#he would motherhen him so hard

[grapestones]

And, as someone who is fan of age gaps and the younger crushing on the older one, I would also love if Jiang Cheng found kid Levi and took care of him. Levi can fight with his feelings but once he accepts it, oh boy. Better conquer Jiang Cheng's heart before Jin Ling finds out

[littlest-w01f]

Chapter One

Series Masterlist

CW: Angst

50 years, 50 long years... Well, 50 years, 3 months and 1 day if anyone was counting, which she was.

Every day was the same for the past years, Velaris was dark, the darkness didn't come from the night, but from sorrow. Everyone felt an absence of their beloved High Lord. They all mourned him, feeling the last of his power when they tried to leave Velaris and were met with a forcefield that had glamoured their city, making it invisible to Amarantha's magic, adding another layer of protection to the City of Starlight just like their previous High Lords had.

Rheana stood at the edge of Velaris like she had every day since her brother was taken from her, her wings out and stretched for flight. She waited for the feeling of her brother's magic to spike, but it never did. After her initial panic, she destroyed the shield he had created to alter it with just a simple thought, creating her own glamour to hide her city so their Inner Circle could go in and out as they pleased. She and her sister, Morrigan, had taken to rule over Night Court. Mor took over The Court of Nightmares, those few who were spared the so-called High Queen's wrath, Rheana was sure it was to just throw it in her father's face of how powerful she was now, nearly untouchable, while she ruled over Velaris and kept the Illyrians from revolting in the absence of a power keeping them in line.

When her mind started screaming at her, Rheana flew to Illyria, sometimes she would spar with any Illyrian male who thought he could best her or she would teach the girls who would watch her beat up a male larger than her, despite Devlon's wishes for the young females to stay in the house and help their mothers. She found peace in teaching the girls to fight, she saw something of herself in the hoard of teenage females that she taught. All of it was a good distraction for half the century that made her want to peel her skin off, the hollow of her heart had only increased as the days went by.

If physical aggression couldn't calm her mind, she would lock herself in the library of the House of Winds, greeting Clotho curtly and sitting on a soft couch, reading books till her eyes crossed and she couldn't see straight. She had managed to study everything in the giant library twice and talked to some of the priestesses who worked there. One of them had suggested she talk to the female who helped them with their trauma but she had denied it, thinking how could her trauma compare to any of theirs.

Her mind snapped back to her body when she felt a playful shove of Illyrian wings. "Hey Rhe, I got you some food."

She turned to meet Cassian's eyes, her eyes softened seeing her friend. "Cassian..." She shoved him back with her wings, a greeting of 'hello' that they had since they were children.

Cassian and Azriel, her oldest friends, were the only were who made sure she ate and was hydrated. Azriel himself threatened to shove some proper nutrition she needed down her throat if she wouldn't eat willingly. While Amren rolled her eyes at their motherhen antics, claiming Rheana wouldn't die of some unhealthy choices.

"Rhe, you there...?" Cassian waved his large hand in front of her face, making her snap out of another trance, she went in and out of the maze in her mind a lot after losing Rhysand.

"Yeah, yeah..." She nodded, made her wings disappear and sat down next to him on the grass, taking the basket he'd gotten her. "I've just been thinking."

"The usual?" Cassian sitting next to her, wrapping a wing around her. She nodded back, chewing on some meat he'd brought her. The usual, Rhysand, the Illyrians, Rhysand's safety, the priestesses in the library, and Rhysand being dead.

"It's been 50 years... he's dead..." She swallowed hard, "Amarantha hasn't died, if she had he would've been here 3 months ago."

Cassian leaned into her as she forced food down her throat, he and Azriel had been the only ones who kept her from breaking down about her brother's life at any and each moment. "I'm sorry, something must have been going on-"

"I hate not knowing what's happening to my own brother!" She exclaimed and cut him off, Cassian let her get up and pace around. "We don't know nothing of what's happening Under the Mountain, what she has planned, who..." She inhaled deeply, her siphons glowing purple, "Who all she might have killed until it's always too late! There is word in the wind that my brother killed two dozen Winter Court children. He would never. Not children." Her voice broke slightly, not wanting to think of the fact that whatever was happening to him Under the Mountain might have... No, she would not think that.

Cassian stood up after her, stroking her back to calm her, "Rhysand must have thought of something, and besides, you would feel it." He pointed to her chest over her heart, "Right here... Even if you can't feel his magic, you would just know, if there was evil in your blood or if he was dead."

She knew what he meant, whatever was in their bloodline was a lot different than they had ever seen, it was a different type of fibre that connected their blood. Connected them on another lever. Powerful children of a powerful man. The only blood family either of them had left alive.

When he pressed his fingers over Rheana's heart again, she gasped, and she felt a sharp rush of power. It wasn't her power. It was his power. She looked up at her giant of a friend with a wide smile. Her violet eyes were suddenly full of life. Velaris also felt it, as little the power was, of its High Lord's return.

"Rheana... What's wrong?" Cassian asked before correcting, "What's so right?"

"He... He's." She gasped again. "We need to get to the House of Winds."

She flew before Cassian registered her words, her wings spread wide as she leaned forward to fly faster. She saw a pale figure standing in the House, she felt it in her, and her insides sang his name. Her brother. Her family.

Rhysand... Rhysand is safe... Rhysand is alive...

She stood next to him too fast, and the two eyes met, beings made from the same thread of fabric, they each took a step closer to each other, there were no words said, but everything that needed to be said was heard.

Both of them were glad that the other was there. Alive. Just an arm's reach from each other. Safe, safe, safe. The power in their blood sang.

He looked like a ghost, and she would have thought he was one, she had dreamt of this moment so long she wondered if this was just another dream. But he was not a ghost, not as a smile appeared on his lips, he took another step towards her, Mor appeared behind them a worried look on the female's face as he fell into Rheana's arms, and Rheana noticed the lack of muscles on him, noticed how pale he was.

"She's real, Rhea... My mate is real. She's my mate." Rhysand whispered before passing out in his sister's arms.

It was silent since Rhysand had returned, he had only said one sentence to Rheana before he passed out. She had decided against bringing their entire Inner Circle to see him at once, given that he hadn't woken up.

She had almost cried when she was able to lift him up like he weighed nothing, had she been able to lift him under any other circumstance, she would've teased the hell out of him. But there was nothing funny about how much weight Rhysand had lost in his captivity, nothing joyous about Rhysand being so thin that she could nearly see his bones in some places. It spooked Rheana that whatever went down Under the Mountain turned him into nothing more than a pale, thin, tired creature after fifty years of it. Her brother, the High Lord, was so weak it cracked her to pieces.

Rheana tucked her brother in his bed at the townhouse in the clothes he'd worn when he had winnowed back at the House of Winds, she set the messy hair that had now fallen over his face back, they had grown a lot since the last time she'd seen him, she despised the physical changes she saw, not liking that thought of equally scaring mental changes. She watched him, taking a seat next to his bed, he looked so tired and tensed in his state, and she kept her breathing quiet, feeling that he might be disturbed by any light movement.

The bargain tattoo on the right hand's pinky finger hummed against her skin, the word 'Alltaf' written in cursive, surrounded by swirls of starlight. An old fae language. She looked at his hand to see the matching tattoo in the same place but the word 'Aeternum'. Their oldest bargain. Her eyes followed his hand to the thinness of his arms. She'd only ever felt the way she did looking at him once, felt so melancholy, she couldn't help her mind wandering to escape from her body. To that one awful day. The awful memory.

Rheana was sitting moodily in the House of Winds, her father had put wards up in the house so that she couldn't leave the place even by the 10,000 stairs. Her father and brother had gone after the Spring Court royalty that had taken the lives of her sister and mother. Her mother and sister's final words were still ringing in her ear, their deaths should have been her revenge to take too, but Rhysand had not taken her side and watched as her father locked her in the house.

It had been a few days since that loss, she could feel the hollow darkness in her father's eyes that stayed long after he'd screamed so loud she wondered how it hadn't deafened her and her brother. The sound was so gut-wrenching their hearts broke the same every day just remembering it. When her father had scented the Spring royals in the air, he had vowed to kill them all. The loss of his mate was felt by everyone in the court. A male as powerful as her father, with the loss of his mate and a child, was just a chemical waiting to give off a deadly reaction.

After she was brought back home, Madja was instantly by her side, a new healer back then, she had helped bathe Rheana and put a tight bandage on her. As days passed, Madja tried every salve, but the giant gashes the High Lord of Spring had given her would only scar, never heal. Her scars of shame, she would call it while trying to look at the wounds in a mirror. Three large, perfectly symmetrical claw cuts on her back, half-healed forever.

She'd fought trying to join them in their murder spree but that had ended with her father locking her up. She waited for them, and as the minutes passed by she grew worried.

Had they been ambushed? She wondered. No... Her father was more powerful than the High Lord of Spring. She reminded herself

After half an hour of worrying, the shield her father had put up fell, which meant either that he wanted her to come to them or... she would not think of the other reason.

She felt Rhysand winnow in the House of Winds before he did, he carried a newfound power with him when he landed in front of her. She looked at him, seeing her brother covered in blood and guts of the Spring heirs. There he stood, not just her brother, but the High Lord of the Night Court. The two siblings wordlessly rushed to each other and melted in a tight hug, falling to the floor, Rheana not caring about how foul Rhysand smelled, or that her clothes were getting dirty as they both silently cried in each other's hold. Only knowing one thing, that the other was safe and they were to keep it that way.

"Wake up, brother." She whispered to a sleeping Rhysand, she had refused to finish eating the food that Cassian had brought back for her, she would only eat after her brother was up, and she would eat her meal without her brother, which was a week ago.

It had been a week since he had returned and he had not moved an inch, she could feel his heart beating low, there had been a cut on his chest that had bloodied his shirt making her rip it off and call Madja instantly, seeing the cuts and bruises, bile rising in her throat seeing some whip lashes, to be marked by some lashes, she couldn't fathom what he was hit with, or how frequently. Madja had put bandages on his cut, and a salve on the lashes, some of them in his skin while some were still fresh enough to look red. Everyone had come to visit him one by one after, while she had not moved much at all from her spot, she'd only done so to put another top on him and cover him with a blanket, so that he would not get cold. Or to cut his hair back to his usual hairstyle.

She also noticed a new inking at his hands, making her wonder who he had bargained with and what he had given away.

He thinned every day, he grew more pale than when he had arrived each day of that dreadful week and she feared her brother might not wake up. Her hunger didn't matter, she hadn't had a bite of food or a sip of water, and she'd starved for way longer than that anyway. Azriel had decided against being true to his words and let her be with her brother while he visited, not forcing her to neither eat nor drink.

"Please wake up, Rhysie... Please, I need you." She gripped his hands, a tear falling from her eyes. As she said those words, the tattoos on both their little fingers began to glow. Their bargain began to glow, as if energising at the contact and the words.

"I need my brother. I need him." She said more to their bargain now. It was as if the tattoo and their bargain itself gave Rhysand most of his colouring and muscles back. Gave him his health back.

His heart picked up a faster and steadier pace, and the High Lord of the Night Court woke up with a startled gasp.

{Taglist: @anuttellaa }

[krirebr]

Congrats again on your well deserved milestone, lovely! 🥳❤️

If it sparks the muse, I would LOVE a drabble of WAM!Steve and Cole. I was so intrigued by their first part and how you wrote their dynamic and how Steve was a low key motherhen. I’d love to see more of him teaching Cole how to vampire!! Thank you! 🙏🏻

Thank you, Siri!! I so appreciate your support. 💜💜

Oh, the muse sparked hard. I wrote this one in a blink. Their dynamic is so fun for me. I hope you enjoy!

This is a few years after Steve takes Cole in.

And Gentle Persuasion

Characters: Dark!Steve Rogers, Soft!Dark Cole Turner

Warnings: blood, death, mind control, talk of humans as food, vampire stuff

We're All Monsters

“Cole.”

Cole looked up from where he was kneeling over the dead body. Steve was leaning against the door to the small cell, looking exasperated. Cole grimaced. “I don’t know how this happened,” he said.

Steve sighed and crouched down in front of him. “Yes, you do,” he said. “Tell me what happened this time.”

Cole stroked a finger down the now-dead young man’s cheek. “I just– I told him I loved him and wanted us to be together, you know? I wanted him to be mine. And he freaked out and I was just trying to calm him down, and maybe feed on him just a little, to show him how good it could be, but I was upset too. That he was being so unreasonable. And I guess I lost control.” He gestured to the blood that covered him and the floor of the cell.

Steve closed his eyes for a moment and took a breath. When he opened his eyes again, he fixed Cole with a stern look. “So,” he said, “the same thing as last time. Why didn’t you just compel him to agree to it?”

Cole looked down, embarrassed. “I wanted it to be real.”

“Honey, we’ve talked about this. You’re still trying to hang onto your humanity, but it’s gone. You aren’t human anymore, you’re something so much better. You need to start acting like it, finally embrace it. Humans, they’re just animals. They’re food. Pets at the very most. They are here to serve us. We want something from them, we take it. Any vampire who treats them as equals has lost touch with what we are. Do you understand?”

Cole nodded. He did. Or he was trying to. Steve had been over it with him so many times. Cutter, too. Everyone here, really. But. He’d just– he’d always wanted to find the one when he’d been human and he never had. He thought maybe now that he was something more, that power was thrumming through his veins and Steve had taught him how to harness it, that he’d finally be able to find someone. But he still hadn’t. Maybe Steve was right, maybe he was looking in the wrong place.

Steve placed a gentle hand on Cole’s cheek, pulling him from his thoughts. “You know I’m only this upset because you keep doing this to menu items. We won’t have anything left to serve at the bar at this rate.”

Cole leaned into Steve’s hand. “I know,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Steve said and stood up. “Come on, I’ll have someone come clean this up.”

Cole stood up too and started to leave the cell, not looking back at the body. “Cutter’s gonna be pissed.”

Steve smiled, “Cutter’s always pissed. You leave her to me.” Cole took a few steps into the hallway before Steve stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, if it’s just a feed and a fuck you need, you come to me and I’ll get it for you. You know I’ll always take care of you.”

Cole gave him a bashful grin back. “Yeah, I know,” he said and thought for the millionth time how lucky he was that Steve had been the one to find him.

Kris's 700 Celebration

Tag lists are open

@stargazingfangirl18 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @roxyfan14-blog @darkserenity24 @femefetalelevelingup @moonlightttfae @lokislady82

[ginoeh]

This is the second part of three for my entry for @the-centennial-husbands-bigbang 2024! The awesome banners were done by @lalaithquetzallicaresi who is also on Deviant Art !

The story is available on AO3, where I will post chapters serialized!

To the Edge of Night

Explicit || Hob Gadling/Dream of the Endless || Part 2 of 3 || 14k

Part 1

Part 2

*** *** ***

Chapter Three

The reconstruction of the New Inn was coming along swimmingly. The tap room was nearly all done which was great, really, because that meant Hob was perfectly in time for the day of the planned grand opening. He’d set it, nostalgic fool that he was, for the 7th of June. 

But on the other hand, there was this:

“Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to work behind the bar, Bobbie?”

Hob sighed and resisted rolling his eyes at Martin. The man understandably thought he was ‘Bobbie’s’ elder by several decades. But Hob could really do without his repeated attempts at motherhenning him into a healthier lifestyle. Which, according to Martin, included more friends and more social interaction.

Usually, Hob would agree. It was just… well, it was just that so far, his attempts at interaction had been met with mixed results. It wasn’t even that he didn’t want more friends apart from Emily and Oswin. The actual reality of that was turning out to be somewhat more difficult to achieve, though. 

It was hard to be entirely genuine when he knew the fears and nightmares of every person he came across. He simply didn’t know how to work with that, yet. Maybe in time he’d get used to it all. So far, all he’d managed to do was inadvertently alienate a lot of people; his inborn sociable nature didn’t fare well when coupled with this new kind of knowledge. 

Martin sighed as well but he wasn’t half as good as Hob when it came to hide annoyance and concern. 

“Kiddo, you need to get out more. I kept telling the same to your uncle. Ya need friends and people to talk to! Bartending is exactly what you want right now.”

It wasn’t but Hob had to concede the point. He did need to get used to people.

“I can do the late shifts, if you absolutely insist.” 

Hob made sure to sound as longsuffering as possible. Wouldn’t do to seem like he was giving in too easily, after all. Otherwise, next he turned around, Martin would try to ply him the sunday roast left-overs from his wife. It was very much enough that Emily kept trying to get him to eat.  

Hob was perfectly aware that he didn’t necessarily need to eat, to stay alive. That didn’t mean that he enjoyed starving but the thing was, he simply didn’t. He wasn’t hungry because he didn’t need the food. He was not starving. He knew intimately how that felt, after all. Looking back, Hob was pretty sure it had started at the same time when his lucid dreams began to outnumber his normal nights, at the same time that he started seeing the shape of people’s fear in their eyes.

He wasn’t sure he liked the conclusions that could be drawn from this. 

“The late shifts? That is a stupid idea if I ever heard one, Bobbie.”

Hob shrugged. He appreciated Martin, he really did, but he had to put his foot down somewhere. He wasn’t going to let the man dictate the schedule of his waking hours, after all, no matter if he’d usually find the caring nature endearing. 

“That’s all I can offer right now. You do know that I have my coursework to do, right? If you say it would be good for me to get out more, then the late shifts it is.”

Martin levelled him with a dark glower that Hob was sure not to find too amusing, and set his empty glass of coke onto the table between them. For a guy in his seventies he sure had a lot of life in him yet.

“Three nights a week, tops.”

“Are we really haggling over this now, Martin? I’m still your boss.”

Martin crossed his arms on the table and kept his large hand on the signed papers that declared him manager of the New Inn. 

