#mound laboratory

[morphmagic]

[weirdworldofwinnie]

Dr. Sam Owens, Director of Operations at Hawkins National Laboratory, 1984.

(I will be doing a season 4 one of him separately as well)

[exxcitement1995]

2024 Mound Laboratories Internationale

2093-∞

⚛⚛⚛⚛⚛⚛⚛⚛⚛⚛⚛⚛⚛⚛⚛⚛⚛⚛⚛

new media research project i'm starting, named after a real laboratory near Dayton Ohio that was a part of the Manhattan Project, was operated after WWII by Monsanto, and is poetically located right next to an ancient burial ground built by the Adena People in the Miami Valley far before the birth of Christ.

It'll be archival work, new sonic research explorations, interviews, zines, chaos magic, but at the heart of it all it's big beautiful data baby

more updates soon once i have more time to start uploading lol big things coming soon :3

[kagrenacs]

I haven’t seen anyone talk about this on tumblr yet. Environmental racism is Canada choosing land sacred to the Algonquin First Nations to place nuclear waste.

[ozzgin]

Is it just me or can I imagine a yandere with a darling who’s immune system and possibly everything about them just screams weak and pathetic, BUT their darling is actually very strong mentally and has and will create the most fucked up, batshit crazy inventions from what used to be harmless to something that can help them escape and possibly destroy everything in its path.

But at the end of the day, they become sleepy koalas who hug whoever is near them and fall asleep :)

This could be a request or rant, whatever you can think of! I just wanted to see how different yandere writers would interpret this small imagination of mine <3

But as always, stay safe and take care! everyone needs a break some time to time~

Sorry, but the moment I read the Darling's description, I instantly thought of Dr. Finkelstein from Nightmare Before Christmas. You know, Sally's inventor. 😭 So let me quickly write this down while I'm in my Shelley vibes, because I like the idea a lot. With a little twist, if you don't mind. :)

Yandere! Monster x Inventor! Reader

A frail inventor, and their affectionate rag doll that has been carefully stitched together for the purpose of a caregiver. An artificial existence, trapped within the confines of your lonely tower. Or so you might think.

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, obsessive behavior

"I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel..." [Frankenstein]

You dangle an old, rusty bell for a good minute before leaning back in your chair. The barely audible chimes are quickly swallowed by the loud, mechanical groans of the gears and engines occupying most of this room. No matter, his ears are good. You picked them yourself. And surely enough, within moments, the door to your laboratory opens and someone cautiously walks in.

A tall, slender man. Or rather, something meant to resemble a man. The skin is a clumsy patchwork of blues and grays - you're no talented seamster, sadly - gathering together the body parts in what feels like a parodic attempt at mimicking God and his image. You gaze at the creature approaching you with a tray of tea and sweets. Scarcely your best work, if you must adhere to honesty. Regardless of the quality of your labor at the time of creation, you are proud of the result. How could you not be? You know this man better than you know yourself. Every organ, every artificial nerve cord, every blemish and stitch of his body was placed according to your intentions. A masterfully detailed project that took you years to complete; not an easy feat considering the lamentable state of your health.

"Here's your deadly nightshade tea." The man places a small, porcelain cup on the desk. "Do let me know when I should take you to bed, (Y/N)." You wave your hand dismissively and stretch out your limbs. "Not yet. I am almost finished", you respond, returning to the mound of metal scraps and pipes before you. "Can I ask what you're making?" The pale creature lowers himself to your level, a curious smile plastered on his face. "It's a mechanical heart", you reveal boastfully. "Like the one I have?" You run your hand through the creature's hair affectionately. "Almost. I'm testing out a different way to build the valves, for a more efficient pumping cycle." You continue to explain the intricacies of your novel mechanism, occasionally sipping on your tea. "Who knows, you might have a sibling in the near future."

The man's smile drops in an instant, and his sunken eyes widen at your statement. "What? Am I- am I not enough?" You glance at the creature as he becomes increasingly frantic. "Don't speak nonsense. If it comes out alright, I'll upgrade your own parts as well. I'm a disciple of scientific virtue, of continuous improvement." Nonsense? Vile treachery! You might've chiseled the brain that throbs within the walls of his skull, but his mind is his alone, and you seem to lack a fundamental understanding of his feelings and thoughts. His ardent confessions of love are met with mockingly pitiful grins, in the way a parent soothes a needy child. Even now, your eyes reflect nothing more than sympathy towards his protest. A childish tantrum is what you're most likely thinking. You've no time for emotional bagatelles. He can read you like an open book.

