#farewell crazy drama | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dotieeee · 2 years

Text

The Dream That Got Away

Chapter 2

Pairing: Dark!Morpheus x You (no Y/N!)

This is a multi-chapter fic — updates will be erratic, but I’ve outlined almost everything in this fic, so you have my word I’ll complete this

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

Link to the Masterlist

Overall Warnings!! Take heed:

Morpheus is DARK – in canon, he changes for the better (or at least, tries to – but we don’t do canon lol, so he goes even more batshit crazy) cue obsession, manipulation, possessiveness, powerplay

18+ ONLY – explicit scenes will be present, some explicit language

DUB-CON and NON-CON scenes

Character death (sort of)

Creator vs Creation drama

And other dark stuff that may be added in the future

This chapter’s warnings:

implied death

You have been warned!! Proceed with caution!!!

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

Chapter 2: Some Words Are Better Left Unsaid

Link to the previous chapter

Trust no one.

Hearing the voice in your head was enough to rouse you. You sit up from the couch groggily and make a mental note to stop taking so many naps in the library. Not that you needed much of them anyway – unlike humans who needed hours and hours of rest during the night, dreams and nightmares like you were built differently. You get drained like the humans do, sure, but unlike your slumber, their sleep provides them with the dreams that guide their actions in the Waking World; yours were more for restoring the dreaming powers Lord Morpheus has shared with you for your duties, and as such, there were no dreams in them.

Although apparently, that voice in your head seems to have worked itself around that exception.

Having spent an entire night curled up on the sofa, your ankle-length dress now had creases where you had laid on it. You try to smoothen them out by running your palms all over the dress, only halting when you notice that you were stepping on something. Realizing it was the blanket you had woken up wrapped in the other morning, you bend over to pick it up. You were with the Dream Lord the night before that. He was so kind to have allowed you to continue reading and even kept you company. You assumed then that he was the one who gave you the blanket. Now, it seems you have fallen asleep with it again last night.

Was he here last night? Why would he –

Before you could complete that thought, you hear rapid footsteps approaching.

“Good morning, Mera. I didn’t expect to find you here this early.”

“Good morning, Lucienne!”

Lucienne halts her steps when she sees you. Thankful for her presence, you flash her a wobbly grin. The way her eyes flash to the blanket currently in your hands does not escape you.

With a raised eyebrow, she asks “You didn’t sleep here last night, did you?”

You run your fingers through your hair, embarrassed. “Actually, I did. I wanted to talk to you last night, but I saw you were busy, so…”

“Oh? What did you want to talk about?” she quips curiously.

Oh, nothing much. I just wanted to tell you that I’ve been seeing things and hearing voices in my head, that’s all. You can’t say that, though, and still walk off and be called completely sane and normal. Waving her off, you say “Ah, it’s nothing. Forget about it. I guess I was just bored.”

She gives you this pointed look like she wanted to press you further, but you’re relieved that she doesn’t. “Anyway, if you need to talk, come and find me during tea break. I’ve got to be going, I need to report to Lord Morpheus about…an important matter.”

“Okay,” you say, “Tea later would be nice.”

“And Mera? A few of your regulars have dropped new books. They’re on the pile in the New Arrivals section. Have fun!”

You mouth “thank you” to her as she gives a quick nod of farewell. You watch her walk off and disappear in the maze of shelves on the way to the throne room. Before heading off to work, you decide to take a quick detour to see the new books she mentioned. It always delighted you to see that your dreamers have benefited from your visits – they inspire you to hone your craft, as you inspire them in their daily lives.

***

You land gracefully on a sunny white sand beach with calm waters in Wilbur Maxwell’s dreams.

Wilbur Maxwell, one of your regulars, is a sensitive young man with his head in the clouds. He’s secretly a hopeless romantic, too, if the visions he often conjures in his dreams are anything to go by. Before he got inspired by you to finally pen that would-be novel that was bothering him, he was poised to be a politician, following in his father’s footsteps. He despised every single thing about his father’s dirty world, however, and with your nudging, he abandoned the political party and went on to write what would be one of his bestsellers.

It began at a masquerade party. You found him in a corner, drink in hand, alone and sulking, looking at the couples on the dance floor with faint disdain. You marveled at the amount of detail he put into the dream – he had such a vivid imagination; you almost didn’t have to make any adjustments yourself. You were feeling a little bit playful then, so you figured, why the hell not? With the flick of a wrist, you changed your appearance – donning an elegant, jewel-crusted auburn-red gown and a matching mask that partially covered your face, save your lips, painted red, and eyes, which you changed to a striking forest green. Everyone in the dream halted their dance to ogle at your figure – but you had your eyes only on Wilbur, who stood from his seat, walking towards you in a trance. You danced in his arms with all the people watching. He didn’t care – his focus was on you. And when he tried to remove your mask, you coyly let go of him and made a run for it. Sensing your playfulness, he gave chase. Playing your part, you led him to the gardens of that unknown mansion, and to the labyrinth of tall bushes that you conjured for added flair. You masked your presence at that very moment, letting his imagination do the rest.

Several weeks later, a book materialized in the Dreaming – a romantic murder-mystery novel centered on a young man, who, after falling in love with the ghost of a woman trapped in a mansion, ended up solving her decades-old murder, finally giving her peace. Wilbur aptly named it “The Red Lady.”

Right now, it seems, he was drafting a new one. Your current appearance to him is that of his new main character, and in this scene, you had to walk with him, your hand in his, on the shore, discussing life’s mundane details while enjoying the cool sea breeze. You just hadn’t anticipated that he’d go off his current draft – he swoops in on your space in an attempt to steal a kiss. You swiftly step away from him, deducing that he was unhappy with the current scene and was trying something new. Deciding to play along, you run into the woods nearby for him to chase you. You can feel it start to work for him, fueling his creative plot-weaving abilities.

Look, the voice whispers in your head warningly.

The dream takes a turn for the worse. The sky, formerly clear and blue, turns gray and threatening; the wind blows, colder, harsher; the woods grow thicker, their branches growing thick vines with razor-sharp thorns. You try to control the scene to make it less frightening for your dreamer, but it wouldn’t relent. You look around wildly to find the source of the power now taking control of the dream, and in the middle of the thicket, with his billowing black robes, is Dream of the Endless, eyes silver with a fury you’ve never seen in him before.

“My Lord!” You call to him, sprinting in his direction. “Please, we were only trying to improvise a scene!” He seems to simmer down a little as you pause before him, blocking his view of Wilbur.

“He tried to kiss you,” he says coldly, eyes training back to the human in question. You turn briefly to Wilbur – thankfully he hasn’t scampered off in fear, merely observing his surroundings, unaware of the wrath directed unto him – before turning to face your master.

“My Mera, you are aware of my rules – you, and my dreams and nightmares, are forbidden to form such dalliances with mortals.”

“I swear, it wasn’t like that at all, sir. I was merely helping him draft this scene.” You give him a pleading look, adding, “You know I would never break any of your laws.”

At your words, your Lord’s posture relaxes a little. He looks at you softly, eyes now back to their normal ocean blue. “My apologies, sir,” you say, almost whispering. “I did not mean for it to look that way. Please…” Around you, the forest slowly reverts to its original state – the vines around the trees recede, the wind stilling and the sky mirrors that of your creator.

“You have nothing to apologise for, my dream. Perhaps I got carried away in my anger.”

Morpheus never intended for you to see him in such an irate state, let alone reveal himself to you in this dream. Lucienne had alerted him of the improper advances this mortal has been making on you, and while he was aware that you were only doing your job for the Dreaming – forhimforhim – the way he saw that man almost steal your first kiss left him a bitter taste in his tongue. He doesn’t want you suspecting him of tailing you, seeing as he already gave you quite a scare in the gardens last night. Having watched you plead as you did, however, stirred something else in him. He’d have you desperately pleading breathily underneath him as he pins you down –

“Sir?”

Wrenching himself reluctantly from his train of thought, he resolves to control himself better in your presence.

“Move on to another dreamer, my Mera. You will aid Wilbur Maxwell with his novel at another time.” There is no room for argument in his tone, and he watches you disappear to obey his order. His gaze hardens at the sight of the mortal, who seems to be looking for you, wondering where you’ve gone. Morpheus turns to leave as well, but not before he blows sand in Wilbur’s direction, sentencing him to a month of nothing but excruciatingly vivid, horrifying nightmares in his sleep.

***

There was nothing more you’d like to do than to crack open one of those new arrivals in the library, but you find yourself walking aimlessly around the kingdom after this rather rough day. Your mind is filled with thoughts about the dreamers you just visited – there were more nightmares than you can remember ever working with, and you had to step aside to let them take over, as much as you disliked them. You admit they were necessary for humans to face their real troubles in the waking world, but that didn’t mean you agree with some of the nightmares’ bizarre and often extreme methods.

Then there was that dreamer right after Wilbur – poor Amelia Devitt, who you were supposed to nudge into taking pharmacological studies; your mind was so preoccupied you didn’t know whether your goal was achieved, or you pushed her further into her alcoholism.

You let out an audible groan of frustration which seemed to attract a couple of onlookers in the town plaza you find yourself in. Dragging your feet along the cobblestone path on the way to the thick forest that lay ahead, you reflect on the reason behind your abysmal performance today.

Who else? The Voice nastily remarks.

You know you couldn’t blame the Dream Lord for the bout of rage you witnessed him in in Wilbur’s dream; you conclude that you may have been shaken by the sight, but only because you weren’t used to seeing him like that. He was always warm, gentle, and caring around you, so seeing a momentary lapse in his mood doesn’t mean that was his true nature, right? He’s an Endless after all, a king, you tell yourself, and seeing a subject of his almost break his sacred laws might’ve forced him to act the way he did. You firmly believe that he had every right to react in such a way.

Which begs the question: why was he there in the first place?

The whooshing sound of a breeze shakes you out of your reverie – looking around, you realize you’ve reached the path to Cain and Abel’s abode. Continuing down the path, you mentally shrug and decide to visit them. As you reach the archway to their sprawling mansions, you make out the figures of Cain and Abel huddled together in the middle of the garden, and a third figure, tall and imposing, clad in all-black.

Dream of the Endless has his back to you, seemingly holding a conversation with the two brothers. They alert him of your arrival, so he turns to face you, the ghost of a smile adorning his regal features.

“What brings you here, my little dream?”

“Uh, I’m-I was just…walking around…and decided to come by and…well, visit,” you let out in a stammering mess. You avoid his eyes and stare at his hands instead, his ire-filled expression still fresh in your memory. “Hello Cain, Abel.” You nod politely and wave at them both.

Abel, waving back, “Hi, Mera! I’m glad you dropped by! We were just about to invite Lord Morpheus in for tea. We’d love for you to join us –”

“You addlebrained sod, we’ve no time for tea, not when there are nightmares running about!” Cain, ever the sharp-tongued brother, smacks Abel on the back of his head. Turning to you, he says “Hi there, Mera! So glad you could come, it has been a while. We’d love to chat and all, but we have work to do. By your leave, Lord Morpheus…” Cain grabs ahold of Abel’s arm and starts leading him away.

“Wait, did you say ‘nightmares?’” you ask him curiously. Was this somehow related to the increased number of nightmares you encountered in the dreams of mortals? Cain pauses and turns on his heel, opening his mouth to respond, but Lord Morpheus cuts him off.

“There are nightmares on the loose, not just in this realm, but also in the Waking World. I’ve asked Cain and Abel to scout the area and report sightings of wayward nightmares in the realm directly to me through Jessamy.” Seemingly at cue, Jessamy breaks free from inside Dream’s coat and perches on the tree above them.

“Exactly. Apologies, Mera, but do come by next time for tea and biscuits when you feel peckish! Let’s go, Abel.” Cain drags his brother along, by the ear, this time, mumbling something about “doing his job for him.”

“So sorry, Mera! Perhaps another time, eh? You could bring Lucienne!” Abel calls to you, waving goodbye. You wave back rather dejectedly, watching them disappear into the thick of the woods that surrounded their land. You hear a loud swoosh over your head, indicating that Gregory has followed them in search of the missing nightmares.

You and the Dream Lord are now completely alone.

“Come, my Mera. Let us walk together to the palace.”

You hesitate, but he stays motionless as if waiting for you to follow. You relent, pacing beside him in slow, careful strides.

You walk in the woods, side by side in silence for quite some time, until Dream breaks the awkwardness between you two.

He glances sideways at you in a teasing manner, he says “It seems you’re rather put out that your visit to your friends was cut short, my little dream.” Changing to a more serious tone, he adds, “Unfortunately, it was a necessary move, for we’ve had an increasing number of rogue nightmares, and they could be quite a handful.”

“It’s alright, My Lord. You’re only protecting the Realm, after all.” You reply politely with a small smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“I can sense something else is bothering you.” When you don’t respond, he goes on, “I fear my conduct in Wilbur Maxwell’s dream may have brought this about. You must understand that while my wrath may have been misplaced, both your actions almost led you to a compromising position. I am merely looking after your well-being.”

You swear you could’ve heard the voice in your head whisper the word “lies” but you mentally push it back with force. How could you think so differently of him? “I am eternally grateful to you for always keeping me out of harm’s way, my King. I’m truly sorry if I ever thought differently. Looking back, I can see now how you had every right to stop the dream. I overstepped my boundaries.”

Dream halts completely and faces you with a satisfied look. “Indeed, you may have. Nonetheless, your apology is accepted.”

You look around to see where your steps have brought you: you’re now in your favourite garden within the palace, bathing in the warm glow of the orange sunset. The cherry blossom trees, whose leaves were still green on your last visit, now bloom with delicate pink flowers, the petals now falling gracefully on the garden grounds. The most obvious change was the blooms in the flower beds: they’re now abundant with rows upon rows of tiny, lovely red flowers on tall stalks, their radiance even more enhanced with the rays of the setting sun. You can feel your face light up in pure awe of the beauty around you. A breeze sends a flurry of cherry blossom petals in the air, and a wayward lock of your hair gets in your face. Before you could move it away, warm, soft fingers tuck it behind your ear and linger momentarily on your cheeks, tracing imaginary lines, before withdrawing.

