#I wanted a long strip but tumblr didn't let me ;-;

[apathetic-revenant]

uh...hi?

[head pokes around corner]

so...

I've been back to scrolling around on tumblr for a bit now, and have been really wanting to get back to actually, y'know. being here. posting. not just sort of hanging here invisibly like a mournful ghost, observing but never interacting. that sort of thing. (revenants, after all, are supposed to be corporeal undead.)

but I really wanted to explain why I just kind of abruptly vanished in the first place. no one demanded this of me, but it felt like something I had to do. and then, in the typical way of self-imposed obstacles, it became a massive stumbling block. partly because of the nerves and emotions attached to it, sure, but mostly, tbh, because it was a Task. I recently (about 3 weeks ago now?) started seeing a new psychiatrist and got an adjustment to my ADHD meds which basically made my brain boot up again for the first time in way too long. this is great! but it means I am having to kind of slowly rehab my brain into getting used to doing Literally Anything again, one small step at a time. I am not being hyperbolic when I say I had to gradually build up my executive functioning for a while just to be able to write a tumblr post.

but fuck it! I really wanted to just do this already. so, while I'm sure I'll talk about all this in more detail later, for right now I'm gonna strip this down to the bare essentials just so I can get it done at all.

here's what happened:

in 2020 I had a sudden onset of extremely severe OCD.

no, not about the pandemic, actually. yeah I was anxious about the pandemic but it was a pretty normal level of anxiety for a global pandemic, honestly. my OCD took the form of scrupulosity--essentially, an obsessive worry about being a bad person.

tumblr is....not a GREAT place to be if you have a sudden obsessive fear of being a bad person.

now, to be clear: tumblr did not CAUSE my OCD, and leaving tumblr did not cure it. that's just not how OCD works. later on, I learned that atypical antipsychotics--one of which I had been prescribed around that time, for depression--have been known to cause OCD. is there any way to prove that that's what happened? probably not, at this point! so I've just been kind of sitting with that terrible knowledge for a while.

anyway. I would've had OCD anyway, but reading a regular stream of posts going "hey, here's a really terrible thing you might be doing! you might even be doing it without knowing it! you need to think really hard and be constantly vigilant all the time for any sign that you might be doing this thing!" was basically pouring gasoline on the fire.

I never made an active decision to leave tumblr--if I had I would've said something first. I just kind of thought "god, I can't do this right now" one day and didn't open the app, which turned into days and then weeks and then months, and still things weren't getting better.

it's hard to express exactly how harrowing that whole experience was. actually I just started thinking about it and realized I would never finish this post tonight if I tried to get into it just now. so I won't. let's just say: It Was Bad.

but, by an astronomical stroke of luck, I ended up getting referred to not just an OCD therapist, not just the only OCD therapist in the state who took Medicaid, but the only OCD therapist in the state who took Medicaid and also she was really good at her job. I genuinely think that woman saved my life.

OCD therapy is one of those "the only way out is through" kind of things. it's brutal and also quite surreal, but it has a high success rate and is very effective. OCD is not a thing that you can cure, per se, but it went from completely dominating every waking moment of my life to being something that I occasionally have to yell at in much the same way as when the cat starts knocking things off my desk at 3 in the morning.

but, the thing was, it took a year-and-a-bit before my therapist and I agreed that I had probably "graduated" as she put it. so, by the time I felt able to go back on tumblr without my brain catching on fire again, it had been so long that I didn't know how to do it. I felt like I'd pulled a major dick move by just dropping off without saying anything. I still thought about it (usually late at night, at Time To Think About Every Regret I've Ever Had O'Clock) but my brain very easily goes to a place of "well, no one would really notice or care that I was gone, and if they did they'd be mad at me for having left."

well. earlier this year I started on the road to getting past that idea. shoutout to @fordtato for helping with that, btw.

but it took me a while to work up the courage and then, as previously mentioned, even longer to work up the neurotransmitters.

I think I gotta wrap this up for now cause I don't have much concentration juice left. but, for what it's worth: I had a lot of emotions, coming back and seeing the names of people I used to talk to all the time. I don't know how you feel about me anymore, but I really missed yall. I would like to talk to you again.

[riririnnnn]

Alright, I'm here to speak for my husband.

I'm new in Tumblr, so I don't exactly know what people think about Noa here, but as far as I have seen in other places, people generally say that he is the worst coach in NEL.

WHICH IS NOT TRUE AT ALL!

*screeches and rips out your wig*

Firstly, no coaches forced/pressurised anyone to choose their teams. It was one's own wish to go wherever the heck they want. Further, Ego explained everything about each stratum individually, so one knew what he was going in for.

So in no particular order, let's start.

1. Lavinho

Bro

BRO

You are telling me that this:

Is a better coach than Noa?

I agree that the whole speech by Lavi was actually fantastic, and further when Bachira told him about his Monster, not so surprisingly, Lavi told him exactly what he needed to hear because dun dun dun! Who chose FC Barcha?

YAS!

Bachira did, so obviously, it was the best for him and he improved.

Schizophrenia meets paranoia.

I mean, if he were to go in Ubers, Snuffy would've destroyed his 'originality'; if he were to go in PxG, he would've been outshined and pushed into being a midfielder, and in BM, he would've been depressed tbh. Manshine City is the only one which I think he could've improved physically.

All in all, my main focus about Lavi in this post is this panel:

Like, Lavi.

NO!

Guess who called him out for it?

Yes:

JUST LOOK AT WHAT HE SAID!

THAT'S MY HUSBAND Y'ALL!

I can't add more than 10/10 pictures per post, so I'm not adding it here:

In that same chapter (163) of the above panel, he calls out for Kunigami for the goals he missed, and then later (165) he asks him, "Now that you have seen it live, you think you can copy those movements?" If we consider his stoic personality, then it's his way of teaching.

Further, in chapter 164, when Lavi and Noa were going 1V1, and Isagi decided to jump in to steal the ball, Lavi used the blueberry boy as a way to get past Noa. Of course, Lavi was like, "Oh? Weaklings are just noise." LIKE HONEY STOP HE IS JUST A HIGH SCHOOL-ER!?

But yeah, Noa didn't chase Lavi further, and instead stopped to catch falling Isagi and explained him about the playstyle of Lavi.

BRO WHAT YOU WANT MORE!? HE IS NOT A BAD COACH!

2. Chris Prince

It's surprising, but his speech was hella good during the introduction.

And I don't mind that he strips and endorses stuffs. Like, do what you gotta do to get the bread in this economy. Besides, if I were a man and had a body like his, I'll be showing off too.

What, obviously, I'm going to show is this:

Like, the scores were 2-2, it was a PEAK moment, and he jumps in to take the spotlight?

Noa rightfully calls him out for it:

"This isn't your stage, Chris. Back off."

LOUDER FOR THE HATERS!

And you are telling me that Noa is a bad coach, huh?

Chris literally provoked Kaiser, made a near fool out off Yukimiya, and then started a beef with Isagi.

ACT YOUR AGE, CHRIS!

It's like someone throws me and you between Kindergartens, and then I start to write in beautiful cursive to prove that I'm so better than you.

3. Marc Snuffy

It's hypocritical, but the thing I called out Lavinho for, is the same reason why I wouldn't have gone to Ubers if I were a Blue Lock-er: telling the players what to do.

Starting from the start, we can see that Snuffy is one hell of a strategist, and was able to impress everyone.

However, it's been so long since NEL started that we have nearly forgotten that Blue Lock was made for strikers, and everyone selected were the forwards of their team. Like, fym Barou is the best suited to be a striker. Personally, I wouldn't have let it slide and would've started swinging fists.

Also, why are you trauma dumping into a 18 year old you met a few moments ago, just because he refused to play by your sayings.

Imagine someone tells you a story, and you go like, "Why are you telling me some loser's story?" And that someone replies, "Oh, actually, that was my best friend and he killed himself."

Are you getting me?

Further, I think Ubers got the better end of stick because:

Barou Shoei. No explanation needed.

Aryu Jyubei. He was literally the Top 3 during the second selection.

Niko Ikki. Bro is only 15 and hasn't even played for that long and was able to defend against Shidou and has meta vision.

Aiku Oliver. No explanation needed.

Sendou Shuto. Bro was literally the ace of (ex) U-20 team.

Don Lorenzo. Bro stopped Kaiser's impact

At this point, I'm getting my own emotions involved, but I didn't like how he just assigned everyone into positions. It felt like he molded them according to his own wants/needs that is, to win. I mean, he used data of the players to come up with a plan, right? Then why people think Noa is too reliant on numbers?

I'm not saying that Snuffy is a bad coach. Whatever he did, it turned out to work for the best. In fact, kudos for him to help Barou score by pushing Noa aside:

He is a good man and a good coach. Please don't think I hate Ubers.

4. Julian Loki

We haven't seen much of him, but if Shidou and Rin are in close quarters without trying to bust open eachother's skulls, then I think Loki is good at whatever he is cooking. Further, the fact that he is only 17, makes everything very impressive.

I know that we have already gotten a chapter focused on PxG, but it's not sufficient to precisely say how things got to be the way they are currently.

Also, ngl, I do think that PxG got the better end of the stick too:

Itoshi Rin. No explanation needed.

Shidou Ryusei. No explanation needed.

Tokimitsu Aoshi. He was literally Top 3 during the second selection. Like, even Barou couldn't defend against him (at that time).

Karasu Tabito. Bro is smart.

Tsurugi Zantetsu. Bro is speed.

Charles Chevalier. HE IS 15 AND ALREADY A PLAYMAKER.

Nanase Nijiro. Can't say much, but I think he is good.

The only problems are:

Itoshi Rin

Shidou Ryusei

Lol

.................................

To sum it up, Noa isn't a bad coach.

I do think it was a bit not-so considerate of him to just throw them into those physical tests because THEY ARE JAPANESE, NOA!? THEY CAN'T UNDERSTAND YOU!? If I were to be there, I would've been so lost like, Man, what you even want me to do?

Well, like I said earlier, everyone who chose the Germany stratum knew what they were getting into. Besides, Noa had made it crystal clear from the very start that if you want to play as regulars, prove it through your performance— what more do you want him to do!? Die or something?

Secondly, when Isagi came to his office/workspace whatever that is to ask for advice. He did give him one, in his own way. It was same like Lavi did to Bachi, and Chris did to Nagi, but each of them gave advices that reflected their own personalities.

Also, considering the environment in which he grew, one could expect him to be money hungry you know, yet, he was against of letting Isagi play in the match just because the sponsors wanted, and denied it till he forcefully agreed to let him play in, at least, one match. Even when he was subbing in him, he bluntly said, "It's fan service." This post isn't about Isagi, otherwise I would've mentioned how he proved his worth and THAT'S why Noa continued to let him play.

Further, I don't understand why people forget that in every match, Noa has explained stuffs to Isagi. For example:

Us Readers, take this as a narration about a character, and forget that in the BLLK universe, Isagi is the listener.

I don't think so that just because someone has an experience of doing something for long period of time, it also mean that they are capable of teaching others the same— Noa, I think, is doing his best; he literally, though for like a minute, let go of his striker position and did what was necessary for Isagi to score (chapter 201).

Just because Noa-Isagi interactions are highlighted more, doesn't mean Noa hasn't helped others too— he was watching over Kiyora and Igaguri practice, remember? Isagi is the protagonist after all, it makes sense for him to have the most spotlight.

To be completely honest, in the end, there is no definitive way of comparing all the coaches, it just boils down to what playstyle you have.

That's it, I guess.

.

.

.

Noa seems like someone who takes the meaning in the literal sense, like, someone be like, "He is such a Daddy material!" And he'd reply with a straight face, "I don't plan to have kids any time soon, but I appreciate that you think I'm worthy to be a Father." I just know he is dense.

[rainbowmoonstonestories]

Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings | Chapter 17

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

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

Credits: The moon dividers were made by firefly-graphics

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That sounds wonderful."

