(This is a really weird drabble that is not connected with anything else I've written, but is more about body horror and losses unmourned vibes and...yeah I don't know. Tis the bleak midwinter have some ghosts)
Dream of the Endless doesnt sleep. Doesn't dream. He is all dreams, all fantasies, all nightmares.
And though he does not sleep, does not dream, is Lord Shaper and King of all Nightmares and none ...there is a nightmare haunting him.
He can just feel it, at the edges of his consciousness, can almost see it, sometimes, when his focus wanders, when he lets his mind drift from the flow of the collective subconscious.
There is something, always there, always behind him. Just out of sight, waiting to be recalled, waiting to be seen.
He is not the only one who senses it he thinks.
Sometimes, he sees Matthew shudder, sometimes he feels the Corinthian's gaze flick away, catches Lucienne biting at her lip, as though to lock words behind it she would speak but does not dare.
Sometimes he senses Death flinch.
There is a trigger that seems to drawthe presence, for illiciting these responses, for pulling the thing that haunts him closer into his view.
It's when he introduces himself. Not as Dream, but by his newest epitaph, as Lord Daniel.
That is when the presence seems closest, clearest. That is when he can sense most clearly the empty shape, a gaping hole in existence the size of what was once a child. Can feel the phantom fingers of one who is no more, clutching at the hem of his snow white, bone white, shroud white robe. Can hear the baby soft whisper, crawling up to him, sadly, lonely, lost:
"No, that's my name"
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Oh oops I didn't. Do the bit about Cassie and Eddie helping with Roxy's aquaphobia in that ask... Uhhh... Oops?
It's stupid late and I need to sleep so I can't talk on it now, but yeah Roxy's aquaphobia is a complicated problem for her that needs some figuring out. She's mad about it too so that's probably not helping lmao
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My baby daughter got her adorable puffin-print dress absolutely CAKED in mud crawling around the yard and my first thought was "oh no her beautiful dress"
And my second thought was "oh huh it really WOULD be easy to unconsciously steer her away from playing in the dirt. Unlike my son, whose outfits are usually some kind of solid dark easily washed pants plus a shirt that doesn't trail in the dirt like a dress does."
Anyway something something gender roles start getting shoved on kids from literal birth, but with a little time to think about things, YOU TOO can let your children of any gender absolutely destroy their clothes in the dirt pit they're digging in your garden
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i love when characters get angry when they're frightened. shelter dog characters. i love when they bite, not able to tell the difference between a hand that feeds and a hand that strikes. there is no difference. a hand is a hand is a fist. i love characters that are deemed unadoptable. unlovable.
and i love when someone loves them. i love when someone sits with them, patient. they don't flinch at the snarling and snapping. they're not trying to fix it—there's nothing to be fixed. this is you, all of you, and ill wait. because one day, one day you'll take the treat. go on, draw my blood. spit and curse and rage. you're safe with me. one day, you'll feel safe with me.
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