You look into your creator’s features and see that mysterious glint of emotion again, the same emotion you’ve seen in him when you first opened your eyes.

“You should get going. It’ll be dark soon.” He vanishes in an instant, leaving a trail of fine sand in his wake.

The Voice is back, but instead of words, it just lets outs a single scream that you swear the entire Dreaming could’ve heard.

***

Even after a few days, you’re still listless, as much as your try to deny it. Your thoughts keep drifting back to that moment in the garden you had shared with your Dream Lord. And the scream in your head that followed. His actions towards you were growing more and more bizarre by the day, and you just desperately needed someone else with whom you could share these bothersome thoughts and help you come up with a single, rational explanation.

There is one, said the Voice. But you refuse to entertain it. He couldn’t be, no.

You’re in the library at the moment, sitting on a desk with a book you couldn’t concentrate on, hands in your head in complete frustration. You can’t keep talking to yourself like this, you berate yourself.

You were in dire need of a friend.

Immediately, Lucienne’s face pop into your head. It’s just that you were reluctant to unburden yourself on her – she is loyal to the Dream Lord, almost to a fault. Mervyn the Pumpkinhead is also out of the question – he might just think you’re being paranoid and brush it off. Cain and Abel might be able to help, but you know they wouldn’t appreciate being dragged into any kind of business that involved the Endless.

Deciding to go to work, you put the book back and head to the sea of dreams, hoping it would be enough of a distraction. On the shore, you see two of your fellow dreams engaged in light conversation. You recognize them as the sisters Candor and Nuros, dreams who inspire honesty and humility. They rarely go their separate ways, even when visiting the dreams of the humans. You’ve seen their handiwork too – they were an impressive duo.

With a sudden stroke of inspiration, you approach the sisters to say ‘hi.’

“Candor, Nuros – hi, it’s me, Mera, do you remember me?”

They both turn around to face you with controlled smiles. Nuros speaking first, says, “Of course, we remember, Mera. How do you do?”

“I’m well, thank you,” you reply, feeling relieved they didn’t turn you away. “And you? And Candor?”

It’s Candor that replies next. “We’re doing very well, thank you. Is there something you needed?”

You choose your words carefully. “Well, I just wanted to ask if…maybe we could – I mean, I could go with you to work, and be…friends?”

At the last word you mentioned, the sisters look at each other, the smile fading from their faces. Candor opens her mouth to speak, but Nuros raises a hand to her to stop her.

“Mera, we’d love to, we really would, but –”

“We’re not allowed to!” Candor suddenly bursts. She clamps both of her hands to her mouth, seemingly surprised by herself. Nuros’ eyes dart around in a panic as if making sure no one’s watching, before chastising her sister with gritted teeth.

“Candor!”

“We have to –”

“What do you mean, you’re ‘not allowed?’”

You take a step forward with outstretched hands, indicating that you mean no harm. “Come on, guys, please. Please, tell me…”

Nuros’ face regards you apologetically. Quietly, she tells you “I’m really, very sorry, Mera, but even talking to you like this…”

Candor suddenly leans forward to grab your arms and pull you closer. “There are things we can’t really tell you, but –”

“Candor, no!” Nuros violently grabs her sister and pulls her away, and Candor was forced to let you go.

“What can’t you tell me? What in the Fates is going on?”

“Mera, just stay away from us, please! We don’t like you. There. Are you happy now?”

Nuros’ words feel like a slap in your face. Tears in your eyes, you look pleadingly at her sister, Candor, who seems shocked at her sister’s sudden outburst. Before being pulled by her sister to the waters, you watch her mouth ‘I’m sorry’ with an emotion you recognize as pity.

Blankly, you wipe your tears away just as they fall, feeling even more alone than ever.

***

Feeling despondent at your botched attempt to find someone to confide in, you make your way back to the library, seeking Lucienne’s council. Lucienne instantly reads the crestfallen look on your face, gesturing for you to sit before her desk, before excusing herself to make you both some tea.

She comes back later with teacups, a pot of tea, milk, and sugar, plus an assortment of teacakes on a tray. She pours the tea for both of you, then adds sugar and milk to yours. She always knew how you liked your tea. Gently, she pushes the steaming cup towards you, urging you to take a sip. Only when you’ve taken a couple of sips and set it down on the saucer does she say. “Talk.”

It takes a while for you to do so. Finally, you let out a deep sigh.

“Lucienne, do the other dreams hate me?”

Judging by her raised eyebrows, she wasn’t expecting this question. “What made you think so, Mera?” She places a teacake on another saucer and sets it beside your tea.

You mumble your thanks and nibble on the sponge halfheartedly. “I tried asking a couple of them a while ago if we could go work together, but they turned me away. Said they didn’t like me.”

“Oh? Did they say why?”

“No, I didn’t get to ask them that. They left in quite a hurry.” Toying with the teacake, you add “Come to think of it, I’ve interacted with the others, but they were always either… curt with me or just plain dismissive.”

You peer at Lucienne’s face, and you could tell she’s weighing in on your observations. Speaking your mind, you add, “Maybe there’s something wrong with me.”

Empathically, she replies, “Mera, there is absolutely nothing wrong with you.” She clasps your hand on the table with hers in a comforting manner. “I know you, and you are a wonderful dream. I’ve read in these books I sort what you do for others. You should give them time to get to know the Mera that I know, and you’ll get them on your side eventually.”

Finally returning her smile, your heart is filled with gratitude for her consoling words. “Thank you, Lucienne.”

She lets go of your hand, letting you finish the now half-eaten cake on your plate. When there were only crumbs left of it, she asks, “Are you feeling better?”

You give her a small nod, finally relaxing into your chair and sipping your tea. “Lucienne?”

“Yes?”

“I have one more question if you don’t mind.”

“Fire away.”

Choosing your words carefully, you begin: “Would you know why the Dream Lord has been acting…strange around me?” You note how her eyes narrow in a fraction of a second before she puts on a blank expression.

“How do you mean ‘strange?’”

You open your mouth to finally spill the thoughts that have been plaguing you for days on end, but there is something in you that stops the words from coming out. You couldn’t very well recount your moments with the Endless without voicing your suspicion. So, you end up saying, “You know what, I’m probably just overthinking things. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Lucienne nods in understanding, even though you could read that she wanted to get the truth out of you. “If it helps, Lord Morpheus has been dealing with more runaway nightmares than usual. That might explain his moods as of late.”

“Oh yeah, so I’ve heard. He’s been working harder than ever.” You respond.

“Mera?”

“Mm?”

“Are you sure there is nothing else you wish to tell me?”

I’d like to ask the same thing, says the Voice.

Shaking your head with a smile, you reply, “No, I’ve kept too much of your time as it is. Thank you for the tea and the cake, Lucienne.”

“You are most certainly welcome, Mera.”

Taking that as a sign of dismissal, you get up to your feet, offering to take the used cutlery back to the kitchens.

Your heart feels lighter than it did before your much-needed chat with Lucienne, but while her words and her presence were kind and comforting, you’re still brimming to the lid with want for answers. And you know just who to get them from.

***

You’ve been trying to find Candor in the dreams of the mortals for the last three days on top of your regular Dreaming duties. You’ve gone three days without rest, but you couldn’t give up, not when you’ve potentially found someone you suspect had the information you seek. You’ve felt traces of her presence, along with her sister’s, a lot of times in the dreams you’ve visited, but every time you thought you were close, you find that she had already gone. Navigating the waters for that long and too short a time in between the dreams was starting to take a toll on your body, so with a heavy sigh of defeat, you will yourself back to the sea of dreams, intending to call it a day.

Until a pair of dainty arms snatch you backward with surprising strength, making you land on your side on a hardwood floor.

“What the fuck –”

“SShh!!”

The hands that snatched you back to the dream cover your mouth with urgency. Looking to the owner of the hands to give them a piece of your mind, your choice of swear words is caught dead in your mouth as you stare into the eyes of the dream you’ve been looking for tirelessly for the past three days.

“Candor?!” Her name comes out muffled from your lips, her hands still on your mouth.

Candor, wide-eyed and fearful, places her index finger to her lips as slowly removes the hand muffling your speech.

“I heard you were looking for me,” She says in a hushed tone.

“Yeah, fucking finally, but why are we whispering?”

“We could be overheard –”

“By who?” You hiss.

“Never mind that, we don’t have time! Do you want to hear what I have to say or not?” You open your mouth to argue, but she cuts you off, continuing: “Remember how I said we weren’t allowed to talk to you?”

“Yes, but Nuros said –”

“I know what my sister said, but that was just a front. The truth is we’re all scared out of our wits to even look at you. We’ve been around eons longer than you have, so we know his true nature.”

“Who? Who are you talking about, Candor?”

“The Dream Lord.” Candor says in a haunting, subdued voice.

“Lord Morpheus?” You let out in a disbelieving whisper.

“Yes, now stop interrupting me. Haven’t you ever noticed how he acts so differently around you? The fact alone that he talks to you should be enough proof.”

“Wha – I thought… you mean, he’s not like that around you?”

“Never. Not with anyone. The newer dreams think it’s favouritism, and they’re sort of… jealous,” She rolls her eyes. “But us older ones know better. He’s planned something else for you right from the very beginning. That’s why he’s been pushing away anyone who tries to get close to you – because he doesn’t want the truth out.”

A pregnant pause falls between you as you try to digest what she has divulged. Her eyes still hold fear, but there is also something else in there: concern.

“There is no one to push away, Candor,” you manage to let out. “Save Lucienne and him, I have no one else close to me…”

“Well, doesn’t that tell you he’s been doing a pretty good job?”

Inwardly, you give her a point for that. Looking at the lacquered wooden floor you’re sitting on, you ask, “Candor, what truth?” But she doesn’t elaborate.

Be quiet, the Voice whispers.

“Candor?” You glance up at her face, but you realize she’s frozen in fear, eyes focused on whatever has materialized behind you.

“I hope you have a good explanation as to why you’re slacking off, Candor.”

You both leap to your feet in a hurry and turn to face Dream of the Endless, stonily honing on your companion, waiting for a response.

“L-lord Morpheus…w-we were just… talking –”

“About what?” he pushes on, seemingly restraining his annoyance.

“We were brainstorming, my Lord,” you burst out, glancing sideways at Candor, a silent plea for her to go along. “We were thinking of partnering together for a more specific, potent dream, sir. That’s all. We’re sorry if it looked like we’re shirking our responsibilities.”

The Dream Lord’s eyes focus on you with a raised eyebrow.

“Candor, leave us.” He commands without even looking at her. You watch as she gives a small bow before hastily disappearing from the dream.

Slowly, he takes a few steps forward to you in seeming contemplation. He appears to be looking for traces of deceit in your face, but you bravely hold his gaze, no matter how close you are to passing out.

Moments after, you see a flash of concern in his eyes, his eyebrows slightly furrowing. “You’ve over-exerted yourself again, my Mera. Get some rest. I shall take us back to the palace.”

“Yes, my Lord.” You meekly reply.

Before he takes his pouch of sand out from his coat, he gives you a warning.

“There are two sides to a coin. This applies to all my creations, including Candor. While it is true that she inspires truth in the dreams of humans, she carries the ability to inspire falsehood as well. Many mortals have been led to their destruction at her mere touch. Tread lightly with her, my little dream.”

Without warning, you’re encased in swirling sand just as you collapse in exhaustion. The last thing you feel before losing your consciousness are hands, firm but gentle, holding you close to a warm body as if they’d lose you at any moment.

***

Get up.

This is the second time the Voice has woken you. Cursing in the name of the Fates, you get up from a bed that isn’t your own. The first thing that gave it away is the sheets – made of finely spun silk and dark as the sky on a starless night – they’re so soft on your skin, like how you imagine an angel’s feather would feel. Then the pillows, which you could swear are fluffy clouds just stuffed in a black silk pillowcase; the mattress, which seems to have been molded perfectly to fit your figure, enticing you to lay on it for just a few more minutes –

If it wasn’t for that screaming in your head telling you to get out get out get out. You agree with it for once; scrambling on your feet to get as far away from this room as possible, you barely make out the symbol carved on the headboard that might’ve clued you in as to who the owner of the bed was.

***

It’s been days since you’ve last seen Candor. During work, you’ve tried squeezing in more visits to other dreams in the hopes of sensing her presence, but the ones you’ve been in only contained the faintest of her trace like she hadn’t been there in a long time. Candor had left you with more burning questions than answers, but the Dream Lord’s unexpected pop in may have scared her to near death, causing her to lie low temporarily. Growing worried about the first (dare you say) friend you’ve made, you asked the other dreams you’ve met in passing if they’ve seen her lately. Like always, however, they’ve been quick to push you away, if not with a little more hostility.

Having come from a bit of light reading from the library, you set out to work. You hope to finally see Candor again, if not only to find out what she has been up to after the conversation you’ve had which was halted abruptly. As you reach the shore, you make out a figure huddled close to the waters, hugging their knees to their chest. Nuros.

You approach her curled-up figure cautiously – your last meeting was disastrous, so you wanted to avoid the same kind of confrontation. You kneel on the sand beside her and call softly, “Nuros?”

She slowly faces you, with tears streaming down her face, her body shaking with controlled sobs.

“Mera…” It’s all she manages to get out before bursting into a fresh fit of crying.

You place a hand on her shoulder, not knowing what to do. You’re thankful she doesn’t swat your hand away, so you both stay in that position until you hear her swallow, seemingly wanting to talk. She opens her mouth, but no words come out in her grief-stricken state.

“Nuros, what happened?”

“It’s Candor. She was banished to the darkness.”

***

Link to the next chapter

Taglist:(I realize I forgot to include one AND ask if anyone wanted to be added lol) just lemme know please if you want to be added, too!