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

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

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

"Of course," you agreed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh hey! Hi!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

"Wait, it has?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What on earth was going on with you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey Y/N!”

“Matthew? What are you doing here?”

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

"Did Morpheus send you?”

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

"I don't understand.”

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

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

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

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

If anything, that added to your confusion even more.

“What kind of abilities?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What even is a Vortex?”

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

"The boss could explain that more effectively.”

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

“I think he heard that.”

“Good.”

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

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

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

And, above all else, you remembered her.

"I'm Rose. Rose Walker.”

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

"Where exactly are we?”

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

"Wait, am I asleep?”

"Where do you hail from, Rose?”

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

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

"I actually do. He’s in Florida.”

It couldn’t be…

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

“Wait, have you met her already?”

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

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

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

“You did? Oh…. oh. That’s not good.”

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

"Matthew?”

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

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

“Take care, Matthew.”

“You too, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, it’s Chesterton!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hey!" Ken exclaimed.

“You’ve returned,” said Chantal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right now?” The woman asked.

“Absolutely,” Ken replied.

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

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

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

Ken and Barbie immediately confirmed it.

“They do. Even at breakfast.”

“Right.”

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

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

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

“We’d love it.”

“But shouldn’t we wait for Hal?”

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

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

“Rose.”

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

“Wait, Y/N? Is that really you?”

Could it get any more awkward?

"Yes. It's good to see you again.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really..?”

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

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

"Nice to meet you too," you reciprocated.

"Are you joining us?" Lyta queried.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Trust me, I have absolutely no idea.”

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

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

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

“Of course.”

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

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

Yes. Your boyfriend undoubtedly owed you a significant explanation.

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

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

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

And Matthew was nowhere to be seen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hello to you too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That's not a good thing, right…?”

"No, not if it remains uncontrolled.”

“And it is?”

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

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

"Morpheus, she was in my dream."

“I am aware of that.”

“But why? How?”

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

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

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

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

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

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

"Y/N-”

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

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

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

Well, that did sound alarming after all.

“Can you elaborate?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your head was reeling. "Missing nightmares?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m fine,” you replied. “Are you?”

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

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

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

"Morpheus... who is that man?”

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

Feeds…

"Why do you ask?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

"And in what way exactly are you accountable?”

"Had I been here, fulfilling my duty-"

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

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

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

The mere thought of it could still provoke your wrath.

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

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

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

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

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

"Y/N, this is not-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He allowed me to leave.”

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

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

And for you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Curious.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Preferably alive and whole.

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

[gabessquishytum]

I don't know if tumblr ate my ask, if it's been buried, or if you decided you weren't interested. If it's one of the latter two, I apologize for this.

Beauty and the Beast Dreamling AU

When Prince Dream refuses a marriage proposal, (Titania?) he is cursed with immortality and a 'hideous' form and now he goes by Nightmare.

Matthew is Cogsworth

Lucienne is Ms. Potts

Corinthian is Lumiere (because he's always horny lol)

Enter Hob 'Monsterfucker' Gadling who has no idea what he did to become a 'prisoner' in this massive castle but the second he sees Nightmare, he really doesn't give a fuck. Nightmare is 8 feet tall, pale as a corpse with long messy black hair. He's got rows of sharp teeth that are very reminiscent of a shark and eyes like the night sky. Hob takes one look at him and his brain-to-mouth filter breaks and he says "Are you that big everywhere?" He's mortified but he also desperately wants to know because, of course, he's a bit of a size queen and if Nightmare’s cock is proportional to the rest of his body (it is) then it'll fill him soooo good.

Hob spends his entire time as a 'prisoner' desperately trying to get Nightmare to fuck him with his deliciously huge cock. No holds barred, no holding back, absolutely no shame. He'd legit walk around completely naked of he thought Nightmare would bend him over the nearest surface and fuck him. He's a whore of the highest order, but he is ONLY Nightmare’s whore.

- 🐺

Ooo so sorry if I did miss this one!!! It's fabulous!!!

I'm imagining all the ways Hob tries to seduce Nightmare. At first he tries conventional methods - he flirts, he serves dinner, he even serenades Nightmare with a lute he found lying around the castle! Nothing seems to work. The only time Nightmare shows any real interest is when they talk about books together, but it's hardly a topic that can lead into a proposition! Hob is getting pretty stumped as to what he can do to get this wonderful creature's attention!

To pass the time he starts cleaning the place up a bit, and because the castle is so filthy he ends up stripping down almost naked so as not to get his only set of clothes dirty. He scrubs and dusts and makes the place shine, and about half way through Corinthian is like... dude...... he's watching you!!! He's staring at your ass!!!!!!!

It's Hob’s first ray of hope that Nightmare might actually be interested in him! And so he decides he's just gonna be direct. He'll ask Nightmare to fuck him.

Nightmare is all "I'm cursed, everyone who loves me is cursed" and Hob is like "hey, I didn't say anything about LOVE. I just want that dick."

And so they do it! Nightmare's cock is bigger than Hob’s entire forearm and its probably the most intense experience of his life ever. He was expecting a rough, careless lover... but Nightmare is good to him. So tender, so considerate and so eager to enjoy Hob’s body in return! It's more than fucking, and as Hob bounces on that massive cock and looks into those beautiful black eyes... he realises that he was have been incorrect. Its entirely possible that he might juuuust be little bit in love with Nightmare.

Oops. Surely it can't do any harm! Unless, ya know, Titania finds out. Let's just hope nobody tells her...

[strawberrysoup]

Please don't get your hopes up, this is not about me returning from a four year hiatus or coming back to any fics I've started. This is an apology and acknowledgement of problematic content I've written - not the dark!fics or horror content, for better or for worse - regarding subjects I didn't and still don't fully understand.

I started writing Let's Review in 2019. At the time, I didn't know much about Israel. I knew that the United States overall supported Israel, but I didn't know why they needed to be 'supported'. I knew Israel came about after the Holocaust, but I didn't know how. I equated Israel with Jewish people, to my understanding Judiasm and Jerulselem were equitable to Mecca and Muslims. They were places I associated with religions; the historical home of the Jewish people was Israel and that was about it. I didn't know about Zionism or the history of the area or the displacement and genocide of the people of Palestine and the horrors they've endured under the Israeli State.

At one point, someone sent me a message asking about my opinions on Palestine and Israel and I replied something along the lines of, I don't want to discuss politics or political opinions on my Dark/Dead Dove Do Not Eat Fanfiction Tumblr. I don't know if Let's Review implies Penny supports Israel or if it implies I support Israel, I don't know the dog whistles to listen for or that I might have repeated without understanding their meanings - yet. I am actively attempting to learn more. I will not edit out any of what I wrote, I take responsibility for my ignorance and I won't try to erase or hide it. If I ever decide to return to writing, I will add disclaimers to every chapter of the original version of Let's Review with a more condensed version of this post. For now, I will pin this post to serve as a constant apology and acknowledgement for anyone new who stumbles across my fics. If I rewrite Let's Review, Penny and Peter will remain Jewish, but I will omit Penny's Israeli heritage - regardless of my determination to acknowledge my mistakes, I also acknowledge that building a character with that backstory is beyond my ability to accurately and respectfully portray.

I apologize to anyone that I marginalized with my writing. I apologize for writing off the message I received asking my opinion, that should have prompted me to do more research to understand why the question was even posed. I still do not fully understand the intricacies of this situation, history is written by the victors and religion is complicated.

What I do know is the actions of the Israeli/Zionist state do not represent the Jewish people or religion. I understand that the actions of the Zionists are antithetical to the Jewish religion. I understand that supporting the Zionist state is supporting the genocide and ethnic cleansing of the Muslim and Arab people of Palestine that has been happening over more than half a century. I understand that the 4th largest military force in the world is working to eradicate 2.2 million people who have no military or government to protect them in the Gaza Strip.

I've written a letter to my state congressmen and senators. If you've read this post and agree with my perspective, please consider reaching to whichever official is meant to represent your interests in your government. I've included mine below because I know the process of writing that sort of letter can be daunting. It's not perfect - it's probably not even good, it could be fucking stupid, but I think it gets the point across. Copy and paste it if you're comfortable with that, take it and edit it to make it your own, I don't care - what I care about is you contacting your representatives to make sure they understand you condemn the actions of the Israeli state's war crimes and human rights violations. I tried to include as much as I could while keeping it just under 2,000 characters.

You might think this is stupid of me, to return after so long just to make this statement. But I think it matters. Even if I hadn't written a character with a backstory that was beyond my ability to write respectfully that I needed to take responsibility for, requesting and attempting to facilitate anyone who still follows me to do what they can is something I will do to the best of my ability. Share your opinion. Be loud. Make them listen.

[Representative],

I'm writing to you today regarding the war crimes and human rights violations occurring in Israel, occupied Palestine, and the Gaza Strip. Foremost, I hope you understand that supporting the Jewish people isn't the same as supporting Israel. Supporting Israel is supporting Zionism. Supporting the Zionists is supporting the crimes being committed against a population marginalized due to their religion and ethnicity.

Israel doesn't exist as a country, but it does exist as a hostile military force actively committing acts of genocide and ethnic cleansing. We know what apartheid policy looks like and how quickly it devolves into fascism. The Muslim and Arab people of Palestine have been relegated to second class citizens and it keeps getting worse.

Those living in the Gaza strip, the largest open air prison in the world, have no voting power under the Zionist State. They have no military, no government, no airport. They have no control over their electricity, imports or exports, internet access, or movements in or out of the strip. These 2 million people have been forced to live in a territory that is 25 miles long and 6 miles wide, and the Zionist army is eradicating them.

You can't blame the population of Gaza for the crimes of Hamas. As I mentioned before, the territory is occupied by more than 2 million people. You can't equate the entire population with their most radical terrorist faction.

We've seen this happen before. How many people will die in bombings and massacres before we stop turning a blind eye?

This cannot be ignored or supported. Every government should loudly and clearly condemn these inhumane crimes. Please bring this to your colleagues' attention. Please support Palestinians, support the Arab and Muslim populations living in what they call Israel, condemn the actions of a hostile occupying force commiting real time genocide while we watch.

[Your Name]

[nakedbusdriver]

Let me introduce myself... (Although you may know me from my previous blogs.)

My name is Andrew, I live in a small village close to the M25 London Orbital Motorway in Kent, UK, and I will be 60 years old next month. I am gay, single and mainly submissive... and I have a very small penis!

Why do I call myself The Naked Bus Driver? (The photo might give you a clue!) From a very young age I have always enjoyed playing games that involve dares, forfeits and removing clothes. I was 14 years old when I first discovered the pleasure of stripping off outdoors. Over the last 45 years many of my sexual experiences have taken place outside, or in unusual places!

I first discovered Tumblr (and other photo sharing websites) about ten years ago. At first I was a bit shy and nervous, and used a false name. That didn't last long!

If you want to know (or see) more, send me a DM or use the "ASK" button. I always try to answer ANY questions fully and honestly, no matter how embarrassing or exposing they may be.

[faghubby]

Camping

My friend Joe asked me to join him on a camping trip. It wasn't something I normally enjoyed but Joe had just gone thru a divorce and I figured he just wanted to get away. So I agreed. He had all the equipment gave me a list of what to bring. Basically a change of clothes. Joe even packed my gear for me.

"Where we headed?" I asked.

"I thought we head out to Crystal Lake" he told me. Had never been there so I just nodded. We headed out. It was a three hour drive. When we arrived Joe handled everything he set up the tent started the fire. I was no help everything I tried to help with Joe had to fix. He made dinner over the fire. We sat back and watched the sunset as we got got high. I was pretty stoned when Joe helped me into my sleeping bag.

"Did you check for snakes?" He asked smiling. He reached into the bottom of my bag his hand slid up my leg and he grabbed my crotch.