You simply won't understand. There is no place for a stranger in the life he's crafted with his very own hands: you, and him, and the evening tea with a side of butterscotch biscuits, and the bedtime talks, and the stripped branches of the decaying tree that rap at the windows on stormy nights. You might be the Inventor, but he is not just a mere, humble servant, a rag doll to be tossed around or toyed with. As you will soon discover, after all.

You awaken in the midst of night with your temples burning from a much too familiar headache. Although it's not just the pain that has disturbed your slumber. You can hear rattles and thuds coming from the upstairs laboratory. An intruder? Oh, your creations! The sound of glass breaking and metal scraping sends you into spiraling despair. You fumble to reach the nightstand, patting the surface in search for the bell and keys. You shake the handle in a panic, unable to find anything else in the darkness.

The chaotic rustle abruptly stops, followed by descending footsteps. You hold your breath as the chamber door opens, but it's none other than your creature. "Another flare-up? Shall I bring you some medicine?" the man asks with monotonous courtesy. "What have you been doing? What's all that noise?" you demand, agitated, but upon lifting yourself off the mattress you discover your legs are numb and uncooperative. The man hurries to your bed with a worried frown, and you hear the familiar clatter of the keychain coming from one of his pockets. "Have you taken my keys? Cease this foolishness at once!" Indifferent to your reproach, he places a firm hold on your shoulders and forces you back down, tucking you in effortlessly.

"You must forgive my impertinence." he says in a pleading tone. "I do not wish to impede the works of your genius. As your partner, however, it is my duty to prevent you from making mistakes." You furrow your eyebrows at his words. "What mistakes? My invention was flawless!", you argue fervently. "Indeed it was, but not its purpose. What need have you for another being?" It is the creature's turn for a passionate speech. He stands up with a confidence you don't recognize and continues: "You should know by now that I am fit to perform any role. That of your servant, your caregiver, your lover, or anything else you may desire. You can resume your tinkering starting tomorrow, but such blasphemies to our bond as the one today will not be tolerated." He straightens his vest and reaches for the door handle. "I will prepare some tea to help you rest."

Inconceivable. Your own creation, built with your own hands...Has something escaped your attention? His dialogue is deranged, tainted by madness. "Have I done something wrong?" you mumble to yourself, deep in contemplation. "Nonsense." the creature turns to face you briefly. "It was you who created me after all. Everything is perfectly splendid."

[fuckmycrane]

Testing — Dr. Jonathan Crane.

— CW: 18+, smut, noncon! (DNI if uncomfortable 😴), fisting, slight spit kink, Crane using medical language? Rubber gloves! | word count: 2k!

— a/n: I don't know how to tag! This came to me before bed the other day. SUPER GRATEFUL AND FOREVER IN LOVE WITH @pictureinme for beta-reading this! I love you so much pookie 💌.

A shiver runs down your spine as Dr. Crane's camera on the tripod flashes red— an ominous light that warns your humiliation is being recorded.

Your legs are stretched out wide on the cold metal table, chained to the bars on each side, strains reserved for patients in the consulting room who refuse to be sedated. Reserved to those who will involve to be a problem to Dr. Crane, your boss. Hands above your head, your fingers curl around the wire he used to tie your wrists together. Too tight, it felt like a punishment. The blood circulation was slow, causing them to feel numb.

He had to improvise, the sedative he administrated in your morning coffee was a mild dose, enough to keep you knocked out for at least 40 minutes— enough for him to drag you to his private laboratory, undress you, and tie you up. 

Reaching inside the pocket of his pristine lab coat, Crane brings the voice recorder to his mouth, clicking the thick button and twitching in excitement at the mute sound of the tapes rolling inside the device.

“October 14th, 2001,” He speaks, looking at you from behind his thin glasses. “Test subject is awake now, they appear to be responding normally. I will be monitoring them for the next few hours to ensure continued stability. Will report any significant changes in behavior immediately.” 