“You want me in charge of the staff as well, Bobbie. And I take care of my staff, believe me. Three nights a week. Four during semester breaks.”

Hob smothered a laugh at the stubborn look his future manager shot him. Exactly that was why ‘Bobbie’ had insisted to employ Martin, his ‘uncle’s’ closest living friend. 

“Okay okay. You win.”  

Hob ginned and gamely shook Martin’s hand in agreement. There wasn’t really any reason to tell the other man that Hob hadn’t actually felt any real need for sleep in weeks - months maybe even - and therefore the late shifts wouldn’t impact him at all.    

*** *** ***

The rise on which the forest ends slopes down gently into the valley. There is fog hanging around bare tree tops and over the houses and a pale sun lurks behind a thin white cloud cover. Hob becomes aware of the dream, or maybe steps into it might be a better descriptor at this point, at the edge of  the forest, half lying between the tall stalks of damp, yellow winter grass. He appears to be wearing something like a cloak this time, its unadorned black fading away into wisps of smokey grey towards the frayed hem. Underneath, there might be just a normal jumper and trouser combo but Hob finds he’s entirely unable to concentrate his sleeping mind to look beyond the shadows of the ominous cloak.

It feels a bit like a game the dreamworld is playing with him and Hob is amused despite himself. He’s had the usual nightmares of being butt naked in the middle of the city so he’s a bit glad it’s not that. 

The Gargoyle that he has glimpsed the last time gamboles around the shingled roofs and over a crooked chimney, dips playfully behind a barn and clips one wing on the branches of a massive oak tree before it rights itself midair and continues its dizzying game of hide and seek. Hob makes his way down, the nightmare Otter - and he thinks he should maybe find a name for it - contently lingering on his shoulders. It’s an unexpectedly reassuring weight even if it offers no warmth like a mortal creature might. 

It’s when he draws closer to the two storeyed houses that a rather stately figure with carefully coiffed hair steps through one doorway. He’s in a three piece suit but bears an iron rake in one hand that gleams like polished steel knives. 

Hob slows down when he approaches an old bridge that leads on into the yard between both houses. The man stands on its other end, one arm at his hip and the other tightly wound around the rake that he holds in front of him like a weapon. 

“Who goes here.”

His voice is a nice baritone but it carries his mistrust as easily as his drawn brows do and Hob is, for once, thrown. This is the first time since entering this world of dreams that someone - or some-thing - isn’t naturally inclined to be friendly towards him. 

It’s also the first time since his very first awakening that an inhabitant of his dreams speaks to him in an audible voice. This might be the chance he’s been waiting for to gain a bit more information about this strange strange world he’s in. 

“I’m just… passing through,” he says and holds up both hands placatingly. In answer, the man grips the rake harder.

“To where.” It’s less a question and very much a demand. 

“Um…I don’t know? On, I suppose?” Hob gestures vaguely into the direction of the valley behind the two houses, where he now knows a large part of the landscape centres around something like a palace.

The man frowns, annoyed, and levels Hob with a look that speaks volumes as to the intellect he thinks Hob possesses.

“So you come here, to the gateway of the Nightmare marshes, and you don’t know where you’re going? Are you mocking me?”

This is turning out to be one very unique dreaming experience, Hob realises. It’s not an unpleasant realisation at all. Hob is living for new experiences after all, and while he certainly loves the land he has for some reason been chosen to traverse in his dreams so far, this is a welcome interruption. 

On his shoulders, the Otter lifts its head to lay a proprietary claw against Hob’s neck. The man startles at that and Hob looks a bit closer. There’s apprehension in his eyes, something that looks like anger but veers closely towards fear.

And quite suddenly, Hob has another epiphany. The strange mind-reading powers that he has gained while awake, the same thing that lets him feel his little nightmares intentions, work just as well on this different dream-creature. Because no matter how human he looks, Hob is pretty sure that the man before him is both less and more than simply a human man.

“Are you,” he starts and lifts one careful hand to cover the smile that threatens to break out on his face, “perhaps afraid of intruders?” Of old enemies, he wants to say, or rogue nightmares, because that is what he sees when he concentrates. But he’s not really looking to make the man more uncomfortable than he already is.

“I’m Hob,” he offers instead, when there is no answer, “And I think I’m on my way to… the palace.”

The man gears up to say something cutting, Hob can see the way his shoulders draw up and how his glower deepens when they are interrupted by a cheery yell.

“H-hey b-broth-ther! Is this a g-g-guest you’re holding u-uu-up there? Ca-can w-we inv-vite him in fo-fo-for t-tea?”

The man that turns around the corner of the leftmost house looks nearly exactly like the one barring Hob entrance - they are brothers, without a doubt, even if the way he eyes his much more personable sibling promises murder.

“Shut your jabbering gob, Abel. He’s a dreamer. He’s not supposed to be here. So no, we can not invite him for tea.”

The so-called Abel hurries closer, an amicable smile on his face for Hob and a fearful glance for his brother. In it, Hob sees flashes of blood and pain, shallow graves and wooden crosses. He winces. This is… not what he’d expected, really.

“B-b-but h-h-he’s a r-real my-my-my-mystery, r-r-right? Don-don-don’t y-you want to k-know it? Really?”

Despite his fear of violence and death by the hand of his brother, Abel rolls neatly past him and manages to make him lose his grip on the rake. He comes to stand in front of Hob, a hopeful smile on his face, and holds out a meaty hand.

“I-I’m Abel. And h-h-he’s C-cain. Welcome t-to- the H-house o-o-of Secrets! W-we have t-t-tea. An-and c-c-cookies.”   

The vision of blood and murder flashes across Hob’s new sense again and Hob knows, intrinsically, that these are ‘the’ Cain and ‘the’ Abel. It’s all a bit much to swallow and he’s sure that if this weren’t a dream with all the ingrained suspension of disbelief he’s desperately been clinging on to since his journey started, he'd be much more pole-axed by this revelation. Instead, Hob shakes the hand of the first murder victim.  

“And I have Earl Grey and digestives,” the biblical Cain, first murderer, interjects. He looks miffed but the threatening rake has been abandoned for now and he as well holds out his hand. “I welcome you to my house of Mystery. I’d be honoured to have you as my guest, dreamer. You can tell me all about how you came to be here.”

“B-but he was my guest f-f-first! A-and I can tell him nice s-s-secrets. Ma-maybe the o-o-one about th-th-the Thing in the b-b-b-basement!”

Hob does end up going with Cain first. He has the vague hope that it might avoid or at least postpone the clearly inevitable bloodshed that’s sure to be in Able’s future. There are a lot of crooked crosses and mounds of overturned earth that peek from the strip of land that borders the half-hidden backyard of the houses.

His nightmare, though, has no inclination of going with him. As soon as they reach the door, it nimbly hops off Hob’s shoulder. Cain casts it a long glance. 

“If you don’t wish to come, you can visit Gregory. My soft-hearted fool of a brother insists that he’s getting lonely. You wouldn't owe me either way.” 

The Otter bares its teeth in something that Hob thinks might be equal parts amusement and threat. Cain just scoffs and turns to step through the door. 

The nightmare glances at Hob and if there were words they’d be a flippant ‘so long’ before it summarily abandons Hob for the first time since he’d arrived on these shores.

“Oh very well then,” he says gamely, “no one forces you to have tea, after all.”

Cain’s house is dark and warm and narrow. Everything is wood panelled, from the carved ceiling squares to the soft grey planks of spruce that make up the walls, and down to the unnaturally long and gleaming floorboards.

There aren’t many right angles in the house. That doesn’t mean that it doesn’t seem to be built sturdy, quite the contrary even. But the angles are all just slightly off and despite the bookshelves, knick knacks and homely fireplace, there is something eerie to the place. 

Cain is backlit by the glow of the fireplace where he takes a steaming pot of water from the hanger with a glowing poker. 

“Gregory is the Gargoyle, I’m guessing?”

“Gregory the gargoyle, yes. He lives here.”

Hob thinks this is a paltry amount of information to give about an actual Gargoyle but then again, this is the land of dreams and nightmares. So maybe having a mythical creature as pet isn’t all that strange, all things considered.

“How did you come to be here,” Cain asks abruptly after they sit over sturdy mugs of tea. 

“What do you mean, how?” Hob swallows around his digestives. They taste of nothing. Neither does the tea.

“You are a dreamer, a human one at that. You should not be able to traverse the Dreaming like you do.” 

The firelight reflects eerily in Cain’s thin glasses. In the background the iron poker heats up in the open fire. This, Hob realises, is still a nightmare, after all. 

“This is what the place is called, then? The Dreaming?” 

“Don’t you know? These lands are the sleeping marches, the nightmare lands, where all dreams and nightmares dwell.”

Queen Mab’s country after all, after a fashion Hob thinks with a mixture of amusement and apprehension.  No wonder his Otter had been so thrown by naming the offering he’d made. Hob’s wild guess had been close to the truth, after all. Though he’s reasonably sure that’s not all there is to it.

“Huh. I knew I was sleeping. Dreaming, as it were but - I didn’t know that there is a name attached to the place. Are you telling me that this isn’t just… in my mind, then?”

Cain stares at Hob and Hob can’t read his expression at all. 

“Are you asking me if you made all of this,” he gestures around and to himself, “up in your sleeping mind?”

Hob has the grace to look chagrined. He’d been lucid dreaming for months now. Years if he wants to count the many times he’d been dragged into the sea of dreams and nightmares by the nightmare he now has as a travelling companion. He has developed strange insights while awake and he has had more than just a suspicion that these dreams hold more truth to them than mere figments of his imagination.

“No. No, not really, I guess,” he finally mutters. “I s’ppose this is as real as anything I experience when I’m awake.”

Cain looks at least marginally mollified. 

“So you don’t know how or why you arrived here, I gather? That… is disappointing. Rarely do things like these happen without reason or will of our Lord.”

There are many things Hob wants to unpack here; so this isn’t the first time someone has gained access to the Dreaming in a way that resembles his; and there is a Lord - and not a queen - who holds the power of this place. He’d known that one already, considering that he’d been greeted once, so very long ago, by this Lord’s librarian.

“Who is this Lord,” he decides to ask, “and isn’t he… missing?”

Cain straightens and spears Hob with his glare.

“And how have you come by this information? Has your… nightmare blabbered? Talked about abandoning the realm?”

“Nothing of the sort,” though now Hob wonders; had many nightmares left the Dreaming? What then about those that he encountered? “When I first woke up - at that dock over the endless sea? -  there was this woman, Lucienne. She told me.”

Cain doesn’t look convinced at all. He stands with narrowed eyes and leaves Hob at the table in favour of stoking the fire with the red-hot poker. Hob debates telling him about the neglected air of the places he’d travelled, about the feeling of bruised and yearning emptiness he'd seen in every world he’d rushed by on his mad dive through the nightmare sea. He decides not to, in the end. It feels… personal, somehow. 

“Why would Lucienne travel all the way to the Dreaming Sea, just to greet a… dreamer. Now this is a mystery…”

Hob snorts. “Well, her greeting wasn’t all that enthusiastic. Was surprised to see that I wasn’t her Lord after all.”

It is silent for a while apart from the crackling fire. Hob discards the tea and digestives; he doesn’t know why he thought dream food would do anything for him, really. When he’s about decided to leave the brooding Cain to his own devices and instead go and try his luck with Abel, the man finally turns.

“Yes… there is something about you, dreamer. Hob. I thought for a moment at first, that you might be… but that was foolish, of course. You are nothing like Lord Morpheus, after all.”

“So that’s your missing Lord’s name?” It does have a bit of a ring to it, admittedly, even if it’s only due to Hob’s much longer memory of Morpheus the roman god of dreams that he doesn’t immediately think of the new movie that has just hit the cinemas. He doesn’t suppose Lord Morpheus looks quite like Laurence Fishburn in The Matrix. 

“The Dreaming is the Realm of Dream of the Endless. Morpheus is one of many names he holds. And why he’s missing or where he’s gone - that is the greatest mystery of all, isn’t it?”

Hob leaves Cain’s house feeling not one jot more knowledgeable than when he entered it. 

“The Dreaming is governed by Dream. Go figure.” He makes sure to keep his voice down but this one is a bit of a let down. At least he’s rather sure that Lucienne the palace librarian is something of a known entity. Which in turn promises the palace he’d glimpsed in the Ruby’s facets to be an actual place as well. 

But this Lord… there is his missing Stranger in the waking world, there is a missing Lord on this side of dreams and between them, a deeply magical Ruby has found its way into his hands. Hob isn’t sure how much he believes in coincidences like that. 

He’s nearly bowled over by a diving Gargoyle when he clears the awning of Cain’s house. Shingles shatter on the crooked pavement in his wake and a wildly gesticulating Abel rounds the corner.

“Gr-gregory, s-s-stop that!”

Abel hurries over on the beast's heels but doesn’t manage to deter him at all. The Gargoyle dances around Hob a few times, inspecting him, it seems like, before it comes to a stand squarely in front of him.  

“Hello there,” Hob croons, enchanted.

Intelligent eyes consider him, before he bobs into the likeness of  a shallow bow. Then, he buts up gently against Hob’s side.

“G-gregoy don’t bo-bo-bother our g-g-guest!”

When Hob’s hand comes into contact with Gregory’s rough scales, something like knowledge suddenly sparks between them.

“So you’re a nightmare, too.” Hob strokes Gregory’s scales behind the spikes on his head. “Or were, at any rate. You like this better now, don’t you?”

Gregory puffs hot breath across his neck in silent bliss.

“Have you met my- the nightmare I arrived with, yet?” 

Hob gets the impression of sleek black fur rolling between moss and stone and grins. 

“G-g-gregory c-can you p-p-please s-stop destroying m-my house!” Abel looks forlornly at the shards of mossy green shingles he’s swept into a sad little pile. “It’s ge-ge-getting worse a-and worse e-e-either w-way. N-no need to ma-ma-make it g-go f-f-faster.”

Gregory looks repentant but Hob gets the sense that the Gargoyle, however much he might want to try, can't really stop destroying things in his wake. It’s in his nature to be disruptive and playful. 

“I can help,” he offers instead.

“Th-that’s t-t-terribly n-nnice b-but the r-repairs ne-ne-never stick anyway.” He pokes the pile with the tip of his shoe. It’s so pitiful that Hob feels like it’s a kicked puppy and not a grown man. 

“Why don’t they, though? Mine alway do.”

He kneels at Abel’s side and takes a few fitting pieces out of the shard pile. They slot together easily.

“I've repaired a lot of things on my way here. My repairs always go well.”

He swipes over the shingle in his hand and some of the moss comes off, leaving it a faded, dusty red. The breaks are thin lines still, but it all holds together. He’s really gotten better at this.  

Abel watches him, something guarded in his jovial face.

“N-no repair ha-has stayed wh-wh-whole, since o-o-our L-Lord le-le-left.” 

Hob thinks of the dock that regained its sturdiness, or the little bridges in the moor that repaired themselves with barely any effort from him. Then he glances back at the forest that rises over the valley’s far side and takes in the lush dark green it has become in his wake, teeming with lively nightmares.

“I don’t know,” he says and smiles, “maybe you need to have a bit more faith in this whole thing. It works fine for me.”

He holds up the shingle for Abel’s inspection. It’s unbroken again.

“I think most things here know what they’re meant to be. It’s a dreamworld, after all. Just help them get back to that. That’s all. Do you have a ladder?”  

Abel does have a ladder, though it’s a rickety thing when Hob starts ascending it. He’s pretty sure that on his way down it will be much sturdier. It is not hard work to set the roof to rights again, Hob has had much more strenuous jobs over the centuries. Though admittedly he’d never been a roofer before. 

“H-hob?” 

Abel calls him over where he’s taken off his shirt - it does after all exists under that terrible cloak - because the sun has decided to peek out behind the thin white cloud cover. It fits his mood well; he has a goal now and something like a plan. 

“I w-want to t-tell you so-something. I-it’s a se-se-secret.”

“What is it?”

“A d-dreamer who rem-m-members h-himself ca-ca-can ch-change th-their d-d-d-dreams.” 

Hob thinks he knows all about lucid dreaming by now and this seems spot on, even if it’s not really a secret. Abel and Cain both aren’t really very inclined to part with useful information, it seems like. It does pose an interesting question though.

“And you and Cain, you aren’t dreamers, are you? But then, how does the upkeep of this world work? Only by the Dreamlord’s will?” 

Abel shrugs. “The D-dreaming sh-shapes itself o-o-only for th-those that l-l-love it. B-but a-a-a few ca-can do th-things, w-w-with His b-b-blessing.” 

It sounds as mystical as impractical - and this power imbalance surely has its drawbacks, considering the state the Dreaming is in with its Lord’s disappearance. 

“Maybe he should consider sharing a bit of his power then,” Hob mutters and slips into his shirt again. It’s time to go on, he thinks. There’s the palace waiting for him and possibly, hopefully, answers to his questions. 

“L-lord Mo-mo-morpheus d-doesn’t share. He i-is the D-d-d-dreaming.”

The strange emphasis Abel puts on the last sentence perlocates in Hob’s mind, sleeping and waking, long after. 

***

He leaves the Houses of Mysteries and Secrets behind without mentioning the magical Ruby or the Stranger that used to wear it. Neither does he mention anything about his immortality or the growing suspicion that the Dreamlord’s absence and Hob’s presence in the Dreaming are intrinsically connected.   

Instead, he finally starts to tell his nightmare companion a bit about his life. He starts, of course, with the greatest reget he holds. It’s a nightmare after all, and probably much more interested in the things Hob has had nightmares about than in the general comings and goings of a human life. 

