
She gave him a nod, "I'm listening."
His dark gaze seemed to pierce her, "You are something known as a dream weaver. Historically, dream weavers used their abilities to tether many humans to the same dream."
She blinked at him, expression blank for a long time, "I don't mean any disrespect, but could you be mistaken?"
"I could be, but my sister is almost certainly not."
"Your sister?"
"Death."
She shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts that had grown thick and slow.
"Why would you want humans to have the same dreams?"
"Back in the early days of human development, human dreams were chaotic and disorganized. Dream weavers helped drive human development by uniting many humans under the same dream."
"Dreams affect human development?"
That drew a surprising chuckle from the Dream King, "Dreams are human development. The world exists as it is because of dreams- because of the Dreaming." There was a marked note of pride in his voice at that.
"Everything?"
"Everything."
"So like, the depths of the ocean and all the scary stuff down there was all dreamed up by humans?" He nodded. "What about space- the entire greater solar system? Is any of that real?"
"Created by dreams, but very real." She took a moment to process that, stifling a sigh. "You are displeased?" Dream raised a curious brow.
"That's a very human-centric reality. I kind of liked it when we were just little specks of dust among the vastness of the uncharted cosmos."
The corner of his mouth lifted in almost a smile, "You still are. But only because humans have dreamed it so."
"How have we survived this long? It seems to me that human beings have a tendency to destroy more than we create."
"Humans can be very destructive. But they are also very clever. No other species has demomstrated such an capability to dream up solutions to its problems like humans."
"So like, climate change. The solution to all of the pollution, to the whole climate crisis, exists?"
"Not exactly. It may or may not exist now. But it could exist if enough humans were to dream of it."
She rested her head in her palm, forcing a breath; she was starting to get light headed. This was overwhelming. Her next breath did not come as easily as the first, a fact not unnoticed by the Dream King.
"Are you alright?"
"I-" she swallowed hard, trying to get past the lump in her throat, "I think I'm having a panic attack."
Dream calmly reached out and brushed his hand over her forehead, his intent to soothe her distress. Instead, a sharp spike of heat burst through his palm, quickly going icy. He heard her gasp, but couldn't tear his gaze away as the trails of ice left behind dark lines of deep purple criss-crossing over his wrist.
"What the fuck?" Her voice was barely over a whisper, the only evidence of distress the high-pitched strain that overtook her tone. Tearing his eyes from his hand, he saw the same design decorating her hand in a blue so dark it was almost black.
Her wide-eyed gaze flicked up to his, "Did you-" She left the question unfinished, not wanting to make an accusation and unsure of what to ask even if she did.
"No."
"Do you know what this is?"
"No." His voice had gone cold and hard, just like it had been their first time meeting. Her eyes flicked back to the lines marking her skin and Dream saw the panic begin to rekindle in them.
After only a split second of hesitation, he pressed his palm to her forehead again, "Sleep, now. We will speak again soon."
Her eyes grew cloudy, but she fought against his magic with surprising vigor, "No- the- n-nightmares-"
Dream's hand seemed to slide down over her cheek to cup her face of its own accord as her eyes started to glisten with fear, "You will suffer no bad dreams tonight, Dreamweaver."
And as she faded from his realm, her consciousness joining her body in sleep, Death's words about the girl's resilience to seeing inside his head echoed again. But the lines swirling over his wrist stretched from his fingertips all the way up his forearm, nearly to the elbow, demanding his attention. They were delicate, weaving together and knotting at the crossroads between, like a tangle of flower stems and intricate lace. And at the apex of it all, the palm of his hand had an empty circle at the center.
As he stared at the mark on his hand, Dream of the Endless felt something he was neither accustomed to or fond of- he felt lost.
*
"You look like a kicked puppy today, brother," Death remarked, not breaking pace on her way to the next destination. The city street seemed to blur behind her, though her pace appeared normal. Dream's long strides quickly made up the distance, though he said nothing.
Death's raised eyebrow slowly lowered as she noticed the markings on his hand. "It appears that congratulations are in order."
The frown lines on his face only seemed to grow more pronounced.
"Unless-"
"Unless." Dream was unamused.
"Unless you are not pleased to have found your soulmate."