Clicking the button again, Crane returns the recorder inside his pocket, approaching you with cautious steps— similar to a predator looming over its helpless, little prey; even his eyes hold that harpy gaze. Cold and relentless, your body shivers in fear. The same fear he thrives on, the same fear that makes his blood circulate and sends an excited beat to his heart. 

Your mouth opens but before a sound comes out he raises her hand in a shutting motion, to which you surprisingly obey in response. “Don’t even try,” he warns you, reaching for a tiny box on the tall desk next to your bed. “This experiment is happening either way.” 

Sliding the blue rubber glove over his right hand, Jonathan stretches it, letting it snap with a loud sound. His eyes never leave your face which is a remarkable show of professionalism, taking into consideration your lack of clothes, and the awkward, obscene position. Standing next to you, his index finger traces from your knee to your hip, relishing the way your body squirms uncomfortably. Grasping the recorder once more, he turns it on before leaving it next to the box where he retrieved the gloves from, returning his attention to you.

“Subject internally rejects light physical stimuli,” He repeats the action, going from knee to thigh over and over, the rubber sliding smoothly from the cold sweat of fear that grants your body a soft glow. “Their body appears to be affected by the fear and anxiety. Mild sweating, constant twitching.”

Crane’s finger ventures to the inside of your thigh, raising goosebumps on your skin. An eternity passes until he finally comes in contact with your mound, pressing it softly with his fingerpad. The uneasy pressure makes you choke a sob, a sob that isn’t acknowledged by the doctor. Lower, he begins to circle your clit in slow, methodical circles. The sensation makes your legs tense, instinctively try to close them but are not allowed to do so, thanks to the restraints. Crane watches you with an unamused expression, noticing how lost you are in distress to notice how his leg twitches slightly at the sight of such a pretty face denying the pleasure. The pressure over your clit increases but the pace stays the same, giving you a similar feeling of breathlessness and dizziness. He knows what he is doing, how couldn’t he? Such a brilliant mind, such skilled fingers… he knows.

Closing your eyes shut, your brain shortcuts for seconds, trying to reject the pleasure that Jonathan’s ministrations provide— you shouldn’t, succumbing isn’t an option. Tears silently trickle down your flushed cheeks, embarrassed by your own natural body response. The slick is slowly but surely building up in between your legs, and it’s just a matter of time for Crane to notice it. You wish you could scream, curse him, damn him, and send his soul to hell— but it’s difficult to even breathe. The confusing mix of fear and innate pleasure clouds your common sense.

“Patient is responding correctly to clitoral stimulation,” His deep voice snatches you from your internal battle, snapping your eyes open and finding those same blue eyes that you grew accustomed to, watching you as if you were a mere lab rat. “But, they appear to be having a moral conflict.” 

Perhaps you are. 

When he stops his circling over your clit, a sigh of relief escapes from your lips, but you are disgusted by the sting of disappointment that your body sends you; The ease doesn’t last long, as his finger slides between your folds, gathering the slick and bringing back to your clit briefly. 

He inserts a finger, unhurriedly. He has all the time in the world— it is not like you are leaving anyway. Jonathan breaks the eye contact and focuses on opening you up carefully; It’s easy to read he is not doing it because he is scared of hurting you, it is because causing you pain in this state will lower his experiments. The pace of his digit mimics the one he created before, methodical. Everything about him appears premeditated. Curling his index finger, it takes him around eight seconds to locate your G-spot, rubbing it with expertise and ease; “It appears to be a considerable amount of lubrication,” He continues speaking to the recorder, speeding up his movements slightly. “Corporeal response is positive, the experiment is going as planned”

Planned. That word strikes a cord inside your hazy mind. So he already intended to do this.

A second finger joins, spreading you, but not in a painful way. In fact, the remorse falters, as the pleasure begins to build, strong and hopeless to avoid. Repeating the same curling motion, Jonathan’s hand twitches when he hears the first moan of the evening. It’s weak, but something like that will never go unnoticed. 

“Patient is showing vocal responses after two fingers, vaginal stimulation is going as expected.” 

A wave of heat starts to crumble the last bits of your will, he knows what he is doing— the bastard fucking knows. A new set of tears swell up in your eyes, falling without you doing much to stop them. A meek sob that breaks into a choked moan catches the doctor’s attention, his rosy lips curling into a wicked smile. This is probably the first time you had ever seen Crane smile. Your cunt and his fingers work together to create an obscene wet sound, smearing it all over your labia and printing it with fire and fear in your mind.