“He could just as well have simply left me hanging to prove a point, you know,” he tells the Otter when the Houses of Mystery and Secrets  behind them are swallowed into the last wisps of fog. “I mean I was a bit of a berk, all things considered. Not that I wanted to be, but you know how it goes, don’t you? Wanting something so much that you just… overreach. And by doing so destroy what you try to build.”

The Otter doesn’t answer, of course. But it does clamber up Hob’s truly terribly threadbare cloak and settles again on his shoulders. 

“Thanks, my friend. I really appreciate that. I hope one day I can apologise and make it up to him. I mean it’s been a hundred and fifteen years now since that cursed meeting. Who knows what happened to him in the meantime…”

Hob thinks of the invisible weight of the Ruby at his chest and wonders how or why the Stranger had lost it. Because there is no way he had gotten rid of it on purpose. Not with the way it had been the main and centre piece of each of his statement outfits. It was important.    

The muddy path underneath his feet stretches into the far distance, where the cloud cover isn’t quite as heavy any more. There is the pink light of a friendly sunset that beckons him on in a perfect reflection of his own tentative hope.

Maybe he’ll meet his Stranger again. Maybe he’ll find answers at the palace. All he needs to do is make his way there. He needs to find Lucienne. 

*** *** *** 

His dreams were occupying Hob’s quiet hours more and more. Sometimes, after waking, he thought the reflection in his bathroom mirror mocked him - there was red and black in his eyes where there should be the browns he was born with, the shadows he cast looked like writhing masses of nightmares and the deepest waters, his face the same one he had seen when he’d thrown the flower crown into the cursed pond. And then, within the blink of an eye the illusions were gone again.

The Ruby was warm, as always these days, when he took it out of the box. He’d bought a new chain to match its delicate gold casing and wondered if it was normal for a magical jewel to seem proprietary and unwilling to leave its owners hands. All the same, it looked entirely unchanged in all other respects and he knew that if he looked closer, there’d be the same pictures, the same views in its facets as the last time he’d done so.  

There hadn’t been any more incidents of surprise souvenirs from his dreams after that first time. Instead, the phantom sensation of wearing the Ruby as a pendant underneath his clothes didn’t stop with his dreams.   

But there were two other things that reluctantly joined Hob’s mental list of changes that were most likely connected to the jewel:

Emily had kept up pestering him about eating - it was the thing that had started their friendship two years ago. But by now, Hob was starting to become suspicious of his lack of need for food. Usually, he loved eating. Physical pleasures were part of the experience, after all, and food was one of the many things that changed constantly, to Hob’s neverending delight.

And the newest and most concerning thing: Hob didn’t remember the last time that he had felt truly tired. 

The Ruby, even though he was never wearing it, rested like an unseen weight on his chest. 

*** *** ***

As if the Houses are a gateway that Hob has passed, beyond them the Dreaming feels like a different world. He finds himself in an endless landscape that looks like it's been well tended and designed but with harrowing signs of neglect everywhere. There are skeletons of trees where a lush forest once grew, dry earth and cracked stone in place of meadows and rivers. 

Hob doesn’t see any paths or streets as such, at first glance but he discovers fast that wherever he steps, paths try to form or emerge from the debris. 

The Otter on his shoulders grows quiet - Hob hadn’t noticed actively because of course the little nightmare has never made so much as a sound at him; but there had been, for lack of a better description, a sort of humming at the back of Hob’s mind, a susurration of unheard whispers that conveyed laughter and wit, disdain and hope and all things the nightmare wanted Hob to know. 

It’s never been as clear to Hob as now when it is entirely absent, how the Otter has indeed talked to him in its own way.     

“This is wrong, somehow, isn’t it?” Hob hushes his voice down to fit the horrifyingly despondent mood of his surroundings. He’s equally as horrified if he’s being truthful. This is not how it’s supposed to look, he knows that much without needing it explained. 

“Where do I even start setting this to rights again?” 

He can’t see what most of the landscape was supposed to look like so he doesn’t know how to start fitting things back into place. There are no structure for him to mend, only barren landscape. 

“You don’t, “ says a high-pitched voice at his back. 

Hob swivels around and feels his Otter’s needle sharp claws prick through his clothing to keep its place. Behind him are two androgynous figures, holding hands. They look like children at first glance, if children were monocolored including skin and hair. 

“You can’t,” says the second one, voice nearly identical with the first. 

They sound like children as well. 

“And… why can’t I?” Hob gentles his voice even though he knows that these are, of course, not actual children. 

They feel like nightmares as much as his Otter does and as Gregory did. Where their hands touch, their skin is the oppressing colour-leached grey of foreboding twilight; otherwise, one is entirely white and the other, entirely black. 

The first one, black as a moonless night, shrugs.

“The power here,” they start. 

“It’s gone back to the palace,” the other finishes.

“It’s needed there,” the white one whispers.

“Because if that place vanishes…”

They look at each other and Hob can sense their fear. But that means that he can probably help more at the palace or close to it, where there is something left to draw from and form. Here, he only feels the hollow phantom pain of a missing limb when he tries to look and see what the ephemeral path he’s on wants to become. 

His own capability of repairing the Dreaming seems to be dependent on the power of the Dreaming itself, at least in parts.

“Then what about the other part of the Dreaming? The ones I came through?” Hob gestures to the far away reaches of the Dreaming, where he woke.

Again they shrug in tandem.

“Oh that’s a bit different…”

“...it’s nightmare country, after all.” 

“They’re wild.”

“And know how to take…

“...and take…”

“...and take…”

“...what they need…”

“...from the dreamers.”

The Otter shifts on Hob’s shoulder and Hob finally finds that its quiet stream of thoughts and feelings are back. What it projects feels to Hob a lot like dissociation - a loss of identity and directed thought, of watching from the outside, going under and only remembering in short glimpses when breaching through the surface of confusion. It’s helplessness and impotence and a strange kernel of hope when the little nightmare looks at Hob. 

“And it takes from the nightmares, too,” Hob realises out loud and for the first time, dares to run a hand over his nightmare’s slippery fur, “you were once… something bigger, weren’t you. The Nightmare of Drowning. Until the sea swallowed you up.”

The Otter presses into Hob’s careful fingers and he understands more. The sadness and rage of being diminished, the knowledge of going back to what it was before its creation, the hope when it found, in Hob’s dreams, persisting memories of itself and then clinging to them.  

The twin nightmares share a glance but don’t contradict.

“That’s why the two of you are here. Instead of there.” 

“We didn’t want to…”, they begin. 

“...disassemble. We like…”

“...how we were made.”

“So we came here,” they finish in tandem.

“We could have left,” white mutters, discomfited and black squeezes their hand. “No. We’re not Arcana. We’re not strong enough to last long.”

“I travel to the palace. Do you want to come with me?” Hob has offered the same to the nightmares of the nightmare country after all.

They share another long glance, a communication that Hob feels but doesn’t yet understand. He thinks he might, one day if he keeps trying. He rubs his chest and thinks of the Ruby in his bedroom. 

“For a part of the way,” they finally decide.

“We can’t go everywhere here.”

“Lead the way, dreamer.”

Hob turns, leaving both of them in his shadow and walks for a few short steps before he suddenly stops. He can’t help the delighted laugh. He’s been thoroughly had there.

“I know who you are now,” his grin is so broad that it rings in his voice.” I used to know you well when I was still young.” 

“Yes you did,” they giggle.

“C’mon then, you terrible two. Let’s get going.” 

He doesn’t need to turn to know they are following. After all, behind him walk the Nightmare of Being Chased Through Empty Streets and the Nightmare of Being Too Slow. Hob grins quietly to himself for the better part of this dream. 

***

Sometimes, Hob thinks he hears the churning waves of the sea of nightmares and dreams from the shadows of this scorched landscape. It takes him a while to realise that what he hears is an echo of a place within himself. He doesn’t know how it works but he knows that he’s hollowed out a part of himself to make space for that which is the foundation of the Dreaming. 

He’s not sure if he can ever make that undone. And he doesn’t know if he even wants to. He loves the place, after all.

Sometimes, they come acrossother nightmares. All of those who cross their path are small. They might have been bigger once and found sanctuary in this powerless stretch of the Dreaming out of fear of being swallowed back into the sea. He talks to them, the many-eyed and tooth-limbed and creeping-fears, even if they can’t answer back like the twins do. The way he’s learned to listen to his Otter works on them as well. So he listens when they in turn tell of themselves.

They meet only two more of the bigger nightmares; where the rest is, Hob doesn’t want to know. There is the Nightmare of Empty Houses that Should Be Lived In and the Nightmare of Gone Loved Ones - both of them Hob recognizes at first glance - but other than them, it is empty here. He wonders where all the dreams have gone.

“Closer to the palace,” the Nightmare of Gone Loved Ones answers. 

“It has been empty here for a long time now,” the Nightmare of Empty Houses adds.

They don’t walk with him far, not like the twins who still follow in his shadow, but they do offer their help if Hob needs them.   

***

Hob doesn’t know how many nights and dreams he has spent traversing this part of the Dreaming. He’s never counted any of them and anyway, he can’t decide if he should count nights in the waking spent sleeping or rather the progress of time as it flows in the Dreaming. They are not at all the same, after all. 

Rather, he measures his progress by how far he feels he still has to go to reach the palace. And that is, despite all of Hob’s attempts to measure the distance any other way, the only manner to do it: by some vague compass in his chest - if he had to put money on it, he’d probably say that it is the Ruby and its strange connection to the Dreaming that helps him out. 

During one visit, he comes across the most wretched sight he’s ever seen. Or not seen as it were. Before him is a stretch of land that simply - isn’t. A place that has once been somewhere, but now exists only in broad strokes of bareness - like an artist colour blocking the barest shapes of a background; the reverse of an actualized idea. 

“I can’t go through there.” 

The words barely make it past his lips and after they leave them, they seem to vanish in the vague emptiness. His head hurts from looking at the stretch of - of bloodless heart-tissue. His own heart hurts as well.  

“You must, if it’s the way,” says black, unimpressed.

“You are the one deciding on the path,” adds white.

“Can’t I go around?” 

He knows before he speaks that that’s impossible. He knows the way and to detour from it is not a good idea. There are places here that he might get lost in and never leave again.

A suggestion of darkness and soft fur swims into his mind’s eye.

“Do you think that will work?” he asks the Otter, “Don’t you think that I should see where I’m going?”

The equivalent of a mocking ‘are you an idiot?’ tickles his ears without sound.

Hob sighs. “No, of course I don’t. This is a dream after all. Why would I need my eyes to see, really.” 

The Otter stretches, satisfied in Hob’s answer. The twins, though, remain silent.

“We won’t go through here,” black finally says.

“It’s not a place any more.”

“It hurts to go in…”

“What is it then? Or, what was it before it became - this?” 

“It was Fiddler’s Green…”

“...the Heart of the Dreaming.”

Hob shudders and averts his eyes from the stretch of horrifying bareness. The place left behind when a dream leaves, when a heart is gone…The Ruby he’s not wearing beats a warm and calming rhythm against Hob’s skin. What does one put in the place left empty by a missing heart, Hob wonders. It’s probably not so surprising that the Dreaming is so receptive to Hob's attempts to help - he’s grown to love the place after all and a thing without its heart… Hob wonders if he’s reading much into it. ‘Heart of the Dreaming’ might be an entirely metaphorical name after all.  

The Otter, impatient as his little nightmare is, clearly decides that it has had enough of Hob’s woolgathering and puts its tail firmly across Hob’s eyes. It is unexpectedly soft but doesn’t budge one bit when Hob tries to push it down again. Bossy little bugger his nightmare is. He feels the tickle of laughter at the back of his mind

“Thank you for keeping me company, you two,” he says and gives up trying to dislodge the tail.

“You are welcome.”

“We will wait here and listen…”

“Incase you need us.”

Hob smiles in the nightmares’ direction, or he hopes at least that it’s the right direction, and concludes that he definitely won’t call for them if travelling closer to the palace is something they’re uncomfortable with.  

“Take care.” 

In his mind’s eye, the Ruby glows. Beneath his feet, a street starts forming in the dark of his imagination. He hopes the Otter can see it too and won’t lead him astray. 

 *** *** ***

Hob’s shift at the bar is long over, the New Inn empty and dark. He’s moved into the freshly finished upstairs flat only a week ago and already it feels more like a home than the apartment he’s had for nearly five years ever did. 

He hasn’t switched on the light after coming in. It’s not really necessary, after all. While the streetlights are more than enough for navigating the space, he feels comfortable in the darkened shadows. He can feel them, like an extension of the Dreaming or doors connecting into it. They are the home of many nightmares. Hob wonders how many of them he’s gotten to know during his travels through the Dreaming. 

He perches at the edge of his bed and stares listlessly into the London summer night beyond his window. He’s not tired at all, but strangely hollowed out even here in the world of the waking hours, where he’s nothing more than a human with a magical jewel. The ebb and flow of the sea of nightmares and dreams thrums underneath his breastbones at all times, by now. Something is missing but he doesn’t what it is.

The bed sheets are nicely cool underneath Hob’s bare thighs when he finally decides to settle. He doesn’t really feel like he needs the rest but all the same he’ll dream as soon as he’ll have closed his eyes. There have only been the lucid dreams for him, for weeks now.  

Next to him the ruby sits on the bedside table, sparkling invitingly. He’s given up keeping it in the metal box. When Hob closes his hands around it, it beats in time with his pulse. In the mirror on his new wardrobe he thinks for a moment that he can see into the Dreaming, a bird’s view of a ravaged landscape yearning for its Lord. 

The ruby screams in his mind and Hob flinches. 

And then he realises that whatever it is he is missing - love, life, his heart maybe - it has come alive in the ruby, has fed it and given it power. 

*** *** ***

On the other side of the missing Fiddler's Green, the palace suddenly looms closer than ever. There is a cobblestone road stretching from where he stands and into a quaint assemblage of houses and huts. To his right there are steep hills with the obvious ambition of becoming mountains at one point. To his left, there are swaths of burnt and grey meadows and dried out rivers but between them, the remnants of flowers and fields still shimmer like fading dreams. 

The sound of a hammer being swung rhythmically onto wood drifts from the village. With the sound comes the smell of tobacco and the low scratch of off-key singing. 

Chapter 4.  → chapter 6?

There is a man with a pumpkinhead trying to fix a bullock cart. Or maybe it’s a pumpkin that play-pretends to be a man. He - it - he wears a simple white shirt underneath a worker’s overall. There is a cheroot cigar clenched in his gaping black mouth and puffs of its stinking smoke spiral slowly out from beneath the cut out lid of the pumpkin’s stalk. He hums a terrible rendition of ‘In the Army Now’ that has Hob’s toes curl in sympathy with his ears.

“Hi there”, Hob tries.

The Pumpkin man doesn’t react.

“Hello, good sir,” Hob begins again, several decibels louder and takes a step closer. 

“Fer fuck’s sake what -” The pumpkin whirls around, angry words dying on his lips when he sees Hob. The hammer falls and narrowly misses the wooden sticks that serve as his legs and feet.

“Who’re you then?” He squints at Hob who holds up his hands placatingly. “And watcha doin here. Huh!?”

He rudely points a wooden finger straight into Hob’s face and leans closer.   

“If ye’re an intruder then ye’re shit outta luck, my man. Cause I’m gonna flatten yer ass and feed ya remains to the birds. Ya hear me?”

Hob does hear and that’s the only thing he gets from the pumpkin man except for his general presence as part of the Dreaming; there are no flashes of fears, no general sense of what he wants or feels. This, Hob concludes tentatively, is probably a dream. 

“Okay,” Hob says, “then it’s a good thing I’m not an intruder. I‘m here to see Lucienne the Librarian. Do you know her?”

It’s likely, after all, this close to the frankly enormous palace that looms behind the little hamlet.

“Sure do. What’ch want with ’er?” 

“I need to ask her something that I’m sure she can help me with. See, I might have come across something that originally belonged to the Dreaming.”

“Something from here? But ye’re a dreamer. Dreamstuff doesn’t live long in the Waking ‘s far as I know.” 

Hob shrugs. “So you see that I do need to talk to her, right? I’m Hob Gadling, by the way. Pleasure to meet you. Can you tell me where I can find her?”

The pumpkin-man spits his cigar onto the dry ground and stomps one of his wooden stick feet on it. Hob wonders if he’s ever managed to set himself smouldering on accident.

“I can do ya one better. I’ll bring ya to her. You’ll need a guide into the palace of the dreamlord. Not just anyone can come and go as they please.”

He puffs out his chest. 

“Mervyn is the name and I'm the facility manager of this dump.” 

He gestures around himself grandly and kicks the offendingly rickety ox cart. One wheel tilts sadly sideways on its frayed hub.

***

Mervyn prattles on and on as they make their way around the outer reaches of the palace. It’s forebodingly large this close to it. The onion domes, turrets and minarets he’d seen from afar tower so high above him that they might as well belong to the clouds. It probably was once a gleaming white jewel but now, there are signs of decay everywhere. 

They detour around fallen remains of grand arches, climb over broken pieces of beautifully carved balustrades and take a shortcut through something that might have once been a rose garden.

“We gotta go all th’ way round to the front. Used to be doors here too but they’ve all vanished - poof - a while after Lord Murphy left. There’s only the Bridge now ‘n’ the main gate.”

The bridge is magnificent. Was magnificent and Hob sees only the sad echo of something fantastically great. There are hands holding it up over a ridiculously broad moat but they are crumbling, missing whole fingers that lay broken and shattered in the dried out basin like the remains of some grand beast.

The dereliction makes Hob’s heart ache. He wishes he could make it go back to how it was before but this… he eyes the broken balustrade and the deep drop where part of the bridge has fallen. Beneath his skin, he feels the Ruby like a physical weight.   

Could he? If he tried - if he threw everything he has into it - could he repair this?