"Found a little one, don't think he big enough to bite" he said. I was stunned as he rubbed me thru my boxers.

"I found your Tumblr page" he said softly.

"No stop please" I moaned. He did but only to zip our sleeping bags together. He stood and stripped. I looked up to see his cock swinging between his legs thru the small about of fire light coming thru the tent. He slid into the sleeping bag naked.

"Joe I am not gay" I told him he didn't seem to care. He pushed my hands down towards his cock as he bit my nipple.

"I know you are a sissy bitch" he whispered in my ear. As he nibbled on my lobe."

"I never, done nothing" I tried to tell him he placed his cock in my hand. It was huge I thought as it grew hard. I stroked him softly.

"Do you want to taste it " he asked me. I shook my head no. His hands explored my body. Pinching and rubbing all over. I felt his fingers probe my ass.

"So tight" he said and kissed my neck. I was humping the air at this point wanting desperately for him to help me cum. He focused on my ass. Lubing his fingers he slid one then two inside. He had me face away from him allowing him more access. Soon he was finger fucking my ass. He hard cock rubbed against my thigh.

"Okay, I want you to relax and push out like your taking a shit" he told me. I tried as he held the head of his cock against my hole. It was just pressure then my ass gave way and a shot of pain as the head of his cock slid in.

"Shhh relax" he said as he held me and rubbed my balls. The pain started to subside. And he worked in alittle more. He was slow and gentile as he took his time before I knew it he had 8 inches of cock balls deep in my ass. He started to fuck me with long strokes. The pain gone I only felt pleasure as he fucked me.

he took his time switching positions and moving me to how he wanted me. It seemed like an hour before he stiffened and flooded my ass with his cum.

"Is that how you imagined" Joe asked holding me tight.

"Better" I cooed. I was still hard and wanted a release. But Joe just held me tight.

"Paulie, you should find pleasure in pleasing me" he said kissing my neck again. He asked me about my dirty thoughts. He knew everything I had posted. How I wore my wife Sue's clothes. And talked with men on the internet. I eventually fell asleep in Joe's arms.

I woke and noticed I had the hardest morning wood ever. And my ass hurt. I crawled out of the tent to go pee. Joe was making breakfast.

"How you feeling?" He asked with a sly smile. I wandered off to pee. When I returned Joe stood and handed me a cup. But then pulled me close and kissed me hard and deep. His tounge probed my mouth. I was rock hard again. My didk throbbing as it pressed against him. He let me go and I drank my coffee.

"You are mine now, I don't want to share you" Joe told me. "Not even with Sue" he told me. He then handed me my bag. In it were Sue's things. One of my favorite outfits of hers to wear.

"Why don't you get dressed and beg to suck my cock" Joe told me.

"Joe I can't it's just a fantasy !" I wimpered

"Was last night a fantasy" he smiled and slid his hand runnimg across my ass.

"No, I guess" I whispered.

"Come here" he pulled me into my lap.

"You want to be my little sissy faggot don't you?" Joe asked as he pinched my nipples. I felt his cock get hard. He let me up and I went to change.

"You can do it here" Joe said grabbing my hand. I looked around we where in the middle of the woods. And I was still worried someone would see. I opened the bag I recognized the clothes, they belonged to my wifeSue. How had Joe gotten them. I stripped and got dressed in front of him. I slid on my favorite pink thong and bra set. Then pink skin tight shorts. And a belly shirt. Joe stood and pulled out his cock. Then sat back down.

"Paulie come suck my cock" he told me. I just stared at him. Then knelt.

"I will try" I mumbled

"Sue thinks you will do great" Joe told me as I licked the tip of his cock. I stopped and looked up at him.

"Baby, what you waiting for" Joe smiled. I went back to his cock. I licked it all over and sucked on the tip.

"Suck the balls, bitch" Joe told me. I took one then the other in my mouth. He rubber my hair.

"You look pretty as a blond" Joe told me. He let me explore him. I tried to take him in my mouth. I couldn't get more then the tip but kept trying.

"You love sucking my cock don't you?" Joe asked. I just nodded. I continued to try and please him for over an hour. I stopped my jaw sore. Joe helped me stand.

Joe made me breakfast . I sat and ate.

"I am sorry I couldn't make you cum" I told Joe.

"You will have lots of time to practice" Joe informed me.

"Why did Sue give you clothes?" I asked

"You thought she didn't know?" Joe smiled. I panicked alittle.

"Come here" Joe smiled pulling me to his lap. I knew what he wanted and pulled my shorts down before I sat on his lap.

"Here" he handed me a tube of lube. I applied it to his cock. And to my ass. He pulled my thong to the side. I lowered myself onto his hard cock.

"That's right take my cock. Beg me to fuck you like the bitch you are" he told me. His cock slid it much easier then last night.

"You are my sissy bitch from now on, you are mine now" he told me.

"Yes" I moaned. I fucked him. Till he came in my ass. He reached around and made me cum in his hand. He raised his hand to my lips.

"You know what to do" Joe told me. I opened my mouth and he pushed his cum covered fingers in my mouth.

"Cum sucking slut" Joe laughed. As I consumed all of my own cum. As his cock slipped out of my ass. I got dressed. As Joe packed up camp. He didn't let me help. It was man's work he told me.

We hiked out I was still dressed in Sue's clothes. As cum leaked from my ass the whole way out.

"Sue has set up the guest room for you, I don't want my bitch sleeping with anyone else" Joe told me on the drive home. I looked over at him after about an hour into the ride. Then reached over and unbuttoned his jeans. He helped me get out his cock. I practiced sucking his cock again.

"Such a good horny slut" Joe moaned.

this time I was able to make him cum. I choked on his cum. But licked it all up after. The ride home Joe explained what he expected

He wanted me smooth and pretty at all times. When we got home Sue was there to greet me.

"So?" Sue asked smiling.

"I can explain" I started

"No need darling" she kissed me on the cheek. And led me to the guest room. She had moved my things into it.

"Obviously if Joe spends the night it will be just fine" Sue told me. I looked at her.

"Of course if I have an over night guest" she smiled, it made sense but I had not thought about it. I knew I would forever be Joe's

[zkfae]

Three Little Images and a Fun Little Tale

So I came up with my two key OCs a little over a year ago while playing with a picrew

Zephyr K. Fae (They/She/He)

And Meryl E. Dansen (She/They)

I wound up loving these two so much I decided it would be fun to imagine them as roommates. Then I started getting some art of them done via commissions. Once I had a few all together, I realized I could work a mini story around them and posted that to my twitter. Figured now that I have this tumblr, I may as well post it here as well.

So, check it out (and the arts that inspired it) below the cut (and let me know what you think if you read it):

___________________________________

After a long day at work, Zephyr could only think of one thing they wanted to do as soon as they got home. Rushing to strip off their work clothes and taking out their supplies; diapers, wipes, and powder.

After laying everything out, they got to work, unable to stop smiling through the entire process.

Next up was putting the rest of their outfit for the evening together.

First up was a pair of black thigh highs, then their favorite top (mainly because it gave her wings room to breath that her work shirts didn't.)

One final touch was the collar their mommy had given them last time they'd seen each other (Zeph needed to remember to take pictures of themself wearing it for her later.)

Zeph went up to their full length mirror to appreciate how they looked. Wanting to take in every angle of a sight that had become less common recently.

Time management was never their strong suit and it's only gotten worse in the past year. Barely holding head above water on the stuff that needs to get done left no space for what they wanted.

But tonight, they were pushing that out of their mind and appreciated the sight of their own padded bottom with a simple thought.

"It's been too long!"

(art by floofnfluff)

Zeph stepped out into the living room to settle in for the night. Stretched across the couch was their favorite punky pink catgirl and roommate, Meryl.

Her ears twitched hearing Zeph step out of their room. She sat up, looked them up and down as they walked by, and rolled her eyes.

"Ugh… My roommate is such a baby…"

(art by Princess Molly)

Zeph sticks their tongue out back at her

"You're wearing a diaper too!"

"Mines covered up, though."

"By fishnet tights?"

"It's called 'fashion'.", Meryl affirmed with a smirk.

(art by toddlercasper)

Zeph kept walking away from the cat with a smirk of their own and said, "Well, if I'm such a baby then I guess I'm too little to make dinner tonight."

Meryl stood right up at that, "That's not fair! You promised breakfast for dinner tonight!"

Zeph stuck their thumb in their mouth in performative defiance, "Sowwy, babies not twusted in the kitchen."

As they kept stepping away, Meryl snuck up behind Zeph and lifted and swiftly lifted them off the ground.

Zeph yelped, "HEY!"

"If you're going to be a baby tonight, then I'm putting you down for a nap.", Meryl insisted.

"NO FAIR!", Zephy shouted while kicking their legs.

"If little Zephy Fae doesn't feel like being big tonight, they can live with a little naptime."

"Come oooon! Put me down!", Zephy whined

"You know the magic words to make me stop."

"I'm sorry and I'll make dinner." Zephy pouted

"Not those ones."

With a sigh, Zephy let out exactly what her Roommate wanted to hear, "Meryl is always bigger than me…"

"Very good.", Meryl said as she set her roommate down. Her purple tail was waving back and forth with pride at this victory.

She gave Zeph a playful pat on her diapered butt and watched as they walked into the kitchen

Zeph was barely able to hold back their own giggles as they went along. Being able to play out moments like that with her was exactly why Meryl was the best friend they ever had!

~Fin.

[bhryn-art]

SHE LIIIIIIVES

Okay so there's been some time since I last used my Tumblr, and I guess we'd better chat - HI, how are ya? This will be a decent chat, I'll do us all a favour and pop it behind a careful little barrier so you can read at your leisure. Before that! WHERE AM I? Find me at these places: TWITTER/X: Bhryn BSKY: It's still Bhryn CARA: Take a wild guess - Bhryn Ao3 (it's ALL Fire Emblem not sorry!): Bhryn Astairre What's happening with Bhryn/Ferai? Well...

It's been a long time coming, but I think almost anyone who had been close to me has known this was going to turn up one day. And hey, I had a good long run. I never finished Endwalker. I got to around level 77? I think? And I just... didn't feel it anymore. I told myself I'd go back when my interest picked up. It never did. I instead became a lot more invested in other things, and took a huge break from everything to try dealing with my declining health. To that end; thank you, for all the wonderful friends I made on FFXIV, for the fun times we had. But it's time I moved on. I have no immediate or long term plans to return to FFXIV, and I wish everyone who still plays a great, fun time with the game going forward. I won't say for certain that I'm leaving, but I know for now, it's far back on the shelf for me. A large part in this is my decline in health. I'm currently bedbound - I wasn't a couple of years ago, but times change! You just have to roll with the punches. One of these is having a frankly rubbish laptop that wheezes when I play Content Warning and Lethal Company. I dread to think how on fire it would be if I tried even loading the FFXIV benchmark! I also made the choice to get a Steamdeck rather than a new laptop. This laptop still runs my art programmes and lets me write and talk to friends, so I don't need the upgrade badly (I say, side-eyeing the loud and grating noises it keeps making on waking up from sleep with nervousness). The other big punch is the worsening of my hands. Years ago I mentioned to my friends and followers that my EDS was never going to settle for just being a pain in my hip, knees, neck... any joint basically. EDS was always going to be a slow progression. I fought hard against it, and I'm still fighting! To the best of my abilities! But there came a point when finishing off a piece of work for a client, that I realised I simply didn't have the physical stamina or the dexterity in my hands/fingers to do long term brief work anymore. This loss of skillful motion has affected me playing games. I used to joke about having 'old lady reflexes' but honestly, I really do have them now! So I stripped back artwork to be 'just for me, just for fun'. The same for games. Anything that I cannot play well on a controller? Not worth it. I can play Ninja in ffxiv on a controller, but we come back to my Craptop Self Immolating if I tried. So what happens now to me? Now, I try and relax best I can (I caught the Rona four weeks ago, I'm still sore throat and itching in my chest/wheezing/terrible crackling in my chest) and work on my surroundings to give myself the best chance going forward to improve my life. This tumblr, when I made it, it was for me to play my FFXIV character. I have a couple of choices open to me, but I think I would like to change it completely over to an art and writing blog, just in general. To do that, I would have to go and take my username from my old blog and put it on this one. OR, I let this stay as an idle blog and dust off my old tumblr and move ahead with that. I'm still undecided! But, whatever I choose, I want you to remember; You're great. Be kind, do kind things, leave the world better than how you found it. You got this. You always did. With love; Me xxx

[thecolorblockcurator]

how did you know you were trans and that you're not just gnc? ik this sounds weird but it's a genuine question bc I'm questioning and I'm really confused

Oh I don't mind sharing!