A third finger prods outside your aching hole, threatening; When it joins the party, that same stretch comes back— once again not uncomfortable.

“Three fingers have been inserted now,” Crane says, his voice faltering at the end of the sentence. “The patient shows no signs of pain nor discomfort”

Faster, his fingers are going faster now. Three fingers plugging in and out of you without any hint of mercy or consideration. You dare to bend your neck, a sick need to watch his hand invading you, only to find his hand soaked. Involuntary, your cunt clench around his fingers, something that also was noticed.

Expecting him to talk again to the voice recorder, only to encounter a quicker pace, your back arches, the cold laboratory bed suddenly too cold for the boiling temperature of your body. A cloud of guilty pleasure numbs your brain— unable to register the fourth finger peeking at your pussy.

The intrusion hurts, the current lubrication not enough to save the painful stretch. Jonathan notices this, an expert in reading body language; “In response to the fourth finger, the patient has experienced slight pain. After a quick thought, I have come to the conclusion that the rubber gloves inhibit the vagina lubrication to be sufficient.” 

Removing your fingers from your cunt, you watch with half-lidded eyes how he practically rips the glove off his hand, almost frustrated. Returning his now bare fingers to your poor hole, a mewl escapes your lips when he returns three fingers, humming at the clear difference of sensations.

His fingers, his skin is a whole different sensation than the damn rubber. His pinky finger sneaks in again, but your pussy clenches, making the intrusion painful again. Crane huffs in annoyance, bending over and hovering over your crotch, gathering saliva in his mouth and spitting right in your pussy. The action, which perhaps holds strictly experimental intentions, is so perverted it makes your stomach flutter— erotic, that was erotic.

You find Dr. Crane spitting on your pussy erotic.

“Fucking finally,” he whispers.

In no time, and thanks to the skin-to-skin contact, the penetration is easier, for him at least. Four fingers slide in and out effortlessly, as your legs begin to shake, and the tight knot in your lower region threatens to snap.

“You are not allowed to come,'' his stern voice is like a fork scraping against a porcelain plate— dominant and authoritarian. “Hold it, or there will be consequences.”

The promise of a punishment for disobeying is even scarier than the possible consequences, causing you to nod and succumb to his wishes— although you don’t have much choice.

His other hand, which had been fidgeting around ever since his touch over your skin started, approaches your clit dangerously, pressing his thumb on the swollen nub, reminiscing of the circles he did an hour prior, this time tighter— faster.

His actions are lewd, definitely illegal— your noises are lewd, definitely unwilling. Your body thrashes over the metal, yanking the restraints with little success to lose them. The rational instinct screams at you to move, fight— but the overwhelming sensations act like a drug. His fingers curl in an odd position, and before you can react, his thumb slides in.

Fitting his whole hand inside your poor, stretched, wet hole. 

He moves his hand slowly, testing the waters. This is the crucial part of the experiment, one false move and everything will be extremely painful to you.

Torturing your clit, Jonathan uses the lubrication and his saliva to move his hand, keeping his fingers straight and still— ignoring the uncomfortable erection straining against his slacks. 

“The experiment has been a success. The patient has been able to fit my hand inside them. There are no signs of pain, discomfort, or physical rejection—” His voice shakes slightly, as if he was fighting to keep composure the same way you fought the pleasure that his unwanted touch gave you.

That's when the real thing begins.

Crane’s hand curls into a fist, making you moan louder. How can something so twisted feel so good? Lowering your watery gaze, the borderline pornographic view of being fucked by your boss’ fist sends you to a frenzied state. He keeps forcing his fist inside you, uncurling his finger lightly every now and then just to add a new sensation. 

“Good…” He pants, biting his lower lip. “Come. You can come now.”

And you do. Oh, you do. 

His hand assaults your pussy, stretching it beyond limits and giving you the most mind–blowing, earth–shattering, painful orgasm you had ever experienced in your life. Your clit burns from the rough treatment, and something whispers in the back of your drowning mind, that even if you manage to see the light of another day if Crane decided to let you go; you will never find something as pleasurable as what he just did.

To you. To your body. To your mind.

The realization, the crude reality— breaks the thin veil of lust. Crying, sobbing, screaming— the voice you seemed to have lost while he experimented with you finally came back. 