“There ya are,” Mervyn says and stops them before a pair of grand doors that hang askew on their hinges. “Used ta quibble with tha gate guardians. The pegasus is a right uppity li’l shit if ya ask me. They stopped movin’ though. It’s just Lucienne holdin’ down the fort now.”

There’s sadness behind Mervyn’s gruff words.

“Great woman, tha’ Lady. Must’a been an incredible raven to his Lordship back in the days.”

Hob is too close to his goal now to ask after either the fantastical gatekeepers or how Lucienne was once a raven. The only thing he wants to know is what the Ruby is, and how his stranger is connected to the Dreaming. The palace calls for him, or something in it does. He can feel it better, now that he’s closer but it is the same thing that helped him navigate the dead parts of the Dreaming after leaving Cain and Abel. Or maybe, it calls for the Ruby.    

“So we just go in?”

“Nah.” Mervyn cups his hands around his mouth. “LOOSH! LUCIENNE! YA GOT A GUEST!”

He clears his throat while Hob’s ears still ring and adds, a bit awkwardly, “I don’t like entering the palace anymore. Haven’t been in there in forever.”

They wait in silence.

Once, Hob thinks the Pegasus - no matter how uppity it might have been - blinks but he’s not entirely sure. He is sure, though, that the Griffin on the other side of the door has turned his head towards them. 

It doesn’t take long until a figure emerges in a brisk pace from the darkness beyond the gate.

Lucienne looks exactly as Hob remembers her from his very first foray into the Dreaming, sharp suit and sharper eyes. 

“Mervyn. What are you shouting about?”

***

She notices him right away, of course, before she’s stepped far enough into the entrance hall to be seen. There is a dreamer at Mervyn’s side and he’s very clearly lucid. He is also familiar. 

Much more familiar than he has any right to be, even considering that she once found him, aware of himself, on the dock to the dreaming sea. He’d been a strange case back then already. His arrival in the Dreaming proper had been felt by her in a swell of power that swept through her entirely unexpectedly. For a few painfully hopeful moments she had thought that the surge might herald Lord Morpheus’ return. She’d hurried to where it had come from, taking every shortcut the Dreaming could still provide for its last keeper. But even on the way there, she’d felt the quick decline. Still, she continued to hope.  

Instead, she’d found a dreamer on the dock. Yes, he’d reeked of remnants of Lord Morpheus’ power but it was fading fast, becoming nothing more than a quiet little hum until it finally vanished from her innate raven sense for Dream of the Endless completely. 

It is back now though, steady and strong, like a thread woven through the dreamer’s own soul.  

“Ya know the guy, Loosh?”

“We’ve met before,” is all she says to Mervyn, “thank you for bringing him.”

Mervyn squints suspiciously at the dreamer who looks entirely nonplussed - there’s even an amused smile at his lips if she’s reading him right.

“She’s right. And thanks Mervyn.”

“If ya say so Loosh…” He grumbles and turns to the human, “if ya so much as put a toe out of place, I’ll find ya and mince ya.” 

He leaves with the threat, throwing occasional glances back at her and the dreamer until he vanishes behind the broken southern hand of the bridge. The dreamer stays, eyes focussed neither on her nor on Mervyn but on the solid statues of the former gate guards. Lucienne remembers the grim loneliness that had settled once the both of them had grown back into stone. 

“I think the Griffin turned his head,” the human says and tilts his own.

“That is unlikely. They have not moved for a long time now.” Still, when she turns around and follows his gaze, the Griffin indeed looks different. 

His whole head is turned towards the dreamer, inclined as if the lifeless statue had tried for a bow. 

Impossible.

She’s unable to keep the hope and fear contained completely and she knows it shows through her next words. They aren’t as unaffected as she wants them to be.  

“Usually I wouldn’t have to ask but since these are the most unusual circumstances I am without a choice: What is your name, dreamer?”

He finally ends his appraisal of the Griffin and gives her a most charming grin. There are dimples at his cheeks and his eyes nearly sparkle. He looks … warm, all around.

“I’m Hob Gadling, my Lady. And you are Lucienne, the Palace Librarian.” He says the name like the title it is. “A pleasure to finally meet you properly. I’d apologise for taking so long, but it was a while until I realised that this is where I have to go.” 

Not an unknown entity after all, she thinks, slightly validated in finding him familiar. 

There has been talk about Hob Gadling the Immortal in the Dreaming, once long ago; the only connection close to something like friendship their Lord has ever had. The emotions his meetings with the human could evoke in Lord Morpheus had been rivalled only by those he expended for his lovers and family.

Hob Gadling, as far as she is aware, is neither.  

That setup had lent itself to both positive and negative outcomes. There’d been bouts of furious creativity, begetting dreams of hope and nightmares for healing, there was April weather, capricious and bewildering, and of course the oppressive tension of 1789 where even decades later there had still been gossipy wondering whether that had been budding anger or another tension all together.  

The dreary and awful weather that had persisted for a good while after his meeting in 1889 had prompted her to seek out Jessamy in a bid to find out what had gone wrong. Her Lord had been - furious and upset. More upset than furious if she was being honest but she hadn’t gotten a good enough look on him afterwards to ascertain if the tears in his eyes had been of hurt or of anger. With Dream of the Endless, it was often both at once if someone did manage to get close enough to truly hurt him - the kind of privilege rarely afforded to anyone.

When Hob Gadling bows, half in jest and half serious court manners that she knows are the genuine learned thing of a noble, she notices that what she’d thought was an odd patch of uneven sable fur on the strange clothes he wears, can move and nimbly clambers down from his shoulders. 

The human doesn't look surprised in the least.

“So you don’t want to come with me?” he crouches down and Lucienne can’t see what it is he does but then he says, “I see. Take care and - thanks for … bringing me here.”

This is a nightmare, Lucienne realises and watches in disbelief as the human continues to hold a conversation with it.    

“I’m glad I could help. You don’t owe – okay then. Anyway, you were a great guide.”

The nightmare in the form of an Otter gives her a mocking half-bow and a leer and then slinks into the shadows along the edges of the bridge until it vanishes through a gap between several broken columns. Hob Gadling seems absolutely unfazed and the smile with which he follows the curious form of the nightmare is fond. 

“Sorry about that. That was the Nightmare of Drowning. It… found me, I guess you could say, and stuck around.” He grins quickly and Lucienne is sure that he has no idea about the unlikeliness of what he has just said. Nightmares do not ‘stick around’ dreamers like that. Neither do they converse with them or share their names. This one nightmare in particular, if the human has the right of it, she had thought lost or dissolved back into raw dreamstuff decades ago.

It is… heartening, to see that it is not so. There is one more dreamthing left in the Dreaming when she had feared that their number had nearly reached zero.     

“I have a few questions for you, if you don’t mind? I think I … might have found something that came from here, originally. But I'm not sure. May I - come inside?” He gestures towards the shaded awning, and a bit of tension creeps into his shoulders. There might be something like a frown on his face as well.

“You are welcome,” she decides and hopes that this is not a mistake, “You may follow me.”

He crosses the threshold in front of her and then wavers. It’s a movement small enough that Lucienne nearly wouldn’t have noticed it if there hadn’t been at the same time a flash of red that ran across him and drawn her curiosity. Hob Gadling is half turned towards her and so she sees how he presses a hand against his chest where the light seems to gather for a short moment. The curious hum of Lord Morpheus’ power that seems to hang around him, grows stronger.

Before she can even blink the human straightens and keeps walking. 

Lucienne hesitates too long then and before she can decide on a course of action - maybe it would have been better to bar Hob Gadling entrance after all - the man starts walking into the depth of the palace by himself, feet carrying him in a straight line towards the corridor that leads on the shortest route into its heart.

He could not have seen the corridor from where they stand, Lucienne is sure. Silently, she follows him. Maybe she should warn him about staying on the path - the palace isn’t any nicer about lost wanderers notwithstanding Lord Morpheus’ absence, after all. 

She does not and stays behind him.

“You have come far since I last met you, Hob Gadling.”

“Just Hob is fine, Lady Lucienne. And yes, it was a long way. I suppose you took a shortcut to the palace?”

“Of course I did.” 

She doesn’t offer him the same familiarity of using her given name and  has no intention of using his but - Hob Gadling seems like the embodiment of friendliness, despite the strangeness of his presence. 

He laughs. It’s a warm sound like the palace hasn’t heard in the longest time. Longer than the century Lord Morpheus was gone. She wants to believe that he is a sympathetic character. They walk in the dim light of the corridors, past junctions and up several stairs, around twisting bends - a spiralling, illogical maze that makes sense to exactly no one but Lord Morpheus and, at best, those that he allows to serve him in the palace. 

It should be impossible for a dreamer to navigate it without following a clearly set path.

And yet… Hob Gadling does.

Lucienne takes care to stay just half a step behind him at all times, just to be entirely sure. He never hesitates, he never slows his steps or turns to Lucienne to take point. On the contrary, he seems entirely unaware that she is the one following, instead of him.

“Why did you seek out the heart of Lord Morpheus’ Realm?”

“I thought that title went to Fiddler’s Green?” The question sounds like idle small talk, not something Lucienne likes to indulge in normally, but it has been so long since things have been normal in the Dreaming. 

“How do you know of Fiddler’s Green? Has the Drowning told you?”

“The Drow- oh yeah right,” he laughs sheepishly, “I suppose ‘The Nightmare of Drowning’ is a bit of a mouthful. And no, I met other nightmares on the way. A few of them fled to…” 

He flounders for words for a moment and doesn’t seem to notice how the crumbling relief on the wall he musingly runs his fingers over while walking is glowing with a red sheen.

Everything about this human is ludicrously impossible.

“...hm that strip of scorched Dreaming that starts after you leave the Houses of Mysteries and Secrets in the direction of the palace? I don’t know what it’s called. It’s not the nightmares’ country any longer, though.”

There is no such thing as a direction in the Dreaming, least of all for dreamers. 

The relief he has touched starts reassembling, stone chips and dust gently lifting from the floor he walks on and agglomerating in pristine shapes along the wall. 

Absolutely, gallingly impossible.

She swallows a soft inhale and when her eyes start watering, she tries to tell herself that it is just the unexpected dust. This is a sort of power and care that she has last seen employed in the hands of Lord Morpheus. 

“The Heart of the Dreaming - It is the title Lord Morpheus bestowed on one of his Arcana - Fiddler's Green, a long time ago,” she finally answers when she finds her voice again. “But this here, the palace, it is where Dream of the Endless resides. Without him, there is no Dreaming. It is all him.”

Hob Gadlings looks contemplative at that, as if the words remind him of something.

“…It empty though,” he finally says, some unnamable thing in his voice.  “I know that Lord Morpheus is missing. You told me so already. But still it’s… empty.”

“So he does. I did not expect you to remember. Dreamers rarely do.”

They come to a stand in front of elegant double doors. And Lucienne realises that she hasn’t kept an eye on their path at all for a while now.

Despite this, Hob Gadling has unerringly brought them to the remains of the throne room.

***

There is power in every stone, every filament and tapestry. It suffuses what he breathes as air, and the hollow part in him that has been replaced with the Sea and the Ruby vibrates. It’s a high pitched humming at the back of his mind that nearly makes him want to scratch at the inside of his skull. 

It’s hard to keep still, to not try and touch everything. It crackles under his fingertips, the power he associates with the Ruby, like the prelude to a storm. The palace is empty, yes, and it is yearning, screaming, pleading for its missing Lord. And Hob isn’t it; what it wants is not Hob and his power but it’s rightful ruler.  

“What would happen if Lord Morpheus never returns?” 

He’s curiously pushing at the double doors. They are finely wrought in carvings of illusive fairytale scenes and end in a pointed arch that makes him think of the gothic architecture of the Minster of York. 

“The Dreaming would decay entirely. The waking world as you know it would descend into chaos.”

What is left in the absence of a dream; or Dream, in this case. Weren’t dreams and hopes two sides of the same coin? 

“That sounds… awful, actually.”

“Very. Yes.” Lucienne steps up beside him. “So far, his absence has caused an ailment called Encephalitis Lethargica in the Waking. We still have dreamers here that have not left the realm in decades, and some who do not even reach us. I dare not imagine what would follow were the Realm to collapse entirely.”

Hob… can, actually. There were friends with him in the trenches that never woke up after falling asleep in 1916. He remembers the confusion and horror vividly. A new weapon of the Germans, they’d feared. More though, never found true rest again. They’d called it shellshock and yes, trauma was surely a large part of it but…The onset of the Sleepy Sickness was followed by the worst stretch of the First World War. 

Nausea churns in his stomach. To imagine that the impact has already been felt in the Waking - it’s hard to swallow that a world of dreams might have such an influence on the Waking. What would the world look like if its access to respite and hope was - restricted; or gone entirely. He doesn’t want to remember the Second World War at all. If it got to be even worse… 

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, right?” He hopes his grin isn’t as shaky as he feels.

Then, he finally pushed open the doors in front of him.

Lucienne slips past him, when he can’t manage to gather his wits fast enough in the face of what lies beyond. There’s something curious in the press of her lips, something between disapproval and naked hope.

“This is the throne room of Dream of the Endless, Hob Gadling. Will you not come in? You have led us here, after all.” 

The room is grand. 

Or rather, it was grand but the decay has not left even this innermost room of the palace untouched. The room stretches long before him, debris strewn in columns and shards up to the foot of winding stairs that rise unsupported towards three magnificent stained-glass windows.

The windows are unbroken, filtering colourful beams of ambient light into the cavernous room. It illuminates the remains of enormous arches that reach up high above him like the skeletal ribs of a slain beast. Beyond them, there is no ceiling. Glittering stars and nebulae make Hob feel as if he’s falling into space.   

Hob doesn’t have a lot of time to take it all in. 

The moment he has crossed into the room, a wave of power expands within him. It’s the nightmare sea’s full weight, it’s the ruby’s unfiltered heat and it drowns out every other sensation with him. He’s vaguely aware that he stumbles and manages to barely catch himself against the wall beside the entrance. His visions swims and he thinks he might lose consciousness if something like this was possible inside a dream

Under the hand he uses to support himself, marble carvings, once finely wrought like thinnest porcelain but now broken and chipped, regains their pristine edges and shapes. He hadn’t even meant to repair this. 

He takes a deep breath and then another, trying in vain to pull the power back underneath his skin and into himself. It’s there to stay. 

Lucienne, the only orderly thing inside the chaos of the throne room, observes him with sharp eyes. 

When he finally manages to right himself and steps between the debris and shards of glass to join Lucienne, dust starts to swirl around his feet and the insistent pull of the ruby’s power has him stumbling like a newborn foal. He’s too small for it, not enough by far.

“Lady Lucienne? I think… I think we really need to talk about what I came here for, now.”

It’s hard to swallow around the words, his teeth and tongue are unwieldy.  

“Indeed, we should.” Her voice is quiet and barely makes it above the insistent sound of crashing waves and static humming he hears. There is a careful hand on her shoulder and he finds himself led to the set of impossible stairs where he sits heavily.  

“I found something in the Waking,” he forces out and does his best to calm the grip the ruby and the nightmare sea have on him. It’s… exhausting, and his stomach churns uneasily under the greedily pulling sensation. 

“A jewel. I think. I think  it might have come from here.”

“A jewel you say?” 

“A… ruby. Or at least it looks like one. Since I found it, I have started this - this dreaming journey. It has… a strange power to it.” 

Lucienne’s face is shuttered and her glasses make it hard for Hob to evaluate her ecpression. She’s taken a step back from him, tense and straight but her words are gentle.

“There are many magical stones and artefacts in the Waking, Hob Gadling. Some of them, in the right hands, might even allow you some measure of control over yourself in this realm. They must not necessarily have come from here, to let you dream lucidly as you do.”

That would explain the very beginning he guesses but nothing of the rest of it all.

“This here is not exactly the same as lucid dreaming, though, is it?” He makes sure that he’s as gentle as she is, that nothing of his fight to stay above the pull of the ruby gets out. “This is not really my dream at all, am I right? This is the place where dreams and nightmares dwell and I don’t think I should be able to perceive it like I do.”

They stare at each other for a long moment. Before she unfolds her staunchly crossed arms.

“You are not wrong, Hob Gadling. There is a way to prove it, once and for all. If this jewel is truly of the Dreaming, then you should be able to take it with you when you come here. If it is of the Waking, it cannot cross into your dreams with you and retain its properties.” 

“Just like that? I could have proven-”

Hob breaks off. There’s no need to make himself look even more foolish. If he’d just dared to wear the ruby after all…

“Yes. Just like that.” The small crinkle of her nose and eyes is silent laughter. There’s unexpected warmth to it. 

Hob grins self-deprecatingly and braces himself for having to wait out his time in the Dreaming. He’ll have to leave the palace before long; he doesn’t think he can sustain himself against the power of the ruby very long any more. He feels as empty as the palace, hollowed out and scraped clean by the tides of the Dreaming Sea and the jewel. There’s not a lot left for him to give without getting something, anything really, in return. Otherwise there’ll be nothing left of him. 

He shudders and makes to stand with trembling knees.    

“I need to wait until I wake.” It goes without speaking, that in Dreaming time that could take a long long while, still.

There’s something considering in Lucienne’s gaze before she turns and walks towards the part of the wall he’d accidentally repaired when coming in. She runs a hand over the intricately carved wall cornice musingly and looks between him and the broken stairs to the throne.

“Try willing it,” she says quietly. 

“What?”

“Try it. Tell yourself that this dream is over and will yourself awake.”

“I don’t think that’ll really work.”

It couldn’t be that easy, could it? He could just -

***

Hob opens his eyes in the dark of his bedroom and rears upright with his heart rabbiting against his ribcage. It did work; and it was truly that easy.

“Fuck.” He runs a hand over his face. He’s not sleepy but wide awake. Like always. 