If he were mortal, those words might have rung in his ears, the vibrations enough to make everything he'd known crumble. But they were not enough because he was not mortal and he did not have a soulmate.
"You believe such foolishness, sister?"
"You are so confident it is foolish with the evidence staring you right in the face?"
"This?" He raised his right hand, "This is not evidence. I have never encountered such delusion in any text or reading-"
"And you will not. But if you sought out the people who can remember the farthest back in human history, they would remember."
"If it is so certain, why is it not documented?" Dream sounded annoyed that it was becoming more difficult to be skeptical.
"It is. But it has been changed in writings, splintered and embellished, transformed into something not quite the same. They never quite get it right. But they dream of it. Surely you have seen that."
"I have. Yet I have never met a mortal with markings like this."
Death suppressed a chuckle at his determination to disprove her theory, "I myself have not seen a soul mate marking in a long time. But they exist. I suspected as soon as you'd told me the girl got in your head."
"I suppose that was a sign as well," he mused bitterly.
"Yes, it was. Why are you so determined not to believe, Morpheus? You aren't usually the type to ignore evidence. I thought you would be happy."
"Happy at a cruel joke? Even if I accepted this as truth, it is clearly the result of Desire's interference once again."
Death shook her head, "Soul mates go even beyond Desire."
"Then why is my soul mate a human?" he demanded. "Am I meant to destroy human-kind in my pursuit of happiness, sister?" He knew he was being unfair, demanding such answers from his sister, but he would not allow her to light the hope inside him. He would not have what he wanted, that much he knew.
"Of course you aren't. I don't have all the answers, Dream. But be patient. They will make themselves clear over time."
That was not what he wanted to hear. "Thank you, sister. I must go." And he did, leaving Death alone just as a sigh fell from her lips.
*
All day long, Y/N got remarks about the lines twisting up her wrist. After a night of blissfully peaceful sleep, she woke up feeling refreshed, taking a moment to examine the designs that had followed her from her dreams.
The lines had filled in more since while she slept. What had been dainty lines had thickened to nearly an eighth of an inch- she'd measured. What was more, the deep, rich blue that had made up the original color was deeper now, with glimmers of royal purple, black, and the occasional glint of something golden- like a raven's wings.
The lines seemed to connect at every possible juncture. The empty circle at the heart of her palm seemed like the center, although she didn't quite understand why.
There was a lot she didn't understand; why did she have a tattoo at all? It wasn't exactly normal to wake up with new ink. And based on the Dream King's reaction, it was also not normal for ancient royalty to find themselves with a flash tattoo. But she would hopefully get more answers tonight.
She was embarrassed- mortified actually, at the way she'd freaked out last night. But she had to go back. He'd called her a Dreamweaver, whatever that meant.
But when she climbed into bed that night, she tossed and turned, anxious thoughts keeping her mind active. She felt a strange sense of trepidation whenever she visited the Dreaming; she wasn't exactly in a hurry to piss off the Dream King any more than she already had at their first meeting. But more concerning than the shadow of fear was the sliver of excitement at the prospect of seeing him again.
Despite her efforts to convince herself it was the remnants of the dream, muddling her emotions, even now she could feel his pull. She could practically feel him waiting for her on the other side of her consciousness. And when she finally did drift off to sleep, she never reached a state of rest.
Instead, she found herself seated in the chair she had left behind the night before in the throne room of what she presumed was the Dream Castle. Dream was waiting for her, his throne no longer shrouded in shadow. In fact, the whole throne room was warm and well-lit, her breath catching as she gazed around at the stunning architecture.
"Did you sleep well?" Dream's voice broke her stupor, somehow managing to catch her off guard.
"What?" Her head snapped to the throne, where he was waiting.
She watched the corner of his mouth curl up in a faint smirk, "You were concerned about nightmares, if I recall."
"Oh. No- yes, I um, slept fine." She wasn't sure why she was so flustered.
Dream let out a low hum, "Excellent."
She wasn't sure what to say, especially since Dream hadn't seemed to be in the best temper when she'd been here last. She had questions, starting with what had happened to her arm and ending with what the hell it actually meant to be a Dreamweaver.
"I'm sure you have questions."
She nodded, "A couple, yes."
"I will answer to the best of my ability."
