#humans are space ents

[marlynnofmany]

I know there could easily be aliens that move super slowly, like sloths, but what about super fast? Yes we have skittery little creatures like mice and lizards or whatnot, but that’s just quick normal. What about so fast they experience life differently? No patience for a human’s talking speed? Just imagine humans being the ent species, the sloths, the tortoises. Having a conversation with a superspeedster. That conversation would be maddening from both ends.

[obviouschangeling]

Humans are Space Orcs Concept: what if we were the only sapient species with the concept of the Afterlife and Psychopomps?

This is from my own universe, in which all of the old fairy tale species are actually based on aliens: either their remains, members of the species that got lost and landed on earth, or stories from those lost aliens. (Fairies never stopped kidnapping people, humans just caught on to their origin as extraterrestrial instead of extraplanar.)

Anyway, the Story!

Captain Khantannon's brush with Death

Khantannon thumped his tail in surprise. He was lying in the fields of his home planet, just outside of Todrommo City. He ran a hand over the teal grass and stared at the familiar lilac sky arching above him. Khantannon pushed himself up to sit, perplexed. He had died, he was sure of it. He had a hazy recollection of lying ignobly on his bed in his ship being tended to by Kinn-Dotor with Jaiya sitting at his side and refusing to leave. She had muttered under her breath, expletives and prayers both-- though to whom or what he did not know-- begging for him to get better. She need not have bothered, he could tell his body temperature was cooling far too quickly to be recovered from and that he would solidify soon. He should have changed his Arrangements to have his body be sold to provide for his crew, but dismissed the thought. Commander Ashe was the most flinty Fae he had ever met, but she would take care of her assets, if her rumored treatment of her rumored half-human daughter was any indication.

Still, he gazed around, concerned at the familiarity of his surroundings. There was no way that he was alive, and his ship hadn’t even been in the same quadrant as his home, much less close enough for him to have been placed on its surface while still unconscious. And yet, there was the great citadel, looking over the fields in which he sat, its shining columns and faceted domes that were made from the crystalized bodies of the Great Ancestors looking as real and shining as bright as they always had in his youth.

It had always been a point of pride for young Khantannon (then known as Tan as he had yet to earn his full name) that both the base of the citadel and the apex of its largest dome were his own ancestors-- the great father and great mother, respectively, surrounding all who entered the citadel, supporting them and shining light on them. Dragons (and he was surprised that he no longer thought of the human given moniker with disdain) from his lineage were rare, chrysoberyl being just as rare on Alantar-3-5 as it was almost everywhere else.

He shook himself from his musings. He needed to find answers, and his ship. (He didn’t bother with looking for his crew. While he was a little, itty bitty, bit worried for them, he knew none of them would be dumb enough to try to come down to the surface.)

He was about to lever himself into standing when he caught sight of a tiny figure approaching from the direction of the capital. The figure was much smaller than any creature who would inhabit the planet normally, and he oddly felt the desire to not loom over it. It seemed important, in an abstract sort of way. So, he waited for the figure to turn off the road and make its way over the field, stopping at his side. He still had to look down a bit to see the figure; a Changeling-- half human, half fae-- still in its adolescence. 

The Changeling looked at him with warm brown eyes, both different and not to the cold black of her fae parent, and offered him a hand. He opened his mouth to tell her the assistance wasn’t necessary, but what came out was:

“How are you here? Without special equipment, Changelings would float away into the atmosphere and die.” The girl, for she was a girl, he knew, in the way one knows things in dreams, chimed a laugh.

“This place is not your real home, it is in your mind.” She said, wiping a tear from her eye (a human trait, Khantannon was sure, even if fae had tear ducts they would never cry. Especially not from laughter.) “Even if it were real, it wouldn’t matter; I am more powerful than any other concept.” She smiled.

“You… are a concept?” Khantannon scrunched up his snout-- another tick acquired from his proximity to a human. “I do not understand, you are a Changeling, aren’t you?”

“I am.” The girl nodded. “But I am also the concept of Death the Guide. The Changeling is simply the most appropriate form, as a Changeling can be seen as a transition between Human and Fae, so can Death be seen as a way point between one world and the next. You, however, are one of the few with a choice to make.”

“A Choice?”

“Yes. You are not dead quite yet. You can choose: stay in the land of the living…” The Changeling made a gesture with her hand, opening a hole in the dream to where Kinn-Dotor and Jaiya rushed about, covering him in blankets, stoking fires, and dragging in heaters to keep him from crystallizing. Jaiya was doing most of the work now, as the room was getting too hot for Kinn-Dotor’s wooden body to handle, though he still cracked branches at the other crew members to get them moving, “... or you can come with me.” She extended her hand once more.

He reigned in a flinch, shifting a bit where he sat as he looked between the portal and the unwavering hand outstretched to receive his.

“I’ve never heard of anything beyond this life.”

“No, most species have not. Death the Guide was once a purely human construct. One of my earliest forms was that of a ferryman who would carry the souls of the deceased into the underworld to face judgment for their deeds in life. I have taken many forms in many cultures. You know the power of human belief firsthand, it is capable of managing incredible things. Over the centuries that humans have mingled and mixed with the many other species in the universe, a strange thing began to occur. Suddenly, I was responsible for all intelligent species that had come into contact with humanity. I became real, and present in a way that I never had been before, and the amount of species in my care continues to grow as humanity expands. The only way I can explain it is that those who have the ability of hearing about me, of knowing my story, are now mine to Guide. I am no longer Death, the Guide of Humanity, but Death, the Guide of People.”

Khantannon was stunned. To think, humans had such a power to shape the world that they could create a guide into the next one. To think, he was a person that humans would want to share their Guide with. Fear gripped him, of what waited for him beyond. His mind went to all of the human funerary rituals that he had derided as insanity: the prayers, the food, the music, the tears, in his world dead was dead, all that was left to do was to sell off the gemstones that made up the deceased. The thought that there was something beyond this, somewhere he would go, where he would be without his friends or comrades, somewhere with multitudes of humans… The Changeling-- Death, his mind supplied-- smirked at him.

“Do not fear too much, Captain. Humans have been destroying and degrading each other for far longer than you have been alive.” Still, he couldn’t bring himself to be easy.

“I want to return.” He said, absurdly grateful that he had the option. Death nodded at him and dropped her hand. Her face shifted to the clear coldness of crystal.

“I should warn you, Captain, that the road back will not be easy, and after that recovery will not be swift.”

“I will not let pain stop me.” Death eyed him thoughtfully, before nodding once more.

“Then I suggest you follow that road,” She turned and pointed towards the stone paved road that led into the mountains, “and let your crew guide you back.”

Khantannon did not know how to ask what she meant. Instead he nodded to her and finally stood up, determined to make it back home. He had taken only a few steps when he paused, an urge taking hold of him. He called out to the Changeling who was Death.

“Do you have a name? Other than Death, I mean.”

The Changeling had already been making her way back towards the capital. She flipped around to walk backwards-- not bothering to slow her pace-- and met his eyes with a grin.

“This form is known as Arturia Ashe.”

[ut-museum-guide]

Comfort Fics to Soothe the Soul

_In no particular order

4 fics contain dark themes

5 fics contain smut (3 of 5 eventual)

12 fics are reader fics

5 fics are Sans x Sans

.

1. Skeleton Games

By poetax (279k words)

Characters: Muffet, Red, Edge, Reader

Tags: Feuding neighbors, vampire reader

Note: None

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2. Doom and Gloom All Up in Your Room

by TrashCollector (95k)

Reader (room owner), Dust, Horror

Domestic harem

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3. A Sea of Hope

By Aylish91 (26k)

Reader (runaway skeleton), Axe (Horror)

Piratetale, Y/N x Axe

Note: abuse recovery

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4. Poor Little Meow Meow

By Mystique, TallDumbass (58k)

Reader (vet), Killer

Fluff and Angst, domestic, ship

Note: eventual occasional smut

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5. A Lovely House of Bones

By Green_Heart88 (37k)

@/greenheartart

Reader (host), Sans, Paps, Blue, Stretch, Edge, Red

Domestic living + recovery

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6. Six Skeletons, One Store Clerk

By mccloudydayz (249k)

Reader, Sans, Paps, Red, Edge, Stretch, Blue +

Harem, Domestic, multiverse shennanigans

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7. Aggre(g/v)ation

By Llama_Goddess (180k)

Reader, Sans, Red, Skull, later Mobfell Sans

Domestic, lots o’ shippin’

Note: Mobfell’s house onwards is intense

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8. On the Top of the Bone Pile

By Lyrjok (422k)

Reader (in band), Red, Edge, Blue, Stretch, Gaster Sans

Harem,

Note: eventual smut

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9. Dirty Laundry

By popatochisp (162k)

Swapfell Sans, Swapfell Papyrus, Reader

Domestic, romance

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10. Stowaway Bitty

By Historically Dragon (301k)

Bittybones (Brassberry), Reader (broke and making do)

Slice of life

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11. A Trio of Misfits

By Sabinarius (56k)

Bittybones (Baby Blue, Lil Bro), Reader

Slice of life, money troubles

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12. Smoke in the Mirror

By Catsitta (76k)

Mobfell Ensemble, Red, Sans

Sans x Sans

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13. The Killing Kind (Comic)

By @/thegrinningkitten

Geno-Error x Reaper, Sans x Sans

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14. Papyrus Dates a Bird

By WhatteauYouDoing (70k)

Reader (bird), Papyrus, Sans

Slice of life, magi

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15. That Danger that Lurks Underwater

By AKA_Indulgence (67k)

Sans (meroctopus), Red (mermaid), Edge (mermaid), Reader (human)

Toxic romance, Sans x Reader

Note: dark themes

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16. Saving Three Ex-cell-ent Skeletons

By RecklesslyCaffeinated (90k)

Reader, Sans, Red, Horror

Nurse x prison inmates, harem

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17. Who Done It?

By Catsitta (15k) complete

Mafia Sans, Mafia Red, Mafia Edge, Reader (barista)

Mafia!Kustard, mystery, Sans x Sans

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18. Cave Bear

By Llama_Goddess (35k)

Reader, Horrorfell Sans, Horrorfell Papyrus

Fall into underground, daily grind

Note: dark themes

Related one shot

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19. Just Buisness

Catsitta (37k)

Sans, Red

Single parent struggle, sugar daddy red

Sans x Sans (debatable)

Note: dark themes

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20. Burn Me Down

By Gypsum Lilac (22k)

Edge, Reader

Fast food domestic, mental health

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21. Storm

By Nilchance

Horror, Sticks (Farmtale Sans)

Hurt/comfort, Sans x Sans

Note: smut

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22. The Soldier and the Carnal Skeletons

By Writers_War_Zone (113k)

Sans, Horror, Blue, Reader (ex soldier)

Animal instincts, harem, kink

Note: smut

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23. Little Red

By Spectroscope (53k)

@/spectascopes

Human!SwapPaps, Human!SwapSans, OC bittybones

Bittybones, trauma recovery

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24. Firsts and Seconds

by Skerb (103k)

Sticks (Farmtale Sans), Bitey/Buddy (Horrortale Sans)

Injury recovery, strangers to lovers, Sans x Sans

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25. Starry Eyed

By nilchance (90k)

Sans, Red, Edge, Stretch, Gaster (AI)

Prison recovery, soulmates, pirates, outer space, Sans x Sans, Stretch x Edge, Red x Edge

Note: dark themes, occasional smut

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26. AVA

By Inyahs (356k)

Anomaly OC, bittybones oc, UTMV ensemble

~ Wise crack hermit goes on adventure with grumpy insomniac bitty~

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From @undertale-museum

[odo-apologist]

Every ENT character is the most character ever. Archer is a bitch he plays a fundamental role in the creation of the Federation he brings his dog on away missions which once causes a diplomatic incident he likes water polo he commits war crimes he saw a gazelle giving birth and implements it into his rousing speeches he had a wet dream about his first officer that included his dog's funeral he had to carry the soul of the creator of the main tenets of Vulcan philosophy in his head he gives a lecture on Tycho Brahe while getting his ass beaten during an interrogation scene. T'Pol is strict in her Vulcan beliefs she doesn't believe in time travel even as she's presented with irrefutable evidence and remains somewhat skeptical after experiencing it firsthand she is the funniest person on Enterprise she is more emotional than average Vulcans to the point that she had to have memories erased for causing her too much distress she could canonically pick up any of her crewmates and carry them bridal style she has Vulcan HIV she has it cured by the woman that later watches Spock and Kirk roll around in the sand in Amok Time she is technically canonically trans she is a recovering drug addict. Trip is a perfect gentleman he undergoes incredible emotional losses his favorite movies are Frankenstein Bride of Frankenstein and Son of Frankenstein he gets pregnant five episodes in he dies in the worst episode of the entire series (and the entire franchise) only to have that death retconned in the following tie-in novels he ran around the ship in his underwear he leaves the ship for a couple weeks only to come back after one person had been kidnapped another thrown in jail and the engines are on the verge of destruction and reacts like :/. Malcolm is gay he has 50 ex-girlfriends he has only had one friend in his life his own sister barely knows anything about him he dies alone he likes pineapple even though he's allergic to it he gets spacesick he worked as an agent for a top secret organization he's afraid of drowning he whined about getting a cold he had a spike driven through his leg and didn't complain at all he has a psychosexual obsession with a man he thinks is after his job and grows to respect once they had a homoerotic fight scene before witnessing him die. Hoshi is a linguistic prodigy she's the greatest contributor to the universal translator she has a panic attack on one of her first missions she ran a gambling ring she has a black belt in aikido and broke her superior's arm she has never been to the principal's office in her life she is afraid to use the transporter she became an empress in an alternate universe she is the only one who gets laid on Risa making her the first human to do so she reacted to the threat of getting worms injected into her brain to make her reveal secret information by spitting in her interrogator's face. Travis is the sweetest man ever he loves rock climbing he gets injured whenever he tries to use those skills he's a fan of ghost stories he grew up on a small freighter he gets neglected by the narrative his counterpart helps Hoshi become empress he works out when he's horny he dies in a alternate future where Earth is destroyed he's a movie buff who would probably love the Criterion Collection he likes to chill in a part of the ship with zero gravity which he calls "the sweet spot." Phlox grins like the Cheshire Cat he breaks doctor patient confidentiality to help figure out Malcolm's favorite food he goes crazy when the rest of the crew have to sleep through part of space because of how social his species is he has three wives who in turn have three husbands he responds to the news of one of his wives propositioning a crew member by being like "cool! have fun :]" he once nearly vivisects Travis because he's being affected by radiation and gets obsessed with knowing why the guy has a simple headache he has a menagerie in the middle of his sickbay. And they're all my best friends.

[stra-tek]

Random spoilerific reasons to read Star Trek novels, with little to no context:

Ro/Quark is a thing

A Jem'Hadar joins DS9, tries to fit in but eventually snaps and tries to kill everybody

You learn the origins and final fate of the Borg

A thinly-veiled Dr. House clone joins the Voyager crew

Geordi briefly has 2 girlfriends at once (due to different writers not co-ordinating enough, but still)

There's a TOS book that's a musical

There are YA stories about Jake and Nog making mischief on DS9

YA stories about Worf, Geordi, Picard, Beverly, Kirk, Spock and McCoy at SFA

YA series about the Kelvinverse gang (including Gaila!) as cadets, taking on a drug problem at SFA and a very unique Borg scout in San Francisco

We very briefly meet the people who are to Q what the Q are to humanity

Janeway/Chakotay is a thing

Kirk's first mission in command of the Enterprise! Erm, at least twice.

Kirk was married between TOS and TMP

Her name was Lori

In the future, you have yearly marriage contracts that you either update or you don't and I think that's amazing

Trip didn't die! He faked his death to join Section 31 and go undercover as a Romulan

It's not great, tbh

The ENT books get better after the Romulan wars though, it's proper founding of the Federation stuff

We meet Jack Crusher (erm, the OG) when 4 timelines start overlapping and he's a bit unhinged

Teenage Kirk stole a car and his choice was go to jail or join Starfleet

What happened when Voyager got home? Seven broke up with Chakotay like 30 pages in

Kirk gets cloned, and his clone becomes the sub of an evil invincible super genius and its all very gay

George Kirk was Robert April's first officer on the first ever mission of the unnamed starship with the Naval Construction Contract 1701

Robert is a hard-core pacifist and has to turn command over to George whenever it's time to fire weapons

Data becomes fully human for a couple of days and it's really sweet

They never say "wristwatch" or "phone", it's always "wrist chrono" or "personal comm"

There are gays but they don't say that word because it's the 1990's and Rick Berman runs the franchise

Spock has a son in the past with Zarabeth

Everyone in the post-Nemesis era does spy missions all the time non stop, as if Starfleet has abandoned exploring the cosmos for doing Space Mission: Impossible

Bashir does it better than anyone else, he takes on Section 31 from the inside

Remember Control? It's from the novels, except the novels do it SO MUCH BETTER.

Remember how we never found out who Future Guy was? We do.

It's very underwhelming, nobody we know

We find out how the Romulans and Vulcans split

Surak was a Vulcan internet blogger

A Borg Cube eats Pluto

Janeway dies

Janeway gets better

At least one TOS book features a wizard

There's a Star Trek TOS/Here Come the Brides crossover novel

It had cameos from The Doctor (as in, Who), Han Solo, Starbuck and others

Whole book series about Section 31

Whole book series about the Department of Temporal Investigations

One time they do the Bill and Ted thing to escape confinement and it works

Wanna know how Riker and Troi met?

Wanna know what Picard got up to on the Stargazer?

Andorians have 4 sexes and it's very complicated

Data comes back from the dead as Data 2.0, and it was fresh and exciting because it happened long before ST: Picard did it twice.