“What the actual -”

It worked. How has that worked? Granted, he’s never before tried to actively make himself wake up - why would he after all - but this was just… this was too easy and too real. The power he’d felt in the palace tingles in his fingertips like static. It’s not gone entirely but for now, in the Waking, it’s manageable.  

He disentangles himself from his bedsheets and plants his feet squarely onto the cool floorboards. It doesn’t help much against the feeling of waves crashing against his insides. 

The ruby glows where it sits innocuously on his bedside table, hypnotic as always. It resonates somewhere within Hob’s mind and makes his head ring faintly. It stays, no matter how hard Hob rubs his face. 

“You’re the real thing then.”

Dread pulls at his stomach. This has terrible implications for his Stranger. If he even is a stranger any longer. Because if this ruby is of the Dreaming - what are the chances that his Stranger isn’t. There are many dreams and nightmares missing, as far as Hob has seen, but there is not a particularly large likelihood that someone who holds a power that belongs to the palace of Dream of the Endless is a mere dreamthing.   

It’s… a staggering thought and Hob shies away from it. Waking up on purpose is not enough proof. He needs to bring the ruby back to Lucienne. It’s the only way to be absolutely certain about what he fears.  

The gem is warm to the touch and slips around Hob's neck without second thought - as if it belongs there. It’s unexpectedly heavy and the fine gold chain he’d bought seems suddenly insufficient to carry its weight in the long run. The moment the stone settles on his skin the ringing in his head stops. So does the staticky feeling. Instead, it’s just the deeply thrumming growl of waves breaking against waves. 

It fills him, every nook and cranny and pore of him until he feels he might burst with the sheer might that suddenly runs through his much too human body.  

He’s too small, too tiny in the scope of things to hold this power without it changing him irrevocably. 

He doesn’t know what is different this time; it's by far not the first time he touches the stone. But maybe it's not mere physical contact at all, he realises slowly, thoughts nearly sluggish under the weight of the Dreaming Sea and the ruby combined. He is now actively acknowledging its power, after all; for the first time he accepts it in a way he has never dared to before. 

He’s always felt it reaching for him, surely. It’s only now that he is reaching back. He’s made space for the ruby and its power after all. It’s time to accept what it gives in return. 

Hob only realises that he’s closed his eyes, when he finally deigns to open them again. He’s still sitting on the bed in his flat above the New Inn. It’s still the night hours of a new day. Around him, there is a spread of awareness that reaches out into the world. It starts small but he can feel it expanding with every heartbeat.

His neighbour is still sleeping, as is the old couple one floor up. Their visiting grandson teeters on the edge of waking. Across the street a man is in the last throes of a nightmare, its presence a brush of warm water to Hob’s cold black sea. Fears, old and new, linger in the wake of the shadows. 

There is a shimmer to the world, a curtain behind which he glimpses the Waking in strands of truth and story and fears. 

He becomes aware, mind reeled back into himself, at the window. London is sleeping and Hob can feel all those dreamers like little pebbles sinking through the Dreaming sea. And beyond the humans, beyond London and England - he snuffs the thought, suddenly nauseous, his unspooled awareness like the sting of a rubber band that has been stretched too far before snapping back. 

Is this how his Stranger had felt when he’d worn the ruby? Because this is more than just a paltry bit of magical power. This is responsibility and duty. Hob could decide hold them all, those Dreamers, and guide them … or clench his hand mercilessly and -

This is inconceivable.     

He falls heavily into his armchair. The ruby needs to go to Lucienne, as fast as possible. Natural sleep, though, feels a million miles out of his reach at the moment. On the other hand, he did will himself awake once already. Curiously, he prodds the veil that sits ephemeral somewhere at the back of his too small mind. 

He might just as well try the reverse of waking up and will himself to sleep. Slowly he leans back and gets comfortable in the armchair.

“Sleep, Hobsie,” he mutters as he reaches into the power of the stone and pulls at the veil.

He doesn’t even have to close his eyes before he appears in the throne room between one heartbeat and the next, the ruby hanging heavily around his neck.

Beyond the palace, there's the raging sound of heavy rain and booming thunder. 

***

Interlude

Dream cannot stop the shudder that runs through his crafted, cold body when it happens. He carefully unfolds his limbs until he is upright again and sitting in his temporary prison. 

Where the warm flow of stories had settled underneath his skin, there is now the gentle hum of power. He cannot reach for it, not through the bindings of the circle but it is there nonetheless - the ebb and flow of his might and his realm as he hasn’t felt it in longer than a century. 

It is the culmination of a development the true reason of which he can only speculate on. The warmth that had burrowed unbiddenly underneath Dream’s skin has persisted. No, not persisted. It has grown - steadily and unnoticeably at first until it flowed nearly like mortal blood though every part of him. 

But it’s not only power and warmth he feels. 

He has bent his whole focus on it, dissected its flow, its cause, its effect. What he has found  is gentle care shown to the Dreaming that has grown into something more. So much more that it changes him even in his prison. He is the Dreaming, even here, even cut off from it.  

There is endurance in his limbs where there was the strength of rage before. The colour of faith is a new blush on his cheeks and lips, a trickle of spring that contrasts the winter of his cell. He has - grown used to it, over the months. Cherished it. Awaited each increase.

This, now, is more than that. It is a surge, a rising wave that blazes through him without an inkling of remorse. He tilts his head up and smiles at the painted ceiling. A large part of his power has just been fully returned the Dreaming. 

Someone has brought his ruby back and restored it to its primary purpose. 

He wonders how long it will be until he finds an opportunity to leave. He wants to see for himself who serves him undaunted and bold like this. 

*** 

It’s worse than wearing it in the Waking. 

Much much worse.

The jewel is heavy, chain cutting deeply into his neck. It's bright, nearly too bright to look into and it hums with the voices of millions, billions of Dreamers all vying for Hob’s attention at once simply for being there. When Hob closes his eyes, he’s swimming in a dark, endless sea, lost in between all the beings that make up this realm. 

Quickly he slams his eyes back open, panting as if he’d really been caught in the deep sea. For the longest moment he can’t differentiate between the thunder crashing around the palace and the booming waves of power pounding inside him.  

There‘s too much in his head. His skin is wrong, his body is wrong. 

In the many facets of the ruby, he can see his own face - thinner than he's used to, black-bleeding eyes staring back at him. There’s no trace of the brown he’s used to, only the same black he knows from the eyes of the nightmare of Drowning. 

“I knew it,” he pants, out of breath simply from trying to hold on to his sense of self, “I knew it was from here.” 

The grin he shoots at Lucienne is probably more a grimace. 

She doesn’t return it anyway. She has a hand in front of her mouth and there are unmistakably tears running down her cheeks even if she’s quick in wiping away the evidence. She’s not looking at Hob at all, though. She’s entirely fixated on the ruby that lays heavily on his chest. 

“Yes,” she breathes, voice thick, “this is a thing of the Dreaming. It is Lord Morpheus’ Dreamstone.” 

She brushes new tears away before they fall. “He would never be parted from it of his own will. It is an extension of his power, a sign of his sovereignty.”

“Lord Morpheus’... Dreamstone.” 

He’d known it, hadn’t he? At one point, he thinks, he must have realised the possibility that his Stranger and the missing Lord of the Dreaming were one and the same, right? He’d simply - decided to ignore it.  

“Do you want to know why I kept it at all after I came across it? It wasn’t for any kind of power I felt from it. To be honest, I didn’t feel shit at first.” 

Hob hears himself laugh but it’s an ugly, self-deprecating sound.

“I kept it because it reminded me of my Stranger. The one I met up with over the many centuries of life he gifted me with. One century, one meeting. I kept it because it reminded me of the stupidly large gemstone he would wear each century. Except he didn’t show up last time, did he? And I… missed him; miss him now even, more than a decade later.” 

His eyes are hot and he doesnt think he could stop the tears if he tried. He doesn’t even know why he’s feeling so betrayed by this. He’d come here purely because he wanted to know about a magical stone. He was an idiot. An utter and complete fool.

“You’re telling me- What you’re telling me is, that the man - being - who I owe my immortality to, who is most likely missing in action, is your Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless.”

A foolish human meddling with forces beyond his imagination. Why is he so angry that this is the way he learns about his Stranger? It’s not as if it makes a lick of difference. Hob still misses him, still wishes he could have had a chance or a way to show him that he’s come to care for him. 

“Yes, of course that is him.” 

“What do you mean, of c- “ He breaks off at the curious expression she looks at him with. It’s nearly apprehension. It dawns on him at once “… You knew. You knew who I was the moment I said my name, am I right?” 

“I did. There has been a lot of talk in the palace about you over the centuries, Hob Gadling.”

The storm outside howls against the stained glass windows and Lucienne frowns uneasily.

“Then why didn’t you say anything?”  But why should she have? Hob himself had given no inkling of recognizing her Lord’s name or station after all. He’d given her no reason - he’d only asked for advice.

“I… apologise,” she says, “I should not have held back the information.” 

Again she throws a tense glance at the windows. She says more but Hob can't hear her over the howling inside his dreaming body and the winds battering the palace noisily. He’s angry - at himself mostly or at fate maybe. Why hadn’t he wanted to wear the ruby? If he had, would he have found out earlier? He hurts, everything hurts and bends and stretches in ways that are impossible even in his worst nightmares.

His Stranger hasn’t come to their meeting, Dream of the Endless doesn’t freely part with his Dreamstone, has been missing since 1916 if Lucienne is to be believed - something horrible must have happened. And Hob has squandered precious years by dithering, pitying himself, by being to much of a coward to- 

He grips his arms with nails that are much too long to belong to him. They shimmer, black and shiny and sharp. He feels thin and hollow and angry. Something in him hungers. He hasn’t felt hunger in so long. 

“Sir! Hob Gadling! Hob!” Lucienne’s hand on his too pale arm rips him out of his spiral.

“L-Lucienne. What is-”

“I apologise,” she says again, more softly this time and despite the howling in Hob’s ears he hears her easily, her touch on his skin a steady grounding point. “I should have been frank with you from the moment I recognized who you are.”

“It’s- it’s fine. I’m mostly angry at myself,” he grits out and then closes his mouth again. There is something wrong with his teeth.

“What is happening to me?”

“I do not know, Sir,” Lucienne's voice startles him despite having expected it. She’s much too close now, nearly hovering. “But whatever it is that the Dreaming is doing to you, it is trying to help you fulfil the purpose you set for yourself. It… is partial to you. Very much so, I fear.” 

“It’s the ruby, though. Not the - not the Dreaming.” 

“There’s no difference. None that matters at least,” she says, “The Dreamstones are as much a part of the Dreaming as they are a part of Lord Morpheus. Here, in his Realm, it is the Dreaming’s tool. Just as it is Lord Morpheus’ when he wields it.” 

Hob's smile is a shaky thing as a long overdue realisation slowly takes shape. 

“The purpose I set myself, huh… What I wanted…” 

What had he wanted, at first? He’d wanted to see his stranger again when he first found the ruby, wanted to find him and apologise. Then, when he began his journey in the Dreaming, he'd been curious, and enchanted. 

But after that, he'd just wanted to help - help those sadly decaying things of beauty he’d come across - full of teeming possibilities but slowly falling prey to hopeless dereliction - help that fantastical landscape who’s scorched bones screamed for something that had been ripped away.

And he’d wished to help that depthless sea that had hummed and whispered underneath his skin and in the shadows of the world he had so easily come to love the longer he had walked in it… 

“I wanted to help this place,” he whispers, “because I've… grown to love it.”

The Dreaming and Dream of the Endless are the same, he remembers. He doesn’t think it makes any difference at all to disentangle which one he’s fallen in love with. 

It’s okay, though, he thinks as he considers his nails and feels his teeth. He’d given freely of himself and he doesn’t begrudge the Dreaming for trying to give something back. It’s only fair. He’s not going to eschew the gift it offers in reciprocity. 

[quitealotofsodapop]

Century Stone Egg au asks;

Some were sent in at the early-mid of Decemeber so I apologise if the story for Century Stone Egg au has altered since;

Oh gosh once the shock wears off, Wukong would super not want the decendants/reincarnations of his family hanging around in case the theories he read in Lao Tzu's books/Gold Star's research are proven true, and he fatally absorbs their dao energy on accident.

Ofc that doesn't happen. Those were only *theories* in the research. But Wukong doesn't know that!

The visitors are hard to get rid of tho. It like dealing with stray cats.

Stray cats that insist on feeding him, getting him new clothes/blankets, fixing his hut, helping him catch up with what he missed in the world, helping him organise infant care, offering access to mental health services etc...

It icks him out.

Don't get Wukong wrong, he is super touch-starved and grateful for all the attention/help, but he also feels bad for his visitors. He doesn't want them to keep coming just because they're connected to his pilgrim brothers. He also feels wrong for recieving help from Iron Fan during this time because he feels like she's only doing so as a favor to DBK.

Wukong tries his best to distance from them all. But damn aint they stubborn! Especially the little baby dragon who reminds Wukong so painfully of Ao Lie - the pup's Will somehow surpassing even the Great Sage's.

Mei: "Hug!" Wukong: "No sour-plum. No hug." Mei, frowning: "Hug!!" Wukong: "...oh I can't just not. C'mere you little kiwi!" Wukong: *picks up Mei and blows a raspberry on her chubby cheek* Mei: *shriek of delight!*

Tang is also super hard to get away from when he has big questions to ask, esp since Wukong really can't run far enough XD. Pigsy even more so since he insists Wukong "sits 'yer butt down and eat! You look starved!". Sandy lets Wukong come and go as he pleases, but never leaves the island without giving the monkey nice tea blends he might like + reccomendations for relaxing therapys.

The Ao-Longs are like a double battle of stubborn energy, they just had a baby themselves and have drastically more preparation than Wukong has in the nursery department. So they aren't leaving until Wukong understands "baby-proofing" and what not to feed them in the first few months. They def buy the monkeys product they themselves use, and Long Chao would probs give himself a concussion trying to build Wukong a crib as a surprise present.

Wukong simply can't get away from their motherhenning.

And ofc once Wukongs' subjects/fellow monkey demons find out that he's awake (cus they will), they immediately mobilize to fix what was left of the Stone Palace to make it fit for their King and his Cub. Wukong weakly insists not to go through so much trouble... but once he sees the palace in a fraction of it's former glory, he starts blubbering. The Stalwarts have to hold back from tackling their King into a tight hug after they finally reunite after so long.

Wukong still cries some nights. Missing the ones left behind so long ago. Especially his mate.

And even with being so secretive and careful of who knew about the Stone Egg; word travels fast...

And far enough to reach even Diyu...

[bugflies00]

au crimeboys make me so so insane

it's not dadbur per say, even though wilbur does get custody of tommy and raise him, but tommy doesn't see him as his dad.

if anything, for a long time tommy didn't understand what a dad (or any parent) was supposed to do, because for him that was what wilbur did. so people would be like "dont you have a mum and dad?" he'd be like "no i have a wilbur" not because he sees wilbur as a dad but because wilbur is . wilbur. yknow? like his own category that's impossible to define by """normal""" family standards. wilbur is all of tommy's family at once, because he's all he's got, and he's his brother and his dad and his best friend.

because wilbur raised him, put him to sleep, put bandaids on his knees when he fell, taught him how to read and write and tie his shoelaces and not to chew with his mouth open and how to ride a bike and picked him up from school and went to parent teacher meetings.

but wilbur's also his brother, they're constantly roughhousing and punching each other and tommy's always trying to steal his stuff and get on his nerves and wilbur's always trying to get tommy a babysitter so he can go party and get drunk without his lame little brother.

but also wilbur is like. the most certain constant of tommy's life. i mean he was just two when they were put into foster care, he doesn't remember his parents, definitely not the social workers or foster parents who cycled every couple months, and he didn't make any true long-term friends until tubbo when he was about 9 or 10. so wilbur is like. the only person he's always known and will always know and that he's never doubted will be here forever. he's the first person he remembers!!!!

and so obviously tommy is absolutely ride or die for wilbur, even though he'd never admit it because he remains tommyinnit. they're also very codependent as you can guess.

tommy's really clingy but so is wilbur, and they kinda have a shift in their dynamic where like. when wilbur was a teen and tommy was 10-11, wilbur was trying to push him away for a while because yknow he was going through it (it being depression addiction the whole deal) and lashing out while tommy was trying to cling on. but then when they're a bit older, wilbur is the one who clings onto tommy because he's terrified he'll leave him too, especially when the prospect of tommy going away to college starts profiling itself.

that's something that wilbur takes a loooooong time to accept, because for a while he was flat out forbidding tommy from going off to college anyway further than a half hour ride. which is obviously. not very healthy. eventually he accepts but he completely motherhens the whole time to the point where tommy has to be like "im literally 18 ill be fine im not leaving forever" but wilbur still has a hard time the whole period tommy's away.

and anyway tommy doesn't cope well with it either, he had this whole idea of going off to college to try something new and make new friends, but once he's there he hates it. he realises it that he hasn't actually made friends since tubbo when he was 9 (he met ranboo through tubbo), because having his two best friends and his brother was always enough for him. and so he's completely alone with all these people he doesn't know how to talk to, and he starts spiralling and his grades start dropping, and he has the whole thing with dream. so eventually tommy does come back home because really he's just as clingy and he couldn't stand being away like that.

eventually when they're older they grow into something that's less... desperate i want to say? obviously they still love each other so much but they're able to hang out and spend time together in a way that doesn't feel like. "if im separated from you for more than two days i will literally die because i've been relying on you and defining myself around you my entire life" yknow?

it's a very complicated situation because they care so so so much about each other and would both kill and die for the other, but they've also hurt each other a lot. wilbur especially lashed out a lot when he was a teenager, and tommy often felt like it was his fault they couldn't stay in a good house for long, because he was too loud and rambuctious etc. there's also a whole bit with their last foster home that i want to explore but that is its own post

there's also an element of like. tommy feels guilty that wilbur had to put his whole life on pause to take care of him but wilbur doesn't see it that way. one day when they're having a really messy and bad argument he shouts something along the lines of not wanting the responsibility of tommy in the first place, which is something tommy takes a looooooooong time to heal from, and it's not even true. not just because he loves tommy, but because if it wasn't for that responsibility he doesn't think he would be alive. not in a metaphorical sense, as in very concretely, 12 to 20 yr old wilbur was in a daily mantra of "you can't kill yourself tommy is relying on you." and then it became "you can't kill yourself tommy and fundy are relying on you." and wilbur doesn't want to share that with tommy because in general he tries his best to never tell him anything dark like that (which on one hand yeah your 15 yr old brother isn't your therapist but on the other hand Do You Understand How Emotional Communication Works no he doesn't lmao) . but in the end he does end up telling him when he understands that tommy feels so guilty about him taking care of him and it's a very . important conversation in their lives . They cry a lot 👍

[rarepears]

Thank you so much for answering me back 🙂

I have another if you don't mind;

What universe do you think would be the healthiest for Itachi? If Itach was reborn what universe and what characters would be a balm to his soul and let him heal and grow as a person? Finally move on from being that horrifically traumatized teenager who was rode hard and put away wet by every adult and caretaker he ever had?