Though her gaze lingered on the marks on her arm, the words that came out were, "What do I need to know about being a Dreamweaver?"
Dream was pensive before answering, "You must remember that the Dreaming, no matter how it responds to you, is my realm. What I say goes." You had to consciously suppress the shiver that wanted to rattle you at the intense way he held your gaze while he spoke.
She nodded, "You mentioned others- who may not take kindly to my abilities."
That elicited another pause, "That question leads to many more questions. Rest assured, I will provide an overview on my siblings, but not tonight."
She bit back the torrent of follow-ups and asked instead, "Are there more like me?"
He gave his head a solemn shake, "There were a great many Dreamweavers at one point in time. But eventually they stopped emerging and died out."
"No immortality then, I take it?" She was only joking, but he shook his head seriously. She suddenly felt shy meeting his eyes, "Are you immortal?"
He cocked his head like he was determining her intentions, "Not as you might think. I am not mortal- I do not age, grow old, or die by natural causes. Though it is exceedingly difficult, I can be killed."
The silence seemed to stretch as she processed what she had just learned. Everything should have seemed overwhelming- she shouldn't believe it. But she could feel the truth of it.
Finally, she held up a clenched fist, her eyes on the dark lines glistening in the light, "What is this?"
Dream was silent for so long that she almost asked again, but he finally said softly, "It is a soul bond."
Her gaze flicked to his eyes; the dancing lights there seemed to be waiting for her reaction. Then it fell to his own left hand, where the matching lines seemed so much more elegant on his pale skin.
"What does that mean?" She asked even though she already suspected.
"I do not know." That caught her off guard; she expected him to know everything. He certainly seemed to know more than she did.
She surprised him by asking, "Is there anything you want to ask me?"
He'd expected her to push for more information. "Have you always had these abilities?"
She offered a chagrined smile, "I didn't even know I had abilities, to be honest."
"You are quite skilled."
He made a vague hand gesture and she wasn't sure what he'd done. Then she caught a glimpse of light above her head, her mouth falling open at the intricate web of silvery white that seemed to hover over her head. She didn't quite understand how she had created this masterpiece of dreams, but she believed him.
It took her a moment to realize that he had paid her a compliment, "Oh- thank you." Her face felt a bit hot. "I have another question." At his nod, she continued, "Will I see you again?"
She couldn't explain it, since his eyes were so difficult to read, but he seemed pleased as he mulled that over, "You are not bound to me; you are free to go back to your life. But should you have need of the Dreaming, it is always here. I trust you can make your way back."
She couldn't place why she felt as though he were flirting with her; he clearly avoided expressing any kind of desire to see her again of his own volition.
She felt the urge to admit she wanted to see him again, grateful to her own good sense for stopping her before the words formed. Dream hadn't spelled out what kind of being he was to her, but she knew he was likely high above whatever a 'soul bond' meant. He was the definition of being out of someone's league.
So she nodded her head, "Thank you, Dream King."
A beat of silence. "Morpheus. You may call me Morpheus."
Her lips curled into a half-smile, "Thank you, Morpheus."
He wasn't prepared for how his name sounded when spoken from her lips. She wasn't prepared for the soft smile that graced his handsome face. Even solemn, he was beautiful. But a smile, faced directly at her- because of her- it was like knowing the sun was shining because of her.
She was so unprepared that she blinked, waking up in her own bed, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. A wave of emotions washed over her; loss, frustration, hope, longing. She felt desperate to fall back asleep, to see that smile grace Morpheus' face again. But if that was going to happen, she would have to go to him.
203 notes · View notes
leavingautumn13 · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media
haunted towers, dark passage, and lofty castle skybox painting practice
[i have commissions open now]
81 notes · View notes
ertraeumte · 1 year
Note
Der tagelang angekündigte Schneesturm ist fern geblieben. Stattdessen wimmert es seit Tagesanbruch nur so von schreienden Vögeln — ohne Ende in Sicht.