Lal comes back too and we get father/daughter android stuff! They have a home and everything but keep having to save the universe

One time Mirror Seven is led around on a leash naked on Terok Nor

Geordi becomes captain of the USS Challenger, decides it's not for him because plot, and goes back to engineering on the Enterprise

Kirk is shot on the bridge and dies

Kirk gets better

They watch 3D holos of old Doctor Who episodes in the Enterprise rec room

The Enterprise also has an AI named Moira, which was Zora long before Zora

The TOS crew get together for one last mission. About three times.

There's a Perry Mason book except it's about Kirk's lawyer from that TOS episode

Data 2.0 owns and runs a massive gambling empire on Orion

Spock keeps randomly showing up everywhere in the TNG era

Scotty keeps randomly showing up everywhere in the TNG era

Bones keeps randomly showing up everywhere in the TNG era

You're on Tumblr so you already know about Killing Time

There's a guy named McKenzie Calhoun and he's a total badass and captains a ship of weirdos and misfits

Kirk comes back from the dead, saves the galaxy repeatedly, has an intersex child (who identifies as male) with a Romulan/Klingon hybrid

Kirk beats up Worf

Kirk's child has superpowers

Kirk's child saves the galaxy at age 6

The Kirk stuff is 100% ignored in the other novels

About 50% of the novels are ignored in the other 50%, and the ones that are meant to be in direct continuity with each other aren't always quite

Just like the TV shows and movies, then

Lwaxana Troi meets Q, and it goes as well as you'd expect

Someone tells Data, yes you idiot you had emotions all along and he's like, oh shit you're right

McCoy is left in command of the Enterprise as a joke by Kirk, who is then immediately kidnapped

Ro Laren is captain of Deep Space Nine

Picard/Beverly is a thing, they get married and have a child named Rene. No running away and raising your kid in secret here

Riker and Troi are married, serve on the Titan together with a bunch of adorable weirdos and have a daughter named Tasha

You get to watch all the 24th century characters die horribly in the end along with their entire universe. Holy fuck it's a bleak horror show. Personally, I love it. But if that's not your cup of tea I'd skip the Coda trilogy

[thoughtsfromlayla]

Love and Loss

Summary: Despite being married for centuries, the two lovers have yet to produce an heir. Desperate for a child, she makes a deal with Phanes, God of Life, unbeknownst to her that motherhood has its own complications much like love and marriage. Now she must find a way to save both her child and her love.

Notes: ~11k words, only lightly edited... so yeah. Also, this is my first time posting any of my writing so I'm nervous as fuuuuck. I keep switching between past and present tense but I think I caught them all but idk. Let me know if I miss any tags or warnings! (There's so many plot holes but shhhh)

Warnings: MDNI - 18+ content, one use of Y/N but written in 3rd person, Reader has a "name" that's only used twice, pregnancy, loss of pregnancy, metaphorical use of surrogation, usage of miscarriage themes, jealousy, P in V, oral (F! receiving), unprotected sex, jealous Dream but that's to be expected really, regency-esque, diverges from cannon

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

================================================

Despite having been in the Dreaming for so long, its frigid air was something she could never get used to. The temperature always fixed itself somewhere between an unheated house on a winter’s day and a spring day in the shade. Despite her title in the realm, she always felt like a child walking to the kitchen late at night to grab a snack whenever she meanders into the great hall. 

The castle of the Dreaming was her home, and she was the owner in every right as her husband. A small black cat accompanies her, its green collar and bell jingle with each step in its preppy trot. Her Lady wore simple garments, a dark green dress with slits to match her feline friend. Its light-weight fabric billows around her with a breeze that never seems to stop and some golden jewelry decorated her neck and arms, all gifts from his Lord. She opted to walk barefoot, skin to soil, so as not to hurt her feet necessarily before the upcoming dinner the Dreaming would host later today—the idea her own entirely that her husband agreed to for her sake. 

Her legs move her toward the throne room, where she is certain her husband presides. Still, her feet are cold and thus she picks up the pace. Her steps are lighthearted as she prances on her tiptoes, heels dangling from her fingers. 

Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, King of the Nightmare Realms, Prince of Stories. She was sure there were more, but if she were to start listing them all in her head, she’d be stuck there all day. Morpheus was as old as humanity itself, perhaps even older. But as she sees him spread out on his throne, the air of authority is never questioned. Age has only made him more intimidating. 

Morpheus commands any space he enters. His shadow fills each nook and cranny it seemed fit, aura chilling and distant. Yet he himself was a beautiful creature indeed. His modern form molded himself into a lean body, distinct muscle lines, and a strong jaw. His dark hair always looked tousled as if he had rolled out of bed a mere minute ago, and despite how often she would run her hair through the silky strands, they never behaved as they should have. 

“Wife, mine,” Morpheus greets as she nears the bottom of the stairs. “What ails you to seek me out?”

The Lady smiles and gives a small curtsy before she ascends the curved stairs. “Nothing ails me, my lord. Must one have a reason to see her husband?”

Morpheus lets out an entertained breath before opening his arms in invitation. Another graceful smile appears on her lips as she sits comfortably in his lap, his arms encircling her. 

“No, I suppose not,” He replies. He watches as she makes herself as comfortable as she can, leaning her head on his shoulder in a way that wouldn’t mess up her hair. The handmaidens would not stop fussing over it if a single strand was out of place from their original design.

“I simply wish to spend some time with you before our feast. I fear that I will be whisked away as I entertain guests for the evening.” She closes her eyes and steadies herself on the patterned breathing of her husband. 

“I will stay by your side if you so command it,” Morpheus says. He runs his thumb in circles on her bare shoulder.

“And have everyone afraid to approach me? With your dark and brooding act?” She jests, her eyes opening briefly to look into his. 

He can’t help his eyes rolling at her slight tease. “As you wish, my love.”

The two lovers sit for a moment. The sounds of her cat purring and their breaths mingling fill the air. But serenity such as this never lasts long in a castle like theirs. Lucienne comes from a hallway, presumably, the library’s, dressed up as well. Her coat was tailored to fit her body, her shoes freshly shined, and her glasses cleaned. 

She gives a curt bow to the two sovereigns. “My lord, my lady,” She addresses. “The guests will be arriving soon.”

“Thank you, Lucienne,” Her lady says. She reluctantly releases herself from the warmth of her husband and uses the throne as a brace to put on her shoes. Her husband’s hand rests on the small of her back to further assist her. 

“I will see you very soon, my king,” She says leaning down to peck his cheek before descending the stairs. She looks back once with another smile and then follows Lucienne to greet the arriving guests. 

Morpheus’s eyes watch her figure until she turns a corner. He was still underdressed, his day previously preoccupied with trying to find a certain nightmare. He was simply idling on his throne in a simple black attire with his long coat. After all, a king need not worry about how he looks if he commands respect without golden bribes. With a wave of his hand, sand befalls him and covers him like ivy to a broken wall. When they recede he is dawning a tight button-up undershirt and vest, its fabric weaved with intrinsic cloud-like designs. His coat is now replaced with another of a similar shape and design but resembles cotton instead of the original felt. He fastens the raven cufflinks and smooths down his pants before rising from his throne and going to the Dreaming’s castle garden.

When Morpheus enters the gardens he immediately spots his wife at the entrance, standing underneath a pergola of purple wisterias and climbing hydrangeas. The flowers slowly lean towards the goddess as her presence fuels them by simple proximity.  Her cat is nowhere to be seen and probably ran off into the gardens after a rodent caught his eye. 

Morpheus slides up beside his wife as she greets the last of the guests arriving. He turns his head towards the decorated table and can see a great spread of gods, goddesses, fairies, nymphs, and other mystical creatures that his wife had managed to befriend—the feeling of her arm wrapping around his redirects his attention. 

“Shall we, lord husband?” She gives him another one of her smiles and he understands how the hanging flowers feel. How he had ever lived without her before was still a mystery to him. To be him without her, it is like the Earth without its Sun - and he wishes to always feel the gravitational pull of her love. 

Morpheus leads them towards the aggregation of guests, all of whom devote their attention to them. 

“Beloved guests,” His wife starts speaking in her nectar-like tone, “Despite what is currently happening in the waking world, we are pleased that you could make time and attend this wondrous dinner.”

The goddess pauses for a brief moment as her guests clap in agreement. When they stop, she continues. “The feast is served buffet style, please eat and enjoy yourself to the fullest content. The Dreaming is here for your convenience.”

With her open palm, a long table appears with dishes of all types. Wreaths and fresh flowers decorate any empty space, which is to say, not much. Lambs, beef, and several types of poultry and fish take centerpieces along the table. Fruits, vegetables, and freshly baked bread weave in between the large plates as palate cleansers and small plates appear on the very corners of the table. A satisfied smile appeared on Her Lady’s face as the guests began grabbing food.

As the dust settles and smaller niches of guests start grouping, Morpheus is displeased when his wife leaves his side to mingle amongst the other gods. He watches from the shadows, small fruit plate in hand, glooming as she smiles with her guests. A hand comes up to hide her mouth as she laughs at something Phanes, God of Life, said. Jealousy brews and grows bitter like spoiled milk. 

Morpheus stands, ready to come to his wife’s side in hopes of deterring the god, but before he can a nymph comes forward and gives an exaggerated curtsy. He can’t help the slight roll of his eyes as she begins to talk him up. The nymph’s voice carries a small lithe to it and he becomes unfocused, only noticing the movement of his wife’s green dress and Phanes walking off into the hedge labyrinth. 

A frown etches itself onto his face. The nymph choosing to ignore the frown finds the courage to lift a mossy hand to caress his coat’s lapel, to which the Endless notices. Morpheus looks down at the nymph, his hand tightly grabbing into her wrist and dropping it away from him. 

“Do not presume you may touch me, insolent child.” His voice is deep and grave as his frown deepens. 

The nymph’s face contorted into embarrassment as red poppies boom across her cheeks and ears. She briskly walks away, forgetting to curtsy, with her tail tucked between her legs. The forest nymph looks forward to the next time she meets the Dream King, but she does not know that this will be the last time the doors of the Dreaming will open to her. 

Dream makes a beeline towards the hedge labyrinth, taking a right turn as he had witnessed his wife doing moments ago. But, as something as lucid as the Dreaming, the labyrinth path twists and turns in new ways each moment. Morpheus turns left and right based on where he could feel his wife’s presence, but seems that she does not want to be found.

As a deity in her own right, should she so command it, she would not be found. Something that the Endless found infuriating at the moment. What could she possibly be doing with Phanes? Did she invite him for a personal reason? Was the dinner event a ruse so she could speak with him without raising any questions? Well, Morpheus surely was starting to ask questions. 

Jealously turned into guilt quickly like the crack of a lightning bolt. Has he not been a good husband? Was she getting bored of their marriage? It has been several centuries, after all. Guilt turned into sadness as the questions he asked started bringing down his spirit. Surely there is something he can do to make her happy again. Surely she is faithful, surely, surely, surely…

Morpheus stands still, the drive to find his wife lost. The hedge leaves shiver as the temperature grows colder from the king’s mood. The lovely sunset leaves the last of its warmth before disappearing, leaving the sky full of stars. He turns around and retraces his steps, if his wife does not want to be found, he will grant her this wish. 

Morpheus would never admit to anyone that he mopes. But with his sluggish walk and downturned lips, he clearly was. He sees his wife had made it out of the labyrinth quite some time ago and is already waving her guests goodbye, Phanes nowhere in sight. When she sees him emerging from the hedges, she perks up and excuses herself from her conversation. 

“Dear husband, where did you run off to? Too many people in your presence?” She jokes, latching herself onto his arm. 

“I was merely looking for you,” Morpheous murmurs. He starts walking with her back to the castle. 

He waits as his wife takes a pause, slowing down in step. “You followed me into the labyrinths?” 

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting her to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. 

“Yes…” He draws out, trying to tread lightly, hoping that she would open up without much prompting. “I saw you and Phanes entering together.”

An amused huff escapes her. “I see.”

The silence lingers like the plague: uncomfortable and heavy in the air. 

“Will you not speak as to why?” He questions and he almost hates how desperate he sounds. 

The lady takes a seat on his throne, only to lean down and take off her shoes with a satisfied sigh. She rubs the ankles of her foot when she speaks again. “I believe it to be a personal matter.”

The answer was vague, and Morpheous hated it. Angry, gray storm clouds formed overhead and the ice-cold rain started to hit the stained glass behind her. 

“Am I not worth sharing with?” He asks again, but he doesn’t stop to let her answer. With her eyes wide in surprise, he continues. “Am I not good enough? Faithful enough? Am I not devoted enough to you, my love? Will you command me to beg on my knees, I shall if you so ask.”

He falls to his knees before her and runs his hands from her ankle to her knee, slowly, deliberately. His lips follow soon after, tracing the same path his fingers had. Her breath hitches and her hearts start beating faster. 

“How can I show my devotion to you, my love?” He kisses. 

“My wife?” He kisses again. 

“My forever goddess?” And again. 

“Morpheus,” She breathes out, and it’s all he ever wants to hear. She is all he ever wants to breathe and all he wants to taste. 

“I pray to Daleena, Goddess of Husbandry, for forgiveness. I have left my wife unsatisfied and feel the crop of our love withered. I shall repent for my sins by your guidance.” Morpheus says in a hushed tone as he slowly inches higher on her leg. 

The goddess feels power surge through her as the prayer leaves her husband's lips, and she craves the touch of them on her own. Heat pools between her legs as her husband’s breath fans across her lower regions. Her dress slits exposed her legs deliciously to Morpheous but there were still her undergarments, which he removed slowly, keeping contact with her silky skin as it slid down. 

Her Lady looks down at him with uneven breaths and waits for him to give her what she wants. Morpheus, however, is patient. He traces his lips higher, he kisses all the spots she wants, but not where she needs it the most. 

“Morpheus,” She pleads, and it is all he needs. One moment it is the cold air of the Dreaming and the next it is the warmth of his lips, tongue languishing the length of her slit. 

She jerks in place, strong hands holding down her hips. Her own hands shoot out, desperate to grab onto anything. One, bear-clawed and desperate, on the arm of the throne and the other weaving itself into the silky strands of her husband. She gasps at the wet sensation and her head is thrown back in pleasure. 

The Endless is unmovable, driven solely by the purpose of satisfying his wife. A low groan emits from deep in his throat at the unapologetic sounds she cries, babbling in a series of his name and other obscenities. He tilts his head higher until he finds her clit and relishes in the pain of her nails in his hair, lapping at her arousal with contentment until it drips down his chin. He is a starved man and she is his salvation. 

Morpheus continues his demonstrations, alternating between her clit and her needy cunt. She clenches her thighs hard as she feels the impending rise of her orgasm. Her fingertips buzz with excitement as he continues to ravish her sensitive clit. His pace continues, and her eyes roll to the back of her head. 

She calls out his name again, and a high-pitched whine leaves her lips as he easily adds two digits into her weeping hole. He moves them slowly, slightly curved to touch that delicious spot inside her that has her arching her back taught like a bow. From below, Morpheus looks at her through his lashes, and he can’t help the smirk that tugs on his lips as his wife tries to thrash from the sensations. She tightens around him, cunt pulsing sporadically, and he is flooded with her orgasm where he drinks greedily from the taste - sweet like a plentiful summer wine. 

He places a final gentle kiss on her clit before looking at her again, the skin of her extremities glowing ethereally as she tries to control her ragged breaths. She is still in the midst of her orgasm, trying to calm herself from the high and he finds it the perfect time to leave a bruising hickey on the inside of her plush thighs. Morpheus gets up, dick painfully hard as it brushes against his pants. He takes hold of her hands to help her stand on wobbly legs and leans back. 

He leans until he falls, through the throne room floor and then onto the plushness of their shared bed. His command dematerializes both of their clothes and he basks in the sticky warmth of his wife on top of him. He runs light fingers down her spine, shivers following behind like a loyal companion, whispering sweet nothings into her ears.

“Come back to me,” He murmurs, kissing her sweat-filled brow. 

“Hmm,” The goddess exhales after a few more seconds of silence, eyes opening languishingly, lashes tickling the skin of her husband. 

She looks around the dimly lit room for a moment before realizing that she is in their bed. Using her husband’s chest, she props herself up, effectively straddling him beneath her. Morpheus remains unmoving, ignoring the way his tip brushes against her lower lips, only messaging the meat of her hips with his thumb. 

When she meets his eyes again, he speaks. “Have I proven myself, dear wife?”

It takes a moment for the goddess to remember what he was talking about and her feelings crash down again. “You had never needed to prove yourself to me, Morpheus. What happened between me and Phanes will remain between me and Phanes.” 

She lifts herself on sore thighs, but can’t get far as gentle hands turn rough. The next moment, she is lying down with her husband looming over her. There was not enough light to illuminate his face, leaving only the impression of his merciless, mercury eyes. Deep down, she knows no harm will ever befall her, but in this moment, something primal presents itself.

Perhaps it is how his eyes bore into her very soul, to the very moment she was born several millennia ago. Or perhaps, she was just crazy about how his touch was driving her mad. She was very aware of the appendage that settled between the two of them and the way that her slick was coating it. His hands cup her cheek and slide down her neck and her head tilts back at the ticklish and yet pleasurable sensation. She swallows thickly and a broken sigh escapes her as his hand ghosts over her nipple.

Shivers bloom once more as his mouth incloses over the perk nipple, suckling at it in a way that has her legs wrapping around his waist. Her arms come up and snake over his shoulders, fingers gliding over the smooth marble-like skin, then resting behind his neck. One of her hands finds itself back into his hair, clenching as he gives continuous pleasure to her body. 

Her hips buck up, her pussy clenching down on nothing. Cold fingers glide down the center of her stomach, going lower and lower until they cup her heat. A thumb gently circles her clit, understanding the overstimulation it recently received. They trace over her outer lips, downwards, then upwards again, coating themselves with a mixture of spit and arousal. 