@wt-fxck

@sandman-33

Author’s notes:

Please engage, like, reblog, comment, send predictions, etc, I’d love feedback from everyone!!

I’d like to thank @queenshelby @endlessdreamqueen3 encouraging me to pen this baby

Also, fellow Dark!Morpheus fic writers whose work I’ve thoroughly enjoyed and keep rereading

Thank you!!

Post date: 10/29/22

Edit date: 10/30/22

251 notes · View notes

diamondbreakingboi · 11 months

Text

First Fanfic Posted!

Chapter: 1/1

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Fandom: Transformers: Earthspark

Relationship: Bumblebee/Breakdown

Characters: Bumblebee, Breakdown, The Maltos, The Terrans

Additional Tags: Fluff and Angst, Earthspark Spoilers, Post-Canon Fix It, Character Introspection, Angst with Happy Ending

Summary:

Like so many times before, Breakdown is leaving and Bumblebee doesn’t want him to.

...

Crazy to finally convince myself to do this! Hopefully y’all like it as much as I had fun writing it! 💚

Inspired by this post

…

Breakdown never stayed in one place for long.

Too busy, too stubborn, too lost, too something that made Bumblebee resent that wonderful part of him again and again. He was never enough for Breakdown. He had hoped this time, he’d find something to keep him there. To stay one more day. A new job, a new place, a new home. A family for him to live with, friends to love and care for. An entire forest they could race in, together. For old times sake.

Bumblebee knew he wouldn’t stick around this time either. He never did.

So, why was he hoping this time would be different?

Maybe he’d hoped Breakdown would change his mind, staying for the sake of it, to finally rest after millennia of running. An exciting change. He’d always loved those. Something new, it was one of his favorite things before the war, an escape from the dull life they had before all the darkness started to build around the developing war.

Bumblebee remembered showing him places they could explore together in the early days. A new bar. A new race track. A new cave hidden in Cybertron’s wilds. A new reason to keep him around.

But, it was never enough.

So, here’s Bumblebee, watching yet another inevitable farewell from Breakdown.

He first said goodbye to all the Terrans.

Nightshade gave him one of their favorite books to keep him company on his journeys, one about a detective dragon.

Hashtag had the group do several poses for the handmade family album and gave the original to Breakdown.

Jawbreaker gave him a copy of the movie they made together, action and drama packed about a car racing to save the world, one drag race at a time.

Twitch was reluctant at first in her approval of Breakdown, but he wore her down when he Fluffy Ears a flower crown. She gave one of her favorite pictures of Fluffy Ears, while giving her ‘big sister’ speech on dealing with the outside world.

Thrash convinced Breakdown of a parting spar fight. Extra practice in case he runs into any “evildoers.” He’d been reading too many online posts with Hashtag lately.

He was always good with them. The Malto’s graciously gave him his own space to heal and hide away and they've been very helpful in his time there. Nightshade even built him his own race track after Breakdown complimented Nightshade’s newest invention.

He was quick to immerse himself into their family. Becoming an older brother (or a crazy uncle as Dorothy once said). Giving advice about life that could stop your spark and twist it until the hope rose through within you and into the world once again. Changing your very being into someone that would echo until time stopped. Becoming someone you were proud of again.

Next were the Malto’s.

Alex was reluctant to see him go, still curious about the Decepticon culture and his perspective in the war, seeking more and more information about the pre-war Cybertron stories.

Dorothy kept their goodbyes quickly, giving him a knowing mom look and good luck in his future endeavors.

Robby and Mo wanted another ride around the forest before he left. Breakdown was all too eager to show off his skills and speed but his time had ended, and he needed to move on. Or so he claimed. Bumblebee wanted to insist that no one was making him leave, he was free to stay, as he had always been.

Finally, Breakdown turned his golden gaze upon him.

He’d expected and accepted it countless times before.

Yet, this time was different, wasn’t it?

Stuck underground, abandoned, fully drained of energon, and left to rot in stasis lock until his emergency reserves ran out completely. He wouldn’t have survived. After being rescued, he hoped Breakdown would finally see how dangerous this world is and how much he needed a family…and how Bumblebee needed him.

Bumblebee would never admit it to any of his family, but he misses his friends. Everyone was either lost to time, still in hiding, or offline. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to have someone his age. Either everyone around him was too young or too old for him to relate to. He’d finally found someone to spend time with, someone who understood him.

And now they were leaving again.

Yes, he has a family now and he’ll never give them up. Only, he wished Breakdown could see them as that too.

He was brought out of his thoughts when a vocalizer reset.

“So long old friend,” Breakdown said. “Let’s keep in touch this time.”

“Breakdown, I…”

“See you around, little buddy.”

“You know,” Bumblebee stammered in his haste. Breakdown turned with a strange look in his optics. “We could always use another mech on our team. There’s a lot of work with G.H.O.S.T.”

One more reason.

“I overstayed my welcome months ago. Time for me to burn some asphalt.”

One more reason.

“Well-I, Nightshade added another section to the race track. I bet I’d win this time for sure!”

Breakdown smirked. “I doubt that,” he started to walk away. He tried to ignore how his spark ached in that all too familiar, hollow sharpness as his friend walked away once again. “See you later.”

There wouldn’t be a next time.

Another thing shifted in him. It knocked and bubbled up before he could hold it in like he had so many times before. He fumbled for another reason. Just one more!

Breakdown shining in the setting sun. Soft oranges and pinks across his frame, cascading a long shadow across Bumblebee, hiding him in that cool darkness.

It was never enough. He was never enough.

He’ll be alone. Again!

Stuck in that same emptiness, hidden away from the world, constantly chasing after a long forgotten ghost who doesn’t want to be found.

He promised himself he wouldn’t say anything, yet, he couldn’t stop that one word he had been desperate to say ever since the first goodbye. It burned through his cables, prickled along his back strut, numbed his processor, and poured out his derma before he could stop it.

“Stay!”

Breakdown stared at him at his sudden outburst. “What?”

He regretted it immediately. It was selfish of him to ask, to wish for more.

Bumblebee's door wings wvered. “Nothing! I’ll see you later! Next time we race, I’ll win for sure! Book your next medibay visit, you’ll be coughing dust for weeks afterwards!”

Bumblebee tried to not look too long in his golden optics. He couldn’t stand to see the disappointment.

Breakdown came closer and held Bumblebee’s pauldron lightly, “Bee, say what you mean. I can take it, you know me.”

His optics alight with that comforting soft gleam and Bumblebee couldn’t help but yield.

“Stay,” he whispered. The silent sob called out, filling the silent field, and Bumblebee had never hated himself more, yet as he said it, he couldn’t deny how good it was to express what had been weighing on his mind for millennia. He wished he had it so many times before. He regretted not saying it more now. It was all too easy now that he’s begun. “I know it’s not my place to say this, but I need you to know. You’re needed here. I-we’ll miss you. And it scares me that this will be the last time I see you. That almost already happened countless times before! One day you’ll get into a dangerous accident, because you're a reckless fool, and we won’t be there to save you in time. I can’t,” he reset his vocalizer. “Please I can't go through with that again!"

“Bee…”

“I know! You have your own life and I wouldn’t ever wish to hold you back. I have my family now, I'm not really ever alone again because of that, yet you're part of this family too! Please, let us be in your life! We care about you. We love you,” he hesitated for a moment, “I love you! Don’t you get it. I always have, ever since that early morning several years ago on that racetrack that is nothing but rubble now. So, please, you stubborn, reckless aft, for once in your life, stay!”

He opened his optics, having shuttered them at some point, when he heard a soft chuckle. Breakdown was smiling. A genuine one, not like his usual smirk, a real and soft one that made Bumblebee’s spark twist and twirl.

“You’ve always been a slowpoke, little bee,” Breakdown said.

“Hey! You could’ve stayed all on your own but you needed me to say something first? I-”

Soft servos held his face gently. Breakdown stared into Bumblebee’s optics, waiting for rejection as he slowly inched closer. Their derma met smoothly, tasting like those energon sweets he always claimed he hated. Bumblebee smiled and pressed back against him, catching them all too eagerly. His head was tilted slightly up by Breakdown, giving himself more access to Bumblebee’s glossa, a slight catch of dentae against his derma, startled a gasp out of his vents.

Breakdown gave him a small peck on the nose and leaned against his forehead. “Sorry, is that too fast for you?”

Bumblebee gently pushed him. “Not fast enough! Do you have any idea how long I wanted you to do that?”

“I have an idea.”

“Wait, I confessed first! I finally beat you at something!” He gloated.

“Few thousand more and we’ll be tied!”

“You’re on!” Bumblebee laughed. He hesitated a moment. “So, does this mean you’re staying?”

Breakdown glanced at the road, seemingly lost for words. When he looked back at Bumblebee, there was the same determination that made Bumblebee fall for him the first night they met all those years ago. “For now. I’m not the best at keeping still for too long. Always been my weakness…but I think I’ve realized recently that I have more to give to the world beyond my races. Another side of me that deserves to be cared for. Loved.”

“You are,” Bumblebee said.

Breakdown smiled widely. “Still, I won’t stop racing though. I won’t ever stop. After all, I was forged for it!” He paused and wrapped his arm around Bumblebee’s waist, settling close to playfully glare at him. “And I’m still holding you to those previous race taunts! You’re not getting out of those just because I’m staying!”

Bumblebee rolled his optics.

“Only,” Breakdown continued, lowering his voice to an almost unintelligible whisper, “I…I want to stay this time. I think I always did. I guess it was never about where or why I was staying but myself keeping me from being there. I never allowed myself to stay. Afraid of getting hurt or losing loved ones. Except here, everyone loves each other without the fear of getting hurt. So, rather than running away from everything, it’s time I ran towards something. And someone.” Breakdown winked. “Just needed someone to knock some sense into me.”

“I thought I did that before.” So many times before.

“Yeah, but I got thick plating,” he knocked the top of his helm slightly, “and I finally got through to myself. All thanks to you.” He turned and waved at the distantly gathered family, all faking in their looking around tactic in a feeble attempt at giving them privacy. Nightshade waved eagerly at them. “And with a little extra help from your family.”

“Our family,” Bumblebee adamantly said.

Breakdown smiled. “Our family.”

Bumblebee huffed and tried to play it off as another laugh. It quickly turned into soft sobs. Breakdown held him through it, letting him tuck his head into his neck cables. He could hardly believe he was staying. He’d found a reason.

Breakdown found his reason.

And like the many nights after, they would continue to stay together, racing one another into that star crystallized night.

90 notes · View notes

zombiedumbie · 10 months

Text

00. TIME MOVES SLOW WHEN YOU'RE ALL ALONE, AND TIMES MOVES SLOW;

I've been thinking about writing a fanfic after reading this one (btw this is a recommendation). it would be basically the opposite: I have a headcannon that Law would be considerably rich due to his family of doctors. So, the person who would live in all the luxury would be our dear aspiring doctor. Added a touch of drama 'cause I love a little pain.

This is just one chapter because I wanted to know if you guys like the idea, so if you'd like me to continue, please let me know.

2302 words.

modern au, she/her reader, use of "y/n", angst (?), law is 22, grief, implicit and explicit drug use, swearing, post-traumatic stress. mdni!

Grief is a complex set of emotions that humans deal with after the loss of something fundamentally important to them. Grief isn't always triggered solely by death, but also, as mentioned earlier, by the painful farewell to something significant. Today, it is understood that grief has 7 stages: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance; not necessarily faced in that order.

However, when grief stops being a loss and turns into a disease, it's called pathological grief.

In this way, Trafalgar D. Water Law has lived the last 12 years of his life.

Law was sprawled on the bed of god-knows-who, with his shirt unbuttoned and his head spinning. The noise he could hear was his heavy breathing, as if his ears were inside his dry throat, while his eyes moved agonizingly slowly around the unfamiliar room.

The memories of how he got there or what was happening had long escaped his mind, but he was certain of one thing: He needed water, and perhaps a shower. Maybe he should call Rosinante, despite promising him that he wouldn't do it again.

Determined to reach the kitchen, Law dragged himself out of bed, his feet hitting the floor as steadily as he could manage — which wasn't much. He was almost halfway there when he stumbled over a blazer and fell to the ground like a bag of bones, shaking the room.

He began to mutter, wondering who would leave a blazer in the middle of the room like that. The blazer was his. The door creaked open with a muffled sound due to the music, and Law felt someone touch his back.

"Damn, I thought someone was having a pretty hardcore fuck here", the voice was familiar, Law looked up to see who it was. "I was going to ask to join, but it was just you", Sabo smiled, looking at Law with that same psychopathic smile as usual.

Sabo was one of those boys whose parents always warned to stay away from, as he could become a criminal or an addict in the future. However, as he grew up, Sabo silenced everyone when he was accepted into one of the best universities in the country, becoming one of the smartest people anyone had ever seen around him; even though he often seemed to hate it all. In the end, he settled for studying International Relations at the state's best college, against everyone's wishes and only following his own reasoning.

However, he still acted like a crazy fuck. And that's why he understood the whole situation when he saw Law's red eyes. "Damn, that was strong, huh?", he helped Law to his feet.

"F-Fuck off", Law groaned as he stood up, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment from his deplorable situation. "I-I want water", the words came out unconsciously, as if his body was speaking for him.

Sabo laughed, helping him walk out of the room. "Come with me, I'll help you", the blonde shouted over the music. They practically stumbled down the stairs to the ground floor.

The silver decorations and the low light of the place, combined with the loud music and the large number of people there, made Law even dizzier. The only thing he could look at to help his mental confusion was the huge glass window that overlooked a large and well-maintained garden, which, unfortunately, was filled with people here and there.

Sabo guided them to a corridor beside the stairs. The corridor seemed to stretch and then shrink several times as they walked to the door at the end, which Sabo pushed slowly before entering with Law.