Der tagelang angekündigte Schneesturm ist fern geblieben. Stattdessen wimmelt es seit Tagesanbruch nur so von schreienden Vögeln — ohne Ende in Sicht. Der Sturm wäre dir lieber gewesen, weil er dir Einsamkeit geschenkt hätte. Etwas, in dem du dich verstecken und verlieren kannst. Die dicken, kalten Flocken hätten dich an weißes Rauschen erinnert: Das absolute Gefühl von Leere, in das du dich gern gehüllt hättest, weil du dann endlich einmal absolut nichts hättest fühlen müssen. Ein Schneesturm kann trügerisch sein, weil er dich zunächst einlullt mit seiner Schönheit. Wenn du jedoch nicht aufpasst, verirrst du dich schnell und findest den Weg nicht wieder. Dann hat die Kälte sich deiner bemächtigt und lässt dich nicht mehr los. Der Gedanke hat dir fast schon geschmeichelt, auch wenn du es nur ungern zugibst. Aber es ist ohnehin vergebens, darüber nachzudenken, denn der Sturm ist nicht gekommen. Hat dich enttäuscht zurückgelassen, wie so vieles in der letzten Zeit. Stattdessen sind da diese Augen – pechschwarz und glänzend. Und viele, so viele. Du bist nicht sicher, ob sie dich betrachten, oder einfach nur umher stieren. Es ist dir unangenehm, im Zentrum der Aufmerksamkeit zu stehen, selbst wenn die Aufmerksamkeit die von Dutzenden von Vögeln ist. Einige sitzen auf Laternen. Manche laufen über die von Schlaglöchern gesäumte Straße. Und wenn du den Kopf hebst, erkennst du ihre dunklen Schwingen auch in der Luft, wie sie ihre Kreise ziehen, die immer kleiner werden. Es ist kein Zufall, dass sie sich alle auf dich zubewegen, oder? Du wendest den Blick, doch außer dir ist niemand hier. Du bist ganz allein, und wenn du recht überlegst, weißt du nicht einmal mehr, wie du hierher gelangt bist. Hast du dein Bett heute morgen überhaupt verlassen? Die Erinnerung schmerzt, sie will nicht an die Oberfläche dringen, ganz gleich, wie tief du auch nach ihr schürfst. Dich überkommt ein ungutes Gefühl. Diese vielen Augen ohne Iris erinnern dich an Abgründe, und vor denen hattest du stets Angst. Weil da immer diese leise, sanfte Stimme in deinem Kopf ist, die dich wissen lässt, dass du dich in einen Abgrund ziehen lassen würdest, wenn du ihm zu nahe kommst. Vertigo, so heißt es. Es ist keine Höhenangst, die verspürst du nicht. Es ist der Schwindel, der entsteht, wenn du zu lang in die Tiefe schaust und die damit verbundene Sehnsucht, diesem Schwindel nachzugeben. Genau so fühlst du dich jetzt, beobachtet von diesen vielen, vielen Abgründen. Dir fällt auf, wie still es ist. Sollte die Luft nicht erfüllt sein vom Krächzen der Vögel und dem Schlagen ihrer Flügel? Stattdessen ist da diese monotone Stille, die deine Paranoia schürt. Du willst fort hier, hast aber schon längst die Orientierung verloren. Du weißt nicht einmal mehr, woher du gekommen bist. Alles um dich herum sieht gleich aus. Die Straße führt ins Nichts, vor dir wie hinter dir. Und die Vögel, sie starren. Sie wissen. Und du? Du gibst auf. Irgendwann gibst du einfach auf und lässt dich fallen, in einen dieser Abgründe. … und wachst auf, bedeckt von kaltem Schweiß und dem unguten Gefühl, dass dieser Albtraum wiederkehren wird.
22 notes · View notes
weaverofdreaming · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
65 notes · View notes
a-titty-ninja · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media
1K notes · View notes
parznite · 10 months
Text
Tumblr media
"I call this wisp Dexter" "That's a cute name"
Finished Collab on Magma with @anriii !! They talking about the silly Nightmare Wisps!!
358 notes · View notes
jackzarts · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
Here’s my newest dream and space themed tiefling I’m using for a new campaign. Their names is Ul’duzar. I’m using a homebrew class named Dreamweaver. They are a very tall tief, reaching a 6’7” height, their skin is iridescent, they have fire-like hair (which I imagine it’s more like light), and their constellation tattoos can moves across their body.
instagram - twitter - more
213 notes · View notes