Morpheus removes himself from her breasts and presses his lips at the junction between her neck and shoulder. He licks at the sweat that accumulates on her collarbone and continues up her neck. When he faces her again, he speaks. 

“Beg for it.” He commands. 

Her Lady remains silent, slowly chewing on the inside of her lip, weighing the options in her head. Morpheus, as always, is patient and he continues running his fingers between her folds, keeping his pace but occasionally rubbing his pointer finger in circles around her clit. When she realizes that he really would just keep rubbing her and nothing else, she opens her mouth. 

“P-please,” She stutters, the mere idea of begging or pleading foreign on her tongue. As a goddess, one would never allow such lowly behavior. Nevertheless how her husband will give her whatever she asks for. 

Morpheus hums in approval, removing his hand to hold his dick instead. He rubs it this time in lieu of his fingers around her cunt and the goddess almost begs again. Before she can, a moan releases from both of them as he inserts himself into her and she whimpers at the familiar dull ache of being stretched out. Morpheus dips his head between her neck and shoulder again and remains stiff, feeling the warmth that only his wife can provide. 

He pulls out and she mews beneath him in pleasure, ushering him to fill her up once again. Her cunt sucks him back and he wraps one of his arms underneath her waist to ground him. The other slams against the headboard of the bed, and he grabs on for all he is worth. His thrusts grow harder as her cries grow louder and he feels the way she clenches down on him.

“How divine you are, my love,” He says with a shaky breath, kissing more bruising hickeys that he hopes will last for millennia. He blows cold air over them and goosebumps rise in place, her back arching again and he can feel each perk nipple rubbing against his chest. 

She moans his name again, losing herself in each drag of his cock, screaming curses when the head brushes against her sensitive spot, and whimpering when it kisses her cervix. Morpheus rises, looking down on his wife with half-lidded eyes, running a hand down between the valley of her breasts, feeling each desperate breath of air. He goes lower and groans when he sees how the two of them are connected.

Each thrust creates an unholy, slick noise and he can see the inflamed clit begging for attention. He presses his fingers on her lower stomach and she cries out for him. 

“Can you feel me, my Queen?” He growls down at her, feeling the way his dick moves within her. 

“Yes!” She cries back, her brows furrow and her cunt pulses around him, gripping him like a vice. 

“Do you love me, my Queen?” He asks again.

“Yes!” She cries again. She starts begging again. Please, please, please, please. “Don’t stop, please my King. Please, don’t stop!”

“Will you tell me why you spoke with Phanes?” His last question. 

Her eyes snap open, all the build up from her orgasm lost in the question. With her legs still around his waist, she twists her hips and topples Morpheus over until he is beneath her again. 

“No,” She whispers, rocking her hips back and forth to regain the momentum they had lost. 

This time, it is him who pleads. “Please,” He whispers back. His hands cup at the roundness of her ass cheeks, loving how soft they were. 

She increases the ferocity of her grinds, looking down at her husband like he had just done with her. His head tosses back and she loves watching his Adam’s apple slide up and down his throat as he moans for her. His eyes are squeezed shut and his grip tightens but she doesn’t relent.

That familiar searing hot feeling appears again in her lower stomach and with one final grind she releases her orgasm all over him, falling onto his heaving chest. Morpheus cums right after, shooting his release into her in hot loads and she feels each jolt inside of her. 

Her orgasm rocks through her body, feeling both too hot and too cold at the same time. It tingles in her fingers and toes and when she closes her eyes, she sees the stars of the Dreaming shinging back at her. When she comes back to her senses (again) she can feel her husband’s hand running through her bed hair, untangling it as much as he could with the one hand. The other hand holds her waist flush with his. The two lovers share a quiet moment after their throw of passion before she speaks again. 

“Phanes and I…” She starts, and she can feel Morpheus stiffen under her. She groans as his cock is still deep in her, semi-hard and the only thing keeping them together. 

She shifts a bit and some of their combined release pool down onto his abdomen. He would never admit to her how filthy he thought it was, nor the fact that he loved it all the same. 

“Yes?” Morpheus urges, looking down at her on his chest with full attention. 

“We made a deal.” She finishes her sentence. 

Everything stops as Morpheus sits up. “What deal did you strike? I can do it instead, terminate the deal at once, my love.” He says with anxiety. 

His wife grabs onto him as she is rocked back and a smile appears on her face. “Morpheus, my love, you have done your part.” Her smile turns sad and a forlorn look cloaks her face and she casts her gaze downwards. “We just needed some extra help.”

A confused look crosses Morpheus’s face. He brings a hand to lift her chin to look at him. With the raise of an eyebrow, he doesn’t have to say anything for his wife to know he wants a better explanation. 

“I asked for a child, Morpheus.” 

When her husband remains quiet, her lips start to tug downwards and his heart lurches at the sight. Her waterline soon floods with tears. 

“We have not been able to produce an heir once.” She says, voice wavering. She dares not to blink for she is afraid if a single tear were to fall, all of them would. 

“What in return?” He asks. 

“I look after his pet snake for a weekend.” She replies simply. Morpheus has returned to his previous position. 

The tears start to fall, each fat drop hitting his skin seemingly striking him directly in the heart. “You need not worry, wife. This time it will take, with Phanes’s help or not.” He whispers into the crown of her head. 

She nods once, sniffling as her nose starts to run, too. The rhythmic breathing below her and the continued brushing of her hair rocks her to a dreamless sleep. Morpheus wraps his arms protectively around her frame and should he have known, he would’ve stayed longer. He would’ve held her tighter, kissed her longer, and promised her that he would be there when she woke. Alas, there was a missing nightmare, rampaging through the waking world, something that was his responsibility as king. 

When she wakes up the next morning, with a satisfying ache throughout her body, the bed was cold and empty, and her husband was nowhere to be seen. To say that this was new behavior would be a lie, unfortunately. The number of times that a night of passionate love-making ended in a cold and lonely morning was more than she could count on her fingers and toes. That isn’t to say that Morpheus didn’t want to stay in bed with her, it’s simply a sovereign that understands his responsibilities, and she could never blame her husband for that. 

Avoiding the difficult conversation the two lovers shared last night, her Lady avoids the locations her husband is most likely to reside in. Instead, she chooses to look towards her duties in the Dreaming. She finds herself amongst a simple dream from a small farmer who looks after sheep, who struggles with getting their weight to increase during the harsh winters. Carefully, she admits herself to him, dressed in a light yellow dress, sunflowers decorating the fabric and her hair. Her hands were covered in dirt, and she held a shepherd’s crook that had a bell attached to the end. 

The farmer looks up from his rocking chair, prized sheep chewing lazily around him, and smoke from his pipe circles him. His face was rough - old and wrinkled from long days in the sun during his youth. But she smiles gently at him when his laugh lines appear around the edges of his eyes and mouth. 

She stands next to him and they stare out on his flock together. He shares his life story. The story of a young boy whose father was also a farmer, and his father before him, and his father before him. He talks about his first puppy, named Barkly, his first love, whom he lost after he was drafted into the First World War, and how he now finds solitude with his late wife’s grave and his grandchildren. 

He mentions that he needs to fatten his sheep up for the winter as he can’t lose any more stock so he may afford medicine for his sick grandson. He confesses that he has tried everything and nothing seems to have worked. He looks up at her now, tired, and slumped over, and realization dawns on his face as she smiles down at him.

She whispers at him a simple solution, one he can’t quite hear over the muddle of a dream. He stands abruptly as her figure distorts, the dawn is rising and a farmer’s body rises with it. He thanks her - he offers a sheep for her, which she nods at before he wakes from his dream. 

The goddess visits a few more dreams, each giving her ethereal presence. Some were like the one she was just at, some needed comfort from the loss of animals, and some dreamed of a new pet to have. By the 5th dream, she realizes that several days had passed in the waking world, and her husband was nowhere to be found. 

She admits to herself that she had been avoiding him longer than she intends, but perhaps it was time to face him again. She teleports to the castle, summoning herself before the drawbridge of the magnificent building. The ivory dragon perks up at her arrival, but otherwise pays no attention to her, going back to hoarding its gold coins, a few of them falling when she crosses the large doors. 

As always, the castle is slightly colder than what she likes. A small sense of deja vu encapsulates her as she walks to the all-familiar throne room. This time, however, it was empty. No figure on the throne, nor the stairs as he sometimes preferrs it. Odd, she thinks, but not impossible. So she turns a corner to the library, she often finds him here as well, looking over the books of his dreamers. She searches high and low, through each aisle and reading spot, but still nothing. Anxiety and thoughts of doubt begin to fill her. Perhaps she did mess up, making that deal with Phanes.

Her last stop was Cain and Able’s homes. She finds the two brothers in front of their own homes, tending to their garden and playing with the gargoyle that Morpheus had given them. The two were of no help as they were unable to answer something worthy of even a hint of where her husband was. 

She rolls her eyes as the walk away from their homes was accompanied by the sound of a scream and the resolute bang of a metal shovel hitting a skull. 

As her last resort, she calls for Lucienne. Often, she hopes to never bother her, understanding that the work she puts into maintaining the Dreaming is never-ending. And, she knew that if she were to ask something of her, Lucienne would stop everything to help her. 

“His Lord left several nights ago to fetch the Corinthian,” She spoke, pushing up her round glasses. 

“And since then?” She questions, her hands wringing with themselves. She hopes for an answer she knows she won’t get.

Lucienne shakes her head no. “My Lady, Jessamy hasn’t returned either. Perhaps his Lord is simply taking longer than usual.” 

“Let us hope,” She says defeated. 

For the next few months, the goddess stays within the Dreaming. Each day that passes, more hope was lost for her husband's return. Doubt and anxiety cloud her mind at the uncertain future.

She looks down at her stomach, a distinguishable bump had made its appearance and she rubs it gently with her hand. The deal with Phanes went through, she is with child. She should be happy right? Except for the obvious fact that Morpheus still had not returned. 

Her cat lounges at her feet where she sits and she pets its head. With a trill, it looks at her, similar mercury eyes of her husband stares back. She had no choice but to find him herself. 

“Go,” She asks of it. “Go to the waking world, find Morpheus.”

The cat sits up and stretches, hind high in the air. Its claws grips into the plush carpet it rests on. With another stretch to its lower back, it trots off, the jingling sounds of its bell disappearing as it crosses over to the waking world. 

All the goddess could do was wait and hope. She runs another anxious hand across her stomach and a tear escapes her. 

Lucienne had mentioned it to her in passing a few days ago. The librarian stated that it probably was nothing to worry about, but the conversation had stuck with the goddess since. 

The Dreaming is dying. 

As much as the Dreaming is hers through marriage, it is suffering without its true ruler in the realm. She could see it in the dying leaves and small cracks of the castle. The ivory dragon that rests above the castle has gotten more restless in the past few weeks. And despite her best efforts to comfort the animal, the dragon did not listen to the Goddess of Husbandry. 

This brings up a second concern of hers. The child she carries is as much a part of her as it is the Dreaming’s. It embodies a part of the Dream Lord and if the Dreaming is suffering, there stands to reason that her husband is suffering as well. If both of these entities are suffering, what is to happen to her child?

This child that she already loves until she is forgotten and nothing but stardust and she had been asking for centuries. This child that Morpheus is finally ready to love after the untimely death of his son. She must find Morpheus, and soon. 

For the sake of the Dreaming and her child. 

Several more weeks pass and her cat had yet to come back. She only hopes that it was due to the difficulty of finding an Endless and not because it got distracted with a family whose heart was big enough to take in a “stray” cat. Each day that passes, she grows significantly weaker. The prayers of her followers still ring in her ears, but she could not leave the Dreaming to help her devotees. 

Another war broke out among the humans, the one they call World War II. Less and fewer people were crossing over into the dreaming and slowly, the once beautiful realm was losing its colors. The goddess couldn’t stop the residents of the realm from leaving its gates, the Dreaming was no longer a place they wished to stay. Furthermore, there weren’t enough dreamers for them to bother staying. She only remains thankful for those who decided to stay. 

She sits on Morpheus’ throne, the castle colder than ever. Behind her, the once beautiful stained glass had shattered. The Corinthian had still not been captured, or else her husband would have been home and Fiddler’s Green had decided to leave. She runs a hand through her hair at the issues that seem to keep piling up. As she ignores her prayers, her powers start to wane. Fewer and fewer people were still believing in her. 

And how could she blame them? She hasn’t made herself present in any of their prayers and with the war, people were less concerned about animals and more about themselves. She sighs. 

A sharp pain yanks her out of her thoughts and a scream rips from her throat. She doubles over from the throne and kneels, hunching over on the floor. The pain spreads across her lower abdomen and a shaking hand holds her stomach. Immediately she knew something was wrong and it involved the safety of her child. 

For a moment, she couldn’t breathe, too focused on staying conscious. The throne room was empty, her fall echoed around and bounced across the wide walls. When she thought the pain was over, she took in a large breath, inhaling shakily in gulps. 

Salvation lasts a few seconds before another wave of pain overwhelms her. It wraps around her like a hot blanket on a sweltering day, sticking to her skin and making her overstimulated. Too much was happening at once and it was almost too hard to bear. 

“Lucienne!” She screams between cramps. Tears fall in fat drops onto the floor and wets the hand propping her up. 

Lucienne appears quickly, followed closely by Mervin. Hands grab at her weak body and hoist her back onto the throne. Where she had fallen, blood pooled and more fell from between her legs. 

Her whole body shakes with shivers and a whimper leaves her. 

“My Lady,” Lucienne says with concern. The librarian couldn’t stop from staring at the growing pool of blood below her. 

“What do we do?” Mervin asks. Even though he was a glorified janitor, constructor, and destructor for the Dreaming, he didn’t know how to fix this. 

“Call for Phanes,” Their Lady said weakly. Sweat begins to appear like morning dew across her forehead. For once, she was grateful for the cool temperature. 

“Mervin, take her to his Lord’s chambers,” Lucienne instructs. She doesn’t stay to watch as she sprints to the library. 

She flips through leather-bound books, old and new until she finds the correct summoning spell she was looking for. The loyal librarian could only hope that a god would listen to a dream like her. 

She hauls the large book into the room her Lady lays in. Labored breathing came from both women, although for two vastly different reasons. 

“Forgive me, my lady, but I require your assistance,” Lucienne said next to the goddess’ bed. 

The goddess gives her a hand limply and Lucienne starts chanting the words on the page while holding her cold fingers. The wind whirls around them and Mervin holds onto his pumpkin head to not have it knocked off. 

Lucienne finishes the spell and looks down. Her Lady was glowing with power but she could not have looked any more weak. Nothing happens for a few bated breaths, only the sound of howling wind around them. Then nothing, not even the sound of crickets could be heard. 

Enters Phanes, golden and warm like the sun. He materializes in a cloud of golden dust. He slams his staff down, and his golden snake slithers up from under his robes. 

“Who dares summon m-” 

“Lord Phanes,” Lucienne interrupts, something she knows she would be punished for, if not for the more important matter at hand. 

A glare is thrown her way and softens at the familiar face. Phanes’ eyes travel across the intertwined fingers and land on his friend. 

Weak eyes open and meet his. The godly figure is almost too much to stare directly at. 

As if understanding what was happening to his friend, he drops the golden light he had been shining. The Dreaming returns to its cold blue, and it was just two deities and two dreams in understanding. 

“A new deal,” Phanes announces and the goddess wants to weep again. Judging by how her husband acted the last time she had done this, she was going to be doomed. But the decision was easily made. 

“Anything,” she whispers. Her eyelids are starting to feel heavy. She had delivered countless calves, kittens, and cubs, but never another deity. Was she supposed to feel this weak? 

Silky scales slide across her feverish skin and she is face to face with Phanes’ serpent.

“Give your child to him, he will keep them safe until they may come to fruition. Until then, you must look after the serpent as if it is of your blood.”

The goddess could barely pay attention but understood in a way without words. She nods in agreement and the relief begins almost immediately. 

Pain seeps out of her body, slow, like molasses and her body starts to glow again. Lucienne shields her eyes and peeks through her fingers. The goddess’ stomach glows and deflates. 

A small glowing ball releases itself from the warmth of her womb, its dim light is warm and lights the room like a lantern on a foggy night. A weak hand cups it and it sits in the palm of its mother. 

“Hello, darling son,” She whispers. The ball stays still, a small high-pitched noise emitting from itself.

The goddess smiles. “Darling daughter, then?” This time, the ball bounces gently a few times in response but otherwise doesn’t do anything. 

The golden serpent is slowly making its way up the arm that holds the glowing orb. A tongue flicks out and smells it. Then with a nod from the goddess, the serpent unhinges its mouth and swallows the child whole. The light shines through the crevices of its eyes and ears as it makes its way down the serpent's throat. Eventually, the light dissipates and the serpent looks all the same, save for the bulge in its stomach. 

A sense of longing borrows itself into her chest where her heart lies. Quite literally, the light disappears right in front of her. Physically, her pain had been removed, only the dried blood between her legs reminded her of what had happened just moments prior. And yet, a dull pain resides. Something she couldn’t put her finger on, but she could feel it behind her eyes and how it lodges in her throat. 

Her gaze is unfocused as she pets the golden snake, her golden snake now, her child. For the rest of the night, she rests and Phanes leaves without a word. Lucienne stays by her side the whole time, eyes only moving when the serpent shifts. Mervin went back to work after a few hours, the castle’s foundation still cracking under their feet. He left with a sorrowful look, well, as sorrowful as a pumpkin head could be. 

As the sun rises the next day, the goddess wakes up to not only the snake by her side but the librarian and her long awaited cat. Lucienne wakes up at the first shift that her Lady makes and stands. 

“Let me draw you a bath,” She said before any debate. 

“Lucienne,” Her Lady calls after her anyway in rejection. All of her handmaidens had left. They were only there to help the goddess under the instruction of the Dream Lord who created them. Without him here, no one would punish them for leaving and not attending his wife. 