(ask continued:)

Cause I think it would be Gakuren Babysitters Club https://www.google.com/search?q=gakuen+babysitters&client=ms-android-verizon&prmd=ivn&sxsrf=ALiCzsa0cc6LmXWHW24-UziMa-FzvDZJKQ:1670086047369&source=lnms&tbm=vid&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjH3uOs8937AhWZkmoFHb_SAfgQ_AUoAnoECAEQAg&biw=360&bih=564&dpr=3#

(Sorry for the double ask, accidentally hit submit)

**

lol now I'm just imagining Itachi in various sports mangas. But the funniest would be Hikaru no Go - imagine Itachi being haunted by a ghost! but it's a ghost who only wants to... play a boardgame?

This is pretty fantastic all in all for Itachi: a peaceful game that can make him plenty of money for his therapy sessions, no crazy fame (other than the crazy go players themselves), and plenty of motherhen go players who want to see this young prodigy grow well so he can keep playing go with them forever. No one would blink an eye at his bad tech skills or his kind of weird outdated way of talking, walking, and dress. Eccentricity is normal - even encouraged - among the brilliant go players, so all of Itachi's ninja traits are just... normal. for a go-pro that is.

[raccoonsunratdust]

No Bones About It

Welcome to my newest passion project that I will most likely abandon immediately

a skeleharem isekai written by your favorite void uncle itself

Kini

enjoy~~

~|~

When a beam of light shot out from the ground of an isolated backyard, the residents all startled and rushed to see what could have caused this incident. Perhaps the machine had malfunctioned again? Maybe it was something else entirely. Whatever had happened, it caused a group of figures to start moving to the source of the explosion. 

Classic sat silently in the spare bedroom they had converted into a triage room for the injured, from the looks of it, human they had found in their backyard. He stared, unblinking, frustration lacing his magic and making him shake slightly. They had been laying there, unmoving, for the past three days. Some of the others had been getting worried, scared that the fall had killed them. He had to admit, when he saw them in the crater, their mangled body unresponsive, he was worried he’d have to fill in the hole as their final resting ground. But when Blue jumped in to check for a pulse, and actually found one, the chaos started.

His brother took the liberty of preparing the empty room for the injured human, it was getting hard to refer to them as anything else, and Blue started to load them up with healing magic. It was horrifying to listen to their bones crack back into place, those would not be healing fully anytime soon. Classic kept a calm facade and pulled out his phone to call Toriel, no use in freaking her out until she saw the damage herself. Dialing her number, he turned away from the carnage to watch the others. Not many were home, most were off working or doing whatever it was they liked to do in their spare time.

Toriel picked up on the second ring.

“Sans? Hello! It’s been so long since we talked, how have you been?”

“I’ve been good, Tori. Hey, I’ve got a huge favor to ask you…”

When Toriel showed up, the human had already been moved into, he hated the thought of this strange person having a claim in his new family’s home, their room. Upon seeing them, she immediately broke into motherhen mode. She administered first aid the magic couldn’t perform, bandaging them up and fashioning splints to keep their healing bones in place. After scolding them all for not telling her what had happened so she would be more prepared, she went home, leaving the boys to figure out what to do with the unconscious human in their guest room. 

That was three days ago. They had taken turns watching them, monitoring their healing and changing their bandages. It was difficult explaining the situation to the rest of their housemates, but they couldn’t just keep something like this a secret forever. The air was stagnant and heavy. When Toriel had visited that first day, she washed the human of the blood and dirt that covered them. She figured none of the residents were willing to, and she was right. The only skeletons willing to watch over the human were either too uncomfortable to undress them or simply didn’t care enough.

Sans nearly jumped out of his skin, heh, when a faint groan resonated across the room. He was on his feet instantly and at the bed before the human could make another sound. He watched their eyes struggle to crack open, crust lining their lashes, before releasing a strangled sigh. Their eyes shifted to the side, hoping to get a better sense of their surroundings. When they got to Sans’ hovering figure, they stopped, opened their mouth, and shouted the one thing he could have never expected.

“SANS UNDERTALE!?”

Shouted was a generous term, it was more like a pathetic croak, given their vocal cords hadn’t been used in who knows how long. At the exclamation, though, Sans took pause. Summoning a Gaster Blaster, he wasted no time intimidating the now awake human. At the sight of the ghastly creature in front of them, the human sat up, despite having atrophied slightly after days of bed rest. Having made a terrible decision, they immediately crumple in agony, tears pricking their eyes. Sans hesitated for a moment, realizing that this person wasn’t likely to be a threat at this point in time. 

There still stood the issue of them knowing his name. Relighting his blaster, he used blue magic to keep the weak human laying down. Putting on his practiced voice, Sans started to interrogate the injured human, “How do you know my name, who are you, where did you come from?”

The invisible weight of their soul being pressed against the bed made them panic, a merinthophobic fear of not being able to move their body. Taking a deep breath, they answered through a shaky voice, “My name is Y/N, and I’m not from this universe.”

They take his silence as an invitation to continue, “Look, all I know is one moment I was hiking on this mountain path, the next I was falling down this hole in the ground. I lost consciousness before I hit the ground, but I don’t know how far I fell. The hole was so deep…”

Sans sighed. They must have fallen down a version of Mount Ebott that linked their two worlds together. That would somewhat explain why they fell out of the sky and into his backyard, but it didn’t explain how it happened. Unsummoning his blaster, he focused his gaze back on the fallen human, “That still doesn’t explain how you know my name.”

At this, Y/N looked embarrassed, “In my word, you’re a videogame character. One I’m very fond of.” They take a second to think, “How did I get here, Sans? I can’t- I have friends and family at home, I can’t stay here. I need to go back home.”

Sans looked conflicted, he didn’t even know how they got here, let alone how to get them back to where they came from. They’d been trying to fix the machine and get everyone back home for months now. It would turn on randomly and link universes whenever it felt like, dragging anomalies into his world. Seeing his guilty face, the human started to cry. 

“I’m not going back, am I? I’m stuck here. You can’t fix the machine. God, why did this have to happen to me of all people? I thought I was a good person. Why did I have to be punished like this? I’m never going to see my family again.” Y/N continued to ramble, sobbing quietly to themself. At this point, Sans had removed the blue magic holding their soul down, letting them curl up painfully. He never thought he would feel bad for this human.

After the rift broke, Sans held a quiet resentment towards the human race. The trauma of the resets had broken his soul several times over, and now he had to take care of this random human that crash landed into his backyard? But, watching them cry, snot dripping out of their nose and their face red from strain, he couldn’t help but pity them.

The first judge had a choice to make. Should he kill the shaking human in front of him, their pathetic sobs chilling him to the bone, or should he show them mercy.

[yanderelovlies]

Lol had to do it like this cause I messed up last time. Sorry!

Sunny Day Jack

Jack's motherhen tendencies are in high alert since the day he met you. The first time you show signs of light headed or fatigue he is immediately taking you somewhere safe.

He makes sure when your getting up from the any sitting or laying position he has a hand on you for support, and makes sure you take it nice and slow.

Did i mention he cooks for you as well? Well he does he looks up recipes that would help you, ans to make sure you would like how it tatse he would frequently come to you asking you to taste it.

Jack is also very gently when it comes to sex. He is afraid to hurt you. So all his touches, kisses, thrusts, and bites are soft and full of so much love.

Jack is a kind and caring man <only to you though> and wants nothing more for you to be safe and happy. He will do whatever it is you need him to no hesitation. You don't have to deal with this alone sunshine. Not as long as he is around

Joseph

The first time it happens is when you were doing his makeup for a show. When you started falling back he was quick to catch you. He is panicking hard.

He moved the two of you so you were sitting in the chair until you wake up again. When he learns it isn't life threatening he is equal amounts relived but more protective.

Not only does he help you eat things that keep you frome fainting, but he will be damned if anyone yells at you. Jean? Will fight him on site. The Boss? Will yell back job be damned. Your more important to him.

Needless to say his protectivness didn't earn him many likes in the studio. However once again he didn't care in the slightest as long as you still love him. Besides all of this he is very gentle with you, and is always there for you when faint.

He can't help but be a little rough with you in bed. He tries so hard to be gentle and loving, but you moan so pretty he can't help it. However the first time things seem off he stops and checks in you, and if need be he will stop all together. He just might have to visit the bathroom for a bit.

Basically you have scary dog privileges when it comes to Joseph <might even wear a collar and leash>, but when it comes to you he seems harmless and helpful. He loves you too much to let something happen to you.

[toomanyplotbunnies-sendhelp]

Hello and welcome to Day 7 of "Let's Explore My Plot Bunnies"

Sorry for posting this a bit late today, I was busy, and the idea was a bit complicated to put in words. (Don't you love when your brain gives you only vivid images but abandons you when you need to describe them? Yeah, me too)

The fic idea I wanna explore today is actually a collab fanfic between me and my friend @yokomisaki.

This is a Canon Divergence AU for Naruto that both of us came up with around *checks notes* July 13th, 2023. It actually started with me saying that "Shiranui Genma is definitely a motherhen to anybody that he deems in need of motherhening" and that evolved into "Shiranui Genma would make a great Jounin Sensei" before it settled into "Make Shiranui Genma a Jonin Sensei and then throw Naruto at him cause god, does the kid need someone like him in his life".

I came up with a title for this fic, and we already started writing it. I have done a small part of the prologue so far, but we have chapters planned out (just not written out yet).

Title of the fic:

"The late dog always barks at the closed door"

(Yes, it is a jab at Kakashi's habit of being late. Is it mean of me to do this? Yes. Do I care? Not really. I feel he needs a bit of a reality check for that; like, you can be late for your own personal meetings but NOT FOR A FREAKING OFFICIAL MEETING)

Synopsis/Description:

Shiranui Genma is many things, but he is not a teacher. At least not until the Hokage decides that, in the wake of one Jounin Sensei's death, he is to take a team of 3 freshly graduated children under his wing. The good news is that he is not obligated to pass them. The bad news is that he actually likes the brats - despite the fact that he knows only headaches will follow him now.

In the one year he had the brats for a lot changed, including what one of his students wanted to do with her life as a shinobi. Now, Genma is required to get a new Gennin to make up for the student (and she is still his student dammit; no official paper will ever change that) that decided to pursue the career of "not-battle active medic-nin".

When it was time for him to choose, he recognized a certain hyperactive blonde as part of the rooster he could choose from - which is weird since Hatake seems to want him. So then why was not the kid already spoken for?

After some consideration, Genma came up with his answer.

"Hokage-sama, I want to take Uzumaki Naruto as the new member for Team 3."

Some details:

I know Team 3 is supposed to be Might Guy, Neji Hyuuga, Tenten, and Rock Lee; however, I have always believed them to be team 9, so it is really hard for me to correct that belief. Thus, just for the sake of my brain, Genma's team is Team 3, while Guy's team is team 9.

This fic will have (so far) 4 OCs: Kawamura Chizuru (Part of Team 3 - retires from active duty but is still considered part of the team by Genma); Nomura Akira (Part of Team 3); Higashi Kyoka (Part of Team 3); Sakaki Ichirou (the boy that takes Naruto's place in team 7)

Yes, at Naruto's graduation team, because he also got to graduate, there was one person that would have to be put in another team as the numbers wouldn't add up (think instead of 21 kids aka 7 teams of 3, there are 22 kids that graduated)

We have most of the plot for the OG series already thought out; the Shippuden part is more complicated (because of what we do with the pervious part)

Naruto is getting the darn support system that he is in need of in this AU

And I am not overlooking Sasuke either. Without Naruto around to push him, Sasuke will realize that he is pretty much isolated (thank you Konoha Elders and Teacher from the Akademy (Not Iruka), you did a fantastic job *note the sarcasm*). Cause really, the main reason why it didn't look like Sasuke was isolated by others (and instead it showed he chose isolation) is because Naruto is like 10 people in one presence-wise. And because I am taking Naruto away from the picture, I raise you this idea: Get Raidou (or any competent adult) to interact with Sasuke. Sasuke needs more competent adults in his life at this point

Everyone - and I mean EVERYONE - is getting character development. Even just some characters that appear for a few times. And I am dragging Kakashi from his brooding corner, kicking and screaming if I have to. (And yes, that includes villains, too. *looks at my brain planned storyline* And summons get the same treatment as well)

Another thing: Political Sub-plot. Ya think that with all the importance they put on, not only rank but missions that get you in different countries, this show would have more political talk; but no. So we are bringing Naruto into politics. Inter-village Politics, to be precise. Naruto, prepare your Talk no Jutsu.

Also, Fuuinjutsu Made-Up Theory Stuff. Just because I can and I will (I am in charge of Fuuinjitsu stuff). Genma is making Naruto learn them from scratch.

We are addressing the fact that the Shinobi Academy of Konoha was turned into a "civilian playground" because of the Konoha Elders. (It's way worse than you can think if Genma makes Naruto re-learn stuff from zero) - there is no way any fight will have some bullshit pop-quiz about History or Chakra Theory. How in the world are those kids alive?

We also have Orochimaru Plot™️. A whole ton of it too.

We also get into the "Preparation to Take a Life on the Battlefield" thing. Because people there seem to not do it anymore. Like, get the kids to kill animals in the wild after catching them. Is it hard? Yes. But THEY NEED THE DAMN EXPERIENCE SO THEY DON'T FREEZE UP AS BADLY IN COMBAT.

Get Naruto into the Tactical Thinking. Not because he is Shikamaru Level at it; but because he is good at surprising the enemy. So Naruto's shenanigans + some tactician lessons = Perfect Combo for Ambush.

Naruto and Kurama interact earlier. And, while it won't be that much better than the beginning of their friendship in the anime, we are getting the friendship a lot faster this time.

Finally, Team 3, being trained by Genma, starts to pick up having Senbons on them. It's like their "mark" as Genma's kids. (Genma is so proud)

This is all I have currently (mostly because it's late at night here, and I am losing my thought process). I will also post what I have written from the Prologue after this is posted, so look forward to that.

So, what do you think? Good? Bad?

I will see you guys later. Take care and have a great day/night!

- TooManyPlotBunnies-Send Help

[canofspooks]

Phantom Goes Cross-Country (Chapter 1)

Summary: After Danny's life goes downhill, his friends save the day with a roadtrip. Maybe all he needs is to get out of Amity for a while.

Words: 870

AO3 Link

Only a few hours away from Amity Park, and Danny already felt the relief sinking into his bones as he leaned out the window of the car. Without the haze of ectoplasmic mist, he could see dozens more stars dotting the night sky. It was silly, wasn't it? All this time, he could've taken a bus over to the next town and seen just as much of a difference in scenery.

But he hadn't - hence the part where he was getting "kidnapped" by his friends from highschool on an impromptu road trip.

He glanced over at Sam asleep in the back seat. How she managed to pass out in her elaborate outfit was beyond him. It felt like her boots went on forever, only to be continued on by the leather pants that couldn't have been comfortable to sleep in. She had more belts than he thought necessary, and a black tank top adorned with a completely unnecessary amount of chain jewelry.

It was a lazy outfit by Sam's standards, she told him when they first picked him up. Danny's idea of "lazy" involved a t-shirt and shorts - what Sam had rolled up in was mildly motivated at least.

By comparison, he and Tucker were in rags. Tucker was a hipster and wore it on his sleeve, and Danny had rolled out of bed, thrown a hoodie on, and called it a day. It was on-par with what one would expect from a couple of guys in their 20's, and Danny was happy to be a stereotype.

"Is the beanie glued on your head, or…" Danny teased.

Tucker raised an eyebrow. "Says the guy still wearing a hoodie he got in middle school."

"Touché."

With the silence already broken, Tucker's shoulders relaxed. He kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead, and hands grabbing the steering wheel with a death grip, but Danny had seen his friend have the same frightened rabbit posture back when they were first learning to drive. Turns out not much had changed in that time.

"So… what'd you finally decide to do about the ghosts?" Tucker asked.

"I called in a favor with Vlad Masters. He owes me one."

That was a bit of an understatement. What hadn't he done to prepare? With only a couple days' notice about this little reunion trip, Danny had been in overdrive for the last 72 hours. He'd gotten his vacation days in order, done a little mild threatening to make sure his coworkers would actually come to their shifts, called Vlad for the first time in ages to beg the man to keep an eye on Amity, and tipped off the G.I.W. to make sure they'd be on-alert for anything in the next few weeks. And really, he wouldn't be gone long, so what was the worst that could happen?