I came out as genderfluid maybe 2 years ago- I knew there was a part of me that was masculine. I saw that as a very gnc guy. & I realized that I had been consciously repressing that for a long time. very much afraid to let anyone see that in me.

It took a while, working with a trusted therapist, introspection, healing from childhood trauma of abusive & neglectful parents, re-learning who I was, what I actually liked and valued, listening to myself and my inner child. Lots of going through & feeling the really tough stuff I had been pushing away.

Something that really helped was looking at old photos of myself & seeing the discomfort & sometimes pure gender euphoria there. I also created a private Tumblr where I just reblogged everything that felt like my gender or sexuality.

So this year actually- it hit me like a ton of bricks. I was actually in like half awake/half asleep state one morning & I had dream - or I finally was comfortable enough to let myself see this-

I saw my idealized version of myself standing in front of me. I was a bit more muscular, I had body hair, a scruffy beard, long hair in a messy man bun, a muscle t, some jewelry, black nail polish. and that version of me reached out & took my hand & said It's time, you're ready. So - I had been saving up info about going T for maybe 5 years! (just so I could -you know could be informed & learn things about others lol) So immediately when I woke up- I asked myself a bunch of questions about starting T - I went through every possible trait I could expect. Was it something I wanted, was it something I could tolerate, was it something I didn't want. And everything (except possible hairloss) was an enthusiastic yes- I want that. And later on after I told my wife and friends I wanted to medically transition, and use he/him pronouns, and masculine descriptors. I looked back at that Tumblr I made- & it was all men. the entire thing was men. I cried -it was so affirming.

So honestly it just took me getting out of my way & allowing myself to confront and accept that I was trans. I was holding onto so much internalized fear and ideas that I wasn't allowed to even want that. I had to strip all of that away so I could build my true self up.

[theveryworstthing]

Just making sure you know but a tumblr user called ode-on-a-grecian-butt has started reposting your stuff and when they were called out on it, they started saying that you were a "bitch" to them and that you deserve to have your art stolen :/ figured that you should know so you could at least block them if you wanted

thanks for letting me know. i just checked my inbox for the first time in a while and you're not the only person to tell me about this. I had almost forgotten about them until now because i'm not the sort of person to do public internet slap fights (or any internet slap fights if i can help it) and i thought they were just some rando who was probably having a bad day so i just dropped it and moved on.

basically, they reposted my rococo eldritch elf lady with the wrong tags and the accompanying drawings/lore gone (but with credit!), and when someone asked them if i said that was okay, they huffed a bit but they did come and ask me right away. it was kind of a weird ask because their reasoning was that they didn't like anything else about the post so reposting her made sense to them, but they were nice about it at first. really respectful. said they'd delete it no problem if i was uncomfy.

this was a lie :)

long story short, i said that i would rather they not repost that specific piece, especially with all the context stripped away, but that the credit was appreciated. they got snippy, i got snippy back because i was dealing with a dying cat and was in no mood to entertain yet another round of, "well if you feel that strongly about people reposting your art you should have a watermark," bs. not only would that not stop anyone ever (i know. i tried it when i was younger), but i also initial my work AND it was credited by them so it was clear that wasn't even the problem. they were just fussy about being told no.

considering their last words to me were, "get fucked chuckles," after i gently ribbed them for telling me what to do with my art and mis-tagging my stuff, and i guess they still reposted my art while slandering my mid-tier-at-best internet name, i think we can call it even on the bitch thing.

mostly i'm just posting this so people can stop telling me about them. i appreciate it, but this happened a few weeks ago and they're only 1 out of who knows how many internet weirdos who've showed up on my doorstep over the years. i already did the screenshot and block tango when this happened. i do not expect them to actually take my art down. i don't want an apology. as long as the block keeps blockin' and they keep my name out their mouth we're copacetic.

[blacknwhitemood]

It is funny how badly works my 7+ years old LG phone, worse than my short sighted eyes with lenses. Maybe I saw with my heart. That's why I didn't make much photos, but I enjoyed and lived every seconds of the show, these photos don't show what I felt, just some memories.

Now I'm lively, I feel the same miracle like after last year's show, but yesterday in addition to being sleepy I was lost. Honestly I've got tired of being so nervous about the tickets for weeks, months. Before and during the show I felt the luckiest DM fan in the stadium, a dream came true. But it destroyed me a bit as well. For a long time I was literally sick.

At the end of the concert I felt sadness, as if I lost something, and I was crying on the next day when I thinked of the show, I don't know, why. Perhaps because there is no more event waiting for with such an enthusiasm, or I just wanted more, just one more song… to stay there, in the feeling. Or I just wanted to go closer, to hug them, to say thank you. To thank them for changing the way of my life, to fill me those massive feelings, to discover more dimensions of myself by their songs, sound, voice, personality. This is the power of music, especially their music. Helps not only to survive but lot more. I'm very lucky to catched 2 concerts of MM tour. I am happy in my way, but DM always brings more emotions, not only happyness.

About the concert. When they appeared on the stage, I' started to cry and fly. Everyone stood up from the beggining. I could see all of cute choreography that I've seen 100 times at youtube and tumblr. The audience was excellent, loud, hands everywhere, singing together with Dave or Martin, when Dave was conducting our voice's volume, that was one of the best moment. I loved Behind The Wheel, In Your Room, Stripped, Martin's Home and Somebody together, Never Let Me Down Again of course, thousends arms were waving in the air, we didn't let them to finish the song… but the highest moment was Black Celebration, I went crazy just like all the 16000 people (small hall, last year we were 50000 of us). I really missed Waiting For The Night, but only because I was really waiting for it. We got Condemnation, just like last year, I love that too. Perhaps it's lyrics have a message for me.

After the show me and my best friend accidently met some special friends yet in the stadium, whose somehow helped us getting tickets, later we went to the official afterparty getting together with @mijamija1234 and I was dancing until 3am mostly for 40+ years old songs…

The Big Day. The frame of my 8 months long musical and emotional travel. Right now I feel wow. I'm so grateful for everyone who opened those certain doors for me.

Fun fact at the end for you: in Hungarian we have a term for "DM fan", it's called "depeses" (pronounce: 'depeshesh), we use it since the 1980s. I'm definitely depeses now 🌹

My short story: how it begun, mood, 2nd chance, the day is near, lost hope, incredible luck

[muirmarie]

Muirrrrr you know I want to hear more about the lying liars aka those mysterious sex injuries... pls 🙏🩷

obviously you know the plot since it was yours and kak's idea, but for anyone else: established spirk - Kirk keeps coming to Sickbay with injuries from having sex with Spock (McCoy doesn't know this yet, but these are greatly exaggerated because Spock & Kirk are Scheming), and he finally convinces McCoy to come over for some one-on-two advice, that they immediately escalate into "watch and tell us what we're doing wrong" to "really you need to be hands-on" - listen don't do this to your bestie, but imo it's very very funny when it happens to McCoy, what can I say

also I should say: Spock has very little sexual experience here, and he's never slept with a guy or a human before Kirk, and Kirk has only done some very casual stuff with a couple human guys, and he's never slept with a Vulcan before Spock. Meanwhile McCoy & Jocelyn were poly and had a long affair with a Vulcan guy at one point. So while the injuries are somewhat exaggerated, Spock & Kirk still......let's say they learn a lot from McCoy lmao

safe for tumblr snippet under the cut:

___________________

“So I put together a presentation,” McCoy says, looking at his PADD, his drink mostly untouched on the coffee table. “I figure I can go over it, and then answer any questions you might have.” He looks at Spock, his expression still far more gentle than it usually is with him. “I know this is probably awkward, but I'm here to help, and there's no stupid questions, okay? And if at any point you're uncomfortable—”

“I understand how presentations go, yes,” Spock says, clearly trying to shut McCoy up. McCoy rolls his eyes and sinks back into the couch, the soft look dropping from his face.

“Sure, fine, what was I thinking,” he mutters, and then focuses on pulling the presentation up on his PADD. “I had to save it in a private, secure area. Didn't want it ending up anywhere it shouldn't be, so just hold on a second while I—”

“I'm more of a hands-on learner, Bones,” Kirk says. “Why don't you just watch us and tell us what we're doing wrong?”

“Funny,” McCoy says, not looking up from his PADD.

“It seems a logical course of action to me,” Spock says, and he strips off his uniform shirt, leaving him in that black undershirt that really, Kirk thinks, taking a moment away from their hijinks to admire him, really does such great things for his body.

McCoy makes an odd spluttering noise, the PADD falling into his lap.

“I don't—that's not—you can't be—that's not funny, Spock!”

“It was not intended to be,” Spock says. “I was under the impression you were concerned for Jim's health, but perhaps your Human notions of embarrassment are more important to you?”

“Human notions of—Spock, you aren't seriously trying to say that you—”

“Jim's health is paramount to me,” Spock says. “Perhaps erroneously, I had assumed it was paramount to you, as well.”

McCoy swallows.

“You're trying to manipulate me,” he says.

“Yes,” Spock says. “Is it working?”

[rainbowmoonstonestories]

Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings | Chapter 14

Chapters: 14/? Fandom: The Sandman (Netflix 2022, minor content from the Comics) Rating: Explicit Relationships Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x F!Reader  Characters: Dream of the Endless/Morpheus, Lucienne, Matthew the Raven, Mervyn Pumpkinhead, Hob Gadling, Death, Rose Walker, The Corinthian, other minor Sandman characters, Original Characters. Warnings: 18+ content (minors DNI), explicit sexual content, POV switching, very long chapters to read. Summary: You always dreamed of becoming a successful Fashion Designer, sharing your creations with the world and making your father proud. But with him being very ill and so many costs solely weighting on your shoulders, things didn’t go as planned and you had to take a different path instead. An interesting offer led you to the elder Alex Burgess and you were hired as a new housemaid for a very good pay. However, your kindness and outstanding empathy convinced the man to give you an additional task for a doubled compensation; gaining the trust of Dream Of the Endless, held captive into the basement for over a century. Despite the shock of finding such an ethereal entity stripped of all his clothes and contained into a confined space, you had to accept for the sake of your father. But the more you got to speak to the mysterious anthropomorphic personification who didn’t utter a single word, the more you were lost into his eyes that, conversely, seemed to contain the entire universe. A deep connection formed between the two of you, separated only by a thick layer of glass.

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

Credits: The moon dividers were made by firefly-graphics

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

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

Being deceived your entire life was not something you were prepared for. Fortunately, once again, Morpheus was there to provide support.

Note: This chapter is quite long. I was considering to split it and just add the second part to the next one, but I didn't want to make it longer than intended. In chapter 16, the Vortex part will officially begin.

Morpheus was ready to go to any lengths for you. The way you never took advantage of his power and treated his gifts with the utmost care was everything he could ever hope for. You were a genuine treasure, illuminating and uplifting the spirits of everyone, including Morpheus himself, without needing any refinement.

The pendant adorning your neck served as a powerful symbol, bestowed upon you to safeguard you from harm and infuse you with a piece of his essence. It was common knowledge that the Endless had the ability to prolong a mortal's life just by being near them, but when it came to you, Morpheus was resolute in ensuring that you wouldn't slip away from his hold sooner than he wished.