It was the kitchen that Law had longed to reach in the last 3 minutes. The light was bright compared to the rest of the party; there were some waiters hired for the night, along with some people Law had seen around.

The kitchen was filled with the most expensive appliances. The stove had so many burners it looked ridiculous, the refrigerator seemed as wide and tall as a cabinet, and all the utensils were neatly arranged, highly polished and gleaming. Not to mention the extensive marble countertops and the golden details in the corners of each piece of furniture; there was also a long glass wall that displayed the image of the distant nighttime city, as bright as day due to its ever-lit lights, divided by the scenery of a quiet beach.

Given the attention to detail in this kitchen, it was possible that whoever the owner of this house was, they never had to set foot in this kitchen.

"Oi, Sabo", Kid spoke. Kid was a red-haired guy with painted nails and lipstick on his lips, holding a blunt between his fingers and blowing smoke through his teeth. He was dressed in the rest of his waiter outfit, his apron now tucked into the back pocket of his pants and his black dress shirt open.

"Who's this guy?", Kid, another one of the waiters, asked, watching Sabo lean Law against the wall next to the door. "Damn, he's messed up, huh?", he said as he saw the man bow his head.

Law was pitifully leaning against the wall, slightly leaning forward, head down, and too weak to move his hanging arms. His vision was a blur of his tattooed arms covered with a lazily rolled-up white dress shirt on his elbows and his shoes now dirty from who-knows-what.

Sabo laughed. "Go easy on him, he's new to this stuff", Law wanted to protest, but his tongue felt too heavy in his mouth. Sabo left his blazer on the counter and opened the refrigerator for water.

Maybe he was too high, but he still felt a gaze burning his skin. He slowly turned his head to look at a girl sitting on the floor, her back against the wall, wearing a waiter outfit similar to the others', now looser; and it was her who now held Kid's blunt.

The girl looked him up and down as she brought the cigarette between her index and thumb to her lips, there was a certain pity in her eyes, but Law chose to ignore it, no matter how irresistible her figure might be.

"His name is Law", Sabo added, handing him a glass of water.

"No way!", Kid said, laughing. "The Trafalgar Law? Man, you're like Batman!", Law grunted.

"Shut up, Kid. Are you eating shit or what?", the girl on the floor said, scolding Kid.

"No parents and being taken care of by a guardian? Sounds like Batman indeed", Law mumbled with difficulty, receiving the glass of water from Sabo.

The atmosphere in the kitchen grew heavy. Everyone remembered the Trafalgar accident; it was news for a few days, and the only survivor was the eldest son, Trafalgar Law. Post-traumatic stress kept him at home for a few years, where he dedicated himself to studying to continue his parents' legacy. But here he was, incredibly high for the first time.

It had been a series of unfortunate events that led him to that party that day.

But, in short, he wanted to experience a little of what he had missed due to his years at home.

Law banged the glass on the counter in front of him; he felt like he should say some things to this Kid guy, but his head was so confused that he felt, for a moment, like he was somewhere else. "Go... fuck yourself...!", Kid seemed to turn as red as his hair, but Sabo immediately cut both of them off with a laugh.

"You're even funnier like this, Torao!", a voice came from the other side of the kitchen along with a laugh. It was Luffy, one of Law's "friends," a title he didn't really want to call him. "You should get high more often", Luffy tapped his back a few times.

Trafalgar, already annoyed at being so high and also by Kid's well-thought-out comment, seemed to get more irritated by Luffy's presence, who was laughing too loudly for his taste. He pushed himself off the counter and walked awkwardly to the kitchen door, struggling a bit to open it due to its weight, and then staggered down the corridor.

The man staggered, getting lost in the huge house, with no idea what he was doing. The suffocating feeling of not being in control made him want to cry; he felt like he was sleeping, in a senseless, noisy dream. It was too hot, too stuffy, too noisy, too crowded. Moments passed like blurred flashes, too confusing to decipher; until he seemed to "wake up" from his dream.

Law was lying on something soft. He felt a cold breeze hit his body like an uncomfortable embrace. When he finally opened his eyes, the night sky was painted before him, he could hear the sound of the music more clearly now, though a bit more distant compared to the waves of the beach, and amidst the electronic rhythm and the crashing waves, a voice seemed to speak to him.

"I hate working for these spoiled brats, they all think I'm their damn housekeeper and should do whatever they tell me", Law turned his head to see who was talking, finding the same girl from the kitchen, sitting cross-legged with her back to him in the sand, smoking a cigarette angrily. "Damn, I'm here just to serve drinks, not to make the porridge that your housekeeper makes every night before bed!", Law ran his fingers through the sand, feeling the fine grains caress his palm. He heard her venting, but he didn't understand a single word.

She turned around and looked him deep in the eyes before speaking: "You woke up, finally. How do you feel?", she smiled.

"Like I've been run over", he was honest. He still felt out of it, but conscious enough to know what he was doing.

"Huh, wait until tomorrow", she said as Law sat up. He now noticed that she was wearing his coat. "You asked me to call someone named Cora-san, but I couldn't find his contact on your phone", she reached out, handing the device to Law. "Sorry about that."

Law rubbed his eyes, confused. "What... What happened? Where's Sabo?"

"You don't remember, do you?", she smiled, and Law, fearing what he might have done during this blackout, blushed violently. "Don't worry", she laughed. "Sabo carried you to the kitchen to get some water, but then Kid started talking crap and Luffy started annoying you until you left the kitchen. Sabo was going after you, but... I think her name was Koala, she stopped him and started arguing with him. I found you sitting on a couch next to the bathroom...", she stopped, pondering whether she should continue.

Law raised an eyebrow.

"You... were crying. Like, a lot. I brought you some water, but you said you didn't want to drink anymore, and then you started talking...", she sighed. "Anyway, you asked me to call this Cora-san and gave me your phone, and then you said you wanted some fresh air. I brought you here, and you ended up dozing off in the sand".

Law widened his eyes and cringed at the thought of what he might have told her. He didn't remember any of this, which made him want to disbelieve what he might have done, but since there was no other version of this gap in his mind, he just abstained.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone anything", she said when she saw his worried face.

"... Thank you", he said, grabbing his phone to check the time; it was almost dawn. He swallowed hard before unlocking the device.

He heard her chuckle softly and looked at the city on the horizon, finishing her cigarette. "Of course".

For some reason, his heart squeezed in his chest. That girl he didn't even know the name of had just helped him in a terrible moment of drunkenness for no reason, and as much as he could easily doubt her word, he trusted that she wouldn't tell anyone about his outburst.

His golden eyes fell on her again, watching her hair being carried by the cold morning breeze. The ever-present melancholy lingered in his mind as he dialed Rosinante's number on his phone; his finger hovered over the call button. "What's your name?".

She paused to think for a moment before answering. "Y/N", she turned her face towards him. The sun had just started to rise, and the sky was a bit brighter now.

He wanted to thank her for helping him, for being so kind to someone she barely knew, for caring enough to stay with him until he woke up; to say that he appreciated what she had done and apologize for causing trouble. But all that came out of his lips was: "Why did you help me?".

And all she replied was: "Because I wanted to."

He mentally slapped himself for sounding so ungrateful, he tried again to thank her, apologize, but she kept talking. "People don't always have a reason for doing what they do..." she seemed to notice the confusion in his eyes. "You were in a vulnerable moment, I couldn't leave you like that", and she gave one of the gentlest smiles Law had ever seen.

He swallowed hard as he remembered Rosinate.

"OOOOIIII, Y/N!", someone shouted in the background, she turned her head to see Kid calling her. "WE'RE LEAVING!!", she got up and brushed the sand off her clothes.

"COMING, JUST A MINUTE!!", she shouted back. "My ride's leaving. Nice to meet you, Law. Don't forget to call Cora-san", she took off the blazer to return it. "Call me if you need anything", then she turned and started running back towards the house, shoes in hand.

"Goodbye...", he said, but then he realized something. "I DON'T HAVE YOUR NUMBER!", he shouted, his eyes filled with the image of the girl now running away.

"YOU THINK!".

Law wanted to shout back, but something clicked in his mind. His fingers touched the screen of his phone to open the "Contacts" app, sliding his finger to find a new contact saved as "Y/N :p".

#one piece #one piece x reader #trafalgar d law #trafalgar d water law #law one piece #one piece fanfic #law fanfic #one piece x you #law x reader #law x you #one piece angst #zombiedumbie writing

41 notes · View notes

emzii-hi · 6 months

Text

what should i do

OKAY SO

really happy with the fact that Cellbit is not canonically not dead or atomically dead. :)

though I am sad that Max will not going back to qsmp as living player. I understand that he as creator can't find motivation along with other things to play qsmp as it does take a lot of time to be apart of. so farewell Agent Maxo you shall be missed :')

Secondly wow its been offically 2 weeks of fucking purgatory which honestly felt like a fever dream. cause with everything that happened it was crazy and with ElQUACKITY being a traitor its wild and the whole convo he had with eggs abdadbadabdaw OMG.

Good for the eggs to basically say their parents are the goat and will beat his ass. which in their defense is very true when this guy basically dies from a fly 2 times like wow. also the video of richas that roier saw. THE DRAMA I'M SMELLING AHHHHH

their is sooo much that i want to draw now that I am able to and im so happy about it I just need to figure out settings and stuff cause this is the first drawing tablet I've gotten. I am a ipad drawer but honestly the tablet that I got is wayyyy cheaper then buying a full on apple pen. Imma try to see if I can use the tablet with my ipad using an adapter and hopefully that actually works other than that I am good with my ipad.

This was such a long rant omg, i AM ALSO TRYING TO POST MORE ON EVERY ACCOUNT I HAVE UNDER EMZII SO CHECK ME OUT ON INSTA AND TIK TOK :)))

#qsmp #small artist #artists on tumblr #qsmp purgatory #qsmp maximus #q maximus #qsmp cellbit #q cellbit #qsmp richarlyson #qsmp roier

21 notes · View notes

payattentiontothescreen · 26 days

Text

Bridgerton Rewatch S1E1 - Diamond of the First Water (Part 2)

Here's part 2 of the S1E1 Rewatch

Something I noticed is that Eloise has a lot of sympathy for Daphne when it comes to the whole Berbrooke thing. She tries to stay with Daphne when he’s the only one who calls on her. In general, they’re a lot closer here than they are once Berbrooke is out of the picture.

Thinking back on it and watching the show again, Pen is the only one who could have ever been Lady Whistledown. Given the derision and abuse she’s been through by the entire ton, especially her own mother, she’s a teenager who’s lashing out. She’s an afterthought to everyone except Colin and Eloise.

Speaking of Colin and Penelope, he has always thought highly of her. When he’s leaving the Featheringtons after calling on Marina, Pen is the only one he says goodbye to. He doesn’t even bid Marina farewell; it’s just Pen.

Daphne and Eloise have very similar views on their place in the world. Daphne does not like that marriage is her only option. She has just made her peace with it.

Lady Whistledown’s dig at Marina’s “pretty little slippered feet” was so obviously Pen, I don’t know how anyone thought it wasn’t her.

The Queen’s dismissal of Daphne is a good early indicator of how much she cares about LWD’s opinion.

I need more Violet/Lady Danbury scheming. They’re both so clever, the matchmaking worked wonders.

This next note says “Anthony shut the fuck up challenge.” Again, no idea what that’s in reference to but it’s applicable to any scene he’s in.

So they plant a Cressida/Colin dynamic really early on of her wanting to be with him. Not much on this here, I’m just looking forward to seeing how that plays out in season 3.

What drives me crazy is that Colin DOES NOT LET GO OF PEN’S HAND when the music stops. They aren’t dancing anymore but Colin is still holding Pen’s hand. Idiots in love at its finest.

Not gonna lie, those lights are sick.

Season 1 Anthony has 2 modes: pompous idiot or callous asshole. He manages to be both when he tells Daphne that he promised her to Berbrooke.

Quick Marina sidebar - first, I couldn’t imagine just having to bleed through on my period. That sounds like hell. Second, it would never happen but I would love if Marina slapped Lady F back. Full on “They Call Me Mr. Tibbs!” action.

Back to Daphne, we’re at the attempted assault scene. Something that I noticed this time around is that Berbrooke is pissed at Daphne because, to him, she thinks she’s better than him. The thing is, she is technically higher class than he is. He comes from a barony; she’s the daughter of a viscount. In a purely hierarchical sense, she is better than him. She comes from a better family. And I know that there’s the gender politics involved here but I’m choosing to ignore them because they are stupid.

I’ve watched this show several times. Daphne punching Berbrooke in the face will always be satisfying as fuck.

I’d like to take this bullet point to say that Simon is iconic. His dialogue is so well-written. Love it.

End of episode thoughts: This is a really well-done pilot. It marries romance, drama, and comedy amazingly. I’m looking forward to seeing what else I find on a closer inspection of the series.

Thanks for going on this journey with me. S1E2 will be up tomorrow? Maybe? It depends on how busy I am with grad school.

Have a great day!

18 notes · View notes

scuttle-buttle · 2 months

Note

In full disclosure, I haven't seen MOTA yet (seeing all of your recent posts is pushing it higher up my list!! Especially since I love BoB so much) - but what are your thoughts/HCs for Crosby and/or Rosie for (and apologies if these are already addressed... otherwise just have fun with what you want 😊):

Favorite holiday? Any traditions that they particularly enjoy and/or will miss? Would they enjoy or hate each other's traditions?

Who writes the better letters?

Does one enjoy going to the movies more than the other? Would they enjoy the same types of films or debate who's better (Bogart or Grant or other)

Favorite desserts? Once the war is over and rationing ends, will one of them eat their weight in chocolate cake or cherry pie or other?

Take care, Bee!

Holiday:

crosby is a Christmas guy. Grew up in a house in the Midwest who's mom baked cookies and treats especially at Christmas. He loves the lights and the decorations and the excuse to kiss his loves more under the mistletoe.