"Are you still cool with him, or did he go back to being an evil fuck the minute you turned 18?"

Danny leaned back in his seat and looked up at the ceiling. How the hell did they get so many stains on the ceiling of the car, but none on the seats?

"Nah, he's…" and Danny hated to admit this, "he's actually pretty chill now. I think he's just lonely - I should try to hook him up with somebody when I get back, if only so he stops bugging me."

"Bugging you in like a horny way or…?"

"Bugging me in an 'old, weird rich grandma who keeps offering to pay for my top surgery' way. The dude motherhens hard if I drop even a pound. It's fucking annoying. He should get his own kid to worry about."

"I will take one for the team and let Vlad be my sugar daddy, if you won't."

Danny gagged. "Tucker, that is the worst thing you've ever said. I'd rather you joke about my parents."

Between fits of laughter that left him light-headed, Danny realized it didn't hurt as much to mention them. The context was silly, sure, but even jokes always left him with a sour taste in his mouth and a pit in his stomach. Now? Nothing.

Maybe this trip was already starting to do some good.

"Don't tempt me. I've had five years to think of every possible dark joke and I will lay it out on you right now if you're not careful." Tucker warned, shooting a playful glare over at Danny for just a moment. Enough to qualify as "dangerous" in Tucker's eye, probably. That was progress.

"Since when were you such an edgelord?"

"Oh, like I didn't pick up a thing or two from goth-zilla… and Sam."

"Dude, you know I haven't fucked with that stuff since middle school."

"Once a goth-zilla, always a goth-zilla."

"Pull over so I can beat the shit out of you." Danny jiggled the door handle, just to get Tucker worried. Not like he was going to jump out of the moving car. He could - Phantom had done it plenty of times - but Danny was too lazy to fly around right now.

"Whatever, man. I'm not pulling over until we need to fill up on gas. You can fight me at the next gas station."

[hiding-in-my-blanket-fort]

the way i just know weighted blanket jake would also love being the little spoon --

You are really coming for mY THROAT, anon!!!!!!!! 😭

I think it would take a while before you finally got Jake to admit that he would even TRY being the little spoon. He's gotta be the MAN all the time. He's gotta impress you and protect you and flirt and smirk and charm. Dropping the cocky little shit routine is a difficult habit to break.

But maybe there was just one deployment that was especially hard on him. He wouldn't talk about it. Cracked some wiseass remarks when he got home that he was FINE REALLY stop motherhenning over him!!!

You can tell he's not okay.

Something makes you wake up in the middle of the night and it's obvious that Jake hasn't slept a wink, he's just...staring into the dark. It's that especially torturous hour of the night when sunrise is too far off, exhaustion has set in, and your brain is in turmoil. And he's down a spiraling rabbit hole of some hellish thoughts, lost in his mind.

That's when you roll over and you snuggle against his back. Slide your arms around his middle, splaying your palm wide against his chest. When you press a kiss between his shoulder blades, that's when you feel the tension begin to melt out of him.

After that, Jake kind of...angles himself into position to be the little spoon on a few more occasions. Not very often though but he just sort of...sidles up to you and pulls your arms around him in a silent command to hold him.

He CLAIMS it's for you. He's comforting you! He's giving you something to hold onto, like a teddy bear! He's being your MANLY ANCHOR.

"Okay, babe, whatever you say," you mumble with a little smile, wrapping yourself around him because he's so full of shit and you love him so much.

(Also don't EVEN get me started on switchy/subby Jake headcanons because seriously, I won't shut up I will write you a goddamn 1,000 page epic saga's worth of mouthy, bratty submissive Jacob Seresin who actually loves in equal measure being punished and being coddled and praised i'M SERIOUS DON'T GET ME STARTED)

[midoriya-izuku-in-the-dsmp]

They ended up not going very far, finding themselves at a little wooden hut next to a small pond.

“ This is Eret’s hut! He built this for us because he kept on motherhenning us when we were out late because he though we were going to get ate by monsters.” Tubbo said matter of factly. Tommy scoffed, saying” jokes on him, I’d eat the monsters.”

Midoriya stared at Tommy for a long moment before laughing a little, disbelief evident.” Eat them? What does that even mean?”

The blonde paused, a smile slowly building on his face.” I’d- you know- chomp it.” He brought his hands in front of his face and made a chomping motion with his mouth, as if he were eating an invisible sandwich. Apparently this was funny enough to send them all into hysterics, tears forming in the corner of his eyes.

Poor Tubbo was nearly folded over, and Fundy wasn’t much better. Tommy was nearly on the ground with how hard he was laughing- and Midoriya was laughing. He was happy with these people, they made him happy.

It was the most wonderful feeling in the world. No wonder Kacchan liked hanging out with his friends so much.

The thought sobered him up a bit, but it wasn’t enough to spoil the moment. Even so, he calmed down slightly, a bright grin on his face as the others began coming down from their own bout of laughter as well.

“ Wilbur would kill you if you ate a monster.” Tubbo breathed, a large grin on his face. Tommy’s face twisted into a disgusted expression as he said” I have. Remember when back we were really tight on emeralds and diamonds and we had to eat rotten flesh?”

The mood instantly dropped with Tubbo’s expression. The moobloom hybrid risked a glance at Midoriya, his expression careful as he said” yeah, I do Toms.”

Tommy looked inexplicably guilty for a moment, as if he had said something wrong, before it instantly brightened.” That doesn’t matter! Come on, let’s go raid the closet!” Then he was dashing through the door, followed quickly Fundy. Midoriya could just hear Fundy yell something about Eret and a system right before the door shut.

The two were left in silence, staring at the closed door that separated them from the others.

Tubbo’s stuttered exhale broke that fragile silence. The palm of his hand ground into his eye socket with a frustration that worried Midoriya, a feeling that only intensified at the hybrid’s angry look.

“ I told him not to talk about that shit in front of Fundy.” He growled, the words too raw for them to really be born form anger.

Midoriya hesitated, shifting uneasily on his feet as they stood once more in silence.

“ My family struggled too.” He finally broke the silence, startling them both. He wasn’t sure where that sudden bout of bravery had come from, but it was as if he’d unleashed a flood in himself. He had to get it out, and so he spoke.” My dad left us when I was super young, and my mom was the only thing keeping us from loosing everything. She was gone all the time, and I was usually left at home.” Midoriya shivered, recalling those days of roaming an empty house with puckered burns littering his skin.” We still never had enough to get by, not really. Since she was gone all the time, she couldn’t really bring food home. She usually ate when she was out, and sometimes she just forgot about me.” The words dissolved into a whisper, the tender admittance felt like cough syrup in his throat. The sin of admitting it out load was both a weight on his heart and freeing at the same time. He’d never done this before, and yet he couldn’t find it in himself to regret it.

A glance at Tubbo revealed the boy staring at him, a vaguely bewildered look on his face. It made something in his stomach twist at seeing his expression, and suddenly he felt like dying.

He mumbled a few apologies, scrambling to get inside the hut, but then a hand suddenly yanked him back, and suddenly Tubbo was in his face with a panicked look.

“ My dad used to hit me!” He yelled out in a mess of jumbled words. It took a minute for the words to settle between them, but when they did Tubbo looked absolutely mortified.

“ Oh Prime, why did I say that. Just ignore that, please.” The boy begged, a hand reaching up into his mess of hair to tug at it.

It was a few seconds longer before Midoriya whispered” my dad did too.”

“… What?” Tubbo whispered, giving him a searching look.

Midoriya felt like wilting under his gaze, but managed to say,” before my dad left, he hated me because I- because I didn’t have something other kids had.” He couldn’t say it, he couldn’t tell Tubbo the truth of his quirk. But he could, maybe, tell him part of the story.

He just hoped the boy wouldn’t hate him for it.

“ He thought I’d be perfect, you know? Just like him.” His voice broke at the end, tears dripping down his face as if he were a leaky facet.” But then, when he realized I didn’t, he began drinking. Mom doesn’t like to talk about it, but that was when he got violent, and then one day he just vanished.” He finally burst into sobs, frantically wiping at his face in an attempt to make the tears go away- to just make it stop. “ I remember him burning me before he left, how much it hurt. Mom thinks I don’t remember, but I do.” The green haired boy miserably finished, remembering all too well what that night had been like.

His mom had been at work and his father had been home. He had been drunk, as he usually was, and had been saying something. He had probably been threatening him, now that Midoriya looked back on it, and he had started crying in response.

His dad kept on threatening him, getting angrier and angrier, but all he could do was cry.

Then suddenly there was a rush of fire and then-

Well he didn’t actually know. He woke up in a hospital bed a few hours later, his mother sobbing in a chair near his bed and his father officially missing. The doctors had said he’d been lucky he hadn’t died, that the burns had been minor enough to not leave lasting scars.

Sometimes Midoriya didn’t feel very lucky, but that didn’t matter now.

“ I’m sorry.” Tubbo said, his own voice thick with emotion.” I didn’t really know my dad, he left me in a fucking box to be picked up when I was five. Wilbur found me covered in bruises and shivering in the cold. He was a Prime-damned prick who didn’t deserve me, and your father definitely did not deserve you.” Tubbo gave him a fierce look, as if he dared Midoriya to argue, only to stumble back a moment later as Midoriya gave him a clinging hug.

And that was how Tommy and Fundy found them a few moments later, Midoriya clinging to Tubbo as he bawled uncontrollably into his shoulder.

“ Are we interrupting something?” Fundy asked, giving the two a wary look.

Tubbo, ever the optimist when it came to Fundy, simply said” Midori’s having a hard time right now adjusting, he’ll be okay in a minute.”

When him and Tommy locked gazes a moment later, a silent promise of later was the only thing needed. Tommy was quick to encourage Fundy to give them a hug, which resulting in a large hug-out forming only moments later.

“ Do you feel better Midori?” Fundy asked, his tail wagging behind him. Midoriya, who’d calmed down a little bit ago, just gave him a tight hug.” Yeah, I do Fundy.” His voice was watery, but not unhappy.

To both Tommy and Tubbo his voice sounded lighter, as if a great burden had been taken off his shoulders.

Neither decided to mention it, instead moving onto the reason they had come here in the first place.” We picked out some clothes for you to wear.” Tommy offered, sheepishly holding out a handful of clothes.

Midoriya, to his eternal gratitude, perked up at this. He grabbed the clothes with a thankful grin, mumbling a small thank you before he sprinted into the tiny shack.

{•}

“ What happened Tubbo?” Uncle Tommy asked Stuncle Tubbo, a seriousness in his tone that made Fundy falter for a moment. He had never heard his uncle sound so serious- it was weird.

His stuncle just sighed, tugging back his hair with a wince. Fundy was a big peeved at this. He’d spent all day yesterday trying to comb through his hair, and when he’d finally fixed it, it just got tangled up again. How was that fair?

“ Personal stuff. Really personal stuff. You’ll have to ask him about it.” Even as he said the words they were full of hesitation, as if he wasn’t sure of what he was saying.

Which was silly, stuncle Tubbo was super smart. He knew a lot about bees and rockets and nukes- it was stupid for him to be unsure about anything! Let alone words!

Uncle Tommy seemed just as unhappy at his stuncle as Fundy was, but softened when he admitted” it’s parent stuff.”

“ Are you going to tell Wil?” Fundy perked up at the mention of his dad, but withered when stuncle Tubbo shook his head.” I- no. I don’t know? I know he already has an idea of what’s going on- he saw the signs in me.” Signs? What kinda signs? An oak sign? A bitch one? His stuncle wasn’t making any sense, and honestly it was beginning to frustrate him.

Why couldn’t anyone just say what they meant?

“…Okay Tubbo. Just, don’t get hurt. He doesn’t seem like a wrongun, but…” His uncle eventually said, slouching at the end as if the energy had been pulled out of him.

“ Thank you Toms. I really mean it.” His stuncle’s voice was soft, butting into his uncle’s arm gently. Tommy just tousled his hair in response, grinning as stuncle Tubbo ranted angrily in response.

Fundy eagerly joined in on messing up stuncle Tubbo’s hair, but he couldn’t stop thinking about that conversation.

Something was up with Midori, and he’s figure it out.

{•}

“ Hi boys! Oh, Midori, you look great!” Wilbur quietly greeted them at the door, the compliment making him turn a deep shade of red.

The outfit was fairly simple, all things considered. The pants were a pair of Tubbo’s and were a beige color, the ends hanging free instead of an elastic end at the bottom. The shirt was Tommy’s, the muted glacier green sweater far to big on him. However it was comfortable and breathable enough that he didn’t think he’d die of a heatstroke during the night. He elected to keep his red converses, something that Tommy had actually been happy about.

They had quickly been ushered into the van, breaking Midoriya out of his thoughts as they all piled in.

The van had seemingly been transformed, a few cots now peppered around the counters as well as two sleeping bags.

“ I’ll take the sleeping bag, you three can duke it out amongst yourselves for the cots.” Wilbur’s words instantly caused a quiet uproar, all of them being mindful their volume for the sleeping Eret in the armchair. Next to the king Fundy squirmed into the other chair, curling up in a ball that was almost painful to look at. Though, the boy looked comfortable enough.

“ I think I should get it.” Tubbo suddenly hissed, a competitiveness in his eyes that almost terrified Midoriya.

Though if Tubbo was terrifying Tommy was a hundred times worse.” Actually, I think I should get it.”

“ I’ll just take the sleeping bag.” Midoriya offered, only to stop at the twin annoyed glanced the two gave him.” Don’t be stupid, you’ve had a rough day and you’re the newbie, you get the cot.” Tubbo deadpanned, looking absolutely done.

Tommy on the other hand,” If you insist Big Guy.” He flopped onto a cot, wiggling in place before finally relaxing with a sigh of content.

Tubbo’s glare was nearly enough to make Midoriya want to cry again. But then he looked back at him with a tired sigh and said” I’ll take the sleeping bag.”

“ What? No you don’t have to do that.” He tried to deny, only for Tubbo to push him forward with a roll of his eyes.” You’re fine, just go to bed Midori.”

Midoriya gave him a guilty look, quickly saying” I’ll sleep on the floor tomorrow?”

To his surprise Tubbo just laughed, his grin borderline evil as he whispered” Tommy’s sleeping on the floor tomorrow, I’ll make sure of it.”

They both splintered off to go to their respective beds, and as Midoriya laid on the cot, listening to the light snores of the people around him…

Well, he sleepily thought, this may not be too bad.

And then he was asleep, joining his new friends in dreamland.

[stargazer-balladeer]

AAAAHHH! THE BABY HEADCANONS WITH DIASOMNIA WERE SO CUTEE! Would it be alright to request the same but for heartslabyul?? No rush or anything :)) loge ur writings btw! ❤

“Don’t you worry, child” [Twisted Wonderland]

Song lyric: Don’t you worry child - Madilyn Bailey

Characters Included: Platonic! Heartslabyul x GN! Reader

Notes: Aww thank you <33 sorry if this seems a little rushed tho shshs I had a hard time with Deuce's qwq i love him but idk- KNHSAJSJAH hope ya'll like this!

Warning: Baby and kids stuff :3

requested by: anon

Oh no! You accidentally turned into a baby because of an alchemy accident caused by a certain single-brained duo. Luckily you were entrusted to reliable people to take care of you until the potion wore off. And those people are…

The heartslabyul gang!

Safe to say when the explosion’s fog cleared away and the duo’s eyes landed on your large eyes, they knew they were in trouble. Ace tried to hand you off to another dorm so that they can take responsibility for you but Deuce insisted that they should take responsibility for their mishap.

They desperately tried to hide the situation from their housewarden but it was no use, he had a gossip-loving diamond soldier after all. Riddle was beyond furious at what happened and Trey and Cater tried to calm him down a bit before he could explode some more.

“OFF WITH YOUR HEAD-“ “uwu?” “… Fine, no collars for today. But I better see two essays from each of you tomorrow on my desk that has 2k words in it about what you two did wrong.”

Poor Riddle doesn’t have any idea on how to properly take care of a baby. He’s taken lessons about it but he never thought he really needed one, especially since he’s still a teenager! But he does melt whenever your large pair of innocent eyes stare at him cutely. So Riddle did some research and asked some help from his vice housewarden on how to properly take care of a baby.

Still abiding with the Queen of Heart’s rules, he properly scheduled when you’ll be eating, what you’re eating, when you will be going to sleep, etc. But believe me when I say that this only lasted about a day before he gives in and gives you some strawberry tart before dinner when it should be afterwards.

When an unbirthday party happens, Riddle happily carries you as he does his part in the party. Having a special chair for you to seat next to him and also having the privilege of him feeding you some of his tarts. When you two are alone though, he places his crown on your head and chuckles when the crown keeps sliding off.

Like I mention earlier, he’s weak for your baby eyes. And when the students of Heartslabyul found out this weakness, boy did they exploit it so much (especially a certain first year that represents a heart trump card). No student gets collared for the week you were a baby.

He usually spends his time studying but since he can’t exactly tutor a baby, he decided to play some educational games with you. No gadgets are allowed though. You’re too young to be exposed to radiation. (Also, he mentally swears as he gazes you playing with blocks that he wouldn’t be like his mother when he does have a child of his own.)

“You are the most precious thing I’ve ever seen. I know we shouldn’t have some snacks after dinner, but no worries. For you, the queen of heart’s rules doesn’t apply.”

Trey, the loving ‘motherhen’ vice housewarden of Heartslabyul. Oh, how he spoils you so much with sweets. The literal perfect candidate for babysitting if Lilia isn’t available. Has some experience taking care of kids because of his younger siblings. Lovingly dotes on you and gives you what you want, just say the word and he’ll give it to you - just don’t mention it to the others okay?