Still, the librarian doesn’t listen and disappears into the joined bathroom. Meanwhile, the goddess looks down at her cat and raises an eyebrow. It has certainly gotten fatter. And a new name tag was attached to his collar next to his bell. 

“Buttons,” She said out loud, reading the new name. At that, the cat perks up and stares back at her disappointed face. “You got distracted on your mission didn’t you?”

She pets his rounder stomach and scratches his head. “Well, they certainly loved you…” The hidden passive-aggressive message was evident. 

The cat, now Buttons, doesn’t bother with a response. Instead, it lays back down, flicking its tail aggressively at her comment. 

She rolls her eyes. “Did you locate his Lord?”

Buttons rolls onto his back and stretches, belly exposing to her, and opens his mouth in a yawn. “Burgess Manor,” He says and turns his body away from her. 

Finally, an answer. She throws the blanket off her body and goes to stand. She looks at her closet, thinking of what to wear to the waking world to retrieve her husband. 

“My Lady!” Lucienne exclaims as she walks out of the bathroom. The goddess looks over at her and notices her staring at her dress. She looks down as well and remembers all of the blood that she spilled last night. It had caked itself into the fabric and was still crusted on the inside of her legs. 

The librarian’s shock was still on her face when she realizes that her Lady fully intends to go to the waking world looking like that, having overheard the conversation between her and the cat. Lucienne insists she take a bath first and that she would find something for her to wear. 

Her Lady doesn’t disagree and disappears into the steaming bathtub that was made for her. She doesn’t regret it for a second the moment she steps in. The warmth was comforting like a mother huddling to keep its cub warm. The water washes away the filths of yesterday and within the embrace of the water, she finally cries. 

It’s not a gentle cry, it is hiccups and gasping for breath. The pain of yesterday that she felt behind her eyes and in her throat spills out. Her bathwater which used to smell of apples and cinnamon now turns into a maroon as her blood washes out. It starts to smell of iron and salt and it reminds her of war. 

Her hand runs over her stomach and a whimper leaves her again at the lack of the bump she had grown so accustomed to. Logically, she knows that her child, no her daughter, was safe. But, one would have to admit that having their daughter in the stomach of a serpent was a bit unnerving. 

A golden head peaks at her over the side of the ceramic bathtub and flicks out its tongue. 

She sniffs the last of her tears away and pets its head with her index finger. “I’m sorry for leaving you already, dear daughter.” 

The serpent’s stomach had grown twice as large since last night and since this is new territory for her, she must make haste so she may be back in the dream to witness the birth of her daughter. 

Before she left, though, she walks into the castle gardens and gets to work. From her fingertips she grows a birch tree, its white branches and muted green leaves fit right into the dying realm around them. She sprouts flowers and brushes for scenery and a bed made of straw under a tunnel that she dug out. 

The golden serpent follows her and slithers up her body, wrapping around her curves. When its head was next to hers, it let out a rattling-like noise in agreement with the small open enclosure the goddess had made for it. It slides back down her body and makes it home in the tunnel. 

“Mommy will be back,” She whispers to it when it settles in and gives it a quick peck on the top of its head. It flicks its tongue at her and moves further into its nest. 

The goddess stands back up and dusts off any dirt that could have gotten on her dress. Lucienne helps her pick out an appropriate attire for the waking world. Something she wouldn’t personally wear, but it certainly helps to blend in with the mortals. She quickly had to locate her husband. After all, she has no idea how long it takes for a snake to incubate a child. 

It was easy to find the Burgess Manor when she arrives in the waking world. Everyone who was anyone spoke about the grand magus who managed to capture the devil in his basement. That the devil had granted him eternal life and some other rumors. All she had to do was flaunt a smile and go where the fingers pointed. 

The rumors, of course, were mere rumors. The devil? No. Without knowing it, Rodrick Burgess managed to capture something even more powerful. How he had managed to keep him captured was a different question entirely and the goddess had a sneaking suspicion that he had some help. 

It was nightfall when she arrives at the gates of the manor. Thousands of people clamor in the front garden, talking amongst themselves. Suddenly, the clothing she had worn was not fit for the environment she was walking into. Using a little bit of her powers, she changes the outlook of her clothing into something else. It was a bit more formal, growing longer and softer to the touch. However, if someone were to squint and stare hard enough, they would be able to see the original dress she had worn. 

She weaves her way to the front and listens carefully to the words around her.

“I had arrived this morning, my feet are killing me.”

“Ha, me as well. But anything to get into the manor. I want to see what the Great Magus is hiding.”

“Not to mention the party of your lifetime!” They joke together. 

Someone taps her on her shoulder. Another young man was waiting to be let in. 

“You are a new face,” He comments and takes her hand. He presses his lips to the back of it. She takes her hand back and wipes it away on the back of her dress while keeping a smile.

“Yes, I wish to see the Great Magus himself.” She half-lies through her teeth. The young gentleman offers an arm to her which she reluctantly takes. Perhaps he will be the key to getting into the manor. 

The doors of the manor open and people slowly trickle in. She peers over shoulders into the manor but couldn’t immediately find anything of note that would be dangerous. The warmth of the building fans over her as she enters through the large doors and a breath of relief escapes her. 

“Isn’t it everything you could ever dream of?” The gentleman asks. He looks down at her with a smile. 

She looks around, the manor was certainly lively. Foods of all kinds sprawl out on tables, fresh flowers almost too sweet to smell, and candlelight flickers and dances from the sudden wind. There were some party tricks as well, the flames seem to sparkle a bit more, bubbles were floating around in the air without popping, and the statues follows her with their eyes. But, they were all small party tricks, nothing to indicate this holier-than-thou man. 

Through the buzz of it all, she could feel it. The string of fate that connects her to her husband. It was faint, but it was there and she knew she was in the right place. She just had to find out where. 

A man emerges on the top of the stairs to the second floor and opens his arms in a flourish. She frowns at him because there he was, Rodrick Burgess, the man who took her husband. By the end of tonight, she promises herself, there will be no Rodrick Burgess. 

“Ow, dang you’ve got a grip on you,” She breaks eye contact with Rodrick when her escort for the evening exclaims out. She releases the iron grip she had wrapped around his lower arm and apologizes. 

“I am terribly sorry,” She apologizes. “Actually, I am parched, can you be a gentleman and fetch me some lemonade?” She bats her eyelashes and gives a smile. His face lights up in a blush and runs off to fetch her the lemonade she wants. 

As soon as he was out of eyesight, the goddess began moving. She moves between bodies like wind on the beachfront - gracefully, wistfully, but with purpose. She uses her senses to locate where her husband could be. It was like an invisible dance. 

When the sense weakens she backtracks, when it strengthens she moves forward. She was so lost in her quest that she almost did not register when she ran into a wool-covered chest. Surprise overtook her face as she looks up, ready to apologize and continue on her way. But she stops when she realizes that the man she bumps into is the very host of the party. 

“Rodrick Burgess,” She says almost breathlessly. Oh, how she wants to commit a grievous crime to this mortal. 

The old man chuckles above her and grabs onto her shoulders. His fingers are cold when they come into contact with her bare skin and she wants to cringe away from his touch, but he holds on strong. 

“You seem like a curious creature, my little dove,” He comments and starts to walk. Without much room to budge, she is reluctant to follow him.

“Yes,” She drawls out much like how Morpheus tends to do. She suddenly acts with interest when she realizes that the bond strength between her and her husband increases. She holds on tighter and presses her body against his arm.

“I heard that the great Magus kept the devil in the basement of his manor. Can we see it?” She fakes a supple voice and looks up at him with an innocent smile.

“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think a small thing such as yourself would want to see the devil.”

“No!” She belts out, a bit too quickly. But she recovers smoothly. “What I mean to say is, I am far too excited to see him. Please don’t deny me this one pleasure Great Magus.”

“How loathsome,” She thinks to herself. 

“Very well, I can’t deny you anything if you keep looking at me like that.” He confirms. 

Rodrick Burgess leads her away from the party, down a long and quiet hallway. It is decorated with antique and rare collectibles. The older man talks about each one, dragging on his time that leads to her husband, but she nods along anyway. 

She had waited decades to be in the arms of her husband again, a few more minutes surely wouldn’t hurt. Soon, she is led to a dark and demanding set of double doors. Locks and bolts seal it from top to bottom. With a nod of Rodrick’s head, the guards stationed outside open the door slowly and a cold air seeps out and blows her hair back. The basement smells musty of old water and stale air. A cough emits from further down the stairs and she frowns. 

“Scared yet, child?” Rodrick says to her mockingly. 

She only shakes her head no as she continues down the steps. 

The smell grows stronger as she gets closer and she can also make out a small portion of dirt and sand amidst it all. Despite it, the air was crisp and cold, suitable for a stone basement. 

A light emits from the end of the long staircase downwards and she can’t stop her jaw unhinging as she finally sets her eyes on her husband. Tears well up in her eyes as they dart across the room.

Arches supported the basement throughout the floor and a moat still separates between her and her husband. A singular fluorescent light is cast on him in a glass prison as if he were some circus animal on display. Below the glass prison were some sort of gold runic markings and even from far away, she could feel the real magic emitting from them. 

Rodrick releases her hold on him and turns to the two guards on duty that night. “You two may go,” He instructs, and the two leave without debate.

At the sound of his voice, Dream opens his eyes but remains in his laid position. His gaze pierces into his corrupt heart, if he even had one left, but quickly notices his wife by his side. With this, he sits up and gently places a hand on the glass barrier. 

“Would you look at that!” Rodrick boasts. “He moves, he doesn’t do that much. Perhaps he has feelings for a pretty thing like you.” 

The goddess doesn’t hear him and walks up to the glass cage in a trance. How does she free him? Tears fall restlessly down her face and her stature dejects. She snaps out of her trances on the small bridge above the stagnant water when a rough hand squeezes her upper arms. 

“Stop, you must not get any closer. He is trying to seduce you into releasing him!” Rodrick hashes out between gritted teeth. 

She opens her mouth to tell him something, anything, to release her husband but stops when she hears Dream’s voice again. 

“Wife,” He calls simply and her body fills with all of the love and adoration she had been missing for decades. 

Rodrick’s grip tightens at his voice, the first time he remembers hearing it. With a shocked face, he looks down at the woman in his grip. “Wife?!” He screams at her furiously. 

She takes a deep breath and steels herself, ripping herself away from his bruising grip, and stands between him and her husband. The tears had dried and only anger left in its wake. 

“The one before you is Daleena, Goddess of Husbandry, Mother of Agriculture and Protector of Animals, Saint of Farmers, Queen of the Dreaming, wife of Dream of the Endless. You face me now, mortal.” 

Wind swirls, somehow, in the basement but it is the least of Rodrick’s worries. He plants himself firmly as the wind picks up and sand envelops the two of them in a vortex of anger. 

“I have captured something more than a god! I have an Endless!” He points a finger at her, eyes scrutinizing. “What makes you think you can defeat me? The Great Magus Rodrick Burgess?” 

Walking a few steps forward, her shepherd’s crook materializes in her hand, the bell jingling violently in the wind. Her extremities start to glow their familiar light as she musters power. She points the staff at Rodrick as billets of wheat start growing around his feet and crawl up his legs, the nice wool of his pants long forgotten against the harsh stalks of the plants. The plants bloom as it sucks the life away from the very thing they grew on. 

Rodrick starts chanting in Greek. 

“Prostasía,” He chokes out. “Prostasía.” He chants again and he breathes easier. “Prostasía.” He chants one more time and he’s back to standing at his full height. The plants that were wrapped around him wither away and fell into dust, sucked into the sand vortex around them. 

The goddess frowns, she did not realize how much power she had lost until now when a simple protection chant could stave off her attacks. Rodrick lunges at her, hands open and clawed, ready to grab onto any piece of her clothing. In turn, she slams her crook into the ground and a fissure opens up, but not before he can shove her further and her body slams into the wall of the glass prison. The fissure separates the two opponents away from each other and Rodrick steps back before he falls into the Earth. 

She braces herself on the glass wall at the impact and loses her breath for a moment. She could feel the warmth of her husband’s hand and she turns away from Rodrick to look at him. His hand was aligned with her own, so close, only inches apart. 

“The runes, my love,” Morpheus tells her. She looks down at looks at the graphics that surround them, the sand had erased some of it through the abrasive nature of itself. The magic within the runes would still be strong if not for the defiant smudge she creates with her foot, just in time for the fissure to finish opening. With a final look at her husband, she walks closer to the fissure, pulling the sand vortex smaller so it was just her and Rodrick again. 

From the fissure glows a golden light, soft and merciful but quickly overshadowed by the growing dust. The light expands as the golden serpent which holds her daughter emerges. It had grown in size since the last time she had seen it. Its length and mass have nearly tripled in size and the baby bulge it used to flaunt was now merely a small bump. 

Rodrick’s stare grows higher and higher as the snake continues to emerge, it stares at the man, tongue flicking angrily at him for daring to harm the goddess. The snake lunges, all fangs and dripping venom, its large scales clattering against each other like gold coins. Rodrick moves to the side and the serpent misses. It hisses in retaliation and comes around again, this time wrapping its body around the legs of the Great Magus. 

Panic sets in as the serpent starts to constrict around the man and he can feel his pulse pounding against his head and the blood circulation gets cut off. The bones in his knees pop as they press together. 

“Father!” A young boy’s voice screams across the vortex and the goddess sees a glint of silver cross into the vortex arena. 

The serpent is halfway up Rodrick’s body when the goddess notices the sharp dagger that Rodrick now possesses. He rises it high in the air and with a large gasp plunges it into the flesh of the serpent. The golden scales provide little to no protection against the artifact. 

“No!” She screams and takes a step forward, only to be stopped by the protective tail of the serpent. 

The metal hisses as it melts against the golden scales, melting the scales together until they become smooth around the wound. Rodrick slides again and again until the weapon becomes too slippery with blood and he loses grip. The snake is now a mosaic of gold and red as it tightens one last time. 

“Curse… you…” Rodrick strains out, his face turning purple as the last bit of air leaves him. The serpent weakens and falls in a slump like an inanimate rope and the sand around them falls like rain. 

The goddess leaps over the fissure and after making sure the man is dead runs to the head of the golden serpent. Its eyes were dim, mouth agape as its muscles weakens and she can no longer feel it breathing on her skin when she places a hand above its nostrils. 

“No, no no,” She mumbles to herself. She grabs her dress up and away from her feet as she makes her way down the length of the serpent. When she reaches where she last saw the small baby bump, she runs her hand along its underside, soon becoming slick with cooling blood. 

She finds a particular cut that was deeper than normal and when she sticks her hand in there, they grab around a small appendage. A cry of relief leaves her lips as she digs deeper. She pulls her baby from the dying body and cradles it to her body. Golden scale imprints are decorated across her arms and legs and a few more along the spine of her back.

Her breath hiccups as silence fills the air. She pats her daughter’s back and wipes her mouth clean and panic seeps into her bones when still she remains quiet. 

Morpheus appears behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. She turns to him, tears streaking down her neck. 

“Crying, why-why isn’t she crying?!” She wails and clutches her child harder against her chest. 

Morpheus hugs her from behind and holds the two of them to his chest. 

“Y/N,” He calls her name, her real name. Not her titles, or what the mortals call her, but the name given to her since her creation. 

She weeps into his form, salty tears mixing with blood and the amniotic fluid that covers her child. Her tears fall into her daughter’s mouth and feed into the child her grief, regret, and guilt as well as the hope she still had in her. 

A soothing hand pets her and the silence disappears. Loud wailing comes from below and her eyes shoot open. Her daughter was finally crying, her hands in fists as they move around in the air. 

“Praises,” She sobs again, this time tears of joy. Her child's eyes peel open and smiles as she grabs at her mother’s hair. 

Morpheus smiles, a rare one, all teeth showing as he touches his daughter’s head gently. The three, now a family, return home to the Dreaming. There will be more to do, especially for Morpheus but for now, a small victory lies within the hope that is their daughter. 

Extra:

“Well I’ll be baffled, bamboozled, and befuddled,” Phanes says, hands on his hip and his staff leaning against one of the walls of the basement. 

He stares at his serpent covered in dried blood and dearly departed, lying alone on the cold basement floor. 

“Look at how they massacred my boy!” He screams to no one in particular, arms out in disbelief. 

He lets out a huff and crosses his arms. “I’ll let you borrow my snake, blah, blah, blah, take care of it like it’s your own, meh, meh, meh,” He mocks.

Phanes runs a hand across the top of the snake’s head and watches as the dried blood rehydrates and moves thickly back into the cuts. The gnashes done by the weapon stitch itself back close and the gold scales return to their original form. 

The snake shrinks smaller and smaller until it is back to its original size. At which, it perks up and flicks a tongue out in thanks to its god. 

“All right, let’s go,” Phanes says with a sigh as if this was a mundane chore. He extends out a hand for the serpent to slither up to.

“I am never making a deal with those two ever again, that was crazy.” He says to his snake. 

The snake flicks its tongue again and rattles the scales on its back.

“Ohh, that’s nice that she made you an enclosure.” He responds, then remains silent as the snake says something else. “What do you mean she forgot to put mice in the enclosure for you to eat?!”

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

[t3a-tan]

Romantic and Hopeless (9/?)

First / Previous / Next

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As they arrived at the cabin, Oscar pushed open the jammed door with some effort, before blocking it back up. Some of the windows were smashed in, but Freddie and him had covered the broken windows with wooden boards. The cabin was still cold, but it was mostly sheltered from the elements. The lights obviously didn't work, but there was enough natural light for now and Oscar had brought a lantern with him.