However, there was still an important piece of information from your past that remained hidden, a vital detail that Morpheus was forbidden to reveal. Despite being bound by a verbal agreement with Paregoros that prevented him from speaking about it, as the Ruler of the Dreaming, he possessed a talent for uncovering and taking advantage of loopholes to serve his own interests. Leveraging his abilities, he employed his gift of inspiration to ignite the creative brilliance of artists and writers, leaving an enduring imprint on history. Their invaluable contributions continued to be revered and celebrated across generations in textbooks and literary masterpieces. The dreams and nightmares he meticulously crafted had the power to shape the trajectory of mortals, guiding them towards a myriad of choices they would make in the Waking World.

He persuaded Richard Madoc to set Calliope free. He convinced Maya Davies to openly address her actions at the office, dealing with the burden of guilt and self-disappointment that would haunt her for an extended period of time.

There was no feat beyond his grasp within his domain. The purpose of the Dreaming itself was to fulfill such a role, granting him the ability to accomplish anything.

And so, he made the decision to inspire yet another human - someone he had never personally met, but who held immense significance and closeness to his beloved.

According to your account, your father was going through an emotional breakdown that tormented him with sleepless nights and anxious days. There wasn't a specific nightmare haunting the man, but his dream record offered Morpheus valuable insights into the root cause of his troubles.

Thus, Morpheus ventured into the vast expanse of dreams within his realm, searching for the particular one he sought. He wandered along an endless path that twisted and turned, encountering a series of ever-shifting scenes that emerged from the mortal realm. Passing through a gate adorned with roses, he effortlessly opened it with a simple wave of his hand. Stepping inside, he walked along a secluded beach, seemingly abandoned except for three figures near the edge of the sea. Among them, only one person was truly asleep, while the other two were mere projections of the human's subconscious mind.

The soothing sound of the waves enveloped the atmosphere, while the sun radiated its warmth from above. Your father, in his younger years, relaxed on a beach towel, a serene smile adorning his lips. He watched with attentiveness as a little girl constructed a sandcastle before him, showering her with praise for her imaginative creation and encouraging her to make it even more magnificent. Beside him, Paregoros rested her head on his shoulder, expressing her love for their daughter and her longing to perpetually preserve that cherished moment of togetherness.

Morpheus stood nearby, observing and hearing everything, yet maintaining a respectful distance. He watched as you lifted your head, your captivating eyes moving from the sandcastle to meet his gaze. A smile formed on your face, acknowledging his presence before redirecting your focus back to the construction in front of you., acknowledging his presence before redirecting your focus back to the construction in front of you.

As a replica of your childhood self, you existed solely within his realm and nowhere else. This version of you was nothing more than an abstract entity recognizing its master, yet even as a dream, you radiated a gentle warmth that had the ability to melt his heart.

He continued to observe the family for a little while longer, sensing a tinge of intrusion into a private moment not intended for his eyes. Morpheus contemplated turning away and departing, but to his astonishment, your father spoke in a way that seemed to be directed at him.

"Isn't it beautiful? This is how I’ve always envisioned things, for all of us.”

Morpheus walked closer, daring to stop just a few inches away.

"But this isn't real, is it? It's merely a construct of my mind. Just a dream.”

Morpheus' attention shifted back and forth, alternating between your father, Paregoros, and the little Y/N.

"Yes, you are sleeping,” the Endless replied, his voice echoing in the salty air. "But that does not diminish the significance of what you are dreaming about.”

The man chuckled softly, bringing his hands together around his knees. “’Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?’”

Morpheus reacted with a pout, furrowing his eyebrows, while the man responded with a wide smile. "It's a quote from Harry Potter. Have you ever read that one?”

“I have not.”

"Please excuse my digression, then.”

Paregoros and Y/N carried on as if nothing was happening. Your father cast a sidelong glance at his partner, his expression growing darker and more solemn.

"This is not my first time here," he realized. "But I must confess, I do not recall ever seeing you. Have we crossed paths before?”

“No.”

“I see. For some reason, you seem familiar to me.”

He pondered over it, attempting to dispel the haze of the dream from his mind. Eventually, he shook his head and snickered to himself again, finding amusement in his own thoughts.

"Ah, never mind," he said dismissively. "I think you remind me of a character from another book, The Sandman. But that's just foolish, isn't it?”

Morpheus remained silent, but this time, a barely concealed grin formed on his lips.

Even in his dreamlike state, the mortal was perceptive enough to notice it. “What?”

"You are quite like her," Morpheus noted.

Your father blinked in confusion. "Her?" he questioned, seeking clarification.

The King of Dreams tilted his head slightly, his eyes fixed upon the little girl once more. The man followed his line of sight and, with a quick glimpse at you, he understood. "You know my daughter?”

Morpheus nodded in confirmation.

"But… how...?"

"No matter. The truth that you are keeping from her seems to be tormenting you.”

Upon hearing this, the waves receded partially, and a deafening silence descended, causing your father's shoulders to slump in defeat. “You know that as well?”

"You attempted to shield her from something that was just too much for the both of you. Your love for your daughter is immeasurable, but it is time for you to let go of this burden," Morpheus advised.

"How am I supposed to do that? I’ve been lying about it her entire life.”

"Your daughter is prepared, and she will not hold any resentment against you for it."

As the conversation continued, Paregoros kept her attention on the little girl, who was diligently shoveling and shaping the sand with a perpetual smile on her face.

"I don't want to lose her," he confessed. "She's everything I have.”

"Your fear is a perception, an obstacle that must be overcome.”

"Easy for you to say," the man responded. "She went through hell because of what I did, because of our deception. How could anyone forgive such a thing?”

"Y/N has achieved remarkable accomplishments. She is more than capable of accepting things that surpass mortal understanding.”

"You speak as if you know her better than I do.”

"I do possess precise knowledge of all of you, far better than you have of yourselves,” Morpheus asserted.

Your father raised an eyebrow and asked, "All of us? Who exactly are you?”

“Mortals like you have limited recollection of your dreams while awake.”

"Do you think I will forget you?"

"You may."

"Are you even real?"

"I am."

He narrowed his eyes, cautiously studying the Endless with great scrutiny. "You are him, aren't you? You are the King of Dreams."

“You do not appear surprised.”

He shrugged. "All stories originate from reality.”

Morpheus was convinced that your qualities were a legacy from your mother, with her inherently compassionate and benevolent nature. Yet, as he observed your father now, so composed and open-minded, he concluded that a portion of your value also stemmed from his good heart and understanding.

As Morpheus delved into the mortal's mind, he could see the tremendous effort he had been putting forth for your well-being.

"If you are unwilling to heed my words, at the very least, place your trust in your daughter," he urged.

Your father's eyes cast down, and in a sudden twist, his entire appearance reverted back to his present self. Both Paregoros and Y/N dissolved into grains of sand, scattering away with the wind, their presence fading like a distant song.

"She won't hate me, will she?”

"Hate? Y/N has nothing but love in her heart," Morpheus affirmed.

"While she does indeed hold love, she also carries a lot of pain."

"Your deceit is likely to nourish that pain. For her, and for you," Morpheus cautioned.

The man curled up, wrapping his arms around his legs, fully embracing them. The temperature began to plummet, causing even the skin of his dream to tingle with cold. "I'm terrified, Lord of Dreams.”

"Your fear is lacking significance. The heaviness of your secret is causing you harm, is this truly what you wish?"

Your father shook his head vigorously. "Absolutely not," he declared with conviction. "But I want her to be happy. And I fear that this will shatter her and rob her of that happiness.”

As much as Morpheus desired to offer words of comfort that could refute those concerns, he found himself unable to do so. Still, if there was one thing he was certain of, it was your strength.

"Your fear cannot be compared with the consequences you could face."

The man let out a deep sigh, tracing circles in the sand with his finger. "The human mind is quite a tangled mess, isn't it?" he mused.

"You always create more problems for yourself.”

Your father let out a lighthearted laugh, "That is so true.”

He directed his gaze, settling it on the horizon where the ocean formed a distant blue line, distinctly separating from the sky.

"I will give it some thought," he finally concluded. "Thank you for your guidance, your Majesty.”

Morpheus offered a final nod, maintaining his position as he closely observed the mortal's reactions. Just like you, the man seemed completely aware, effortlessly assimilating into the environment and actively engaging with it. He was also unique, a rare individual that Morpheus seldom came across in his realm, amidst the multitude of people dreaming all at once.

"Fair you well," he said, waving a hand in front of his face. "This dream is over.”

As office activities resumed the following week, it came to your attention that Maya had chosen to resign from her position within the company. In order for Oliver to drop the report, she agreed to make a financial contribution to compensate for the damages she had caused. In a remarkable turn of events, Maya went as far as visiting the office to extend a heartfelt and formal apology to the entire team, including you.

Maya appeared like a mere shadow of her former self, with a noticeable paleness and thinness. The makeup around her eyes was minimal, and her lips lacked any hint of lipstick. Despite her evident exhaustion, there was a newfound sparkle in her eyes that you had never seen before.

The collective shock persisted for days as everyone tirelessly worked to rebuild what had been lost. Gradually, the burnt garments were meticulously remade with precision, and the studio started to regain its pristine condition. The broken computers were replaced, while the damaged ones were repaired and restored to working order. A new electrical panel was installed and fully functional, and the walls were repainted back to their original ivory white color.

As the weeks went by, all of you became increasingly prepared for the upcoming Fashion Show. Everything had returned to normal, and your life was steadily improving, with each day bringing even greater prosperity and abundance.

However, just as you were settling into your routine, the universe decided to throw a new obstacle onto your path.

One day, after avoiding your questions for quite some time, your father finally invited you to visit him and discuss something of extreme importance. He didn't provide any details over the phone, but he promptly reassured you that it had nothing to do with his health.

Although the news brought some relief, it was impossible to ignore the tremor in his voice. Ever since you mentioned your Greek heritage, he had been behaving strangely, indicating that his melancholy had a deeper root than mere nostalgia. Whenever you were with him, he appeared solemn, lost in thought, and emotionally distant.

Morpheus had explicitly stated that his dream record remained relatively undisturbed, without any nightmares that could account for his distress. It was high time for you to uncover the truth, and you were determined not to leave your father's house without a proper explanation.

Undoubtedly, what you were about to uncover surpassed your expectations by a significant margin.

Throughout the entire lunch, the man strived to keep the conversation flowing smoothly. Yet, his strained smile betrayed his attempt to suppress his anxiety. You watched him, giving him the space to talk about his days and the new books he had bought, without putting any pressure on him. 

While you quietly cleaned the dishes, he kept immersing himself in his storytelling, explaining every detail of the books as a diversion for himself, leaving the tea you brewed largely untouched before him. 

Despite the urgency you sensed in his voice when he first called, as the day wore on, he still couldn't muster the courage to voice what was really troubling him. Thus, recognizing his struggle to initiate the intended conversasion, you decided to take the lead and bring up the subject yourself.

"Dad, you know that I enjoy our time together, but I need to ask you right now. What's happening with you?”

The instant you inquired, his feigned smile disappeared from his face. He closed his eyes, pausing to reflect, then released a shaky, prolonged sigh before he left the table and moved to the couch in complete silence.

You followed him, settling beside him and clasping his wrist. "No more lies. I’m here for you.”

His fingers clenched around yours, placing his other hand on top. "I know. You always are," he murmured. "And that's what makes it so difficult.”

“You’re worrying me...”

“Y/N, the truth is, I owe you an apology.”

You furrowed your brows in confusion. "For what?”

"There's something I've been keeping from you. Something significant.”

Your heart rate increased, "What are you referring to?”

"I.... I'm so sorry, sweetheart. You have no idea.”