He would let you watch him bake, letting you sit on a stool or counter as you happily clap with Trey chuckling at you. Sometimes he would let you eat some of the excess ingredients like chocolate bits, strawberries and etc. Practically carries you everywhere too. If he catches one of the Heartslabyul students breaking a rule, he lets you reprimand them. Yes, he teaches you how to reprimand them well tried to. All you can do is babble angrily at the said-student while Trey tries to stifle his laughter at the situation.

Uses you to get out of the situation quickly, taking advantage of your adorable self to get what he wants. Also, buys you hats to match with his. Speaking of matching stuff, he makes you a Heartslabyul uniform for your small form. Sneaks a lot of snacks for you during unbirthday parties.

Sticks out his tongue at you when he’s feeling playful, does the thing where he holds the thing you like out of reach until you start to cry. Riddle might’ve reprimanded him for it…

“Hehe you want this? Come get it. Oh shi- shhh don’t cry. Here, you can have it back. Please don’t summon Riddle…”

Don’t forget to share his awesomeness - it’s Cater Diamond’s turn! Although he doesn’t have much experience with kids since he’s the youngest amongst his siblings, he would just go with the flow. Holds you tightly when he first sees you and took a pic of you two with the caption of “look at this adorable baby that the adeuce-combo kidnapped! #soadorable #whenwilltheyeverlearn #uhohriddleismad”.

Immediately brings you everywhere to have a photoshoot. You are now the star of his magicam account, Cay-cay is kind-of jealous of the attention you’re getting, just kidding! He really loves to spoil you with the things you want. You want those (disgusting) sweets? Okay! You want that outfit? Alrighty, let’s find your size! Trey and Riddle would find you two back around 11 with shopping bags floating behind him.

Probably brings you to Vil to have another photoshoot, complete with makeup and outfits. And he loves matching with you. Riddle has already told him off many times about exposing you to the internet. Also, loves buying you stuffed toys from miniature ones to gigantic ones. Believe me when I say your room is filled with stuffed toys.

Wipes your face patiently whenever you have stains from eating. Pinches your chubby cheeks too and laughs at your whining.

“Smile for the camera, little joker! Hehe you look so adorable with your round cheeks! I just want to eat you honestly! Grr! Haha did you get scared?”

Poor bb Deuce. The baby delinquent of the Heartslabyul gang. He honestly doesn’t have any idea how to take care of a baby. He can’t even hardly take care of himself! He still wonders how his mother managed to take care of him. You two have a mini staring contest, which made Deuce very uncomfortable and he promptly runs away. Ace reminded him that he was the one who said they should take responsibility so why the hell is Deuce running away now-?

It isn’t until he saved you from Lucius, who looks like it wants to bite you. He quickly picks you up with both hands as he shoos away the cat. The only problem that’s remaining is the fact that you were crying and he doesn’t know how to make you stop. He tries to shush you gently, cradling you to his chest, making a joke, etc. It isn’t until he made a pouty face that you stopped crying, instead, you started giggling. He wonders if his face was so funny for you to stop crying-

From then on, he starts to carry you around. He brings you to class every day with him and glares at anyone who dares to get near him, except for his fellow dormmates. One time though, he accidentally drops you and literally had a heart attack. He quickly brings you to the infirmary to check if you injured anything, poor baby doesn’t know what he’ll do if he accidentally injured you! Luckily no injuries were found except for your headache, which made him sigh in relief. He gives you sweets as an apology gift (istg you’ll be vv chubby from the amount of sweets that the members give to you-)

Takes care of you when Trey or the others can’t. He entertains you in his dorm with games that he knows are good with kids (he totally didn’t have to search it up nope). He tries to do your hair (whether it’s long or short doesn’t matter) but often times he just resorts to just combing your hair instead (though he does put clips on your hair if you’re a girl). He talks with you about whatever pops up in his mind, one minute he’s berating Ace and the next will be about Crewel’s fashion style. Tries to cook you an omelet to let you eat his favorite food but burned it in the process. So you maybe need to reassure Deuce afterwards…

“I-I thought I did it perfectly there *sniff* Maybe I should introduce you to my mom instead. She makes the best omelet! But I’m not sure how long this effect will last…”

This idiot that we all lovingly call Ace Trappola freaking runs away after giving you to his other dormmates. Hell no he’s not taking responsibility for you! Nuh uh! Never! He’s not good at dealing with kids, hell he finds them annoying. However the trio (riddle, trey, deuce) didn’t like that and forced him to take care of you for one day, to which he complains a lot. He glares at your adorable features while holding you far away from him.

He tries to dump you to other people but Deuce and the other two (cater films this btw) always manage to appear to stop him. So, either way, he’s forced to take care of you. He decided to bring you everywhere with both of his hands on either side of your body, like bro hold the baby properly qwq but he does grow soft for you over time, he pinches your nose during Trein’s boring history lesson as you happily giggle (to which he hurriedly tries to shush you before Trein can scold him). Runs his hand through your hair, gently smoothing out the knots along the way.

Literally takes advantage of your cuteness to get what he wants like getting out of trouble with Riddle for example. He does reward you though so don’t worry about that too much. He brings you along to do his usual chaotic shenanigans to which Deuce tries to stop him. It always ends with a fight between the two. One time, while they’re arguing about who knows what, you manage to sneak out of Ace’s arms and crawl away. When the two finally noticed your disappearance, they panicked and worked together to search for you on the school grounds. Turns out, you were playing with the hedgehogs and Riddle found you. Suffice to say, Deuce and Ace received punishment for that.

He’s the same as the meme that goes: “I’ve only had them for a day and a half but if anything happened to them, I would kill everyone in this room and then myself.” He also bullies and teases you often, just being a mean jerk as usual. It earns him a slap on his head by either Trey or Deuce. However, no one is allowed to bully or tease you except him. So don’t even try it or else he’ll send out delinquent-Deuce after you.

“Aww~ you want this cherry? Too bad, I also like this. Yum! Delish! Why’re you giving me teary eyes for? There’s no way I’m sharing these with you! Haha just kidding! Here have some but only a little, you hear me?”

When you do get back to your current self, Deuce and Ace sighed in relief but shuddered when they realize that they haven’t escaped their punishment yet. Now you have two of your friends begging you to go back to being a baby to escape the wrath of their red-haired tyrant. But the rest of the Heartslabyul will treat you all the same, with some exceptions like having a seat next to Riddle and having an extra serving of your favorite dessert from Trey. Also, Cater totally shows you all the pictures he’s taken of you.

[x] Main Page || [x] Heartslabyul Page

[l-r-christian]

Title: 'He hates me'

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Nephew!Child!Reader Niklaus Mikaelson x Son!Child!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Protective Mikaelsons, Soft!Reader, Elijah and Klaus just being so soft

Summary: Klaus is having a hard time with the fact his son is softer than most and clings to Elijah but one night Klaus for once gets to be a hero.

A/N: just an idea that popped into my head that needed to get out as I love soft dad Klaus just as much as I love soft dad Elijah.

Klaus frowned seeing Elijah down next to Y/N helping the five year old built a tower with wooden blocks. Y/N was Klaus's pride and joy while he was over joy having Hope but he couldn't help but adore his son. There was a huge difference between the twins while Hope was rough and wild, Y/N was soft quiet and timid.

The boy seemed to cling to Elijah who adored his nephew and let the boy run to him as both Klaus and Hayley seemed too rough around the edges for the sweet boy. Y/N was sensitive Hayley came to learn as the boy would stress out being around the wolves while Hope blossom and loved being around them.

"I can't bring him around the pack anymore. Y/N doesn't like it." Hayley had said earlier that day when Y/N ran to Elijah who quickly picked him up as Hope ran to their father.

"You alright Nik?" Freya asked moving next to her brother with a smile following his line of sight see him watching Y/N with Elijah. Elijah smiled watching Y/N put a block down quietly praising the boy getting a smile from Y/N.

"No. My son hates me."

"No he doesn't Nik. Y/N loves you." Freya says rubbing Klaus's back understanding why he would believe that. Y/N was always around Elijah or Rebekah as both Originals knew how to handle the boy as it wasn't that Y/N hated Klaus, it was just the hybrid was kinda scary.

"Then why is my son always going to Elijah?"

"Nik, Y/N is a sensitive boy and to him you can be kinda scary."

Freya's words sat with Klaus as he sat in his studio painting when Elijah stopped by knocking on the doorframe. Klaus looked up with a raised eyebrow seeing Elijah step in inside.

"Gia is in need of help and I am off to assist. Will you be alright with Y/N tonight?"

"Of course Elijah, I know how to care for a child." Klaus said looking at his brother as Elijah chuckled nodding walking out.

Y/N sat up after being jolted awake hearing thunder roll though looking over seeing Hope sleeping peacefully. Y/N got out of bed and headed for the person he knew that could protect him.

"Pup?" Klaus mumbled half asleep feeling his son curled into his arms and hearing thunder rumble outside and a flash of lightning.

"Dada safe....it too loud." Y/N said as Klaus soften wrapping his arms around Y/N and pulling up his blanket. Klaus pressed a light kiss on Y/N's head rubbing the boy's back as the storm raged on and Klaus smile feeling Y/N nuzzle closer.

Morning came as Klaus was woken by feeling someone staring at him and looked seeing Elijah smiling at Klaus and Y/N who was clinging to his father.

"So what brought this on?"

"Thunderstorm last night." Klaus said rubbing Y/N's back as Elijah nodded noting that Y/N's first instinct was to run into Klaus's arms.

"I see. I'll have breakfast ready soon so please get him up and ready." Elijah says as Klaus chuckled nodding knowing Elijah was being motherhen. Y/N woke up yawning getting Klaus's attention and the hybrid waited for his son to leave.

"Dada, hug." Y/N mumbled as Klaus felt his heart soften wrapping his arms back around the boy.

"We have to get up little pup."

"Stay." Y/N said gripping Klaus's shirt as Klaus chuckled and layed back down letting Y/N cuddle him. Elijah had returned 15 minutes later finding that Klaus had fell asleep with a sleeping Y/N nuzzling his neck. Elijah smiled closing the door deciding to leave the two to sleep happy that Klaus was bonding with his son.

Since the storm Y/N always ran to Klaus when feeling scared much to Klaus's pride while Elijah still handled the emotions. There was another storm and Y/N was curled up in his father's arms.

"I love you, dada." Y/N mumbled half asleep as Klaus felt his heart fill with warmth pulling his son closer.

"I love you too, little pup." Klaus said softly rubbing his son's back comforting his son happy to be the one the boy runs to.

"I will always protect you my little pup." Klaus says quietly watching Y/N sleep as Klaus promised to always be there but he was just going to enjoy this moment.

[merakiui]

Hello Hello!!! I'm the anon who gave the older sibling roommate thought! I was so happy you answered it and liked it that it made my day!!! I actually wanna change something and that being the "children" portion, I was writing with a female reader in mind but I really wanted to write for gn because there's too many female readers... So instead of the parents pressuring for children they're pressuring for spouses and if you so happen to get children, whether biological or adopted, they'd be so happy! But for now, baby steps baby steps (Oldersib!Reader is not having a good time).

I came here to the asks to send you some scenarios about the Oldersib!Reader since I'm not sure what the Submission thing is for ahahshajhahwh

*-*-*-*-*

Scara: *comes in dorm with a scowl on his face*

Reader: *peeking head out of the corner* Welcome home, Scara! Would you like to help me cook lunch or do you just wanna chill?? :D

Scara: *smiling* I'll help dw

*-*-*-*

Random Person: *looks at the Winner list of the contests and sees Kazu's name* Kazuha? Kazuha Kadehara?

Reader: *vibrating excitedly wanting to brag about Kazu* Yep! He's--

RP: *grumbles* He's such a know-it-all, his poems are just trying so hard, how the judges even understood it is beyond me he must've just slapped random words together and paid his way in.

Reader:

Reader: *dead serious* I will throw hands with you--

Kazu: *hiding behind a corner* 0////0

*-*-*-*

Kazu: *explaining his poem*

Reader: *doesn't know anything about it but is fully supportive*

Reader: Amazing. Show stopping. Wonderful--

*-*-*-*

Random Person: Why do you guys bring shades everywhere?

Kazuscara: *points to happy bean Reader*

Reader: *perks up upon seeing Kazuscara* Kazu!! Scara!!! :DDDD *radiating smile*

RP: AAA!! MY EYES!!!

Kazuscara: *slowly puts on shades*

*-*-*-*-*

Reader: *calmly* Friend, could you tell me why you're so upset at Scara?

Friend: ?!?!?! Reader! He literally fucked up my phone!! It has too many viruses at this point I can't even use it!

Reader: *instantly* Nonsense, Scara is an angel.

Scara: *from behind Reader smugly smirking at Friend* Yeah, Friend. I'm an angel~

*-*-*-*

Kazu takes Reader to a cat cafe and watches in delight as the cats instantly clings to Reader who is seriously sitting still and proper, eyes focus on cats. They are covered in cats. The cats cry out in despair when Reader eventually has to leave.

*-*-*-*-*

Reader: I don't understand why people don't like Scara? He's a funny person!

Scara: *from behind shuffling his bloodied knuckles behind him* Yeah, I'm fucking hilarious

*-*-*-*

Kazu: *curiously* Have you ever had a phase?

Reader: *blank eyed stare*

Reader: The past is the past

*-*-*-*

Scara: *stops dead in his tracks when he gets inside Reader's room*

Reader: Wassup?

Scara: That-- What the fuck is that?!

Reader: *looks at their wall* ?? My to-do lists, calendar, and motivational posters???

Scara: No that's a fucking mental torture room you call room

Reader: *slightly offended* It can't be that bad

Kazu: *passing by and sees Reader's room* What kind of madman lives here?

Reader:

Reader: Okay maybe it is kinda overboard

Reader's room is literally like Miyuki Shirogane's from Kaguya-sama: Love is War room. How on earth Reader can sleep there nobody knows, in fact there is more academic work than there are CLOTHES. Upon finding that out, kazuscara eagerly drag Reader to go clothing shopping and pays for everything much to the protests of Reader which only quiets when they point out it's a thank you gift for everything they've done for them.

*-*-*-*

Despite Reader looking like a golden retriever by energy and being a lovable Himbo/Bimbo/Thembo they appear to be, Reader is startlingly perceptive, intelligent, and particularly harsh when it comes to academic work. But with all the stress they've accumulated it's going to impact them negatively so they need an outlet. At first it was to motherhen other people but it didn't do much so they did physical activity (you can choose whatever kind but I'm partial to them doing archery (can you see how much Kaguya-sama is impacting me rn??)) So they're quite strong.

When someone is actually harassing Kazu because he looks like an easy target (oh how wrong they were) and it's starting to piss of Reader because they've tried to diffuse the situation but the harasser is adamant on making Kazu's life in this moment hell and Reader just--

They just calmly watch the harasser spit curses at them but when the harasser touches on Kazu's old friend who died with no regard at how serious the issue is, Reader just fucking decks them with no hesitation. It doesn't matter the gender of the harasser or the gender of Reader, all that matters is that the fucker blamed Toma for his own death and that Kazu just attracted stupidity wherever.

And Kazu is frozen in shock at seeing Reader being genuinely angry, Reader isn't shouting or screaming but instead is eerily calm but holy fuck they genuinely look terrifying.

The harasser is bubbling words that they're going to tell on the dean, tell teachers, tell literally everyone but Reader only mockingly smiles at them and says, "Go on, tell them. They won't believe you. But go on, go try, but know this, whatever misplaced justice you think you're owed is bullshit and frankly? Disgusting."

Then Reader drags a quiet Kazu away from the scene and back into their dorm. Reader calms down and apologizes at Kazu but he just asks what would happen next, Reader shrugs and just says, "Nobody would believe them. And they aren't well liked so there's nothing we can do."

Kazu just agrees and smiles when Reader says they should cook up something fancy because their mood was soiled by the harasser. While he helps Reader he's actually thinking of ways to make sure the lesson... Sticks.

Scara is forever salty that Kazu was the first one to see Reader angry.

*-*-*-*-*

Reader: *stressed beyond hell*

Kazu: Is something the matter Reader??

Reader: My parents are setting me up on a blind date, I said to them I didn't want to but they told me to just try but I just--

Scara: *eyetwitching* You want us to crash your date?

Reader: Please.

Kazu: *unreadable smile* Don't worry, Reader. We'll help.

*-*-*-*

Kazu: Just to be sure, you're open for relationships, right?

Reader: Hm? Oh yeah, I just don't wanna do it rn since I'm busy with studying and I don't wanna date someone only to neglect them because I'm focus on my studies, it's not fair to me but especially to them

Scara: What if they're willing?

Reader: Now that just makes me more guilty! Someone whose willing to be pushed aside as second priority needs to prioritize themselves! Besides, they also have their own lives, nobody could center their entire life on someone else, it's unfair and terrifying.

(Oh Reader, if only you knew)

Scara: So when exactly are you open to pursue a relationship.

Reader: I'll pursue a relationship when I graduate school or when I find a job. My parents are stressed as all hell because I'm focusing on my studies and career and I'm not bringing home a date which??? I don't understand them. At this point with all their nagging I'm getting adverse with finding a relationship

Kazu: Good to know. Good to know

*-*-*-*-*

If Kazu and Scara could kill Reader's parents, they probably would.

Anyway I did all of this while at my online class so, ahahahha.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy them ( ╹▽╹ )!! Again, love your work HAJSHSJAJJAJA. Have a nice day, stay safe, and take care of yourself!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

:O !!! All of these scenarios are very good. I’m happy I can read all of them!! Kazuscara are a funny duo when they’re both pining for the same person. The shenanigans that can possibly ensue… Thank you again for sharing, anon!!!