He removed his bag of supplies, tossing them onto the wooden floor and letting out a sigh of relief now that they had reached their intended destination. I don't think Ryker will find us here…

He glanced towards a cricket bat that was sitting in the corner. He and Freddie decided to keep a weapon inside just in case they needed it for some reason. At least I'll have something to defend us with. Not that it'll do much against a gun…

Walking over to the old dusty sofa that had been leftover by whoever lived in the house before he sank into it with another content sigh. Then, as he caught movement from the corner of his eye, he smiled warmly seeing Sammy crawling out of his pocket and across the chest of his puffy jacket.

“Crazy that your cousin happened to live here, ent it? And he rides birds? That's cool as fuck.” He couldn't imagine being so calm and confident riding on the back of something so massive. He felt nervous enough looking at it whilst human sized, let alone as a borrower.

Sammy was not as impressed. It was still weighing heavily on her mind; the fact that Oliver was clearly not afraid of humans as a borrower should be— and he was reckless enough to try taming a bird? A bird of prey no less?? Clearly he had a few screws loose.

Yes, Oscar did seem nice enough for a human… and yes, the bird was well-trained…but a borrower without caution was as good as dead. Yet, Sammy still couldn't help her admiration and care for her cousin… he was more like an older brother to her after all; having lived with her parents since she was born.

Oscar noticed the lack of response and the way her eyebrows furrowed in frustration, clearly deep in thought thanks to his comments. He tilted his head, smile dropping slightly.

“Hey, you okay Sammy? You're spacing out a little. Am I too close?” Not that he could do much about it considering she was standing on his chest… still, he glanced towards the cobweb covered side table and decided against offering to place her there.

Sammy snapped out of her spiralling thoughts as the warm breath of the human facing her washed over her body, sending a shiver down her spine. She looked up to meet his gaze, a frown still apparent on her expression.

“Just…fretting about Ryker, that's all…” She lied, rubbing the back of her hand anxiously and averting her gaze. “What if he manages to find us here? That would put Oliver in danger too now.”

Oscar leaned his head back in thought, realising she was right. But then again…this seemed to be Oliver's home, so he would have a much better chance surely.

“I mean… he's stayed hidden this long, I'm sure he'll be okay.” Oscar tilted his gaze downwards towards her again, tilting his head slightly and offering a reassuring smile as his brows furrowed with uncertainty. “And we will too. He's not gonna find us.”

Sammy let out a breath from her nose, her hand moving up to rub her shoulders as she hugged herself.

“You don't know him like I do. He's…he's smart. He's…too observant. Sometimes I'm not even sure he's human…” She shuddered again. “And most importantly, he has connections. I-I…I don't think I'm ever gonna feel safe with him just…out there.”

As she curled into herself more and more, Oscar felt a growing urge to hold her again. He quickly shook that feeling away; although he could tell she seemed like someone who found comfort in physical affection, it seemed more self-soothing. He could understand not wanting to be touched.

“I…understand…”

He leaned his head back again, looking up at the ceiling which was thankfully mostly intact as he formulated a response. Once he had one he sat up just a tiny bit so he could see her better, but not enough to make her ground unstable.

“It's okay to be worried… but I will protect you, okay? I promise. I wouldn't let anything happen to my soulmate…” His words were sincere, and he hoped that they would bring her some comfort…he was a little confused when she froze up. “What's up?”

Sammy stared up at him, shocked.

“Y-you knew!?” Her tone was a melting pot of emotions; anger, fear, distrust, disgust, relief. Her cheeks burned hot, but it felt more like shame than the usual nice fuzzy feeling she got around him. She felt tense and on edge all over again.

“Oh shit— sorry it just slipped out.. I— you seemed really averse to me knowing, but it was kind of obvious and I just—!” He cut off his hasty attempt to save the situation when he saw that she had tears appearing in her eyes again, her glare venomous. His words caught in his throat, a sinking feeling coming over him.

Sammy knew that it was a secret that would come out eventually…and yes, it had been obvious she was Rabbit, but why did he pretend? Why didn't he acknowledge it? Was he trying to lull her into a false sense of security? Make her trust him just enough that she could be taken advantage of?

After all she had experienced, her relationship with this kind of attraction had become skewed. The thought that Oscar may be looking at her as someone who was attractive made her feel gross and want to pull away. Though, as she looked up at Oscar her glare faltered slightly, seeing that he looked so genuinely…hurt.

“Sammy— what…I don't understand why it upsets you so much.. I- uh… do you not want me to be your soulmate?” He asked, tone soft and even a bit shaky.

Sammy bristled at the question, her glare disappearing entirely. She bit her lip, averting her gaze and gripping her arms tightly, enough for her nails to scratch skin. She didn't know how to articulate how she felt about it. About him.

“I…don't know. I do…but I just..” She ran her hands through her hair, brows furrowing in frustration. Her expression seemed to change every second, all of the mixed emotions whirling around inside of her to make a confusing distressing mess. “I-I don't want…I don't want me…to be your soulmate…”

As she said that her gaze focused up on Oscar again, posture shrunken and uncertain of her words. I'm not making any sense. He's just gonna be angry at me…

Oscar was relieved when she said she did want him as a soulmate…then immediately confused by her next statement. He ran through it a few times in his head trying to decipher the meaning. So…she likes me, thank god. But she doesn't want me to like her?

“You know I wouldn't ever pressure you into anything, right? I'm not… if you just wanted to be friends forever, that's fine. I-I want to keep you safe because I like you, not because I want anything from you.” He could only imagine what she thought of him and those images made him feel sick to his stomach.

Yet at the same time…he couldn't fault her. Everything that she had been through was still so fresh on her mind, of course she was going to be more reactive. And Oscar really was telling the truth; that he wouldn't mind if things never went past a friendship, as long as that's what Sammy wanted.

Sammy was still conflicted about things, but seeing how sincere Oscar was and hearing what he said made some of her worries go to the back of her mind again. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart as she wiped at her watery eyes.

“I'm sorry… I-I just don't want you to look at me like…the other humans…” Humans are monsters…but Oscar seems safe. At least right now. Ugh…why is it always so uncertain? She felt some guilt for her instinctive reaction— even more so seeing how Oscar was continuing to be so nice to her even through her constant distrust and distress.

She held his gaze, tensing in surprise when a reassuring smile found its way onto his face again. She could tell he still felt sad; his eyes were still staring down at her…not with pity, but with concern? Remorse? Resolve?

“It's okay. I promise, I would never look at you that way. I respected and admired you when you were still Rabbit, and I respect and admire you now as Sammy. Nothing will change that…” He assured softly, making Sammy relax. He continued, though his tone became more light-hearted. “Well… maybe if you did something crazy like blow up a building I would be a little concerned.”

Sammy laughed wetly at his joke, wiping away the last remaining tear streaks from her face. She found herself genuinely smiling this time, although the realisation of that fact made her falter and avert her gaze again, cheeks flushing red.

Oscar chuckled slightly at her reaction, only to apologise as he saw how his chest moving up and down made the ground much less stable for Sammy.

“Sorry… Do you want to move to one of the arms so I can sit up?” He asked, though it was more of a request really. Sammy looked towards the arm of the sofa Oscar was leaning on and began to walk across. She moved slowly, trying to avoid putting much weight on her injured ankle as she slid the short distance down from the human's shoulder to the arm of the seat.

Oscar watched the process for a few moments, seeing that she was struggling to move at a faster pace, but also knowing it was best not to offer help here. He tried not to stare, eventually looking down at his hands again as they rested against his stomach.

Once he was sure she was no longer on his person he sat up slowly. He then leaned down and began to dig through his bag, pulling out his phone and a granola bar. Putting his phone beside him, he opened the bar before looking down at Sammy again with a warm smile.

“You didn't get to have breakfast yet, so I figured you might be hungry. I'm a bit peckish too, but I reckon I can spare enough for you.” He spoke light-heartedly, breaking off a piece and offering it forward between his fingers. “It has bits of chocolate in. I remember you said you liked chocolate once before.”

She at first shuffled back as his fingers approached, a cautious but not as purely terrified expression on her face. She took a wary step forward and took the chunk from Oscar's grip, then stepped back again and sat down. She looked the granola over, her expression lighting up as she noticed there were indeed chocolate pieces inside.

“You remembered? I swear I said it off-handedly…” She looked up at him, feeling a little…flustered over the fact that he had paid enough attention to recall that fact. Not to mention happy; she hadn't had chocolate for a long while— but it was a taste she couldn't easily forget.

Oscar chuckled softly again, raising the bar to his lips.

“Of course I remember. It's something we have in common.” He nodded his head towards her in an almost bow.

Sammy snorted, and began to nibble on the granola. As soon as she took her first bite she realised how hungry she was and had to restrain herself from just scarfing the whole thing down immediately.

While they ate, Oscar noticed the sound of flapping wings before spotting the same tiny man from before, Oliver, entering through a crack in the bottom of the jammed door. He had a bigger bag with him this time, and was dragging an extra bag in through the crack. Once he was through he slung it back over his shoulder and walked further into the open.

“Oh, hey. You're back.” Oscar greeted with a wave, staying seated and silently wondering how heavy those bags would be to him if he was that small…

Sammy had finished her chunk of the granola bar by now and she peaked over the edge of the arm of the sofa, her eyes focusing on her cousin right away.

“Hi…”

Oliver smiled and waved up at the two.

“Hello.” He looked to Oscar specifically next, asking politely. “Could you give me a hand up please?”

Oscar blinked at the direct question. Usually he was asking Sammy if it was okay to pick her up, so being asked the opposite took him off guard for a moment. He snapped out of it a second later, nodding and bending down, offering a palm to lift the borrower up onto the sofa.

Once he had lowered his passenger onto the same arm that Sammy was on, he spoke up again.

“What did you end up fetching..?” He asked curiously, moving his hand away again once the man had stepped off. “Looks heavy.”

Sammy couldn't help but also feel curious. She watched as Oliver opened one of the bags and pulled out some clothes…. Socks, shoes, a coat— warm things. Her eyes widened in realisation.

“These are…mum’s.”

Oliver nodded.

“They’re for you. You'll catch a cold if you don't wear something more appropriate for the weather… It might be a bit baggy, but I brought Auntie's old clothes since I thought you would have better luck fitting into them than my own. I have thread to make it fit better anyway, if changes need to be made.” He explained.

Sammy was hesitant to touch any of it, her hands shaking as she reached towards the clothes. But they…are hers. I might ruin them… After a few more moments of staring, she looked towards Oliver for reassurance, to which he offered an understanding smile and nodded.

“Something well-worn is something loved.” He pointed out. Hesitantly, Sammy slipped on the socks, immediately relieved by the extra layering. She hadn't had socks to wear for a long time. Or anything really, besides the gown she was wearing right now.

Sammy tried on the shoes and put on some shorts. Although the shorts were a bit baggy, they could be tightened by pulling a string which made them fit more comfortably. Looking down at her now clothed legs, it felt…comfortable. Warmer, definitely.

She glanced towards Oscar, only to see that he was looking at his phone, seemingly texting someone, not looking at her. Some of her anxiety faded again.

“And look who else I brought—”

Sammy bristled at Oliver's words, her face reddening as she immediately caught onto what he was referring to. She spotted Oscar looking over from the corner of her vision and she immediately tried to block Oliver from his view when she saw that he was indeed holding a stuffed bunny.

“Ollie..! Put him away..!” She whisper-yelled, already pushing the bunny back down as her face burned with embarrassment. Oliver gave her a knowing look.

“Oh. You want me to take it back to my burrow then?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. Sammy's eyes widened and she snatched it from his hands, not wanting to give it up as much as she also felt embarrassed about Oscar potentially seeing it.

“Is that…a teddy?” She spun around as Oscar's voice rumbled close by, yelping slightly upon noticing he had leaned in to get a look. Her face was still flushed, and she hid it behind her back again, as much as she knew it was already too late. A soft chuckle sounded from above. “Hey hey…nothing wrong with that, Sammy.”

Recognizing her embarrassment, Oscar moved away again, rummaging through his own bag.

“In fact…that makes this conversation much easier.” Sammy watched in surprise when he pulled out a stuffed dog. The redness on her face cooled slightly and her grip on the stuffed bunny loosened, no longer hiding it behind her back. “Meet doggy. I know, not a very creative name…but hey. I named him when I was a baby.”

Her brows furrowed before she averted her gaze, slowly lifting the rabbit and presenting it towards Oscar’s smiling face.

“...Messy… His name is Messy.” She murmured, the heat returning to her cheeks once she actually uttered those words, finding herself unable to look in Oscar's direction for the time being. Her heart was racing in her chest once more.

Oliver watched the interaction with interest, buttoning his bag closed again. He had seen Oscar's gentle nature and he very much approved, feeling more confident about letting Sammy stay in his care for the time being.

He had some important questions he needed answered, but for now he was content to see his cousin alive and happy. He waited a few more moments before clearing his throat to get their attention on him again.

“Now then… what is the danger you're both hiding from?”

[marwhoa]

request: What if Y/N is really sensitive to tickles (like, sides and thighs), to the point that if it gets even a little too rough, the laughs quickly turn into tears. Can we get a rise!boys x reader (you can decide gender) where they individually find out how tickle-sensitive Y/N is? Bonus if there's a gentle apology tickle sesh <3 ~🌺👸

🝮 “ tickle-fest ”

rise!boys x reader (indiv.)

author’s note: hihi !! my bad for how long it took to do this uwu did it at my own leisure (though, maybe a tad bit over that 👉👈 some of them aren’t very “tears after tikl… ti… tickling? Oh my I forgot how to spell that for a second—ah, anyways, enjoy please !!

word count: 5.7k

┆ ── ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — Raph 💌

It hadn’t been easy warming Raph up to you. Being a human much smaller than he was and with much more fragile skin than his, he was walking on eggshells when it came to ensuring he didn’t hurt you. His hands would flinch and hesitate before resting themselves on your shoulders. His legs would lock up his position when he heard you near, especially if you were behind him. And never would he approach you without a warning of where he was, a little “ behind ya! “ or a “ Hey, comin’ in. “

It was especially bad when his feelings for you developed. They came so suddenly, nearly toppling the big guy over when you asked him of all people if he was okay one day. He wasn’t—the mission that day was far too stressful. He lost sight of his brothers as they tried to reason with a tree yokai—an ent, much heavier than he was with branches far more than capable of causing harm to his brothers without his tough skin and spiky shell. They totally held their own, as they always did, but with lives as dangerous as theirs?? No one could really blame Raph for his worries. And worst of all, he couldn’t share any of these feelings, not with anyone, lest he wanted to risk his responsibilities and confidence as their leader.

How could he falter? Would his brothers take on his fears if he dared share them? April would try to reach out to him, but he just couldn’t bring himself to share such heavy baggage with her.

Raph insisted he was fine. April always knew he was lying.

But, she respected his space, within reason.

Never would he have expected you to ask him how he was though, and somehow that ended up being the little drop of water that broke the dam. In your arms, he poured everything out, shaking the whole time. You stroked gentle touches down his neck, sometimes reaching out to trace little circles and hearts against his chest—knowing full and well that he could feel it.

When he calmed down, Raph jolted backwards, afraid to have made so much contact with someone he saw like glass. To his surprise, not only were you unharmed, but you encouraged him to return to your loving arms, and he would be a liar if he said that he hated it or found them uncomfortable.

And that was how you managed to get him to warm up to you, becoming a bit more playful, much more likely to embrace you, to seek your company. You frequented the lair more, and he would always rush to you once he was free. You would lay together in his room, hearing his most vulnerable emotions—just you. You were the apple of his eye. Raph relaxed around you, let down some guards, and allowed his hands to stroke your skin just how yours did his.

And that, dear friend, is how he discovered how ticklish you were—right on your tummy. It surprised him when one day, while running his fingers mindlessly against your skin, you began fidgeting. He tried again, and this time you started laughing, pushing his hands away.

Today, he was doing the same thing. You were both together, laughing and being close as usual, when suddenly he towered over you and gave a toothy grin. Oh no, not that look, please—anything but THAT look! He pushed your shirt up a bit—respectfully so— and immediately began assault on your tummy!

You squirmed and shrieked, fighting to escape the torture that made you laugh so bad. You couldn’t stop laughing and pleading.

“ Raph—Plehihiji—please! Let—hELP, I-I’M gonahahah—I’m g— PEE! “

“ Not a chance, Y/N. “

With empty threats, you pleaded, and he simply eyed you with a glint of enjoyment flickering through his eyes. Now began stage 2 of your fight for your life—kicking. It never usually reached this point, but you were desperate! Tears were pricking in your eyes and your laugh was starting to just become your mouth open and body jolting as if laughing but no sound came out.

Of course, when you’re someone like Raph with tough skin and a spiky shell, little human kicks don’t hurt at all. But, when you’re a human with easily torn skin, kicks against an alligator snapping turtle can be dangerous.

“ Y/N! I—I’m sorry, you’re . . . “

Raph was quick to catch when your cries weren’t done out of too much tickling. You gave a squeak of pain, halting your kicking abruptly, and suddenly Raph was brought back to an unpleasant memory of the past, one where a particularly purple turtle was hurt by him.

To omit the yucky details, let’s just say there was a bit of a ouchie-ouch on the sole of your foot. Raph quickly separated himself from you, putting an uncomfortable amount of distance between you both as he rummaged through drawers to find precious bandaids that were probably in every nook and cranny of the lair because of him.

“ Where are they, no, no, no, please. I didn’t mean to! “

Panicking, his shaky hands dumped bandaids into the drawer and quickly hurried to you with them and some Neosporin. Though, when he saw your teary eyes looking at him, Raph couldn’t help but freeze up. The materials were sat near you, but he kept his distance. His head hung to the right, like a puppy ashamedly holding their head down.

“ Raph? “

Y/N called with a low voice, reaching their hand towards him. A hesitant step back, and quickly you put the pieces together. It was just like before. Was he going to push you away now after this incident, too?

