#i am genuinely curious

[dyrewrites]

Is it possible to write a monster story that doesn't end up being about identity and learning to love even the darkest parts of yourself?

[halfagone]

This is in response to my dad gagging when he saw me dipping my pizza in ranch- you think I can control what I do and don't like Dad?! It is a Natural Reaction.

[dreamdaddymorpheus]

Fire on Fire | chapter. 02 | Morpheus x Scarlet Witch!Reader

Pairing: Morpheus x Scarlet Witch!Reader (she/her) Summary: The Lord of Dreams falling in love with a being capable of spontaneous creation – what could possibly go wrong? Note: You are not Wanda Maximoff. You’re just you who happens to be the Scarlet Witch and all that entails. previous chapter: chapter. 01 | A/N: no beta we die like jessamy

Dream of the Endless stood outside a quaint red brick house on a quiet street at the edge of a small village not too far from London. Ordinary and terribly common, blending in with the rest of the houses on either side of it and even the ones across. Why would his search lead him here?

A flashing image in his mind’s eye had him sucking in a sharp breath – an image of you and a dull stranger living out your lives in such an unremarkable home, in domesticated bliss – with a dog perhaps? Or a few offspring? His face darkened at the implication of that thought.

“Cursed they be who would dare to tear us asunder.” He recalled the vow he made to you – one he fully intends to keep.

Morpheus followed the stone path dotted on the ground leading up to the red door atop a small set of steps. Millenniums of courtly etiquette compelled him to knock out of instinct and by the time he realized what he’d done it was too late. So – he waited.

“Darling, is that you?” A bout of relief and horror washed over him in equal measure at the familiar ring of your voice. Relief for the rather joyful colour in your tone. Horror for the heart-rending realization that you had moved on as he feared – with the dull stranger so beneath him, so beneath you.

The Lord of Dreams considered turning back, retreat to his realm where he could lick his wounds and nurse his pride. Just as he took a step back, however, the red door swung open to unveil a face he hungered for all these years. He felt his eyes sting then.

Your face scrunched in concern, reaching out to cup the side of his face, tenderly stroking the damp skin there, “Hey…” you cooed, eyes roving over his tearful face, “Come inside and tell me what happened.”

Morpheus felt his body move along with you in a trance-like state, eyes glassy and vulnerable. The only feeling was the burning warmth of your hand in his as you led him through the corridor and into a homely kitchen bespeckled with hints of you –  from the mismatched mugs seen through the glass window of your cupboard to the opened copy of The Hobbit by J.R.R Tolkien laid out on the table by the window with the dark green curtains.

You sit him down at the table before taking your place across from him, hands still interlocked, “Speak to me, my love.”

It was here that Morpheus observed something amiss. So overcome was he by his loss of you and the natural way in which you held him so sweetly that he unconsciously turned a blind eye to the glaring fact that you have not seen him for a century.

This was most certainly you. He had no doubt of it. That only baffles him further, however.

“Morpheus?”

“How…” He started aimlessly, unsure where to go from here, “How can you be…” His free hand gestured towards you, “…like this – after what I’ve done?”

The corner of your lips quirked up in a mixture of confusion and amusement, “What are you talking about? And what have you done, my love?”

“I abandoned you!” He exclaimed with a tortured heart as his hand held in yours swiftly retreated back to his side,  “I—” before he could go off on a tangent of self-hatred, he noticed the swirls of red in your eyes. Oh.

“Oh, Y/N, what have you done?”

Your eyes narrowed then, full of suspicion and distrust. You rose from your seat at the table and added some distance between you and the Dream Lord, “You are not my Dream.” You stated, calm and absolute in your claim. One hand by your side shaped an orb of red energy into being with tendrils of loose magic curling between your fingers, “Is that you, Desire? Have you come to torment us again?”

Morpheus moved to stand slowly and carefully, hands held out in front of him as if in surrender, “It is I, my sweet, your Sandman,” He implored cajolingly, “You must let me hel—” He felt an immediate tightness on his throat, your magic reaching out for his neck for an unfaltering grip. His hands clawed at nothing while keeping his eyes steadfastly locked to yours. “I—I wo—uld ne…er—” despite the struggle, Morpheus persevered, “—lie…to you.” His eyes watered from the pressure of your magic, “Lo—ok…inside.”

 You understood what he meant, and it threatened your resolve.

Morpheus felt the invasion not long after, flipping through his memories and every thought he has ever had. Sometimes he would feel you pause at some– like the stunt in the throne room after a verbal foreplay gone too far; then you moved to the tender moment in a hidden alcove in his library, his head on your lap as you read to him the story of one Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy; then to the evening of your first fight, when jealousy got the better of him.

As you ransacked his mind it gave Morpheus an opening to enter yours and there he saw your life for the last hundred years. He saw you beg Death, made whatever promises you thought would appease the Endless enough to bring you to him. He saw his beloved sister turn you away. He watched Desire took his form to twist your longing for your Dream Lord. He watched you fall to your knees when it finally dawned on you that he was never coming back. He watched as your magic fully engulfed your being and manifested this delusion you have imprisoned yourself in.

He felt the pressure leave his throat and his hands landed right on the table to support his physical form from keeling over. He raised his head to look at you piece the pieces together – watching as your face shift from confusion to utter devastation. As if the feeling of abandonment for a hundred years rushed to you all at once.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You chanted like a prayer, knees buckling until they hit the tiled floor, your hands clutching your aching heart, “I—I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry.” You could only sob.

Your Dream moved around the table to approach you without hesitation, falling to his knees in front of you to drown you in his embrace, “No, my love,” He cooed, his fingers brushing through your hair, “I’m sorry.”

“Cursed they be who would dare to tear us asunder.” Here, with you in his arms, he vowed anew.

special thanks to @thegreatestsandwich for the prompt! tag list: @lenasvoid | @iwantagoodstorytoread | @whocaresinlifeife | @starsleeping-m | @secretsthathauntus | @shitpostrandomness | @leighanne03 | @strugsto-func | @lol-im-done | @kittycatcait2 | @imissyoudarling | @toastedside | @blue-and-yellow-jjk-pjm | @mysticalpandora | @blueeclipsepaperstudent | scratched out urls means I couldn't tag you for some reason, sorry!

[anxious-witch]

So if Kris is for lesbians and Bojan is for bisexuals...who takes possession of the rest?

[roykentschesthair]

Since people seem to think I was putting out a debate I’ll reframe the question.

Why do you like Anders?

And when I say like I mean personality traits and actions he takes in game. I don’t mean that you think he’s hot or anything like that. I’m curious why you like him as a person, not even necessarily as a plot or writing device.

Why do you like Anders as a person?

I do genuinely want to know.

[notjustdragonspages]

smol, teeny tiny question-

[allieisacrybaby]

do you think any of the boys have “push by match box twenty”ed anyone before???

[hideawayfairy]

Chaggie shippers, has anyone recommended a prompt in which Vaggie is given a chance at going to Heaven, but she chooses to remain in Hell so she can continue to stay by Charlie's side?