Rosie likes Purim a lot, the costumes and games and parties. (Take this with a grain of salt because I am not well educated on Jewish holidays, but I know I heard that Purim is one of the more fun holidays)

They enjoy participating in each other's traditions and holidays. I think during the war the whole point of the fight was to prevent evil and promote the ideas behind the beauty of cultures and peoples and traditions.

Letters: I dont think I could really pick one above the other? They are both obviously very talented with their words. Rosie reads like crazy, and Crosby becomes a lit professor or something. Language is important and special for them.

Films:

Oh rosie is a cinephile 110% he will go see every new movie in the theater. In fact it becomes him that other lawyers and employees at his firm go to for movie recommendations. That being said, he prefers comedies to anything else that's too dramatic. Like he will 100% go see a movie he won't enjoy for the sake of not being a quitter and seeing things through. And he can say he's seen everything once.

Crosby will go to the theater if the film sounds good. I take him the type to love all sorts of movies - comedies, romance, drama, historic. He gets teased by his wife and rosie for when he tears up at the sad and romantic parts - but don't worry it's a cute teasing to get him to blush those precious pinks

Films 1.5 - rosie thinks crosby does awful impressions but he humors him because they are in love

Dessert:

Is it too on the nose to say rosie likes cheesecake? 😆 I get the vibe rosie has weird taste in sweets. He will eat the ones he ma makes and say they are wonderful, but I don't think he'd be into sweets in general. I think he would love dark chocolate tho 🤔

Croz loves a warm, gooey butter cake (if you haven't had one you're missing out btw) his mom made it, and taught the Missus how to make it. So the night he shipped out his wife bid him a farewell with the taste of butter cake on her lips. He began to crave it during the war and would brag about "gosh you should taste my wife's butter cake - it would send you straight through the clouds boys". It's definitely croz that eats his weight in stuff. He's working on his dad bod lol

#harry crosby #harry crosby hc #rosie rosenthal #rosie rosenthal hc #masters of the air #mota #anthony boyle #nate mann

11 notes · View notes

justafriend-ql · 10 months

Text

Thai BL Favorites List Tag Game

thank you to the lovely @firstkanaphans for tagging me! the original prompt list was created by @thatgirl4815. let's get into it!

(note: i'll try my best to not make this entire list about never let me go, but you know who i am)

favorite bl: never let me go (nobody is surprised) it's unique, innovative, the first gmmtv bl series based on an original script rather than adapted from a novel. the lovechild of cringe 90s thai action dramas and BL tropes that p'jojo flirts with or fucks with depending on how he's feeling. palm and nueng live in my head 24/7 and the cinematography of the series drove me to learn how to make gifs (something i would not recommend you do if you value your freetime lol)

favorite pairing: palmnueng :) power imbalance, social expectations, and simmering sexual tension that all breaks loose at the seashore. duty turned to devotion and loneliness turned to love. two 18-year-olds whose life circumstances couldn't be more different yet find mirror images of their own insecurities and lack of self-worth in each other. clinging onto each other only to let go in the name of love. but always returning to each other, their other half, their soulmate. literally everything i could ever want in a pair. bonus: they kiss each other like they actually want to.

most underrated actor: sing! he's great in comedic roles (had me wheezing with laughter in unidentified mysterious girlfriend). but completely slayed as todd in not me. toddblack scenes make me genuinely sick. i would love to see more of him in dark dramas. also you really just have to respect his dedication. he survived infamous early series like slamdance (he was paired with drake) and put his whole pussy into the puppy play in warp effect.

favorite character: palm pannakorn jannaloy my most beloved boy. breaks my heart and heals it at the same time. he's just such a fundamentally good, kind person. and pretty much nothing in his life makes that easy. eternally self-sacrificing, without much love for himself but so so much love for others. even when they leave him behind. look! the very first gif i ever made was of him - see below and kindly disregard the quality.

favorite side character: pa jindapat out of all the series i've watched, pa is probably the character i relate to the most. that's why she's my pfp! i love her messy buns and glasses and over-sized t-shirts. she just feels very real in all her interactions with pat and her cluelessness about her very big crush on ink. the little tremble in her voice in the dark room scene when she tells ink "i liked it. i liked it so much i thought that i was special to you" makes me tear up. she's funny and she's bold and she holds her ground and i love her. very much.

favorite scene: the farewell dance - never let me go, episode 9 there's no dialogue. just music. grief-stricken palm and nueng dancing slowly, somberly in a motel room palm will wake up alone in the next morning. nueng knows he's leaving; deep down, palm probably knows too. their steps slow and palm seeks comfort in a kiss that quickly turns desperate because they're both hurting and the only thing that will numb the pain is each other. the feeling of tears running down palm's face forces nueng to pull away. the look on nueng's face as he wipes palm's tears away is possibly my favorite thing phuwin has ever done. he looks so goddamn heartbroken and guilty, because nueng feels like palm's brokenness is his fault. also one of my favorite performances from pond - and he was in the hospital earlier that day!!

favorite line: "i love you. and i want you to love yourself too." ayan to akk; the eclipse, episode 12, part 1/4. speaks for itself i think.

most anticipated bl and why: dangerous romance although i'm definitely excited for only friends, i have a soft spot for underdogs and this series seems like one (especially if it airs at the same time as only friends). i love perth especially and both chimon and him are crazy talented actors. i hope despite the silly title of the series, the script gives them something good to work with. and i hope that "i hate you" kiss in the rain from the pilot is better in the actual series lmao. the bts photos are making me super excited! also: viewjune let's gooooooo

healthiest relationship in a bl: heartliming these two make me cry. really just the epitome of finding a safe space in another person and providing them with a safe space in yourself. everything about them is beautiful. the amount of effort and care they put into learning how to communicate with each other is incredible. i love that they fight alongside each other. and: "i love it when i'm with him" - sometimes it's really as simple as that.

most toxic relationship in a bl: going to second @firstkanaphans here and say tharntype this almost feels like a cop-out because it's so obvious, but it's true. nothing will ever excuse the things tharn did to type without his consent, and type's internalized and externalized homophobia wasn't dealt with satisfactorily in my opinion. there are good kernels in every story, but the bad overwhelmed the few good ones in this series for me.

guilty pleasure series: love by chance guilty because it's mame and i don't love how aggressive they make ae (the sweetest, gentlest boy) toward the end. to be honest i skipped everything except for the aepete scenes when i watched this so i can't comment on the rest. but i often find myself returning to episode 4, in particular, because ae's feelings realization journey is lovely and soft and seeing baby perth and saint is always a treat. i liked it enough to gif it, so...

bonus! most underrated series: my only 12% created this bonus category so i can beg you to watch this one if you haven't. trust me and suffer through the bad haircuts and slow burn. i knew it was different from other series when seeiw cries while watching a queer movie with his sister, recognizing his own feelings onscreen, then sneaks downstairs to watch the rest by himself in tears later that night. that experience is so fucking real. this series seared me with its portrayal of the nostalgia and grief of childhood friendships and eventual separation, and the role reversal post-reunion is so well done it makes me insane. i was sobbing in my room at 4am and that's the best review i can give a series.

i had a lot of fun doing this and i hope if you read to this point you got... well, something, out of it. tagging @cankersoregirl @first-kanaphan @feralmuskyscentedhoepran @akkpipitphattana @ayan-sukkhapisit @nongnaos and anyone else who may like to do this!

#ask game #thai bl favorites #never let me go sweep what did you expect

36 notes · View notes

justicerikai · 4 months

Text

Charisma House - Superhuman Sharehouse Story “Charisma” - #81 Yes or No

Please read alongside listening to the drama track on Youtube.

TL notes:

At some point the word ケツカッチン is said. This is a word used in the Japanese entertainment industry when a production’s schedule has a fixed time and it cannot be changed, or that you still have matters to take care of besides what you’re doing at the moment. It’s a term that combines “butt” and “clapperboard” since you hear the sound of the clapper behind you. There is no true English counterpart to this, so it has been localized to an innuendo of some kind about the never-ending, huge workload.

Let me know if I missed something!

Ohse: (These people who call themselves acquaintances of Sarukawa-san were very kind to a piece of shit like me.)

Buddy 1: What’cha hiding under that plastic bag for, huh

Buddies: Hahaha

Ohse: …

Buddy 1: You goin’ somewhere?

Amahiko: Yes, for a little stroll.

Rikai: Allow me to join, Amahiko-san

Buddy 1: Wait!

Amahiko & Rikai: !?

Buddy 1: This town’s riddled with misfits. Don’t even dare to think the rules of your world apply here

Amahiko & Rikai: ....!

Buddy 1: “Keep your eyes peeled. You never know who’s lurking in the shadows…”

(Sound of rubble falling)

Rikai: !? Who’s there!

Amahiko: We know you’re hiding, show yourself.

Asia: I’m the Charisma of Asia.

Amahiko & Rikai: ?

Asia: The Charisma of Asia.

Amahiko: Excuse me?

Rikai: Who may that be?

Asia: Charisma of Asia.

Amahiko: Asia…

Asia: That’s right, Asia. Charisma of Asia.

Asia: The Charisma of Asia is your progenitor, a legendary Charisma.

Rikai: Legendary Charisma?

Amahiko: What are you talking ab-

Asia: Quiet, I’m the one speaking. The Charisma of Asia doesn’t have time to waste.

Asia: Why may that be?

Amahiko: ….

Asia: Because I’m the Charisma of Asia.

Asia: Good grief, another day of edging a big load.

Asia: Ah, there might be people who have taken that the wrong way.

Asia: It was inappropriate, my apologies.

Asia: You might think this is unexpected, however the Charisma of Asia is a naive worrywart.

Asia: In other words, the fact that even a legendary class like me is always plagued by anxiety and impatience is something I want you all to know.

Asia: Don’t worry. One day I will break through it.

Asia: Sincerity has the last word.

Rikai: O, kay…

Asia: I’m certain our paths will cross again someday.

Amahiko: Really!?

Asia: By then I will have become one large clump of Charisma.

Asia: I promise.

Amahiko: A-alright…

Asia: Very well. Charisma Link, complete.

(Mysterious sparkling sound)

Rikai: Charisma Link?

Asia: Now the Charisma of Asia must fly away.

Asia: Why is that?

Amahiko: Because you’re the Charisma of Asia?

Asia: You know it, farewell.

(Sound of wire shooting out)

Asia: Hup! Hup! Hup!

Asia: Asia!

Rikai: That’s quite the means of transportation…

Ohse: (There really are all kinds of crazies running around here…)

Ohse: (Ahem.)

Ohse: (I mean, full of unique individuals.)

Ohse: (But we could spend our time in safety due to the protection a group of people offered us.)

Iori: The Charisma of Asia?

Terra: The heck’s that

Fumiya: Some freak I bet

Ohse: A progenitor?

Amahiko: Yes, like some kind of superior.

Ohse: (On the other hand, Sarukawa-san was little by little distancing himself from us.)

Ohse: (Maybe it’s because it brought him back to old times, how it was nice to be here again.)

Ohse: (He started to look different too.)

Ohse: (And then…)

Ohse: (In the end…)

Sarukawa: Where’s Ryuu

Buddy 2: No worries, my man. We ain’t letting him do anything dangerous

Buddy 2: We’re just looking out for him for the time being

Sarukawa: …M’bad

Buddy 1: Have to say, he’s the spitting image of Kei

Woman: Like a lil’ brother

Buddies: Hahaha

Sarukawa: …Nah, y’know that ain’t true.

Leader: Kei.

Sarukawa: Huh?

Leader: Come back.

Sarukawa: …

Leader: Things are getting worse by the second here. We need your strength.

Leader: Weaklings like us only got one way of fighting, through “connection”

Leader: Can’t stay alive without it.

Leader: And don’t tell me you forgot where you belong.

Leader: Return to us.

Buddy 1: Kei.

Buddy 2: Kei!

Sarukawa: …

Woman: Why!? What’s not to your liking!? Kei!

Sarukawa: …! ….!

Iori: “He said he didn’t know.”

Terra: “…Eh?”

Iori: Because this was supposed to be a place where he felt at home.

Iori: The kind of atmosphere Saru-chan loves.

Iori: Free to do whatever he wants, not bound by any annoying rules.

Iori: He had the biggest smiles on his face back then.

Terra: …But, there was no choice but for him to leave, right…

Iori: Yeah, Saru-chan said so.

Sarukawa: “It'd be damn easier if I did have a reason.”

Sarukawa: “Y’see, Io.”

Sarukawa: “I’m the kinda bastard who can’t stand always bein’ tied to anyone for as long as he lives…”

Sarukawa: …Ryuu?

Ryuu: I’m staying here in this town.

Sarukawa: …?

Ryuu: That’s why you have to come back, Kei-oniichan.

Ryuu: Let’s live together again, okay!? Like we used to!

Sarukawa: …!

Leader: Kei.

Woman: Kei!

Sarukawa: …!

Fumiya: Hold it.

Buddies: !?

Sarukawa: …Fumiya?

Fumiya: That’s too good to be true.

Fumiya: Ryuu, you’ve been lying, haven’t you.

Ryuu: !

Leader: Hey.

Sarukawa: What.. are you…

Fumiya: You came in contact with Kei under the guise of a coincidence.

Fumiya: Then you got close to us, casually snooping for the reason why we’re hiding.

Fumiya: Followed by luring us to a designated location for an ambush by your pals.

Fumiya: Making us feel grateful for saving us, and then persuading him to stay in this town.

Fumiya: You all got connections down under, don’tcha

Fumiya: Said it yourself. Weaklings fight with their ties.

Woman: …!

Fumiya: Ryuu, it wasn’t like you just happened to be here.

Fumiya: You already settled down.

Fumiya: You ignored Kei’s warnings, with the decisive blow being the skateboard you couldn’t hold onto anymore.

Sarukawa: …!

Sarukawa: Ryuu…?

Ryuu: I’m-!