“ Raph, you can sit near me. It was just an accident, I’m not mad and it’s not even that bad of a cut! “

His eyes twirled light in them as tears glossed them up. Even so, even if you were okay—this just proved he was dangerous, right? This just proved he shouldn’t be so close to you, right? This proved every little thought he had every time he held you, every floating voice telling him, “ No, you are too close to them. You’re going to hurt them, it’s only a matter of time. You hurt everyone, Raphael. “

“ Y/N, please, you should be upset! I hurt you, it was only a matter of time. Just, LOOK at me? “

Fuming? He was fuming? Anger contorted his face as the tears welled up and rolled down his cheeks, leaving little trails that shone like crystals of sadness under the light basking his room. His eyes never met yours, staying fixated upon the floor.

This made your heart ache. You didn’t want to go back to when his hands would flinch, trembling as they gingerly touched your shoulders, your cheeks, your hands! You didn’t want him so afraid to touch you—you WEREN’T glass or tissue! You were resilient! After smearing the neosporin on your wound and pressing the bandaid neatly against your skin, your eyes traced his body while you spoke, noting the way he was so stiff yet quivering so visibly.

“ I AM looking at you, Raph. You didn’t do it on purpose, it was simply an accident, please—“

You leaned forward on the bed, reaching for him, but got startled when he jerked away, staring at you with eyes full of a kind of fear you hadn’t seen since the fight with Shredder years ago.

“ NO—Stop! I’m dangerous, just listen to me Y/N, and stay aw—Irk! “

He was startled as you suddenly leapt to him, his arms instinctively catching you. Guilt washed over him—he just said don’t touch him! But the way you held him and your voice cracked as you cried out,

“ Raph, you dummy! Listen to me, ”

Y/N pulled back, resting their weight upon Raph’s arms that held them securely with a little pinch of love. Their hands cupped his face, gently stroking his cheeks in slow circles,

“ I know you think I’m made of glass or something dumb like that. You underestimate how strong I am, okay? Of course I may get hurt here and there by your little points, but hey, ”

His head leaned against your hand as you rubbed his tears away,

“ That doesn’t change how much I . . . How much I love you, okay? “

The look on his face coupled with the blush dusting your cheeks was adorable. Though you both knew it, neither of you had said it aloud. And, what better time to say it than after a tickle fight gone wrong?

His eyes traced your expression, clenching tightly closed before opening with the kindest, most loving gaze that made your heart skip, but not as hard as his next words did. Now THAT made your heart trip over itself.

“ Can I kiss you? “

┆ ── ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — Mikey 💌

Loving Mikey was easy—the hard part was figuring out how he loved you. The way he treated you, it was sometimes indistinguishable from how one loves a friend or how one loves a partner. Your heart fluttered when his smile called your name, but that same smile called to his brothers, to his sister, fathers, everyone.

One thing that you knew was only for you, though, was the way he always wanted your hand. Now, there was no doubt that Mikey loved physical touch. He climbed all over Raph, always hugged Leo and Donnie (who would give little headpats that Mikey loved. Mental note made!), and never missed a chance to high-five April when she came by.

But you? Silently, he would lace together y’all’s fingers together and carry on as such. These were the moments that made you wonder if how he felt for you was exclusively for you. The answer to that always escaped you, never having the heart to ask him.

That is, until the answer decided to find you itself. One day, his hands met yours. Everyone headed out of the room, and you moved to follow them, expecting Mikey to follow along like always. But instead, you were pulled back, landing gently into his hugging embrace. Mikey hugged you, which wasn’t out of character, but it struck you as odd that he would want to lag behind the others, especially with you. Your heart began spinning with joy, but that was quickly shushed—quiet down, my heart, please. Don’t jump to conclusions that could hurt us!

“ I love you, a lot. “

The words had frozen your body. After a few seconds, you dared lift your head and lost all words at the loving smile and look he used as his eyes held yours. A rush of emotion, and soon your lips had met his, locked in a kiss so sweet.

From that moment on, you were surprised to find out just how much Mikey enjoyed contact with you. Sitting together, your body would be against his, his arms draped over your frame and yours holding his hands. Little churrs would emit from his chest, low for your ears only as you laid against his plastron. You frequented his room much more, usually laying across each other while reading from his absurd collection of comics—you didn’t know what surprised you more, the sheer amount of them or the fact that he actually kept comics that weren’t just Jupiter Jim. There were other stories, and even some of his own made comics that starred him and his brothers. You loved reading the ones he made himself.

One day, in his room in front of a cute mirror he had found and painted the outskirts of himself, you tried on a new shirt. It was a tad bit short, revealing your stomach. With a few twists, turns, and poses, you still hadn’t settled on how you felt about it before Mikey came in and saw. You held your tongue, burning under his gaze, but he erupted with joy at how nice you looked in it! He especially loved the colors and designs on it.

“ Can I touch the trim? “

He asked, eyeing the bottom of your shirt with a look only an artist could have. You of course obliged, allowing him to see whatever it was he wanted to inspect. It was then that his fingers grazed your skin, pulling a few giggles from you as your hands quickly moved to push his. With a confused look, he quirked a brow ridge at you, grinning as the pieces instantly fell into place.

“ You’re ticklish, aren’t you? “

“ Absolutely not. “

A suspiciously fast response. No, really, you had countered his question so fast that there was no way it could be seen as anything but a “ Yes, absolutely! “. And so, the only thing going through your head as your legs buckled and laughter shook your body was “ god have mercy. “

No time was wasted by the mischievous orange banded turtle as his fingers tickled your exposed stomach. Your legs had buckled, hoping to dodge him and run for your life, but you hadn’t accounted for just how fast he could really be when locked in target!

“ MIKEY—NOOOOO! “

You screamed, as if you were a character in a game betrayed by the one they trusted. Which, technically you were. This wasn’t a game, but you were being betrayed by whom you trusted as his hands tickled and tickled and tickled you until all you could do was gasp for air and reach for the sky—ceiling?

The laughter falling from your lips encouraged him. It made he himself laugh—but no, Mikey needed to focus on his attack! He couldn’t laugh so hard that he became weak, like you and your frame which shook with earthquaking giggles right now as your hands tried to hit and push him. That made him laugh even more—you were laughing so hard that your hands were hardly even putting enough pressure to TOUCH him!

That did him in as he rolled over beside you, trembling as he held his stomach.

“ You sounded so sil—pffft—silly! ”

“ Oh YEAH? DID I? ”

Regaining composure, you were quick to flip up over onto him and hold your hands up with a downright DEVIOUS smirk.

And Mikey recognized the fate that was about to be bestowed upon him.

“ Wait—Y/N, hahaha, come oNAAAAAAH! “

Y/N’s hands came down to his sides, beginning their relentless revenge upon their assailant. Their weight on top of him was holding him down effectively.

“ No mercy! “

They cried out evilly, laughing as Mikey’s laughs turned from joy to tickled horror! Free him!

“ Y/N, Y/N PLEASE, I’LL DIE! “

The deviant in your smile slipped away, replaced with a loving smile. The way his eyes were squeezed shut and how his big grin let out the most contagious laughs. The relentless tickle-attack was about to be lifted, but instead you were met by Mikey’s knee slamming into your back accidentally.

“ OUGH! “

“ HH—Y/N! “

Y/N’s body lurched forward from the impact, chest hitting against Mikey’s plastron and their noggin smacking right into his. The clonk sent you both rolling on the floor, opposite of each other and holding your heads. A string of whispered curses left both of your mouths as you squirmed in mutual pain! Who knew that tickling could become so painful for all parties involved?

Amidst your rolling, you both had began settling down, resting on your side and facing each other.

“ Euughhh… “

Mikey and Y/N groan, eyes fluttering open to meet each other’s. The giggles subsided, silence overtaking the two as they searched each other’s eyes for something. Mikey, looking for any pain, maybe even fear or hate for him hurting you. Y/N, looking for any pain, sadness, fear—and possibly even a hint of love. The silence turned into a melody of the two’s laughter, the sounds intertwining, weaving into a jovial harmony. With a few little nudges and scoots, Y/N and Mikey met their noggins once again, this time with a soft affectionate touch instead of a violent thunk. Their hands came together just as lovingly.

“ … “

Y/N’s eyes lowered to where their hands hugged. A content smile met their features, followed by a loving sigh as eyes trailed back to meet the bubbly ones that followed, hand in hand, curious of what had your attention.

“ So? Is the shirt weird on me? I’m not exactly the spitting image of those you normally see wearing this. “

Your eyes escaped, laced with a glint of anxiety and a pinch of discomfort. The fleeing gaze was brought back by Mikey’s hand, stroking your cheek.

“ Everything looks amazing on you, Y/N! “

He leans up, placing a sweet kiss upon your forehead.

“ Do you like it? “

┆ ── ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — Donnie 💌

Surprisingly enough, loving Donnie as much as you do now was not all that hard. If anything, it wasn’t even planned. The hard part was getting him to reciprocate.

You were a school friend of April’s, roped together by the dreaded “Group Project”. Little did you know, this group project soon turned into a “Group-Run-From-Some-Big-Lizard-Mutant-Thing!???” Without skipping a beat, April sent out a little “ help! doing a project with a potential NORMAL HUMAN FRIEND and a mutant has appeared? “

The two of you were saved by four highly impressive men—wait no… no, that’s a turtle? No, a frog? No, no, turtle frog men? No, that can’t be right?

“ Watch out! “

A voice startled your thoughts immediately as metallic arms gave only a second to respond before they yanked you away from the much larger and redder of the four thumping down where you once laid. Your eyes met the cold ones of your savior, who narrowed them with a clicking of his tongue.

“ Maybe you should leave zoning out for when you’re safe?! “

“ Donnie! “

“ Donnie… “

He was scolded by your dearest groupmate, April, and you found yourself parroting the name she said. Now he didn’t seem all that fond of you already!

But, that first impression dissolved over time. Knowing their existence now, you were more inclined to ask April to let you see them. After a few visits, you would even begin going to see them on your own—without her as your safe little guard as you got to know these brothers.

Donnie, though? Now he was who you were most interested in. His lab was where you gravitated towards the most, especially when visiting the lair on your own. Your comfort zone had extended from April’s side to the lab of a rather recluse scientist.

At first it seemed like you were an annoyance—a pain in his neck, maybe even a thorn in his side? That slowly subsided as you came to know not Donnie, but rather Donatello.

Donatello was someone who had quiet kindness, the kind of nice that gets overlooked—unnoticed for a while. Had you compared the lab before your time and to now, you would have noticed easily that some shelves were a bit higher now, and the floors were less cluttered. Memories of you tripping and bonking your head flooded in, followed by the split seconds of worry you caught on the purple-banded turtle that melted into misplaced frustration as you got carted straight out of the room. Then, you had thought it was the last straw, but now? You knew it was simply him getting you away to basically … “ Y/N proof ” the place.

The spark between y’all had grown during one night that had left Donnie completely and utterly vulnerable.

By this point, you had spent so much time with Donnie that you could proudly vocalize your title as “ Assistant Scientist! “ In fact, you were even more proud to say you could always catch the split second smiles on the Great, Genius, Bad-Boy-Who-Never-Smiles Donatello when you entered his lab. The smirks he gave when you connected dots during his scientific spiels, the big-eyed worry he had whenever you made an “ ouch! ” or a “ dang it! “ or any less-favorable expletives, even the stiffness his body had before jumping into action when his eyes caught your frame entering an active battlefield—all of it, you noticed. Donnie was a book you had read cover to cover, many times over.

Maybe part of him had noticed that, too, because you were the one who was reached out to immediately during one particular accident on a solo-patrol.

With feet running so fast that they rivaled that of Hermes and his winged shoes, you clambered desperately down narrow alleyways, cluttered paths, and much-less-worn trails. You were blindly following a help signal sent to your phone by Donnie—it had quite literally spooked you out of bed. I mean, him? Donnie? He of all people? Reaching out to YOU of ALL people? The intrusive thoughts plowing through your brain were increasingly terrifying, fueling your breathless rush to the destination all the more.

With one last glance towards the coordinates, Y/N’s eyes rose to catch their surroundings. A park? They were at a park? What was he doing somewhere like this, this late at night? Under the cloudy moonlit skies, their footsteps crunched autumn leaves until stopping as the faintest of beeping was heard. Then, there was a stomach-turning stench that whisked through you, followed by whimpers hardly louder than the wind itself. Moving closer, Y/N saw a glimpse of purple and rushed around the bushes to find the frame of none other than the Genius Scientist himself, terribly injured and with his battle shell casted away a few feet.

“ Donnie …? “

Y/N whispered, with a voice just as low.

His hand was over his neck, digits trembling upon where the purple tech that encased his shell usually laid. With a sharp inhale, he turned to you with watery eyes that sent tears blurring your vision.

“ You’re, you’re hurt, Donnie, why did you call me? “

You were by his side immediately, his weight leaning into yours as you swiftly yet gingerly hoisted the violet vigilante up with his arm casted across your shoulder.

“ You’re—haaahhh— you’re the only one I trust to do this, ‘Assistant Scientist’ “

His joking behavior—though if it were under any other circumstances, surely a blush would paint your cheeks—was frightening enough, as was the journey back to his lab.

The two of you managed to sneak in under the radar, and when you dropped him to the bed, albeit a bit harshly, you hadn’t missed a single beat with the interrogation.

“ What happened to you? And … ”

Y/N’s eyes glanced to the purple tech through the doorway, laying illuminated by fluorescent fixtures in the center of the lab.

“ and … why was your battle shell so hot? ”

They recalled half an hour earlier as their eyes laid upon the faint red of burns on their fingertips.

Before Donnie’s warning, call—no, beg— to not touch his battle-shell, Y/N’s hands were already grazing the underside of the purple shell before a hissing leapt from their throat as the chilling rush of red-hot warmth nipped at their fingers. Desperation to get him home grew overwhelming as the realization that the scent they caught earlier had been akin to that of … well, you were frightened to complete that thought.

You shook your head, chasing that scary memory away, looking from the shell in the other room back to Donnie. He didn’t seem to want to talk much, so instead you settled for rummaging through his things for medical supplies. After a few moments, you heard him speak up, repeating his statement again with a groan. With a quick glance, your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him leaning over in his seated position on the bed’s edge, flashing a weary grin.

“ I meant it, you are the only one I trust to help me with this. “

That night, a few years ago from today, had become a beloved memory for you, despite how much it had your heart racing. It had also become the exact reason why whenever Donnie had solo-patrol, you were always at his side. But, without that frightening night, you wouldn’t be where you are now—on the floor of a particular scientist’s lab, a giggling fit as said genius was relentlessly tickling each sensitive area on your body. Curses slipped your lips as you kicked and flailed, trying desperately to pry his hands away from their main target: your neck.

Did you know just how ticklish necks are? Clavicles, shoulders, but especially the back of your neck.

This assault had begun when the unsuspecting Y/N happily obliged to help look over Donnie’s latest invention. While you weren’t even nearly as intelligent as this literal sentient computer (hell, he might even be smarter than that), you, as the officially appointed “ Assistant Scientist ”, had definitely picked up a thing or two! Enough that you were upgraded to being his reviser, the second pair of eyes that looked over his work. With your guard fully down, your beloved Donatello began his relentless tickling of your neck as you were firmly and lovingly pinned to the floor.

The fit of giggles that erupted from your chest as you thrashed under the weight of the turtle sitting comfortably upon your derrière were quickly taken as his reward.

Weakly, Y/N kicked and squealed as tears pricked their eyes. Their cries grew hoarse and then into quiet gasps and silent laughter as the tears stained their cheeks. The experience had left them so out of it that they hadn’t noticed the tickling ceased until oxygen filled their lungs once more.

“ You, you trai … Let me catch my breath, you—you snuck up on me! Hast thou no honor? No shame? “

Y/N slipped from under their bully, lifting into a cross legged position as the other let out a genuine laugh seldom heard.

“ Hmm, let me check my calculations once more, “

His lips quirked up into an annoying grin as he tapped on the tablet attached to his forearm before his eyes looked up at you—ah, that look, had your heart skipped again? Y/N’s eyes quickly avoided him which only transformed his grin to a victorious one.

“ I am 98% devoid of shame! “

“ Uh-huh, and—pray tell—what about that missing 2%, oh all smart and powerful Sir Donatello? “

“ Realistically speaking, you can never be 100% confident. “

“ Why you—! “

An inaudible squeak erupted the genius as Y/N lunged forward to tickle him back, only to have their hands grabbed swiftly and intertwined in his.

“ Though, I was 100% sure you would try to get revenge. “

“ 100? Check your math because I almost didn’t do it! “

Y/N gave the cheekiest grin, only to have Donnie’s hands wrap around them and pull them flat against his plastron, his hand holding your head against him.

“ But you still did it. “

┆ ── ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — Leo 💌

“ … “

“ Ah… “

Y/N and Leo stared at each other, then the amalgamation of burnt mush between them, and then back to each other again.

“ On the bright side, we’ll know we aren’t on cooking duty next time? “

Leo cracked a grin before both of you stiffened instantly at the, “ WHO BURNT SOMETHING? “ echoed from across the lab. A fit of giggles escaped you as the blue banded dinner-criminal in front of you uttered a signature “ gyuu “ before tugging your frame through a quickly made portal as you two made your escape!

While running along the rooftops with an exhausting amount of stamina, leaping down into his arms whenever there was a jump a little too high for your legs to comfortably hop down, and laughing out what little oxygen was left in your lungs here and there, an important memory swirled to the forefront.

See, when it came to loving Leo, you never expected to be charmed by someone so …

Infuriating?

Sure, that sounded right. When you appeared into the brothers’ lives, it had happened at a Jupiter Jim movie showing. You and them were the only folks in the theatre, since it was a rerun of a previous movie that seemed to not be as much of a fan favorite. While you were the perfect example of how one should behave in a theatre, these rowdy brothers were quite the opposite.