Suddenly, he began to weep, releasing all the accumulated stress and regret. His body trembled uncontrollably, his sobs intermittently broken by loud hiccups. He doubled over, fervently caressing your hands in his desperation.

“Dad! What's gotten into you? Please, talk to me.”

He longed to respond, but his voice was drowned in the echoes of his heartfelt cries. All you could do was provide some solace, tenderly stroking his back and laying your cheek against his shoulder.

He took a few shallow breaths, attempting to regain his composure. His hands kept wiping his face, trying to erase the relentless tears.

At last, when he was able to speak again, he let the secret out unrestrained. “She’s alive. She’s always been. It was all a lie.”

If anything, his outburst only served to add to your confusion. “Who’s alive? I don’t understand.”

"I had no choice,” he continued. “She asked me to, for your sake. And I thought it was the right thing to do.”

By that time, your patience was wearing thin. "Dad, you're not making any sense. Who is she?”

His hiccups interrupted him again, causing his voice to shatter as he responded. "Y...o.u...r...... mo....th...er.”

It felt as if you had been doused with a cold shower. "My... mother...? What?”

He nodded frantically. "Y...yes," he trembled. "She's....alive.”

Your heart seemed to stop, only to restart at an even faster pace as you pieced the puzzle together. Since childhood, you were told the heartbreaking story of your mother passing away during your birth. You were robbed of the chance to see her, to hear her voice, or to experience her nurturing love.

A piece of you always felt absent, and there were moments when you wanted nothing more than to have her presence by your side.

She couldn't possibly be alive. No, surely you were misinterpreting his words. 

"Dad, this is absurd.”

"I couldn't, Y/N,” he lamented. “I... we.... it was just too much.”

You ran your fingers along your forehead, struggling to process his declaration. “If what you say is true, then where is she? And why?”

It couldn't possibly be real. Not a single bit.

Or could it…?

"She's not like us, lovey. She is... so much more than you could ever imagine.”

Then, like a bolt of lightning, a thought struck your mind. It was a piece of information you had heard before, which had completely slipped away. Even amidst the enigmatic circumstances, it was something you struggled to fully grasp.

“You don’t even know me. Why do you care so much about my relationship with Dream?”

The Fate in the center parted her lips into a broad smile. “Oh, we do know you, love. For you are the daughter of your mother.”

You felt the blood inside your veins turn icy cold. “My…mother…? What-”

“She does not know yet, sister-self.”

How could you have overlooked it, when what the Fates disclosed to you that day was enough to stir questions within you? You dismissed it as another of their baffling riddles, not considering to delve deeper.

And there was more.

“It would seem that your lineage is directly associated with Paregoros.”

“Excuse my ignorance, but… who would that be?”

“She is the personified spirit of consolation, comfort and soothing words. A companion of Aphrodite, Goddess of love, and Peitho, the Goddess of persuasion.”

“And I am related to her? What does that make me?”

“You are mortal. But you seem to possess certain qualities of her, which perhaps will spare you the cruel fate that is otherwise customary for any human I dare to come close to.”

Your blood surged through your veins as the realization started to sink in, unveiling what might be the most astounding truth you could ever anticipate hearing. You tried to sweep it away, given the high likelihood that you were jumping to erroneous conclusions.

And yet…

" She is... so much more than you could ever imagine.”

When your father noticed your growing panic, his crying escalated. "I never wanted to keep it from you, I swear! I told her it was a bad idea, that you had the right to know who she truly was. But... she couldn't. She... she wasn't allowed to.”

She wasn’t allowed to…

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! It was the only way.”

Slowly, you withdrew your hands from his shaking form, rising to your feet and taking a few wobbly steps towards the window. You made an effort to maintain your composure, folding your arms as a ripple of chills shot up your spine, branching out to your arms and the nape of your neck.

"The photo you took with her," you managed to say, pushing down your nervousness. "You said she was reserved and didn't like having her picture taken, but she agreed to give you at least one photograph.”

“Y-yes…”

"And conveniently, her face in the only photo you have is obscured by a lens flare.”

“I know…”

You had always been curious about your mother's appearance, unable to discern her features clearly in the photo due to the overpowering brightness.

"It wasn't an accident, was it?” You concluded.

“I… I don’t know,” he sniffled. “I suppose so.”

"You said she's not like us. Is she even human?”

You had grown up with the conviction that your mother had tragically sacrificed her life to bring you into this world. During your childhood, the guilt, derived from the belief that you were the cause of her untimely death, nearly drove you into the abyss of despair. Schoolmates cruelly taunted and branded you as a bane, someone who should have never been born.

The notion that she was actually still alive, hiding and perpetuating a false narrative without ever reaching out to you, seemed like an unfathomable concept that you found incredibly difficult to accept.

Just as your father seemed to be calming down, another sob overtook him. "No, lovey...”

As the dialogue progressed, the range of possibilities began to constrict.

"I need to know her name,” you asserted. “Her real name.”

Your father sprang up from the couch, swallowing hard and unfastening the collar of his shirt. His voice was rough and weary. “Paregoros,” he conceded. “Her name is Paregoros.”

Paregoros…

Your mother was a Goddess, the spirit of consolation, about whom you had never read in any book or website. She was unknown, invisible, a phantom who left nothing behind except for her own family. You were the daughter of a deity who deemed it acceptable to simply leave you to your fate for being a mere mortal. 

Did Morpheus hold this knowledge when she was brought up in your conversation? Had he uncovered her true identity, only to deliberately keep it hidden from you?

Your father approached your immobile figure, his apologies intensifying as he called out your name.

"Sorry, I need some air," you stated, spinning on your heels and striding past him without so much as glancing at his face.

Your father remained stationary in the center of the living room, tears cascading one after another as you sprinted away. The resounding slam of the door startled him, leaving him with no other option but to resort to prayer. He prayed for your return, and above all, for your forgiveness.

You didn't know how long you walked for, nor did you have any idea of your destination. You advanced like a robot on autopilot, your feet carrying you forward, your gaze distant and unfocused. You crossed numerous streets, turned various corners, and strode past multiple shops, glancing at their display windows without truly seeing what they sold.

Your mind was still grappling with the revelation you had just unearthed, uncertain of how to cope with it all. As you wandered aimlessly through the park, you found yourself pacing back and forth on a secluded, tree-lined path, vigilantly ensuring that nobody else was around. As your anger welled up within your chest, you buried your face in your hands, unleashing a scream so forceful that it nearly stole your breath away.

You were panting, running your fingers through your hair and squeezing your burning eyes shut. There were so many questions, doubts, and bewildering theories swirling in your mind, all of which you couldn't untangle on your own.

For the next hour, you attempted to ease your nerves by sitting on a bench, but unfortunately, it did very little to pacify the inner tempest that raged inside you. You watched as several passersby went about their activities—some jogging, others enjoying a serene walk with their family, their dog, or their romantic partner.

The more you sought an escape, the deeper your mind delved into it.

You waited until the sun began to dip below the horizon and solitude enveloped you completely. Struggling with coherent thought, you rose from your seat, tightly gripping the Moonstone and focusing all your energy on summoning the King of Dreams. "Morpheus," you said with a tone of anger. "Morpheus, can you hear me? I need to speak with you. Right now.”

You tuned into the soft rustling of leaves and the chirping of birds from the trees above. In the stillness, when no other motion was detectable, you felt as though he was beyond your reach, resolving that your only choice was to wait until nightfall. However, there emerged a figure right behind you, whose presence was unmistakably familiar.

"Y/N.”

You gathered yourself, your fists clenched, gradually turning and lifting your gaze to meet his. Morpheus was wearing the usual modern coat he always opted for in the Waking World, and his expression was a mixture of perplexity and concern.

He frowned, noticing the redness around your eyes. "My love, what-”

“Did you know?” You interrupted him, your tone questioning and accusatory.

“Know what?”

Your lips pressed together, holding back the emerging tremble. "I'm not simply associated with Paregoros, am I? I'm her damn daughter. Did you accidentally forget to mention it, or were you genuinely unaware?”

You hoped you were mistaken, that he, in spite of his position and wisdom, was simply oblivious to the true connection you shared with the Goddess in question.

The way his jaw strained and he cast his eyes downwards instantly shattered that hope.

"Why did you lie to me?”

“I did no such thing.”

"Really? Then what exactly did you do?”

Morpheus appeared calm, but you could tell that your sharp tone was getting under his skin. He peered intensely into your eyes, his feelings and intentions apparent as he spoke. "In the beginning, I truly believed she was merely a part of your lineage. It took a thorough inspection from Lucienne to correct our misunderstanding.”

"You still kept it to yourself, though.”

Morpheus wavered, taking a moment before providing a suitable reply. “It was necessary.”

"Did you think I couldn't handle the truth?”

"No. It was your mother who asked me to keep it a secret from you.”

You looked at him in disbelief, your mouth dropping open. "Wait, you spoke to her?”

"She requested a meeting.”

You released a laugh filled with revulsion, raising your gaze to the sky. "So she contacted you. Just like that.”

“Yes.”

Your mother couldn't make an effort to speak to you even once, never trying to approach her own child. And yet, she went out of her way to message the Lord of Dreams, solely to enforce her ban on revealing her identity to you.

Was she observing you covertly, watching your life like a detached spectator munching on popcorn?

"And you accepted her terms?”

“I assured her that you would never learn the truth from me.”

You scoffed. "Whose side are you on, exactly?”

"Y/N, can you not see it?” He inquired, his eyes mellowing.

“What am I supposed to see here?” Your voice escalated further, sounding desperate and reverberating in the space around you.

Morpheus didn't falter, stepping closer and encroaching on your personal space. "I said you would not hear it from me, and yet, you have learnt the truth. From whom?”

“How does that make any diff-”

Right then and there, it struck you.

Your father had dodged your pressing questions for weeks, never appearing inclined to divulge something that was noticeably gnawing at his soul. Then, unexpectedly, he was prepared to reveal the secret he had guarded for a lifetime? Out of nowhere, first thing in the morning?

The unwavering and confident expression on Morpheus' face, along with the slight smile he offered, provided you with a silent confirmation.

You laughed again, but this time, it was imbued with joy and relief. Because at that juncture, you realized that the King of Dreams had leveraged his sway and might to influence yet another mortal for you.

How could you have doubted him after all the trials you had weathered together?

"That’s cheating. You know that?”

“Perhaps. but in the end, I kept my oath.”

Upon reflection, and as your agitation began to subside, it seemed like the most judicious decision he could have possibly made. After all, he wasn't the one who should have borne the responsibility of disclosing such truth to you.

You smiled, lifting your hands to the sides of his neck and planting a gentle kiss on his lips. "And I even yelled at you. I'm such a fool.”

"My love, you are suffering from a state of emotional distress.”

"It doesn’t matter, it was wrong of me.”

Your fingers slid down to the front of his coat, and you found comfort resting your forehead against his chest.

"I just… I don't understand. Is it so wrong for Gods to fall in love and create a family?”

His hands gently settled around your shoulders. "There are rules that we must obey for the preservation of our domains.”

"You're saying there's a rule that forbids deities from associating with their loved ones?”

"Circumstances alter significantly when humans are involved.”

Even the Endless weren't allowed to partake in romantic relationships with them. You were the exception, allowed to remain by his side without the severest penalty befalling you for violating the universe's laws. Was your kind so trivial, worthless and lacking that it constantly had to be belittled and cast aside?

Not that you found this particularly shocking, but still.

"I don’t see how terrible it would have been for me to know.”

"It is not a suitable reality for a mortal child.”

Would accepting a mother, who was bound by her duties as a Goddess, be more detrimental than you believing she no longer existed?

"I needed her, Morpheus. I needed my mother.”

Once more, you lifted your head, searching for his eyes. "I've uncovered so many amazing things in the recent months that I believed only existed in my dreams. Things I was not supposed to see, nor to experience the way I did.”