(Sound of Ryuu being covered with a bag)

Sarukawa: Ryuu!!

Fumiya: !

(A knife being pulled out)

Buddy 1: Hold it, one step and he’ll get it.

Fumiya: Go ahead

Buddy 1: !?

Sarukawa: CUT IT OUT! What are you fuckers doing!!

Leader: Kei, we’re serious about this.

Leader: You betrayed us once already. And it won’t happen again.

Leader: You’re being chased by some unruly fellas, no? I know all about it.

Leader: It all depends on your answer… got it?

Sarukawa: …!!

Leader: Come back to us.

Woman: Please, say yes! Kei!

Sarukawa: ….!!!!

Sarukawa: ……..!!!

(Sound of radar)

Torahima: Yes! Yes, finally found them!

Torahime: Just you wait, Sensei!

(Cheering voices)

Torahime: ….Eh?

Asia: I am the Charisma of Asia.

Asia: The Charisma of Asia doesn’t have time to waste, goodbye.

(Sound of wire shooting)

Asia: Five years in a row!

Asia: Inducted into the hall of fame!

Asia: Haaaah!!!

Torahime: WHO ARE YOUUUUUUUU

#charisma house #charismahouse #kusanagi rikai #motohashi iori #terra #minato ohse #sarukawa kei #tendou amahiko #ito fumiya

9 notes · View notes

brutalitybunny · 2 months

Note

6, 14, 46 (if any), 50, 78, 79 for AA the meme?

HEARTS

6. Favourite Antagonist (in the role of the antagonist! e.g Edgeworth in AA1 counts but only in AA1.)

UGHHH gant or daryan??gant or daryan????? but well it kinda has to be gant huh? i love daryan but as an ANTAGONIST he's flop. he's mid. he's nothing. i LOVE gant. i loved roleplaying him and i love drawing him and i WISH i thought about him more but it's harrrrrd without someone to bounce off of ... but it's fine. but strictly speaking in his role as an antagonist i just love h

Scratch that

favorite antagonist is stronghart 100%. UGH IT'S HAAAAAAAAAAARD but stronghart is gant 2. stronghart is gant but given more time to bake. stronghart is so fucking awesome. omg. when 2-5 hit? bro when i tell you i was wooping and hollering i was shaking my screen i was abt to bite someone i was going feral. HE'S SOOOOOO. <3 i love a "by any means necessary" ass character and he's the peak of it.... i love his design and i love his drama.

14. Character you have the most headcanons about?

definitely has to be datz 😭 i dont think ive ever thought of a character as much as i have datz..... ive thought out every day of that mans life

46. Character you thought you were gonna dislike but loved in the end?

HMMMM to be honest every character i went in expecting to hate (barok mostly) i still hate (he's a little funny but then i remember his backstory and get So Annoyed) ... wait. help.

it's kind of cheating to say this bc i havent played aai2 but ...blaise........... LOL BLAISE IS LIKE ... IHE'S REALLY FUCKING FUNNYYYY..i was like Omg no ew i hate him >:( (reading his wiki page) ewww i hate him (reading his dialogue)like gross eww gross (making jokes abt him)(drawing him)(thinking about h)like what can i say. he's a fucking terrible person and he's hilarious. he's disgusting and the worst and he's so fucking funny. im a metalhead im allowed to like him. i cant like mvk and gant and Not Blaise it wouldnt be fair

50. Favourite moment?

let me say smth i havent said in a while ...instead of just being like "Um the one where datz was on screen^_^" but my old favorite moment used to be in farewell my turnabout when you get the call about maya ,... Omg that gave me chills i was so scared for her for real. it was crazy. other Favorite Moments are the mia-dahlia baddie exorcism and will powers introduction scene (i just love going to ppls playthroughs and seeing them react to him)

but we live in a post-aj trilogy world so my real favorite moment is Dhurke! You're a sight for sore eyes! I knew you'd come save me!

78. Who or what got you into AA?

press buttons 'n talk's playthrough!! more specifically, this animatic

youtube

and MOST specifically it was the "i'm a BIG ORANGE POWER MAN, and i'm gonna BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF YOU !!! ^_^" line. idk what happened. i was fucking possessed. and bored and yearning for a new interest. and it just took over me. LIKE ITS NOT EVEN THAT FUNNYYYY HELP

79. How long have you been in the fandom?

FIVE YEARS ACCORDING TO MY COMMENT ON THAT ANIMATIC jesus christ help me. it was the ass end of 2018

#not art #asks #THANK U!!!!#tgaa 2 spoilers #kinda.

3 notes · View notes

blogger360ncislarules · 1 year

Text

Nancy Drew has one last mission to solve -- and it's a big one.

The CW's sleuth drama kicks off its fourth and final season Wednesday with the amateur investigator in quite the pickle. At the end of last season, a deadly curse was placed on Nancy and Ace, forbidding the eponymous detective to act on her romantic feelings. If she does so, Ace will die. When season 4 begins -- the first episode is appropriately titled "The Dilemma of the Lover's Curse" -- Nancy continues to fight the urge to act on those feelings, shifting her focus (temporarily) on a new investigation to find a group of missing bodies from the local cemetery that have been dug up or possibly risen from the dead.

Of course, it wouldn't be Nancy Drew without some complications thrown her way, especially with the arrival of an attractive new hunk catching her eye. To make matters even more dicey, Ace may be tempted by a new relationship too.

"I am so happy to finally be bringing this season to the fans, and I'm really excited for them to see what we have in this final installment. And at the same time too, a little bit emotional," Nancy Drew star Kennedy McMann tells ET. "It's sad to say goodbye, and it's crazy to finally be here. But I'm so glad we got to have a proper conclusion. And then, I guess, we get to celebrate the life of the show now with fans, so it's really exciting."

The leading lady spoke with ET about the final season, how she feels about saying farewell to Nancy and the show and what's in store for the Drew Crew.

ET: Did you know at the start of the season that this was going to be the end?

Kennedy McMann: No, we had no idea when we started. We were filming episode 8 or 9 is when we found out. I wasn't in the writers' room, I have no idea what they were contending with, but I think as with a lot of things that have happened on The CW network within the last year, the writing was on the wall a little bit. So I think that they were prepared, to an extent, to be able to pivot that way if that's the way that it went. And I'm honestly just so grateful that we were able to find out and write a proper series finale instead of leaving everybody with a terrible cliffhanger that will never be resolved, which was my greatest fear after season 3. I was like, "We have to get a season 4 because if I have to live with this season 3 finale conclusion, I don't think I'll ever have closure in my life."

How would you describe Nancy at the start of the season?

Colin Bentley/The CW

She's still putting on her sleuthing hat while also dealing with this curse, while also just balancing everything as she always kind of does. How is she navigating everything?

She definitely [has a lot on her plate], which like you said, she kind of always does, and in some ways I think has grown so much in these four seasons in terms of dealing with anything emotional. But I think this conflict that she has with what's happening between her and Ace and this new reality that she feels forced to accept, she's really struggling to admit to anyone just how much she's suffering. And even though she's come so far in terms of learning to lean on people and develop friendships, this feels like such a different realm of intensity. She got to confess to Carson what happened at the end of season 3 and thankfully she has him, but I think she's really trying to shake it off with this newfound fierce independence and self-support that really is, in her own classic way, running from the emotions of that problem and trying to see if she can outrun it. So yeah, it's a lot of, compartmentalizing for her and taking it one step at a time and one distraction at a time.

How does she get out of this curse? Does she figure out a way to break this curse with Ace?

In the beginning of the season, she's so committed to what she has determined is the best course of action, which is making sure Ace never finds out and never thinks that there's any possibility that they could ever be together. And in her mind, that's the safest and easiest way for him to be fully protected emotionally and physically. So she's very stuck in this decision that she's made. Some things definitely jostle her around. As the season progresses, it's almost a Pandora's box that if she dare open the lid of possibility that there is a way to break this curse that she would give everything to that. It would sort of be an overflow.

And I think that the pain of that not working, or God forbid, Ace getting hurt in their attempts, is almost too painful of a reality. But we definitely play on that whole scale throughout the season. We get to see both of them at peak desperation and hope and pain, and it's a real rollercoaster that touches on pretty much all of that, and it's so raw emotionally for both of them. And I think that that always leads to some pretty good TV.

There's also another new character that comes into the world, Tristan. What can you say about his arrival and how that shakes things up for Nancy?

We first meet Tristan in The Claw. He is The Claw's lobster guy. He's a fisherman who helps Nancy in the premiere, in kind of a sticky situation she finds herself in. And really, as the season goes on, he's full of surprises and becomes a really unexpected part of their journey in many different ways, and I think has a lot to offer this season and definitely adds to the general confusion that Nancy feels about everything in her life and how to proceed.

Will we see the gang back together solving mysteries?

Yeah, most definitely. I think all of their individual growth definitely continues. They're all at a place where they're figuring out what's next for them in their lives and it feels like a natural almost graduation moment to what's to come for each of them individually. But there's definitely some great full crew moments. I think that's such a pillar of the show and the real heart of the show, and I think people will really enjoy that, especially some particular antics that they get up to as a group and, of course, how the series closes, which I think will be really heartfelt for everybody.

Not to get ahead of myself, but in broad terms, how do you feel about the ending of this show and the end of Nancy's story?

I think it is just right. Without saying too much and not assuring any particular conclusions, I think it's definitely handled with care from our writers and is really an ode to the audience in a lot of ways.

How would you describe overall the season?

There's a ton to sink your teeth into in this season. Our primary season-long mystery is really developed episode by episode, and there's all of these different paths that Nancy and the crew go down, trying to figure out what's happening. And it's sort of one of those things where you have all of these individual pieces of information in the air that you're not quite sure how they all connect. And then there's one great moment of connection that really launches into the last chunk of the season. So, in terms of the mystery of it all and fans getting invested in that, there's so much room for theories and I'm really excited to see how people experience it in real time.

#nancy drew #nace

10 notes · View notes

dotieeee · 1 year

Text

The Dream That Got Away

Chapter 6

Pairing: Dark!Morpheus x You (no Y/N!)

This is a multi-chapter fic — Weekly updates (either Saturday or Sunday) because I found a rhythm of sorts lol

(The entire fic has been outlined, so I will see this to the end, you have my word)

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

Link to the Masterlist

Overall Warnings!! Take heed:

18+ ONLY – explicit scenes will be present, some explicit language

DUB-CON and NON-CON scenes

Character death (sort of)

Creator vs Creation drama

And other dark stuff that may be added in the future

This chapter’s warnings:

mentions of blood and gore

some mentions of violence

You have been warned!! Proceed with caution!!!

Link to the previous chapter

Chapter 6: The Sleep Doctor

The moment you come to, you sit up, your hands automatically grasping your throat, rasping for air. Gentle hands immediately rub your back, soothing your violent coughing until your breathing evens out. Those hands shove a glass of water into yours, and you drink – but you drink too quickly – your burst into another coughing fit.

“Mera, how you worried me. What happened to you?”

It takes you a while to compose yourself, but eventually, you find the voice to say, “The waters…”

Lucienne regards you with worry etched all over her face. “You’ve been out cold for three days, Mera. I found you on the shore, unconscious.”

Swallowing thickly, your own face, contorted with malevolent intent, flashes before your eyes. You shake the mental image away, before getting up to your feet from the floor which you lay moments ago.

You look around mournfully at the throne room, or what is left of it. The great stone pillars have toppled down many years ago, and their rubble now littered the floor, along with the shards of glass that were once the stained murals that adorned the walls. Everything that made hall the luxurious, fit for a king, lay on your feet in ruins. You let the tears sting your eyes as they fall freely, but you don’t brush them away – there was no one else, save Lucienne, to see them, after all.

“We’re running out of time, Lucienne.”

The librarian, even without her domain, stands steadfast. “Have faith, Mera. I know he will return.”

“Until then, I will keep looking.”

Shaking her head, Lucienne counters, “I’m not sure it’s wise to go on. You could be trapped in there for all we know.”

You smile ruefully as you turn to face her, your mind already made up. “I have to try,” for the Dreaming, you add silently.

***

At the mark of your Dream King’s one hundred and fifth year of departure, there were only you and Lucienne left manning the palace ruins. Not that there was anything left to do. You both gave up clearing the debris off the floors about three decades ago, seeing as after you had swept the floor, more of the accursed rubble would fall from the ceiling and the walls, easily doubling the effort. All there was left to do was to watch the Realm perish in the absence of the monarch it answered to.

And it’s for its sake that you continue the cycle of braving the treacherous sea of dreams and returning from it after long periods. Your connection with its shores has significantly thinned over the decades, and every visit cost you days of rest, often coming back ashore unconscious or in a severely weakened state. Lucienne had kindly taken upon herself to wait on the sandy coast for your arrival every time you venture out to the dreams of the mortals.

So, with a small wave of farewell to Lucienne and a deep breath, you take a plunge into the darkened waters of the ocean of dreams, knowing full well what you had signed up for.

After what seems an eternity battling with the waters and searching for a dream-link you could latch on to, you land, face-flat, on a carpeted floor. Groaning at your rather painful landing, you get up and try to find out whose dream you managed to get on. The room had strikingly gray walls, and sleek yet minimal interior décor that matched the furniture – the desk, almost empty save for a desktop computer, and the bookshelf at the corner, plus the glass coffee table at the center, surrounded by a gray, velour sofa-set – all illuminated by bright, natural sunlight filtering through the expansive glass windows. You know this modern-brutalist study; you’ve been here months before, but only once – the Sleep Doctor, as you have discovered, was pretty damn hard to catch.

You walk excitedly to the bookshelf, noting how it has been ages since you have last held a book. The books were arranged, not by name but by the spine colour – you let out a soft chuckle at the peculiarity. A book called Sleep Better with Science intrigues you, but before you could pick it up, you hear the loud clearing of a throat behind you.