Highly vocal about their disagreements with stuff in the movie, popcorn exploding in the air as they dramatically reacted to plot twists—like come on! How many years has this movie been out? No way they hadn’t seen it, what, did they live under a rock for god's sake?! But what really marked the line in the sand was when the beloved climax of the story came, one that had the most beautiful colors and framing you could ever see in any other movie.

On the edge of your seat, awaiting the dazzling display, the four brothers erupted from their seats and cheered louder than the movie’s volume. Each time you tried to look around them, it seemed almost too planned how they managed to cover your desperate gaze.

“ UGH! ENOUGH, YOU—“

Y/N yelled out in boiling anger, pointing towards them with a spiel on “ just how unruly they were ” prepared, but their throat seemed to dry up instantly when their faces all turned to them, revealing faces that just weren’t human.

The first of you all to respond and approach was a boy obscured by a blue beanie and scarf. He flashed a shaky grin and gave a polite bow with the nerdiest voice.

“ We apologize for being so rowdy, and I hope our snazzy turtle costumes aren’t spooking you too much! “

The fading memory brought a smile as Y/N dropped into Leo’s arms once more, walking hand in hand on the rooftop. He cracked an unknowing grin at your smile, and you squeezed his hand before letting go and walking towards the railing to gaze up at the sky.

“ Remember when we first met, Leo? “

“ Psh, yeah, at that Jupiter Jim showing of my favorite movie ever? You were completely enchanted by me, how could I forget? “

“ What? Enchanted?! “

Y/N sputtered out a laugh, whisking around to lock eyes with their love.

“ I was not enchanted, I was annoyed! You and your brothers were being disruptive and then you tried to pass off as cosplayers. “

With a snort, they turned back around and looked up at the stars. Y/N leaned against the railing, elbow as weight and head resting in their open palm. There was a comfortable silence blanketing the two now, likely with Leo trying to figure out some witty comeback to combat that with. A few thoughts crossed your head, figuring out if you should speak again or continue in this quiet moment beneath the stars—rather romantic in and of itself already, if you did say so yourself. This made you smirk for a second, shaking your head before deciding on the perfect thing to say next.

“ I would say I’m enchanted now, though. “

“ … “

The silence was not comfortable this time—honestly it was more awkward than anything you could imagine experiencing at this second— so with a tilt of your head, looking over your shoulder, there was a star-struck ninja illuminated by moon’s light. His eyes looked through yours with a warm kindness that felt like home. It took everything in you to not break this silence, wishing to stare into those eyes forever. Alas, embarrassment under such a loving gaze resulted in you nervously stuttering out your words, contemplating on turning back to the sky.

“ He-Hey, you okay? Are you good? “

“ You’re so important to me. “

“ Whuh— “

Snaking around your waist were his arms, snug against your frame as his chin rested on your shoulder. Your face flushes as your bashful gaze returns to the sky, catching a star here and there. A gentle kiss was pressed upon your cheek, resulting in you loosening against him and giving a content smile. With your head against his plastron and the stars captivating you in what could’ve been an absolutely romantic moment, there was the mischievous smirk that went unnoticed.

Leo pulled away slowly, his hands resting upon your hips.

“ I’m only doing it ‘cause you’re too cute. “

“ What? “

In merely a second, his fingers snaked under your shirt and tickled your sides relentlessly. A screech escaped your lips as you struggled and squirmed away, only to be held in place by one of his arms while the other continued tickling you.

“ LE—HHH—LEO PLEAAAAAAAH! STAH—STOP IT! DEMON! DEEEEEEMOOOOOONNN!! “

The two of you plunged to the ground from your frantic kicking, the blue culprit laughing all too hard while you struggled to cry for help between heavy inhales, sucking air in before your traitorous laughter emptied you all over again.

“ LEEEEEE—-!!!! “

Soon, Y/N’s struggling slowed down out of exhaustion until the two laid upon the rooftop with scattered giggles and chuckles. You wiped away tears from your eyes, rolling away from Leo with a playful shove and a glare that said, “ don’t you dare do that again or else! “ He flashed you puppy eyes, holding out his arms to beckon you on back.

So, of course you left him hanging for a bit, watching as he pouted—all a ruse, of course! Don’t be fooled!! And you weren’t, you stood your ground until he simply muttered a “ c’mere “ and pulled you back over to him. Head resting on his shoulder, his own hand pulling yours to rest on his plastron, and now you both look up at the sky where gray clouds fly by ever so slowly upon the navy blue landscape, illuminated by a full moon. The two of you basked in its gentle glow. Silence wrapped its arms around you both, allowing the beeps and distant shouts of the below New York world to supply ambiance.

“ So, do you think Mikey’s found our mess? “

“ Think? “

Leo tilted his head to you, confident in his next response,

“ I wouldn’t be surprised to see him swinging over from right over there. “

His finger pointed at the rooftop across from the one you laid on. A snort escaped you at the image of an angry Mikey booking it towards you both.

But, for now there was no angry brother in the distance hunting you down—well, that you knew of at least, so you settled for snuggling closer against his shoulder with a little tremble (which went unnoticed, as his arms hugged you tightly for a second then loosened, his hand moving to rub your arm fast enough to generate some heat!)

Once more, silence blanketed you both as a game of “ I spy ” and “ What Shape is the Cloud ” ensued.

Said silence was broken as y’all pointed up and screamed,

“ THAT CLOUD LOOKS LIKE JUPITER JIM?! ”

[lord-squiggletits]

Honestly another one of those worldbuilding things unique to an alien robot race is I wonder how Cybertronians' long, nearly immortal (at least in the context of organic lifespans) lives would affect their views on punitive versus restorative justice?

Ignoring the inconsistencies for a moment (and the fact that this lore is almost never acknowledged), in IDW1 it's written that Cybertronians can live basically as long as their sparks keep burning PLUS it's apparently so hard to kill a Cybertronian for good that suicidal people have to go to specialized euthanasia clinics to be thoroughly executed. (This also helps explain how a war lasted 4 million years and didn't make them as a species go extinct.) So given their near immortality, it does kinda bring to mind some questions like

Is imprisoning someone for a certain number of years even a meaningful punishment for a species with life spans in the millions of years? Does it just mean that average prison sentences are somewhere in the tens or hundreds of thousands of years? In other words, do Cybertronians just do "human prison sentences, but to a Cybertronian scale" or would they even view a time based imprisonment/other punishment as meaningful at all?

Does the fact that Cybertronians are so hard to kill affect their views towards the death penalty? As an example, do they view their near immortality as something that would be cruel to end via execution because it deprives someone of possibly millions of years to reform? Or is the death penalty strongly supported BECAUSE their immortality makes them see ending someone's life as a fitting punishment for crimes?

What about how often crimes like murder happen? If it's really hard for Cybertronians to kill each other/themselves, then a lot of crimes would end merely as assaults and not murders, aka the people involved would all survive, aka restorative justice might be more necessary in this society when "coexisting with that guy who's attempted to kill you at least once" is a common scenario to have happen. And even if there is punitive justice, well, the guy just goes to prison for a few thousand years and comes out virtually unchanged bc he and you and everyone are basically immortal.

I know "the writers are human" and all, but sometimes it feels like worldbuilding around Cybertronian age ranges is really underutilized. Like, in pretty much every series except maybe IDW2 Cybertronians don't seem to differ on their views of time/lifespans compared to humans. Like the fact that the plots of many shows/comics (at least in certain series/seasons) take place in the space of weeks, months, or maybe a couple years is rarely commented on by these beings who live for millions of years, and it doesn't seem to affect their society much. Not even with a Tolkien ent-esque style of moving very slowly and pondering things deeply before moving. If anything Cybertronians tend to be very...reckless? Prone to fickleness of the heart and mind?

[yoga-onion]

Legends and myths about trees

Ent, Treebeard of Fangorn forest - Tree Guardians in literature

Ents are a species of beings in J. R. R. Tolkien's fantasy world Middle-earth who closely resemble trees. Their leader is Treebeard of Fangorn forest. Their name is derived from an Old English word for "giant".

The Ents appear in The Lord of the Rings as ancient shepherds of the forest and allies of the free peoples of Middle-earth during the War of the Ring. At then, there are no young Ents (Entings) because the Entwives (female Ents) were lost. Akin to Ents are Huorns, whom Treebeard describes as a transitional form of trees which become animated or, conversely, as Ents who grow more "treelike" over time.

The Old Forest, Tolkien's fictional world of Middle-earth, was a terrifying ancient forest beyond the eastern borders of the Shire.

Treebeard, called by Gandalf the oldest living Ent and the oldest living thing that walks in Middle-earth, is described as being around 14 feet (4 m) tall:

A large Man-like, almost Troll-like, figure, at least fourteen foot high, very sturdy, with a tall head, and hardly any neck. Whether it was clad in stuff like green and grey bark, or whether that was its hide, was difficult to say. At any rate the arms, at a short distance from the trunk, were not wrinkled, but covered with a brown smooth skin. The large feet had seven toes each. The lower part of the long face was covered with a sweeping grey beard, bushy, almost twiggy at the roots, thin and mossy at the ends. But at the moment the hobbits noted little but the eyes. These deep eyes were now surveying them, slow and solemn, but very penetrating.

Tolkien called the collection of such writings a legendarium (legend space, legend system).

During most of his own life conservationism was not yet on the political agenda, and Tolkien himself did not directly express conservationist views—except in some private letters, in which he tells about his fondness for forests and sadness at tree-felling. In later years, a number of authors of biographies or literary analyses of Tolkien conclude that during his writing of The Lord of the Rings, Tolkien gained increased interest in the value of wild and untamed nature, and in protecting what wild nature was left in the industrialised world.

Nearly 100 years after Tolkien's time, the destruction of forests, trees and nature continues unabated. Moreover, because of the historical background, I could not believe my eyes when I saw several WWI war photography in his biography. The clothing, background and even the tactics are almost identical to the ongoing war photos. The only difference appears to be in black and white or colour.

It is obvious that human society has made little progress in more than 100 years. In the face of the whole universe, a century is probably just a fraction of a second. Alternatively, there is a good chance that what we think of as evolution may actually be degeneration.

After all, it may just be a bunch of half-monkeys who are conceited and not knowing their places. We should realise this and learn from other creatures who do not go against nature. Don't get caught up in what you can see, but don't forget that there are things you can't see.

木にまつわる伝説・神話

エント、ファンゴルンの森の木の髭 〜 文学における樹木の守護者 

エントは、J・R・R・トールキンのファンタジー世界 "中つ国 "に登場する樹木によく似た生き物で、彼らのリーダーはファンゴルンの森の木の髭である。彼らの名前は古代の英語で "巨人 "を意味する言葉に由来する。

エントは『指輪物語』に森の古代の羊飼いとして登場し、指輪戦争では中つ国の自由民の味方となる。指輪戦争当時、エント女たちが行方不明になったため、若いエントたちは存在しない。エントたちに似ているのはヒューンで、木の髭は、樹木が生気を帯びるようになる過渡的な形態、あるいは逆に、時が経つにつれて「樹木らしく」成長するエントたちと表現している。

トールキンの架空の中つ国の世界である古い森は、シャイアの東の国境を越えた恐ろしい古代の森だった。

ガンダルフに "最古のエント "と呼ばれ、中つ国を歩く最古の生物とされる木の髭は、身長約14フィート (4メートル): 

トロールに近い大きな人間のような姿で、少なくとも14フィートの高さがあり、非常に頑丈で、頭が高く、首がほとんどない。緑や灰色の樹皮のようなものをまとっているのか、それともそれが皮なのかはわからない。いずれにせよ、幹から少し離れたところにある腕にはしわはなく、茶色の滑らかな皮膚で覆われていた。大きな足には7本の指があった。長い顔の下部は、根元は小枝のようにふさふさで、両端は細く苔むした灰色のひげで覆われていた。しかし、そのときホビットたちが注目したのは目だけだった。その深い瞳は、ゆっくりと、荘厳に、しかし非常に鋭く、ホビットたちを観察していた。

トールキンはこのような書き物の総体を『レジェンダリウム (伝説空間、伝説体系) 』と呼んでいた。

トールキン自身は、自然保護主義的な考えを直接表明することはなかったが、いくつかの私的な手紙の中で、森林を愛し、伐採を悲しむ気持ちを語っている。後年、トールキンの伝記や文学分析の著者の多くが、『指輪物語』の執筆中に、トールキンは野生の手つかずの自然の価値や、工業化された世界に残された野生の自然を保護することへの関心を高めたと結論づけている。

トールキンが生きた時代からおよそ100年近くすぎた現在でも、森や樹木、自然破壊は延々と続いている。さらに、その時代背景から、いくつかの第一次大戦中の戦争写真を彼の伝記の中に目にして、思わず目を疑った。服装、背景、戦術すら現在進行中の戦争写真とほぼ同一だ。白黒かカラーの違いだけに見える。

100年以上経っても、人間社会はほとんど進歩していないことがわかる。森羅万象を前には、100年という単位などほんの一瞬なのだろう。あるいは、進化したつもりが、実は退化している可能性も十分にある。

所詮は、半分猿の身の程しらずな人間たちが得意になっているだけなのかもしれない。それに早く気づいて自然に逆らわない他の生物を見習うべきだ。自分の視界に見えるものだけにとらわれず、目に見えないものの存在を忘れずに。

[minnesota-fats]

I was rereading a Dead Marvel x Danny Phantom crossover ( last updated in 2014, RIP ) called Marvel Phantom by Slayer Anderson, and here is the Summary.

So...the Fentons punch a hole through to the afterlife in their basement, and develop unparalleled hover technology and...they're crackpots?

In that fic, that gets played seriously because they showed their tech and a brief glimpse of the Ghost Zone to the News for an interview on their studies and everyone on the planet, from Companies to the Military, wants their tech.

Like they made a physic cancelers shd gravity inverters for their hover machines to study ghosts, not knowing that what they did went beyond groundbreaking and make every technology look like it came from the stone age.

That they are actually geniuses that do genius things despite being 'kooky.'

And you know what, that author is right. Are there any other stories out there where someone stops and says 'You built a what in your basement that did what?!

Sure, Amity is Amity which deals with weird supernatural shit, so they get a pass on not actually stopping and thinking that, but what's everyone else excuse?

Suddenly imagine everyone knows about FentonTech and what they can do.

Remember the Fenton Crammer that can shrink humans and inanimate objects? And if a ghost gets shrunk, their powers get weaker? That can be very useful to transport stuff that would had taken time and money.

Or how they have a what's basically a futuristic tank for a RV that has a lot of space?

Or that they have an Emergency Ops Center on their home that can turn into a hover vehicle.

All of the anti-ghost weapons.

I can go on and on, but things can get funny/ hairy real fast.

Wayne Ent, Lex Corp, Cadmus, every military will want a generous piece of that Fenton Pie, with the Fentons going, what's the big deal? We only made this for ghosts and shit. Whatever happened because of that was a happy accident.

Also imagine Lex Luthor about to pop a blood vessel, and holding himself back from throttling Jack during a talk .

Lex: 'Let me get this straight. You built a pocket-sized mini nuclear reactor that can power the US for six generations at full capacity and still have the juice to power an extra two, and instead of using that to for the betterment of mankind and showing those aliens ( cough Superman cough ) their place, you use it to power a pastry machine homemade peanut butter FUDGE!?'

Jack: Gourmet peanut butter fudge! :D it even makes pies and cookies. That nice Superhero with that A on his chest sure loved the Apple Pie it made!

Luthor: *collaspes and start to foam at the mouth out of rage, shock and disbelief*

Vlad that was sitting at a corner: *Sniff*. 'Welcome to my world.'

Bro this is HILARIOUS!!!!

This is the type of chaos I LIVE FOR!

I know little to nothing of Alex Luther other than the fact that he is a xenophobe…. And that he got cancer from being a xenophobe. (Ha! that’s how it should be for racists and such(jk cancer is actually really bad and not a joke))

He would just be MAD that these social idiots would have been able to go all of this with NO FUNDING!

Like seriously where did they get the money to do this crap????

Also Vlad crying in the corner is so funny to me, the grown ass man being a pouty bitch cuz he can’t have a woman he simpped for for 20 plus years!

Wish I could add more but I can’t possibly think of what else to add other than this.