A gust of wind swept through his hair as he regarded you with a penetrating look.

"I’m not a child anymore. I had to handle everything on my own for so long, working for my father’s well-being and haunted by the fear of it being useless and insufficient.”

Morpheus listened, barely even blinking.

"I was terrified. And I found myself thinking, so many times, that if my mum was still with me, with us… maybe things might have been different.”

Morpheus slightly opened his mouth, directing a quick glance towards his pocket.

“Is it possible for me to meet her? To talk to her?”

"My love, such matters require the highest level of caution.”

"Do you believe I'm being hasty?”

"Allow a few moments of reflection to absorb the knowledge you have obtained.”

You let out a deep sigh. "You mean coming to terms with the fact that my entire life has been a lie from the day I was born? That might take a while.”

"Your existence carries a greater level of significance, despite your inability to see its importance at this time.”

"How could it hold any significance when I've been pushed to the sidelines?”

He leaned in closer, looking down at you and firming his hold on your upper arms. He was fervent yet composed, quieting all surrounding sounds again so that the only thing you could hear was the soothing timbre of his voice, coupled with his earnest and heartfelt proclamation.

"It is a blessing.”

You let it seep in, permeating your heart and spreading its warmth throughout your body. Almost instinctively, one hand moved to your chest while the other reached for his face, fingertips lightly brushing against his chin, the contour of his jaw, and his cheek.

"You always know just what to say that makes me love you even more.”

He let out a quiet chuckle, only to promptly revert to his solemn demeanor and slide his hand into the right pocket of his coat. As you followed his movements, you saw him retrieve the familiar leather pouch of sand, observing it in quiet contemplation.

"I could show you," he proposed.

“Show me what?”

"My realm might hold the answers you are seeking.”

Grains of sand gently floated in the air, escaping from the pouch and performing a dance above your head. They sparkled, twinkling like miniature stars.

"Now?”

“If that is what you wish.”

Somehow, the little bag in his hand was radiating an unusually powerful attraction, enveloping you in a bubble of tranquility. Your understanding of his realm was still rather limited, and your grasp on your mother's origins was even more sparse. If direct confrontation with her to voice your queries wasn't a possibility, then you were left without a better alternative.

You offered a smile, moving closer to whisper into his ear, “Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream.”

Morpheus appeared amused, regardless of whether he was familiar with the song you quoted or not. You created a small gap between you to allow him access to the contents of his pouch, from which he extracted a handful of golden, magical sand.

And thus, he inclined towards you, placing his hand before his lips. As he gently blew into his palm, the sand drifted delicately over your face, causing your eyelids to become instantly heavy. As your eyes closed, you felt progressively lighter, while your surroundings started to morph into an entirely different setting.

It was akin to being transported into another universe, journeying through the cosmos.

Meanwhile, your body was succumbing to numbness in the Waking World, but as he enveloped you in his arms, you didn't come close to falling.

Morpheus would never allow you to fall.

It was unlike anything you had seen during your past transitions to sleep. It felt as though your consciousness was levitating in space, gliding forward as a bewitching galaxy materialized before you. You were navigating an unseen path, walking through vibrant nebulae and stars.

In the distance, two figures materialized, standing face to face as you neared. Echoes of voices reverberated through the cosmic spectacle as everything became increasingly vibrant and clear with each step you took.

Once the scenery settled, you recognized the Greenwich plaza in front of the church, completely deserted except for two individuals standing beneath the main architectural arch. Their faces were difficult to make out, but the male voice was certainly one you had been familiar with since birth. It didn't take much time for you to notice that the man was your father in his younger years, while the identity of the woman standing before him was left to your speculation.

With your heart pounding rapidly, you cautiously edged forward, striving to discern their conversation. The woman appeared to be cradling a sizeable bundle of white cloths, gently swaying it to and fro.

"How can you ask me something like that?" Your father bemoaned. "She's your daughter. You simply can't abandon her with me and go.”

"I'm not forsaking her," the woman declared, her voice resonated like a melody, albeit laden with sorrow and guilt.

Upon reaching the porch, you finally managed to gain a comprehensive view of the enigmatic woman. She resembled the one from your father's photograph, except that her features were now clear and discernible.

She had an uncanny resemblance to how your elder sister would look, if you had one.

“Mum…?”

"No, that's precisely what you're doing," your father persisted. "You visit me after 9 months, a period during which I couldn't even support you through your pregnancy and childbirth, only to tell me that I must care for her as you take leave?”

Your heart plummeted.

"You don't understand," she murmured, her eyes brimming with tears.

“Then make me understand.”

Paregoros let out a shaky sigh, her eyes fixed on the newborn nestled in her arms. "You know who I am," she whispered. "My journey to the Mortal realm was only meant for duty's call. Our chance meeting, the unexpected love that blossomed, and now, this baby... none of these were in my original script.”

The quietness was shattered by your father's scoff. "Is that all I am to you? Just a character from a story that was originally written with a different ending?”

“Is that all I am to you? A mistake?”

Somehow, that dialogue stirred memories of the time Morpheus had unveiled the truth about Nada, describing his relationship with her as a colossal blunder that defied the established norms.

"Absolutely not. Our relationship, and our daughter, are treasures I wouldn't exchange for anything else in the whole universe.”

He exhaled deeply. "Then, why?”

"Because she can't stay with me. And I... I won’t be able to be at your side.”

Her voice quivered as she tenderly brushed her cheek against the baby's forehead, a gesture so poignant that it made your chest constrict and ache profoundly.

"What is this?" You questioned. "Is this an actual memory?”

"A memory within a dream," Morpheus responded, appearing next to you.

“My father’s?”

“Yes.”

The man tightened his fist against his mouth, holding back a surge of tears.

"What should I even do?" He implored his lover. "How can I manage this alone? She needs her mother too.”

The Goddess sniffled softly. "You will do just fine.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Yes I can. Because I know you.”

Your father stepped closer, casting a glance at the baby who seemed to be peacefully sleeping.

“She looks just like you,” he said, a smile of affection gracing his lips.

"You should hear the volume of her cries. She's as headstrong as you are.”

“Hey!”

Without realizing it, you reached out to clutch Morpheus' sleeve for support, engulfed by a tumultuous wave of sorrow and serenity as you observed your family together.

"One last thing," your mother murmured. "It's crucial that she remains unaware of the truth about me and my origins.”

"What? Are you asking me to lie to her?”

"She needs to lead a fulfilling life, without the constant speculation of whether or when I'll return to see her. I don't want her embarking on a futile quest for me, squandering precious time and energy."

Your father shook his head in disbelief. "What am I supposed to tell her?”

Tears welled up in Paregoros's eyes and swiftly rolled down her cheeks. "She must believe that I won't be coming back. To her... I need to be perceived as dead.”

Your father gasped in shock. "No... that's completely unacceptable.”

“My love, please…”

“I can't possibly tell her that. That's..... no. Just a big fat no.”

"It's not as if I'll never be keeping an eye on her. Or you,” she clarified.

"But she won't ever see you. Neither will I.”

“I know.”

“How is that even fair?”

“It is not.”

“Then don’t let me do this.”

The sight of your father pleading with her to stay, or at the very least, to permit the two of you to see her again, was so heart-wrenching that it brought tears to your own eyes. The mere thought of losing Morpheus was enough to rip you asunder. Seeing how your father had to progress without the love of his life, having no control over the entire ordeal, was so overwhelmingly heartbreaking.

It astounded you how well he managed to hold himself together, all on his own.

"I can't. Please understand... I need to be assured that she will be safe. That she'll find happiness. If I choose to linger, I'll not only be defying the laws of my domain, but I'll be sentencing both of you to a life fraught with endless pain.”

"And do you believe that I won't be in agony either way?”

She exhaled deeply. "I'm giving you the opportunity to move on.”

In that moment, you understood. Paregoros was tethered to an eternal existence, while your father's life was destined to be much shorter, aging with each passing day as she remained unchangingly pristine. She wished to liberate the two of you from that heavy burden, enabling you to live your lives in the human world as fully and joyfully as possible.

In a sense, your situation with Morpheus was not too dissimilar. He had already existed for millions of years, and there was no foreseeable end to his longevity. You, on the other hand, were as mortal as your father, and that only reinforced the stark realization of being merely a transient presence.

Morpheus was observing the dream intently, maintaining silence and allowing you to stay close.

“If you think I'll just forget about you and develop feelings for another, my dear, you are sorely mistaken,” your father retorted.

Paregoros let out a chuckle as she dabbed at her face to clear the tears away. "I knew you'd say something like that.”

You smiled, your watery eyes shifting back and forth between them.

Are you absolutely certain there's no other solution?" He asked. “She has a right to know who her mother truly is.”

"I'm afraid there isn't.”

Slowly, and with an evident reluctance, she handed over the baby to him. He wrapped his arms around the tiny bundle, cradling the child with such delicacy that for a moment you feared he would drop her.

"Does she have a name?"

Paregoros shook her head. "You should have the honor of deciding, considering what I’m forcing you to do.”

Witnessing your parents holding you, so intimately close to each other, was utterly surreal.

"I believe I have the perfect one in mind," he said proudly.

"What do you wish to name her?”

His smile broadened. "Y/N. I'm quite fond of Y/N.”

Y/N...." she echoed, letting the name dance on her tongue. "Yes, it fits her perfectly.”

Paregoros leaned forward to plant a kiss on the baby's cheek, her lips trembling as she struggled to pull herself away.

"May you be the happiest, my cherished Y/N.”

When her eyes locked onto your father’s, you could see the suffering in their exchanged silent stares. They shared a kiss, deeply engrossed in the final moment they could spend with each other. The sound of their hearts fracturing in two was almost audible to your ears.

Suppressing her emotions, Paregoros pulled away once their lips parted, transforming into the most sublime and beautiful Goddess you could ever envision. Her white dress clung to her figure in a way that was absolutely enchanting, the train of the gown trailing on the ground. Her hair, now partially swept up, cascaded down in a stunning flurry of curls, and her wrists were embellished with solid gold bangles and bracelets.

"Fare you well, my treasured love. I trust that you will look after yourself as well.”

"I will at least try," he responded, tears streaming down his face. "For her sake.”

Paregoros nodded, her face showcasing the most melancholic of smiles.

When she pivoted away, your father buried his face into the white fabric swaddling the baby, holding himself back from calling out to the woman again. She halted in her tracks, taking a deep breath as she absorbed the sounds of his sobs, before resuming her slow, graceful stride.

"Wait....don't go," you blurted out, trailing behind her. "Mum!”

"She cannot hear you," Morpheus reminded you gently. "She is a recollection from the past.”

"You claimed there was no nightmare in his dream record," you pointed out. "But then, what is this?”

Morpheus swiveled his head, his focus settling on your father, who was weeping and clutching his child, not having the heart to watch his love disappear.

“Look.”

The expression on the man’s countenance changed dramatically as the baby girl opened her eyes. She silently watched him, studying his unfamiliar face, her mouth moving adorably. Your father greeted her by uttering her name, gently stroking her soft chin with his index finger.

As soon as she flashed a smile, you were all enveloped by a radiant, powerful light. Your father was immediately enchanted by that sweet innocence, developing an intense desire above all else to protect such a delicate, pure being from any harm, regardless of the cost.

"My precious little girl... let's go home. Together.”

As evening drew near, your father was losing hope, convinced that you wouldn't return for the day. He sat at the dining table, his leg bouncing up and down anxiously, the ticking of the clock punctuating the passage of time.

He exhaled a lengthy sigh, rubbing his weary eyes and letting his forehead rest against the table. He questioned his decision, pondering if he was truly meant to heed the advice of his subconscious.

He fished out his phone, tapping aimlessly on the screen, hoping for a call or text message that never came. He opened the messaging app, ready to initiate a conversation with your number, but he ended up erasing everything he attempted to type.