Jonathan wipes his wet hand with his lab coat, reaching for the recorder. His black shoes click on the white tiles of the consultation room as he approaches the camera, clicking the «play» button off, the red light winking at you before disappearing.

Until next time. 

Dr. Crane licks his lips, his cold blue eyes glistening with morbid excitement. His hand trembles when he brings the recorder to his lips, piercing your soul with those orbs just like he pierced your body and dignity with his fist.

“The experiment was a success.”

[eldritch-spouse]

I reeeeaaaaaallllllyyyyy want a pumpkin cream pie if you get what I mean

I wanna IMPRRREGNATE THAT DULLAHAN!!

Can we imagine his firefly getting her hands on a spell that gives her, like, maybe artificial tentacle cocks or just 1 really big one for a limited amount of time, and she spends all that time fucking Patches and filling him up w cum

:3c

TW: Genital modifications; Egg-preg; Surprise sex; Feral mindset; Large insertions

You glance at yourself in the mirror.

This is certainly something...

You're not going to lie, being stuck inside of Patches' lab while he's attending to "urgent matters" on the other floors is probably toxic for you. Because you always end up touching things you shouldn't, messing with concoctions that probably aren't safe for humans, or reading incantations aloud. Speaking of that last one- Trying to read a paragraph from a book with a leathery cover and suckers on it was ill-advised.

In your humble defense, it looked like a Lovecraftian cliché, and the paragraph you tried to read was the only one that used an alphabet you could vaguely identify.

It's not as if the results were instantaneous. You let the words hang in the air, felt stupid, and simply closed the book, thinking nothing of it...

Only to end up squealing and tearing your own pants off when it felt like your pussy was being warped into a different dimension. You can't even describe the sensation! The panic of feeling like your very nethers were shrinking out of existence, leaving a Barbie-like void in their place, before something wet and gross erupted out of your pelvic zone, proudly installing itself there.

So there you stood, clad only in a shirt, hyperventilating at the sight of a purple-ish mass of tentacles where your regular mound would be. The things connect seamlessly to your skin, glossy and wriggling aimlessly. One of the trio seems to be the main attraction, thick and heavy between the legs of a species that likely isn't meant to carry something as... Endowed. The other two are much smaller, auxiliary almost, ridiculously futile adornments to something that is already capable of easily gaping someone.

Fascinating. You hope it's not permanent, you really do. Even then, maybe Patches knows how to reverse it, right?

To touch upon the thing was to receive a myriad of new sensations your brain wasn't quite ready for, struggling to find new pathways, until oh! It all sparks, and you feel. What it's like to have a cock? No, what it's like to have something so much more different than what a human would sport.

Marvelous...

Hands fumble for the best way to handle this new piece of anatomy. Slimy and wriggly as it is, when you try to handle it the same way you would a humanoid length, it doesn't provide that much satisfaction. Tentative experimentation proves -Ugh, you're starting to sound like him- that using both hands to create a shoddy imitation of a cavity is much more fruitful, providing sparks of potent sensation as the tentacle frantically tries to wriggle past the tight creases of your clasped fingers.

It's actually forcibly trying to squeeze into the gaps between your digits! And the worst part is that it feels good enough that you don't care to stop it.

It's secreting something, but you definitely didn't orgasm. Precum? No, it's... Gelatinous. A tingle spreads across the palms of your hands to the tips of your fingers, causing you to immediately pry them apart and shake it off- Onto the counters of your captor's already messy laboratory. It feels... Numbing?

This spell, whatever it is, grants the bearer a reproduction-oriented appendage, which is probably meant to pierce into someone's womb. It doesn't take much for you to guess that maybe, just maybe, it also deposits something inside. But it's not as if you can feel the presence of eggs within you. Everything about this set of anatomy is foreign to you, how would your poor brain recognize anything of the sort?

Just as you stand there half-naked, lightly tapping the appendages, the noise of a lock clicking open reaches your ears.

And with one inhale, it's as if time stops.

Inexplicably, you become hyper-aware of everything surrounding you. The noises of every little piece of machinery idly running, the growing creak of the door turning open, chatter from people that didn't leave the elevator far away.

Something compels you to turn, and you silently face the dullahan as he walks in, looking tired.