“Ah, so the Sleep Doctor decides to finally entertain his guest,” you mutter to yourself, reaching for the book to inspect its premise.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

Whipping your head around, you look directly into the green, mildly bewildered eyes of Oliver Chapman, frozen in his place with a finger pointing at you. You don’t fail to notice the bands attached to his fingers, with wires that seem to connect to a kind of bracelet he’s wearing.

You’ve only been seen a handful of times in your true form by lucid dreamers – they have become a rarity as time went on, but you knew how to deal with them – an outlandish, over-the-top dream-element that didn’t quite belong in their environment always did the trick. So, with a flick of your wrist, you conjure a lion in the middle of his office, which you order to pounce on him (it won’t hurt him, you think to yourself). The Sleep Doctor, mimicking your hand movement, somehow makes the lion vanish into thin air.

“What in the living hell was that all about?” He calls out indignantly, backing away warily.

But you ignore him. You just stare at him with your mouth agape, wondering how on earth he had managed to single-handedly will a powerful dream-element to disappear of his own volition. He is, by far, the most powerful lucid dreamer you have ever come across. Is his ability to control his dreams coming from the strange device on his wrist?

“This is fascinating!” You whisper to yourself, not caring that you’re now unabashedly ogling at him.

“Hey, this is my dream, and I’d like to know who you are, how you got in here, and how you just made a fucking lion appear in my office,” he commands with false bravado, his posture straightening, trying to intimidate. He’s doing it rather poorly, you note, and he’s now completely red in the ears at the undivided attention he’s getting from you.

You cover your mouth and try to stifle a laugh bubbling at your throat, to no avail. It’s the first genuine laugh you’ve let out for decades, but he doesn’t know that. Bristling at your reaction, he asks, “Hey, what’s so funny about all this?”

You wave his question away, letting your laughter die down. This is going to be fun.

“Sorry about that,” you start, still breathless. “My name is Mera, and I’m a dream.”

“Huh.” He rubs the back of his head awkwardly. “I can see that. But how…” he starts gesturing at you and the middle of the study.

Grinning ear-to-ear, you simply reply, “You’re going to be in for a wild ride.”

***

“You mean your… kind exists, and there’s a god of Dreams orchestrating all of this?”

Disbelief mars the features of Oliver Chapman, now lying on the L-shaped sofa with his hands crossed on his chest like he’s about to spill his wildest secrets to an unsuspecting therapist.

“He’s not a god, he’s called an ‘Endless,’” you correct him, lazily swinging your legs over the arms of the velour sofa you’re lounging on and hugging the throw pillow. “They’re immensely powerful beings that have been around since the dawn of –”

“Endless? There are others like him?” He props his elbows on the couch so he can raise his head to face you with a baffled expression.

“Yes, now keep up, please,” you jest, growing more amused by the minute at how he’s taking in all this new information. “Point is, we have the abilities to shape what you see in –”

“Hang on,” Once again he interrupts you, now fully sitting up on the sofa, placing one hand on his chin. “How can I be so sure I’m not just dreaming all of this? I mean, for all I know, you could just be a manifestation of my repressed sexual urges or my subconscious desire for an extremely attractive –”

You chuck the pillow at him which hits him in the face. “Are you going to let me finish or what?”

“Yeah, sorry, do continue, please,” he quips cheekily. “You have the power to…?”

“Shape what you see in your dreams, as I was about to say before I was rudely interrupted. Anyway, each of us has unique functionality – I for one was made to inspire.”

Now fully facing you, with his hands on his knees, he curiously asks, “Inspire how?”

“Let’s say you’ve been bored with routine, or you’ve recently been living your life aimless, an empty shell,” You respond thoughtfully. “I come in and help you find passion in life. Or recover it, granted you’ve already discovered it and just lost it in the past.”

“And there are others like you? Nightmares, too?”

You nod enthusiastically. “Yes, indeed.”

Leaning back on the sofa, he pauses, as if trying to recall something. “Wait a tick,” he slowly starts. “You’ve been here before – once, months ago.”

Smirking, you point a finger gun at him, confirming his conclusion. “Bingo! How’d that work for you?”

His face lights up at your question, motioning to the odd bracelet he’s wearing. “You helped me with…with a lot of things!”

“In that one visit?” You tilt your head questioningly. Your visit with him then was rather uneventful – you recall only turning a book with the title The Science of Sleep on the covers, but it escapes you what page it was, leaving the open book on his table hastily when your link to the sands sparked back to life.

Oliver springs up from the sofa energetically, hands flailing wildly. “Yeah! You…I…Jesus, you’ve no idea what you helped me accomplish, I could just kiss you right now – not that I’d ever…” he pauses awkwardly at your raised eyebrow, running his hands through his gray hair. “So, this is real – all of it! And this thing on my wrist is the proof…”

“I guess you could say that, yes.”

He starts pacing at the center of his study, muttering to himself excitedly. “This is brilliant. This… this is amazing.” Turning to you, he says, “You’re amazing. Sorry, could I offer you some tea? I completely forgot, what with you barging in, the lion and all…”

“Yes, that’d be lovely, thank you,” you reply, giving him a warm smile, happy with knowing you had made a difference, no matter how brief your visit was.

Ears going red once more, he mumbles, “Hang on, shit, I gotta get a kitchen –”

“You realize you can just make one appear out of thin air, right?”

“Oh, right,” he says sheepishly, hand going through his locks once more. You observe he seems to have a habit of running his hands through his hair when he’s nervous. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

With a look of concentration on his face, he waves his wrist, and a cup of tea appears on the coffee table. You take the cup and sip. It’s the first cup of tea you’ve had in years since the kitchen in the Dreaming collapsed on itself. And it’s quite possibly the most delicious cup you’ve ever had.

“Hmm. Needs work. Not bad, though, for a Sleep Doctor,” you tease.

“Ollie. Just call me Ollie. I’m not a sleep doctor, not anymore. Well, I was a sleep technician, but I retired.”

Interest piqued, you set the cup down, your brain swimming with more questions than you can process. Ollie is proving to be an intriguing dreamer – it certainly wouldn’t hurt if you stuck around for a moment and prod him around, would it?

“Well, Ollie, I’ve told you about my job; why don’t you tell me about yours?”

He beams brightly at you, and he starts opening his mouth –

But he gets interrupted by a beeping that seems to reverberate through the entire dream.

“Shit, that’s my alarm. Listen: stay here, I’ll come back, and I can show you what I’ve been up to. Will you wait for me?” he asks, his eyes hopeful, posture tense as he awaits your response.

You couldn’t lose this opportunity to find out more about him and his field, especially since it’s so closely related to your function. “Sure, I will.”

He releases an audible sigh of relief, then disappears, taking with him the beeping sound, leaving you alone in the dream, the atmosphere dulling without his presence.

And so, you lie back on the sofa, wondering what stories the Sleep Doctor has to tell in his return.

***

What he had in store for you was way more than what you have imagined.

It turns out the book you had left open on his desk had led him to a fantastic discovery. He, being a sleep technician, as he called it, knew the sleep stages as he had studied them for years. The book, however, left him with a striking, out-of-this-world idea of trying to control and prolong one of the sleep stages humanity has yet to tap into to cure any sleeping sickness – the hypnagogic sleeping stage.

You were aware of how far the mortals have gone to try to understand the realm of your master, and the science simply mesmerized you. Ollie took that thrill to another level. The human brain, he notes, seems to be more receptive to learning and creativity in the state of hypnagogia compared to other stages of sleep, including the more popular lucid state. Problem is, you’ve been in hypnagogic dreams, and they never last long, so the dreamers' interaction with the dream elements you create tends to be more limited. He knows this all too well, and this is what he aims to remedy.

“You know, Salvador Dali used to hold this steel ball in his hand before taking a nap,” you tell him. “It was his way of getting into this stage, and his dreams were just mind-blowing, it was a pleasure to watch him create this imagery out of nothing.”

“Whoa, you’ve been to Dali’s dreams? Just how old are you?” he wonders aloud, turning to face you with a teasing expression. You shove him playfully on his arm with a little too much force, earning an indignant ‘hey’ from him.

But it was through the steel ball method that he engineered the bracelet he’s wearing – it serves as a tracking device that recognizes the sleeper’s entrance to the hypnagogic state through their heart rate, finger muscle movement, and sweat gland activity. The sleeper naps with their fist clenched, and then when it relaxes as they fall asleep, the computer application starts a timer, then wakes them up to record the dream they had in the nap. This recorded message would then be played during the sleeper's second trip to hypnagogia, allowing them to potentially control everything in the dream, including willing themselves to wake up. Repeating this process, he says eagerly, seemed to have positive effects on his creativity levels when he tested it himself. He has yet to test anyone with sleeping sickness, though.

“So yeah, this is what I’ve accomplished because of you,” he finishes, rubbing the back of his head and gauging your reaction. “I probably lost you there, sorry, I tend to ramble a lot…” chuckling self-consciously.

But no – you were enraptured the entire time, and you caught his every word. Saying you’re impressed with his invention was a huge understatement.

You flash him an encouraging smile, voicing your feedback. “You must know that this isn’t just my doing: I merely enhanced what was already there within you.”

Wriggling his eyebrows suggestively, he starts, “Are you calling me a genius? I suppose I am quite the dashing, brilliant young bachelor –”

“Just show me the app, please,” you retort, pinching your nose bridge in mock annoyance. So, he’s chatty, sassy, and nervous – what a combination, you note inwardly.

And he laughs. It’s a pleasant, contagious sound; you couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

“Feel free to smack me on the head when I get cocky.” He beckons to the computer on the desk, intending to pull up the application.

As you watch him unlock his desktop computer, he asks in a more serious tone: “But wouldn’t this interfere with your work, as dreams? Are you okay with this?”

“Are you kidding me? We need all the help we can get, even with the Dream Lord around,” you respond, watching keenly for the app to load. “I, for one, would embrace this technology if it meant encouraging creativity among our dreamers and ridding them of any sleep disturbances. The potential this would unlock is just too great to ignore.”

“Exactly my point!” He exclaims. But his expression turns sullen, closing the app before it even completes the loading bar. “Except, it isn’t quite there yet. Right now, it works fine on my laptop – it’s the phone app that worries me, I can’t get it to work properly.”

“And this is where I need your help.” He looks at you with earnest, expectant eyes, wringing his hands in anticipation.

“What do you have in mind, Ollie?”

“Can you stay, perhaps? Until I get the code to work?”

You find yourself at a loss for words. You know you had to do something for him because the situation he’s under is partially your doing, but could you commit to his project, knowing you also had a quest of your own?

“Alright. I’ll help,” you finally answer, nodding resolutely. “But I can only stay for a week at most. Even then, I’m not sure how much help I can be with computer coding. I suppose I could learn, but we wouldn’t have time for that –”

You’re instantly cut off as he wraps you in a tight, quick hug, and when he lets go, he gives you one of the brightest smiles you’ve ever seen as he says ‘thank you’ over and over.

“You wouldn’t have to do anything at all, actually – just your presence is powerful enough to help, Mera.”

“Very well. You’ve got a tight deadline, Doctor, so let's get to work!” You flash him a broad smile of your own, cracking your knuckles. This is the right thing to do, you tell yourself. Once he solves the code, you could then move on to your own project of combing through the dreams for any sign of the missing King.

***

“You know, I could get used to this.”

Ollie takes a bite of the lemon-strawberry sponge cake on his plate before sipping the cup of coffee you set on the table. Groaning, he says, “This is wonderful. I’ve tried cooking before in my dreams, but the food never tasted this great.”

“Maybe because your version of ‘cooking’ is boiling water and dumping three packets of instant ramen in it,” you quip, settling down on the dining table across from him to dig into your own slice of the cake.

Since your agreement with him to stay for a week, he has added more rooms to this dream-space he fully controlled – one such addition was the sleek, modern kitchen you had wasted no time using, cooking and baking all sorts of dishes from the cookbooks he had added to the space, much to his delight. One such recipe was the cake you’re both snacking on. You know this was your only chance to experiment in the culinary field because once your Dream Lord is back, he’ll probably take most of your time for himself.

“Speaking of instant ramen, are you familiar with Momofuku Ando?” taking a sip from your cup.

“No, never heard of him. Who is he?” Ollie asks with genuine curiosity, a trait you noticed he exhibits without fail in your conversations. Just talking to him about even the most mundane of things was very refreshing.

“He invented the instant noodles you humans can’t seem to get enough of. And I led him to it.” You reveal to him with a proud smirk, finishing your cake off.

“No way. You’re really that old, huh?” He laughs heartily while you pelt him with a leftover piece of sliced strawberry he tries to dodge. “How?”

“I disguised myself as a helper in his kitchen, and he liked multitasking – so when he was frying dumplings and boiling noodles at the same time, I handed him the wrong bowl, and he ends up frying the noodles instead.”

“That’s creative as fuck.” He leans back on his chair, looking at you with pure awe as you finish your story. There is something soft in his stare and his voice as he says, “You know, I’ve never met anyone quite as remarkable as you.”

You tear your gaze away from his green eyes – they are a striking forest green, even more brightened by the natural sunlight permeating the kitchen – and instead, focus on the remaining coffee in your cup that has now grown cold and unpalatable. Still, you gulp it all down, grimacing at the grit you feel on your tongue at the dregs from the bottom of the mug, before addressing an important point you had momentarily forgotten.

“How’s the app going, by the way?”

“I’ve made so much progress, Mera, all thanks to you.” He responds lightly, leaning forward in his excitement. “I’ve asked a friend of mine, an engineer, to replicate the device for me so I could potentially test it on others, but I’ve got a long way to go.”

“Hmm. That’s good news, indeed,” you glow. “It seems like I won’t have to worry about leaving you empty-handed. We’ve three more days, so we better get going.”

A different emotion – is it sadness? – flashes in his eyes, before he reverts to his cheery demeanor. Getting up, he offers to wash up after both of you while you excuse yourself to his study.