[sunstoner]

happy pride people of the internet

is your gender a bit fucky? are you tired of the same old same old honorifics? are you simply just bored and looking for some reading material? well youre in luck!

in my scouring of this site ive yet to find one giant list of alternate honorifics/prefixes/titles or whatever you want to call them (maybe i didnt look hard enough, who knows) so i decided "fuck it! let me make my own." it took a while to find these and i definitely have to thank the gender census for a lot of them. (note: this is probably not all possible prefixes! these are just what i could find and what i could find pronunciations for (excluding part 4). feel free to mention any others & their pronunciations!)

anyways! continue below the part

part one: matching

these honorifics/prefixes/titles look similar enough to mr/ms/mrs/miss while also not being those. and no, its not just mx! note: for space purposes there may be a list of titles with one pronunciation

1. m.

can be pronounced em, mist, messer, master, or magister

2. m*.

pronounced miss-star

3. ma.

pronounced mistra

4. me.

can be pronounced mew or messer

5. mg.

can be pronounced mage or magister

6. mir.

pronounced mir

7. msc. ; misc.

pronounced misk, shortened from miscellaneous

8. mist. ; mrm. ; msm. ; mtr.

pronounced mistrum

9. ml.

pronounced mistrel

10. mm.

can be pronounced mistum or mistrum

11. mn.

pronounced mine

12. mnt.

pronounced mount

13. mq.

can be pronounced mick or marquis

14. mre.

can be pronounced mistree or mystery

15. mrsr.

pronounced merser

16. mrw.

pronounced morrow

17. mry. ; mse. ; mys. ; myst.

pronounced mystery

18. msr.

can be pronounced messr or misser

19. msry.

pronounced misry

20. mssr.

pronounced messer

21. mst.

pronounced mist

22. mstr.

pronounced master

23. mt.

can be pronounced mount or mistrum

24. mtx.

pronounced matrix

25. mu.

pronounced as written

26. mv.

pronounced maverique

27. mw.

can be pronounced mew or morrow

28. mx.

can be pronounced mix, mex, mux, mixter, mistrum, or monselle

29. mxr.

pronounced mixer

30. myr.

pronounced myster

31. mz.

pronounced miz

32. mzr.

can be pronounced mezzir or mezzer

part two: branching

these honorifics/prefixes/titles are the same as part one, but they look different from the "default" format. so many letters. note: for space purposes there may be a list of titles with one pronunciation

1. an.

pronounced any

2. c. ; cap. ; capt. ; cpt. ; cptn. ; ct.

pronounced captain

3. cd. ; cde. ; cmd. ; cmr. ; cmrd. ; com.

pronounced comrade

4. cit. ; ctz. ; cz. ; czn.

pronounced citizen

5. cnst.

pronounced constellation

6. cr.

can be pronounced comrade or cryptid

7. de.

pronounced done

6. div.

pronounced div, shortened from individual

7. dm.

pronounced dame

8. dr.

pronounced doctor

9. drst.

pronounced dearest

10. em.

pronounced as written

11. en.

can be pronounced enby or entity

12. ent.

pronounced entity

13. eu.

pronounced eunuch

14. fh.

pronounced fellow human

15. fw.

pronounced fellow worker

16. hm.

pronounced human

17. hon.

pronounced on, shortened from honorable

18. hx.

pronounced hex

19. ind.

pronounced as written, shortened from individual

20. inv.

pronounced inevitable

21. jan.

pronounced as written

22. lic.

pronounced licenciature

23. nb.

pronounved en bee, shortened from nonbinary

24. nl.

pronounced null

25. nr.

pronounced nister

26. nx.

can be pronounced nix or nex

27. per. ; pr.

can be pronounced per or person

28. phl.

pronounced philosophe

29. prof.

pronounced professor

30. rab.

pronounced rabbi

31. rev.

pronounced reverand

32. sai.

pronounced sigh

33. san.

pronounced as written

34. ser.

can be pronounced ser or serah

35. sr.

can be pronounced sir or serrah

36. syr.

pronounced as written

37. sys.

pronounced system

38. the.

pronounced as written

39. tr.

can be pronounced ter or teacher

40. vd.

pronounced void

41. vr.

pronounced ver

42. vx.

can be pronounced vix or vex

43. xr.

pronounced xer

44. zr.

can be pronounced zir or zeester

part three: sir? ma'am?

these honorifics are specifically meant to replace the sir/ma'am words. they feel different than the other ones so they get their own part.

1. boss

2. captain

3. chief

4. comrade

5. friend

6. gentile

7. m'ir

8. sa'am

9. sai

10. tiz

11. xir

12. zir

part four: how do you say...

these honorifics are ones i couldnt find pronunciations for... if you know em lmk please & thanks 🫰🏾

1. sn.

thats it, i couldnt find a pronunciation for it but i thought it was cool 🤸🏾

thats all folks

i might update depending on the responses i get and anything else i find :)

last edits: 3 jun 2024

[dandelion-wings]

For the ask meme, Jean and Venti? :>

Thank you for the ask! :>

JEAN

How I feel about this character

This should be no surprise to anyone, but I adore her. #1 absolute favorite Genshin character, bar none. She's already an archetype I love (honorable lady knight torn between duty/family and her own desires, bonus points for blondness; see also, FE3H Ingrid), enough so that the friend who got me into Genshin lured me in with her ("read the manga at least until you get to Jean, and if you like her, you have to start playing"), and a lot of her individual characteristics are also deeply endearing to me. I am not rational about Jean. She is my beloved precious blorbo who can do no wrong and I will write out her flaws and make her perfect if I want to, and I will write her outmatching and one-upping the male characters who are supposed to be just as or more cool, and I will write her whump and fluff and hurt/comfort where everyone goes "oh we have been unfair to Jean, let us rush to care about her," and I feel no shame on any of these points. I am holding her up and showing her to everyone like a beloved pet.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Okay, so, the thing about me is that I usually make my favorite character a fandom bicycle because I just like seeing how I think they'd interact with other characters I like? I have at least idle shipping thoughts about Jean and... so much of the rest of Genshin. But my primary ships for her are most of the other Knights of Favonius, particularly any combo, OTP or OT3 or OT4, of Lisa, Kaeya, and Eula, with some particularly energetic mental dabbling (less likely to make it on the page) in Jean/Ningguang, Jean/Rosaria, Jean/Diluc, and Jean/Sara. Those are probably the ones outside the OT4 and its permutations that I'm most likely to actively play with without some outside trigger or inspiration!

My non-romantic OTP for this character

See above, just without the kissing. That said, I think everyone knows it's Jean and Kaeya. XD And beyond that the platonic relationships within the OT4!

My unpopular opinion about this character

I... am not sure I have one? The people I choose to follow have Good Opinions, and I do not follow people with Bad Opinions so I don't know how popular they are (also I don't go into her main tag because main character tags get SO spammed with 'this character appeared once briefly in the background of this comic' sorts of tags. I follow individual artists and the rarepair tags). I like to think she could take Diluc, I guess? Who often gets presented in fanon and a little bit in canon as the Ultimate Mondstadt badass.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

More cool action scenes! And also FIXING HER RELATIONSHIP WITH BARBARA.

---

VENTI

How I feel about this character

I like him! I have somehow ended up following and being followed by many Venti fans who love him much more intensely, and he's one of those characters I already like enough that I can be enjoyably swept up in that love, such that for the duration of the post I'm reading or the discussion we're having, I love him just as much. Then it goes back to 'sure, he's cool and I enjoy seeing him'. :> Which I definitely do.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Venti isn't a fandom bicycle for me just because he's not in my top faves, but he definitely would have the potential if he was. >> That said, Dvalin, Zhongli, and Xiao are the only people I regularly seek out pairing content with him for; I enjoy incidentally seeing him with pretty much any of the world's other immortal/long-lived-non-human characters and all the now-dead past character's he's been with, and he's fun with a lot of the Mondstadt characters as well. Honorable mention to Jean/Venti for occupying the same mental space as Venti himself: a pairing I'm not personally invested in but, while I'm talking to @esmeraldablazingsky and/or reading their stuff, am temporarily 110% high-enthusiasm about.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Broadly speaking, his various friends over the centuries and, currently, especially Dvalin, but I will admit that my Thing for Jean means that I am most fascinated with his relationship with her (the only person in canon who knows him in both his forms and is still respectful! XD) and, by extension, Gunnhildrs of the past.

My unpopular opinion about this character

I again don't know enough about general fandom opinion to have one. XD;; Most of my opinions about Venti are accumulated from the people I follow who love him, and I haven't seen any general popular ones among them that I disagree strongly with!

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

I put "Venti takes the Traveler to Celestia, or at least gives them a very strong hint and boost" in a lot of my speculative endgame scenarios because I feel like there are hints in canon that it COULD be what happens, and I really really hope that it WILL be. It feels like how the narrative around him should pay off, to me.

[indignantlemur]

what is your headcanon on the first agreement the andorians made with the Vulcans and what do you think it was that conflicted with the andorians interests?

Oooh, this is a good one! Also, hello! <3

So, to set the stage:

Based on inference and observation I think we can say that Andorians and Vulcans are at a similar stage, technologically speaking, during ST: ENT. Something about that makes me think that theirs isn't a case of Andorians being uplifted by Vulcans the way Humans were, but more of a parallel development sort of thing. (In fact, I'd wager Vulcans took the approach they did with Humans because of their experiences with Andorians.)

Historically speaking, Andorians had their first contact with Orions, which did not endear them to the idea of friendly aliens. In fact, that whole debacle nearly ended in a planetary invasion and the widescale enslavement of Andoria and was only thwarted at great cost. After that culture shock, Andorians approached relations with other aliens expecting everything to be either transactional or predatory, and they were largely determined to get the better half of the deal regardless of which it ended up being.

Vulcans, meanwhile, were understandably wary of a highly militant species which, to their observations, had a long history of paranoia and xenophobia and highly territorial behaviours. For my headcanons, at least, Vulcans went into their first contact with Andorians hopeful to establish friendly relations but realistically expecting Andorians to try to control the dynamic to their benefit. Thus, when the Vulcans opted to withhold certain technologies which they felt the Andorians would misuse or turn against Vulcan and its people, it only confirmed to the Andorians that the Vulcans were not only hiding something but actively planning to keep Andorians inferior to Vulcans despite what their diplomats promised.

A Territorial Compromise was established between Vulcan and Andoria when it became apparent that the two species would not be forming a firm alliance.

From there, relations fell through very quickly.

While it could have been any kind of agreement or accord that ultimately sent the whole thing tumbling down like a house of cards, I personally like to think it had something to do with the borders between Vulcan and Andorian space.

For my headcanon, because I like to tie my lore into the canon lore as much as possible, it was the establishment of the Weytahn colony that sparked the whole conflict.

While Vulcans have a different remembrance of the events that led up to the occupation of what they would call Paan Mokar, the Andorians actually did want to launch an experiment with terraforming technology on a small, out of the way planetoid to see if it was a viable approach to colonization. It's entirely possible that they chose Weytahn because it was small and relatively worthless in terms of resources, and thus not a huge loss of the project failed. True, it was close to the border they shared with Vulcans, but even the Vulcans had no interest in Weytahn and it was within Andorian space according to the Territorial Compromise. Besides, if the colony was successful, well, it would be in a prime location to guard against Vulcan incursions into Andorian space, which certainly made the location appealing - and naturally any Andorian colony needs to be defensible and able to protect itself. History had taught the Andorians to expect conflict, after all. Installing military equipment and planetary defenses was perfectly reasonable.

The Vulcans meanwhile, were determined to find a logical reason for the otherwise senseless placement of such a colony. In particular, they were mindful of the Andorians' aggressive and paranoid tendencies and through that lens they concluded that the only value the planetoid had was as a possible launch site for military operations. Its location would be ideal for covert military operations especially, given its proximity to Vulcan. Vulcan authorities requested (read: demanded) to inspect the colony, to determine that it was not in fact a military operation under the guise of colonization.

The Andorians took this request exceptionally poorly. Vulcan and Andoria had already hashed out the Territorial Compromise - it was a done deal, already bought and paid for. Vulcans had no right to go about inspecting Andorian colonies, if that was even what they actually planned to do once they had boots on the ground. The very suggestion was offensive, and it gave the impression that the Vulcans believed they had some kind of superiority over Andorians, that they could come and go as they pleased and inspect whatever they liked. Meanwhile, the more the Andorians refused, the more suspicious the Vulcans became. The more suspicious the Vulcans were, the more offended and angry the Andorians became. The angrier the Andorians were, the more certain the Vulcans were that they were right, that Weytahn was a military outpost.

Weytahn was overtaken (though that's not the word the Vulcans use) and the colonists were removed from the planetoid by force.

In the end, things were said, threats were made, and the lines of communication broke down spectacularly. What followed was roughly a century of aggression and conflict which always stopped just short of all out war, but only barely. A treaty (the Vulcan-Andorian Treaty of 2097) was made in an attempt to stall further conflicts over Weytahn/Paan Mokar, but ultimately the treaty was regarded as worth less than what it was written on by both sides by the time ST: ENT rolled around.

[opinions-about-tiaras]

Star Trek: Strange New Worlds is back for a second season after an EXTREMELY strong freshman outing, and I’d like to talk a bit about an opportunity this show has, if not this season than at some point, to right some previous wrongs.

I’m speaking specifically of those done to Jolene Blalock, and to her character, T’Pol. Let’s dive in, under the cut! This’ll be a long one.

All of the classic 20th century Trek series (TOS through to the end of ENT) had a female actress and character they did not do especially right by either on or off screen. TOS had Grace Lee Whitney’s Yeoman Rand, and Roddenberry did... not always treat Nichelle Nichols appropriately. (Roddenberry had real problems with women at times.)

TNG had Marina Sirtis’ Deanna Troi, forced to constantly parade around in that cleavage-showing onesie and regularly being written into really gross and weird situations. It also had Gates McFadden’s Beverly Crusher; the show just very clearly had no fuckin’ clue what to do with an actress of McFadden’s caliber, and while she had some incredibly episodes (Remember Me is one of the best of the series) she was grossly underutilized.

DS9 fares the best here; Terry Farrell’s Jadzia Dax was generally given a lot to work with on-screen and her character was treated with respect and dignity. Off-screen, however, she was basically harassed into quitting the show by Rick Berman. (She spoke out in detail about this for the first time very extensively in the 2018 DS9 documentary What We Left Behind.)

VOY never knew what the fuck to do with Jennifer Lien’s Kes, and it must have been extraordinarily humiliating for her to be fired to free up money for Jeri Ryan’s Seven of Nine. Seven, of course, became a colossal fan favorite and ended up having some dynamite scripts and episodes, holding up a LOT of the back half of VOY... but we can’t pretend or ignore that she wasn’t brought onto the show because they wanted a hot piece of ass to pour into those awful shiny skintight uniforms. Or that she wasn’t given some weird and gross materiel to try and make work.

And then we come to ENT, and Jolene Blalock’s T’Pol.

Blalock had a thankless task. She was the best part of ENT, hands down, carrying that show on her back through four seasons. For this, she was constantly put in very tight, revealing outfits while the rest of the cast got to wear, you know, uniforms, and T’Pol was often written as either a ball-breaking bitch there to be shown up by the much more clever and emotional humans, or as nearly on the verge of an explosive meltdown herself. She had a whole plotline devoted to her addiction to space cocaine.

The absolute nadir was probably the time Rick Berman responded to a press question about upcoming episodes saying they had a “fun, sexy T’Pol episode” coming up... and that “fun and sexy episode” was her getting mind-raped by another Vulcan.

(Rick Berman was a piece of shit and the franchise prospered in the 90s in spite of, rather than because of, him.)

This isn’t to say she wasn’t in episodes of worth; ENT managed to right the ship in the third and fourth seasons with the involvement of the Reeves-Stevenses, and even before that she was rather the breakout star in the same way Jeri Ryan had been on VOY before her. (It probably helped that, with respect to the rest of the cast, Blalock was leagues ahead of them as an actor and it showed.) But she wasn’t treated well, and she hasn’t been shy in speaking up about it.

This was all two decades ago, of course. What’s happening now?

Well, Star Trek as a franchise has been making some effort to... sort of apologize. I yield to no man in my utter contempt for Star Trek: Picard; I consider it a creative failure on almost every level, yes, even Season 3. But something it resolutely did RIGHT is to revisit the franchises female characters and try and make amends for past wrongs. Seven of Nine was allowed to grow into this complex, weary, mature woman, a proper leading character, treated with respect by the narrative she was in. Ditto Deanna Troi. Beverly Crusher... okay, it’s kind of weaksauce to have the doctor man the weapons console and blow some ships the hell up and quip about it as a way of demonstrating “Doctor Crusher was cool then and she is cool now, dammit” but their hearts were in the right place even if their writerly talents weren’t up to the job.

Which brings us all the way back around to Strange New Worlds, and the opportunity this affords narratively.

A major ongoing theme of SNW is Ethan Peck’s Spock trying to find his feet within both Starfleet and within Vulcan society as he grapples with his mixed heritage. This has been a theme of the character since Leonard Nimoy’s day, of course, but Strange New Worlds is finding new ground to break; Nimoy’s Spock was more mature, more seasoned, largely understanding himself and possessed of a strong, inner self-confidence and unflappability. SNW is showing him BECOMING that man we saw in TOS. Spock always engaged with Kirk as an equal, even if Kirk technically outranked him, but he clearly engages with Chris Pike as a MENTOR, which is a wonderfully different dynamic.

You know who slots directly into this narrative space, these narrative themes? Motherfucking T’Pol, that’s who.

You cannot tell me that T’Pol would not have a burning, intense interest in the first product of a mixed human/Vulcan marriage. Spock is the shadow of what might-have-been for her and Trip Tucker; where their own mixed child, conceived in secrecy and violence as a weapon, did not survive, Spock lives and thrives.

T’Pol was an unwelcome, burdensome addition to the NX-01 Enterprise, needing to constantly claw and scratch to earn the respect, trust, and confidence of her peers, distrusted by the human authorities and regarded as a suspect borderline failure by her own government. Spock is a beloved member of the NCC-1701 Enterprises family almost from day one, the first Vulcan to go through the Academy, the first of his people to be “proper” Starfleet... and a huge part of the reason he’s able to be that is the work T’Pol put in when in the UEG Starfleet, and the colossal lift she preformed in reforming Vulcan society. The High Command in her day would not have countenanced Sarek and Amanda’s marriage, and would never have admitted Spock to the Academy.

Spock exists because of T’Pol.

T’Pol would know this. SPOCK would know this. There’s no way he has not read, extensively, of the Vulcan first officer of the NX-01 Enterprise. T’Pol, in turn, would have maintained an appropriately Vulcan interest in Spock’s career, his successes and failures. As an elder, respected Vulcan, she would likely have nudged it along to the extent she was capable. She would have mentored.

This all creates a ton of narrative space for T’Pol to appear on SNW, to have some really dynamite interactions with Spock and T’Pring, and more importantly for her to get the same “uplift” that Seven of Nine, Troi, and Crusher got in Picard, just... hopefully with a lot better writing behind it.

Maybe the writers aren’t interested in going in this direction. Maybe Blalock has zero interest in returning to the franchise. But dammit, this possibility should be explored and explored aggressively. It’s a golden opportunity to salvage some of the best parts of ENT, which was, yes, a very bad Star Trek show but had some things of worth in it, and to do right by another woman, and another character, the franchise wronged.