" It's the fourth time this week! I've told them eons ago that the pool bar needs safer- " He freezes. " Firefly? "

While you can't find it in you to move, or look anywhere else for that matter, Patches is clearly taking in your current state. He's nothing if not intelligent, eyelights surfing from your swirling genitals to the very book you've just misused.

It's not uncommon for him to come back to something amiss in his own lab, courtesy of your curiosity, but the undead is usually very quick to find a fix for the situation.

Not this time. He looks stumped, nervous. A bead of magical sweat runs down that gourd head and his carved smile crooks anxiously, gloved hands tentatively closing the door behind him. Patches maintains eye contact.

Although inwardly panicking, you can't help glaring into him, fixated, feeling the monster cock between your legs pulse hard.

There it is, your brain screams.

Hole.

Easy.

Warm.

Fuckmate.

You don't even notice you're drooling until the sound of your own saliva hitting the ground manifests.

Overshadowinging the mild concern on the magic caster's face is a lurid sort of wonder that seems to war with his common sense.

" F- Firefly... I need you to stay calm and still, okay? This- This is temporary, you're in an extremely volatile state a- and-... "

You rip your own shirt off. Your bra, everything. You can't stand anything against your bare skin, it's too much stimulus, too much heat.

He chokes a noise out. " That's fine, that's fine- You're overheating, I- I know-... I'm going to have to put you back in the cage now, okay? "

You don't respond, his gaze flickers to your tits for the briefest second, then your newfound cock. Patches shakes himself back to seriousness.

A silence so thick and so tense compresses your cranium, like a spring, counting down the seconds.

One step.

That's all he gets to do before you lunge.

With a force and drive you've never possessed before, your limbs race past desks and stacks of thingamajigs, tossing everything aside, uncaring of the bruises to later form as your body crashes against Patches'.

He screams, naturally, and the two of you fall to the ground, your nails sinking deep into his arms, holding them to his midsection as you sit on his torso and huff down at the dullahan.

There's a fog caressing your brain, a certain dimness taking over, hiding any and all higher thought and leaving behind only animal impulses you've never felt before.

The monster beneath you trembles slightly. And perhaps if you had more of a mind present, you'd know that Patches isn't helpless, he's never been, he just enjoys pretending to be.

" Ough... Firefly? "

What were you doing again...?

It throbs, sloppily playing against the undead's clothes.

Hole.

Frenzied, gluttonous, you start pushing and pulling at the undead's clothes, frantic and confused. Patches already has a habit of dressing in a weird manner -You'll excuse that on his age- But now more than ever, all you want to do is tear those fabrics away with the sharpened teeth you never had.

You're not getting anywhere, the frustration has you gnawing on his pant leg, shaking it like some kind of feral creature. At some point, you must have bitten his leg because he yelps.

Patches makes a noise, you're not too sure if it was a snort or some kind of garbled giggle, but he eventually mumbles some kind of request and begins fumbling with his own clothes, trembling thin digits struggling to catch the right parts. Excitement? Doubt? You don't care.

Faster- You want to yell at him, but the only thing that comes out is an exasperated groan.

The undead doesn't get to do much more than unzip himself before you're yanking his pants down, throwing them away while he scrambles to get the rest of his outfit off, before it can be ruined by your enthusiasm.

" I- Let's take this easy now- "

He's hard.

Good, that'll help. It's not what you want though.

Uncaring, your one-track mind ignores his useless blabbering and pulls him closer by those green legs, parting them as wide as his flexibility will allow- Granted, being undead gives him a certain pain tolerance and unnatural nimbleness you can appreciate.

Patches gasps, worriedly eyeing the thing between your legs and comparing it to his own body. The size of it... Enough to rearrange organs. Thankfully, he doesn't make use of most of them anymore.

" Firefly...? Earth to my- my flame- Look at me- Look at me... "

You do look at him, for about two seconds, before feeling your tentacle slap onto his pelvis. It writhes against his hard cock, offering the two of you some mockery of friction, the wet sensation causes his back to arch and the resulting noise makes something crackle in your brain, driving you just one step closer to mindless lust.

Wrapping around Patches' dick, it squeezes and prods for something that's not there, slithers past his balls and lands on his ass, squished between his skin, slicking it grossly. Instinctively, it finds its' goal, the ring of muscle that clenches as soon as a rounded tip flirts with it.