He was tempted to get dressed and head straight to your apartment, hoping to at least find you there. But before he could rise from his seat, he sensed a sudden materialization within the room.

He leapt to his feet and let out a scream as a shadowy figure approached, but his fear quickly turned into confusion when he realized it was none other than the King of Dreams himself, holding you in a bridal carry.

He blinked a few times, giving himself a pinch to confirm he wasn't dreaming.

The entity silently observed him, bringing you to the couch and placing you onto the soft cushions.

"It's you...." your father uttered, scarcely believing the sight before his eyes. "Is she...?”

"Yes, she is in slumber,” the Dream Lord replied.

Your father ventured to take a few steps forward, kneeling on the floor for a closer inspection of you. Your breaths were regular and serene, and he could almost swear there was a hint of a smile spreading on your lips.

“She looks like an angel, doesn’t she?”

The King of Dreams didn't respond, but judging by the tender way he was holding you, your father could sense that there was more to the relationship between the two of you.

"You have looked after her well,” he declared.

"She's angered with me, isn't she?”

"No. She is not.”

The Endless stood upright, stepping back to afford the man ample space to sit near you.

Your father gazed at you sweetly for a moment, reflecting on how much you had matured and swelling with pride at your remarkable accomplishments. 

In the end, Paregoros was proven right. Whatever could have become of his life had it not been for her and you, was a prospect he didn't even want to entertain.

And while you were relishing your time in the Dreaming with Morpheus' complete approval, he was about to express his gratitude to Dream for returning you to him.

Unfortunately, before he could even speak, the Endless had already vanished.

Note: I obviously don't own the quote from Harry Potter or the Mr. Sandman song. I just like adding random easter eggs here and there at times.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 (currently reading) Go to Chapter 15 ->

[themorningsunshine]

Woken up today with a full body rash from an allergic reaction to something I ate :( how do you think Bucky would react and look after you? I’m feeling v sorry for myself sat here lathered in calamine lotion and napping with a fever 🥺🥺

I am so sorry to hear you had to go through that. 🥺 Hope you're doing better now.

I am sorry this took me so long. I am in the middle of the exhausting process of college applications and spend days without even opening Tumblr.

I have written a tiny drabble. Also, I know absolutely nothing medical-related so please let me know of any mistakes.

You woke up with a slight itch on the knee. Ignoring it was easy in the beginning until the constant itching started to drive you crazy.

Your friend at work approached you and asked if you were okay when she saw you itching your forehead with sheer irritation. That's when you noticed the itching wasn't localized to just your knee.

You took a leave from work as soon as you could and rushed home.

Running to your bathroom, you stripped down your clothes and looked in the mirror only to realize that you were covered in rashes.

Horrified, you called your personal doctor who was kind enough to come to your house to check up on you.

You lay in your bed staring up at the ceiling. The doctor had left the house about half an hour ago and things had just gotten worse. The doctor had told you that this was an allergic reaction to something you ate yesterday and it was going to last at least for the rest of the day.

She had given you calamine lotion to apply and had warned about a fever that you could feel coming up. So, you didn't want to get up from the blanket and tried all that you could to make the itchy feeling go away. The calamine lotion sat on your table as if glaring at you but you didn't have the energy to get up.

When you heard the main door opening, you pulled the blanket closer to your face.

You could hear frantic footsteps rushing toward your room but you weren't scared. You knew exactly who that was.

When the door opened, familiar concerned blue eyes met yours and you could swear you saw Bucky leave a breath of relief.

He rushed towards your bed and you pulled the blanket further. You didn't want him to look at your rashes.

"Buck, how the hell did you reach here so soon? Your office is at least a half an hour drive and called you 10 mins ago."

Bucky rubbed his neck and gave you a sheepish grin. "I was just worried about you, doll."

You gave him a smile that you hoped was convincing. "I'm okay, really. It's just an allergic reaction to something I ate. I am guessing it was the Thai food last night. Too bad it was so tasty." You chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood and ease his nerves.

Bucky took a step ahead and kept a hand on your forehead. "Gosh, doll. You're burning up."

"It's just a side effect. I swear I am fine."

Bucky narrowed his eyes at you and then the lotion sitting on your bedside table caught his eye.

"Doc gave it. Supposed to make the rashes better. I was about to apply it."

Bucky picked up the lotion and sat on the bed beside you. "Sit up straight for me, doll."

"B-Buck, you don't have to do this. I can do it on my own. Trust me, it's fine." You knew that you were too tired to apply it yourself but you didn't want to trouble him either. You would pull yourself together.

"Doll, I know you can. But you don't have to. Let me help, please?" And then he gave you his infamous puppy dog eyes. You almost gave in. Almost.

"Buck, it's - it's not pretty under this." You shook your head towards the blanket.

Bucky just shook his head. How you could think that you would ever look anything less than an angel to him, he would never know.

He slowly leaned ahead and took the blanket away from you. You half expected him to flinch away but he just looked at the rashes with soft eyes and gently caressed them.

You couldn't help but smile.

After about half an hour, you slept, covered in calamine lotion and down with fever, while Bucky sat right there, looking at you. In case you needed something, he didn't want to be even a minute away.

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Free Day Friday

It's Black Friday and I refuse to leave the house. Here, take my incredibly and unrepentantly self-indulgent Eldritch Damas au.

Premise: Damas death scene but close to a light eco vent and Jak tries to heal him.

Well Tumblr won't let me fix the formatting it donked up, guys, so there's a copy of this post that's actually readable on dark theme up now.

Damas has never been exposed to that much at once, unfiltered. Jak can't control how much he's channeling from the vent, he's too distraught. And he ends up changing Damas in the way the Dark Warrior Program changed him.

Damas can't control the light eco transformation. He looks like some kind of ascended being, trapped in a more powerful form and unable to utilize his new powers in a way that would deplete the eco and let him de-transform. 

Do people consider him dead? A changeling? A Precursor-king? Jak would feel so guilty, having put this on Damas's shoulders without him having a say in it.

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He's guilt stricken, he's horrified, he's so sorry, Damas please- 

He doesn't know he's Damas's son, Damas doesn't know he was always Jak's father and not just recently his father. 

Jak thinks of the Arena, thinks he knows what Damas's wrath looks like (he doesn't, he's seen only the strongest commingling of worry and frustration) 

His war amulet feels meaningless. He has betrayed his leader, after all. The one ruler he chose to serve willingly. The only adult in his life to see his darkness and embrace it as simply part of him. And look what Jak's done to him. He thinks he deserves what is surely coming, but he's still just a boy and he can't help pleading for forgiveness. 

And Damas sees a child, stripped of his tough protective shell, terrified beyond words -- is he so horrible to look upon? -- pleading incoherently for either forgiveness or mercy, he can't tell which. Tears stream down his face, making him look disturbingly young.

"I didn't mean to- I didn't mean to, Damas, please-! Please forgive me! I-I-I lost control of it, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" 

Jak doesn't beg. Jak never pleads. 

This is profoundly wrong and he knows this in his heart although he cannot quite fathom the depths of the wrongness he feels. He only recognizes that he does not want this boy to kneel before him. He has never been so formal before, it feels unnatural for him to be so now. 

(Veger arrives late, does not recognize the cosmic horror as the king he willingly betrayed. He sees the dark eco freak humbled, on his knees before what he believes is a Precursor. He thinks that at last the thorn in his side will be struck down) 

This is it! At last! Veger thinks 

And then this thing that was their king bends 

Jak grieves, believing Damas no longer knows him; he wonders if this is worse than Damas being angry. Everything they've been through, every memory, just gone? As beyond reach as Jak’s own childhood? And he did this to him.

- this is it. I won't fight him, Jak thinks -

And the great tendrils of its -- his -- wings wrap around Jak. On that too calm face, artificially peaceful, something quizzical appears in the tilt of a mouth swirling with stars. Wings draw close around them, dragging Jak up to collide with a broad chest thrumming with energy both alien and familiar. Light eco begins to seep into Jak, whispering beneath his thoughts "ours, ours, ours"

He traces a glowing hand along Jak's cheek, cocks his head and twists Jak's face back and forth with an innocently curious expression as though he's never seen him before. 

Something sparks in Damas's eyes, some thought or impulse, and he seizes Jak by the upper arms. The words that pour from his mouth are ancient, a dialect lost long ago to all but the monks and those who once called Sandover their home.

"Mine…? You are! You are mine.” 

It is a declaration, a discovery. A revelation. A promise. 

With a flick of his wrists, he sends Jak tumbling into the light eco vent. Light flares and Jak transforms with a choked cry. Daxter panics, but he can't get past Damas's wings to get to his best friend. He watches Jak stand on shaky legs, wings curled tightly around himself as though he is trying to hide. Hide from his shame, hide from his friend, hide from his king. Light eco usually calms him, soothes his nerves, but not this time. It is frenzied, yet it is rejoicing, singing through his veins like a homecoming and Jak is left disoriented. Dazed. 

Ours, ours, ours-! 

Unnaturally strong hands lift him up under the arms, leave his feet dangling like a child's. Jak doesn't remember ever being held like this, outside of the secondhand memories of holding his own childhood self. When he finally works up his courage and looks into the Precursor King's eyes, looking through the filter of light eco himself, there is no anger. Neither is there a lack of recognition. Damas still knows him, that's becoming obvious. Jak looks into his eyes and sees pain and acceptance and a naked, boundless joy. 

And Jak is so stunned that he forgets in that moment that he was trying to hide. He almost forgets why he feels squirming guilt -- albeit muted -- under his skin. He knew that Damas liked him. That Damas was comfortable expressing pride in him, even in front of the whole Arena. This is something else. Something Jak has never been bold enough to hope for outside of his own lonely imaginings: that Damas might see him with a kind of fatherly affection. That the closest thing he had to a real father figure might see him as a son as well. 

"Child,"

Damas echoes, proud and warm and earthshaking,

"My child." 

And what Veger sees, what he thinks he sees, is the child he ripped away from Damas, the tainted heir, receiving the blessing that should have been his: to ascend to Precursorhood. Welcomed into this evolved form as though the dark eco meant nothing. 

He can't fathom it. 

His worldview is cracking at the edges. 

Oblivious to his crisis, Damas -- now closer in nature to his ancestors than he knows -- is content. This is his child. His. The eco in their blood harmonizes, dark with light, in one melody. He knows this weary warrior. He knows the blood that flows in his veins. His subject, his best warrior, his impudent rascal, his Jak: his son. 

Vaguely he knows there's something they were supposed to do, something quite important. But it doesn't seem as important as stopping time just so that he can hold his child in his arms again. 

Jak would like to get down, he really would. His wings flail in an ultimately futile bid for freedom. He has a world to save. But Damas won't let him go. He's smiling -- it's a relief, but the guilt still eats at him and he doesn't understand, what is the eco doin? Why is it harmonizing? Does the light eco in Damas recognize his own eco? Is that why he's calling him "My own. My little one."? 

Jak has had enough experience with the Light Form that the Precurian instincts don't overwhelm him, and he still thinks on a very human level. But Damas doesn't know how to separate human instincts from Precurian instincts. They're all one to him. 

His memories run against the swell of light and life and love and absolute otherworldliness coursing through him, too strong to control.

"Why aren't you angry?" Jak whispers as he tries to find somewhere for all that light eco to go. 

Tendrils of living eco brush across his cheek in a loving caress and lift his chin. Jak finds himself leaning into the touch without thinking as he watches the stars shift and swirl across Damas's face. This Light Form of Damas croons comfortingly, a subsonic rumble that is both calming and Alarming to Daxter and even Veger as they watch.

"Angry?" The word lilts oddly in the old language. "Why, little one?"

"I...I did this to you! You didn't choose this!"

"But now I am neither dead nor dying. And I know who you are." 

Jak twists up his face in confusion, refracting light across his cheeks. 

He's not afraid, but he's hesitant to ask. "Who...who am I?" 

"My son."