As you lounge on the L-shaped sofa, your eyes land on a new decoration he had placed in the room: a tiny dreamcatcher hanging on the wall beside the desk. You frown slightly at how the exotic artifact looks so conspicuous against the minimal interior. There is also something sinister emanating from it that you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

You’re being paranoid. Choosing to ignore the nagging feeling, you grab the book you had left on your desk before your baking venture and turn to the page you had bookmarked.

The Doctor joins you in the study after a while, and you both spend the entire dream in comfortable silence, with him basking in the inspiration you provided, and you taking delight in finally being able to read as many books as you like for the first time in over seventy years.

***

A groan of frustration from Ollie rouses you from your nap on the sofa, and you rush to him at once to find out what the problem is.

You find him with him gripping his hair, huddled over his desk currently littered with the bits of paper that contained his notes – normally a neat block print, the handwriting on them has grown more hurried and illegible.

“How are you going to remember your notes with that kind of penmanship?” You ask in a joking manner, trying to cheer him up.

Ollie has didactic memory, you discover, so it’s easy for him to construct images in his dreams in vivid detail. It’s with the help of this incredible recall that allows him to inspect the code in his dreams, scribble his observations, and relay the information to his voice recorder the moment he wakes up. He’s also a big neat freak, and so it’s with his handwriting, entirely out-of-character, you deduce that he’s facing difficulty with his work.

“Ollie?” You call softly, placing a palm on his bicep to capture his attention. When he looks at you, he gives you a tired smile: one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I’m sorry if I woke you up, Mera. I’m just…about to make a decision,” he starts slowly.

Knitting your brows, you ask him, “What decision?”

“One that I might regret. I just hope you don’t hate me for it,” he tells you rather unhappily, getting to his feet. He begins a slow pace in front of his desk with his arms folded to his chest. “I know it’s your last day with me.”

“Yes, it is. Have you not been productive with me around for the last seven days?”

Smiling wanly, he responds, “It has been, Mera. I’ll be forever grateful for your help.”

“So, what’s the matter then?” You push him, wishing he’d give you more straightforward answers.

Sighing deeply, he runs his hand through his locks, avoiding your eyes. “The old boss I worked for… I pitched my invention to him at a dinner party. He said he was willing to run the tests in his sleep lab. All I need is to draft a formal proposal and an abstract so we can begin trials.”

“But, that’s good news, isn’t it?” You inquire, now more confused than ever. He’s gotten so close to finally achieving what he had dreamed of for so long, so why was he acting like this?

You observe him with narrowed eyes as he slowly makes his way in front of the dreamcatcher. He looks at the object with fondness in his eyes. Pointing to it, he turns to you with a lopsided grin.

“You’ve noticed this before?”

You let out a snicker. “Yes, I have. It doesn’t fit the aesthetic you’re going for, but it’s pretty.” And it gives me the creeps.

“It belonged to my father. I guess you could call it an heirloom of sorts. Like his father, and his great-grandfather, he liked sleep – fascinated by it, it would become an obsession. Three generations of Chapmans took to somnology, and all because we just liked napping so much,” he lets out a small, but hollow laugh, before turning to you, with the most sorrowful expression you’ve ever seen on him.

“This invention, this…idea… it’s the culmination of what my family has wanted for generations. I can’t let them down now.”

From his jacket pocket, he fishes out a utility knife and draws the blade out. You back away at the sight, remembering with clear intensity the last one that cut your wrists more than a century ago.

“Ollie, please put that away…” you say lowly. To your horror, he pierces his finger with the tip of the blade, drawing blood that starts slowly trickling down his palm.

“I am, truly, very sorry to have to do this, Mera.”

He then tears off the dreamcatcher from the wall and smears his blood on the woven threads at the center. Your blood curdles at the sight, knowing intuitively what comes next.

“Don’t do it, Ollie…”

Holding the dreamcatcher out, he starts reciting,

“Mera, yawarniywan, kay totemwan watayki –”***

“Ollie, don’t you dare –”

“Chaymi watasqanchikqa kanqa kay musquy hapiq tukunankama –”***

“Ollie, NO!”

“Chhayna kachun.”***

As he finishes the spell with the final line, the dreamcatcher glows white, effectively sealing your magical bond with the object and trapping you in this dream-space.

“What have you done…” You could only whisper, wide-eyed and disbelieving.

Approaching you slowly, he holds his hand out to try to appease you. “Mera, please, I had to, I’m nowhere near close to –”

“Don’t you dare come near me, you selfish bastard,” you snap. He winces at the coldness in your tone and your stare and stops dead in his tracks.

“Mera, please, I can destroy the dreamcatcher when I’m done, I promise…”

“I don’t care about your promises, Oliver Chapman. I’m already running out of time, as it is, and you may have well just damned my realm with your magic.”

With a final look of disdain at the Doctor you thought you could trust, you walk to the bathroom in the study and slam the door shut, making sure the lock is turned in place. As you sit on the floor with your back to the door, you hear him knock softly, calling your name and apologizing profusely – but his words are meaningless to you.

Like the King of Dreams, whom you’ve trusted fully, he’s trapped you against your will for his own selfish reasons. Honestly, what is it with men acting like they could keep you like some sort of caged animal?

The Doctor eventually goes quiet, but you hear him plop down on the floor and lean on the door outside, sighing heavily. As his alarm goes off, he promises to come back for you, but again, you ignore him, and after a few moments, the beeping dies down, indicating that he had gone back to the Waking World.

He’s no different from the Dream King, you think to yourself. And yet, you can’t help but wish to your heart that that wasn’t the case.

***

It’s been two days since the Doctor bound you to himself using his dreamcatcher. You had ignored him and had not stepped out of the bathroom the entire time since, still very much upset about the magic he had used to keep you in his dream. You were familiar with the magic – reading about the many ways the humans could harm your kind at discovering your existence was something the Dream Lord had required during your first week on the job. The magic Ollie used was powerful, except it had one glaring weakness: the magic needed to be bound to a physical dreamcatcher, whether it was in the Waking or Dreaming Realm, so destroying the dreamcatcher meant breaking the magical bond. So, all you had to do was get your hands on the damn thing, cut it up, and you’d be free of him and finally pursue your quest.

A soft knock comes on the door, followed by a muffled mention of your name.

“I made a terrible mistake, and I came to make it right.” He calls through the bathroom door solemnly.

You then hear shuffling on the other side, indicating he had sat on the floor. You feel him lean against the door and breathe deeply.

“Have I told you before that the Chapmans were cursed? Well, the males, at least. Dad said, my great-grandfather one day went to bed, and he never woke up the next day. Encephalitis lethargica,” Ollie’s voice slowly and solemnly recounts.

“My grandfather fared a little better – he once told me he had really horrific nightmares until he had learned to control them in the lucid state. And my dad – he said he used to see a therapist because of his sleep paralysis. Until he read about the steel-ball thing.

“So I asked my dad one day why he chose to study the field that used to give him these horrible visions. He said he didn’t know,” you hear him pause and chuckle dryly. In your head, you could almost see him run his hand through his hair, as is his habit. “Hell, even I didn’t know why I chose the same line of work. Until you came in, at least.”

“When I realized what I could do, I thought I could finally get other people who had the same curse as we did to find a way out like my grandfather and my father did.”

A pang of regret stabs you in the heart as he finishes his story, your own words replaying in your head. You had called him selfish for magically binding you with him, but his true reason is anything but. Could you trust him, though, after betraying you as he did?

As if he read your mind, he says, “I know I’ve lost your trust. But I hope I can gain it back with this.”

And what falls on your lap is the dreamcatcher he had marked by his blood two nights ago – the same one that you’re bound to. The moment you touch it, you could feel your link to the other dreamers come back to life.

“Destroy it, and you’ll be free.” You hear Ollie say.

You get to your feet with the dreamcatcher in your clutch. Your fist prepares to crush the accursed object, and you hear the willow ring creak under the force, but you’re conflicted: you don’t know yet what compels you to, but you shove it inside your pocket instead, and will yourself to another Dreamer, leaving Ollie alone in his dream-space, talking to himself.

***

Your two-week search for the King of Dreams ends up futile. There was nothing of him you could find anywhere in anyone’s dreams; if anything, the dreams themselves have become more random and harder to control, sapping you of the energy you know you needed to make it back to the shores to Lucienne.

Your knees collapse as you let go of the sword in your hand – you had just finished enacting a medieval battle in the dream of Belladonna San Mateo, a documentary filmmaker. Your disguised form, a male clad in heavy chainmail armour, is soaked in the blood and the guts of the dream-enemies you have slain, but you yourself sustained an injury in our abdomen: an arrow had pierced your armour, nicking the flesh underneath. It should’ve healed the moment you take the arrow out, but given the volatility of your dreaming powers, it now takes a lot longer for your injuries to heal. Participating in this battle had been a foolish thing to do, but once again, your recklessness in your desire to inspire had gotten you in trouble.

Another issue that’s weighing you down at the moment is the fact that your link to the shores of the sea of dreams had once again died down, leaving you stuck in the dreams. In a final act to save yourself, you use what remaining energy you had to focus on a certain modern-brutalist study and will yourself in it with much difficulty.

Thankfully, you don’t land on his carpet, and you had reverted to your original figure for Oliver Chapman to be able to recognize you. He’s instantly at your side, cursing under his breath at your bloodied state. You could hear him call your name and ask you questions, but could barely process his words – you could feel the infection start to kick in and the fever overtake your body. You vaguely register the way he carries you to a bedroom in his dream-space and dresses your wound with care, nor do you understand the words that come out of your mouth in your feverish state.

The unconsciousness that follows is a sweet relief.

***

“Why didn’t you tell me your boss was missing?”

Ollie hands you a warm mug of hot chocolate, which you gratefully accept, before cocking your head curiously at his question.

“When did I tell you that?”

“While I was bandaging that wound on your stomach,” he replies, sitting on the sofa beside the bed you’re currently propped on. He conjures a mug for himself, sipping from it before setting it down on the nightstand.

Sighing deeply at the comfort of the chocolate, you decide to tell him the truth:

“The King of Dreams and Nightmares has been missing for over a hundred years. I’ve been trying to find him since, but so far, no such luck.”

He runs his hands through his hair, before saying quietly, “Please accept my apologies, Mera, for endangering your mission. I shouldn’t have used that magic to keep you here. I’d totally get it if you left after this and if I never see you again.”

You don’t offer an immediate reply, lost in your thoughts – he had just helped you recover some of your strength from your two-week misadventure. You had intended to use that period to not only search for your King but also contemplate whether or not you’d really help him achieve the dream you had helped him conceive. But even that proved too little a time for such a huge decision to make.

Ollie crunches his face, seemingly confused by your words. Not wanting to leave any gray area, you amend, “I’m going to help you, dum-dum. I’m going to see this project finish, so you better make it worth my fucking –”

“My kingdom is dying, Ollie. Bringing my sovereign back means restoring the Dreaming and helping our dreamers.”

You set your now-empty mug on the nightstand, before looking him in his eyes and continuing: “But I’ve been looking for him for a century and neglecting my other duties in the process. I want to help you humans, and I can’t do that while on the hunt for a missing Endless that may or may not come back. Me returning here and helping you finish your experiment, means I get to fulfill my function, even without him.”

Buy your words die down your throat – you find yourself enveloped in a tight embrace, and you feel yourself relax in the Sleep Doctor’s arms as you get a whiff of his scent – musky vanilla, you note – before saying in a strained voice, “Ollie, the wound – I’ll bleed –”

“Oh shit, I’m sorry!” he releases go abruptly and sits on the edge of the bed. He’s beaming at you now, and you’re spellbound by the sheer warmth and shameless joy he can exude.

"Thank you, Mera."

You slowly return his smile, at least until he remarks:

“So, you’re definitely over a hundred years old, then.”

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

Link to the next chapter

Author notes on the Chapter:

***Translation of the spell by line:

"I bind you to me, Mera, with my blood, with this totem.

So our bond shall be until this dreamcatcher is finished.

Let it be so."

The language I used is the Quechuan language - I tried looking for resources on the Ojibwa language (the culture from which the dreamcatcher originated), but I couldn't find any that would translate whole sentences without me having to study the language itself. Sorry, this is NOT meant to insult any indigenous culture. I just wanted to use a language that could still depict the authenticity of the spell (which is actually fictional) used in this fic. My apologies once again, and thank you for understanding!! I'd be happy to change the spell to English if you're not comfortable with it - just let me know via the comments.

Also, I hope I don't lose you in this chapter!! Do not be fooled by the lightness in this lol. This was meant to show how Mera meets and gets to know the man she's going to fall in love with, and the man who will be the subject of the Dream King's endless (pun intended) ire and bitter jealousy. Our Dark King will make an appearance again in the next chapter, and oh boy he won't be happy xD. Until then, I hope to see you!!!

One more thing: the device featured in this fic is an actual, existing device called Dormio - it does exactly what I described here except for it doesn't cure any sleeping illness that I know of, it's just used mainly to spark creativity. All rights belong to the creators of the Dormio device, and mentions of it are used here for creative license ONLY.

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

Author's notes in general:

Thank you, THANK YOU for reading!!

Please engage, comment and reblog!! I love feedback from you guys :) This is my first ever fic, so kindness is truly appreciated!

Thank you to my queen @queenshelby @endlessdreamqueen3 for encouraging me to pen this, as well as to my fellow Dark!Morpheus writers whose work I have thoroughly enjoyed and keep rereading :)

Post date: 11/26/22

Edit date: 11/26/22

Taglist: Just lemme know please if you want to be added, too!

Tagging the following:

@wt-fxck

@sandman-33

@reallystressedhoneybee

@akiraquote

@safe-teycar

@ponyboys-sunsetsts

@izziclee

@spygrrl99

@intothesoul

@thecrazytealady

@tastyinspection8860

@kittenssss-blog

@trinittyy

@mxacegrey

@sarahbullet235

@blu3what

@justporple

117 notes · View notes