" Oh my Lord- "

You spread his legs wider, observing.

" Ah- Ahn- I never actually tested this one out- I suppose mmn- I should be taking notes? "

A frown settles on your face.

No, no this position won't do it.

" Where's... Where's my-? Ohn fuck that tingles- The recorder! "

Patches twists slightly to reach an object deposited on the nearby desk, it was just the motion you needed for an impromptu eureka.

As soon as undead fingers clasp a gray device, you flip him stomach-down on the floor.

" Huh- Oomf! " There's a clicking noise. He starts blabbering something or other, date, time, location, you aren't listening.

In fact, you're more preoccupied trying to get him to raise his ass and bend for you.

" Hh- Human specimen has interacted with Transmutation Grimoire number five, speci -Firefly I need you t- to slow down- Specifically the tantric incantation in chapter six and- And oh Gods- "

The irritating buzz of his stressed words is ceased when you growl and crash his head to the ground, keeping it there as you slot yourself behind the dullahan's ass, spare hand poising on a bare ass to spread him out.

" And although I cannot yet know the timing of this action, I can guarantee the phhhh- Oh- The physical effects have manifested as well as the expected lack of higher awareness and overwhelming urge to mate. I am- I'm currently... At the specimen's mercy. "

Mercy that you aren't willing to give.

Thrusting won't work, because even as your hips angle and roll, the tendril is too restless, not at all like the hardness of a human, slipping past the monster's hole every time. You have to somewhat clumsily guide that thin tip and keep it pressed there, preventing it from aimlessly twirling around.

Your struggling eventually proves fruitful, because as soon as that inexperienced tip forces its way past Patches' entrance, the rest stretches to accompany, unforgiving in its increasing growth.

You pant, open mouthed, muted moans and overheated exhales falling out your lips as your eyes nearly roll back from the wave of sensation raking across your brain. It doesn't leave room for anything else except the impulse to fuck. Anything to keep this ecstasy going.

The dullahan on the other hand, howls.

Maybe it was pain, maybe it was shock, the slick of the massive tendril might have helped the insertion, but truth of the matter is that you must have flipped his dormant stomach when you snapped your hips against his ass and bulldozed the rest of it into him.

Relief. Blessed relief. You hold onto the magic caster with all the strength in your body, legs around his and arms coiled over his chest as you use your weight to keep him pinned. A grossly primal visage reminiscent of wild animals in rut.

" Ohn Gods ahn ffuck- I can feel it everywhere hhhn- " He sounds incredulous, laughing breathlessly. "This is still recording...? Uh- "

Although the tendril stuffed inside Patches starts pistoning without input, instincts collide and you can't help thrusting along too, creating an erratic rhythm that eventually clicks into plunges so deep Patches starts crying like an overstimulated baby.

You don't have the mind to care, don't have the chance to see his face twisted in a depraved, tear-soaked mess as he blubbers and starts arching back into you, trying to cling to his nearby hat for dear life.

Not even five minutes ago he was standing and clothed, now he's getting the guts fucked out of him by his own human captive.

" I wish- I wish you'd fuhh -Fuck I'm cumming I'm cumming ghhn- I wish you'd fuck me this enthusiastically more often- "

It feels incredible, an endless stream of pleasure that strains your vocal chords, for you can't help but moan with every breath, especially when his walls clench down on you with intense force, over and over amidst relentless fucking- Perhaps if you could stop to think, you'd realize you've been forcing him to orgasm several times since this started.

But you can't.

You can't do anything except cry out and mechanically bounce him on monster cock, surpassing your own physical limitations for the sake of climbing to a climax that constantly teases you, ever so slightly out of reach.

At some point, you have the feral impulse to look down, this sick and crooked smile on a sweaty face as you get to watch that ridiculous girth stretch Patches repeatedly, a steady wet clap of sound following the hypnotizing view, overshadowing even your labored panting and the undead's garbled sniffling wails.

For some reason or another, he starts moving a little too much, manic with overstimulation, trying to hold onto anything that can help draw away from the way his ass must be burning and his brain fried with feedback too intense. His cock throbs uselessly between numbed legs, a dirty puddle of his own release beneath it, he's entirely spent and yet can't flag at all, body scorched and confused.

The moment he manages to wiggle forward a bit, a noise of beastial aggravation rips from your throat, and you claw him back to you with malice, one hand reaching beneath him to trap a neck that hardly matters to his survival, while the other reaches to hold his head in place once more, digits hooking into his sockets.

It works well enough, Patches is back to incoherent sobbing and limp beneath your punishing pace.

" Yeah, I found his nasty ass like this. " The waiter snorts, showing his phone to a couple of coworkers.

The break room nearly vibrates with laughter.

" His desire for humiliation knows no bounds. "

Nebul notes, watching the clip of you biting onto the dullahan's back and screaming in pleasure as another concerningly fat oval figure travels from the length of the tentacle attached to you and into the swollen figure of his half-conscious coworker.

" But I can appreciate the knowledge, I was wondering if that incantation could be marketable. "

" BwaHAHA- Do you think those things are alive?! Is gourd for brains going to be laying eggs around? " Vinnel snorts like a pig at his own joke.

" Chicken- " Sybastian giggles, waving his arms.

" UHUHU- Buk buk buk ba-gawk! The human got me preggers buk bawk bawk- "

The two of them have entertained themselves imitating chicken noises.

Gallon looks at his shroom coworker. " Do you think you could cook them? "

Morell viscerally grimaces. " Hell nah, ya fuckin' sicko- "

" Grimbly, send this to me. " Santi mumbles, avidly watching the sad display.

" Eww no, so you can jerk off to it?! "

" Ye- "

The elevator dings.

Not a single sound rings as they expect either Belo or Admin to step inside the room.

Instead, in shambles a disheveled and barely covered dullahan, exhausted, and looking heavily gravid.

Faces turn a variety of colors as everyone holds back any reaction.

Sybastian cackles so hard he spits the mimiclings out his mouth.

[iwanty0uu]

MAD SCIENTIST X FRANKENSTEIN CONNY

warnings: nsfw-nacrophilia (being frank -no pun intended- he’s literally frankenstein..and frankenstein is a walking corpse so i’ll see you in the next fic if you don't like this series!)

I

Sparks of electricity went flying throughout the chambers of your laboratory, hidden in the mountains of Transylvania, sparks and plugs were connected to the cool metal table that contrasted to your warm, brown skin. Who would’ve thought a girl as soft and plump as you could possibly have mad and deranged tendencies. 

The night was too fresh and quiet which birthed an eerie feeling, which held hands with the thick fog that was all around knew something was bound to happen. Luckily, were used to this cemetery, because you thought that cemetery walks were best at night especially alone with nothing but a shovel in hand and cherry bubble gum in the other.It’s wrapper fell to the ground, scent still lingering as your brown,polished red fingers grabbed the shovel with precision and aimed straight for the mound of dirt that sat before you, almost twice your size.And without a thought, you heaved up as much dirt as your body could carry,  your once white lab coat was now stained brown, and sweat spilled over your knitted brows, threatening to fall into your eyes, your abandoned blood red heels laid beside you, almost giving you the companionship that you begged for, feet only covered by the thin material of your lace pantyhose. Being alone didn’t mean you weren’t allowed to wear lingerie under your laboratory coat..What felt like hours passed by before dirt no longer allowed itself to pour into the metal shovel, and you were met with a clank instead. The sound alarmed you, and the crows above your head watching in curiosity were sent into a flying frenzy, flocking to nowhere and everywhere all at once. Their crows and thunderous wings almost dimmed the sound of the shovel which met the ground with a thud, and a sigh from the scientist to match.

She wipped her hands into her coat,the only thing that provided her warmth at this hour and she fell to her knees.Her dark brown tresses fell to her shoulders, framing her face as her dove eyes interlocked with those that were shut behind the glass of the casket. One wrong hit from the shovel would’ve caused damage to his beautiful resting face, and even more beautiful home. His casket was trimmed with dark purple velvet strands and the glass that revealed his face, or what it once was, happened to be encased by black cedar wood. Her hands ran itself against the smooth but strangely warm material, she pushed her glasses up in pity for the young man who slept eternally too soon,and sounded out the letters that formed themselves underneath her fingertips, the moon refusing to share enough light to see.. “C..o…n..s..t..ance?” She questioned, brows coming together, almost as if they were agreeing with the thoughts in her head. “What a feminine name for such a handsome young man”.. As she angled her head to the left, the moon gifted her with a sliver of light, just enough to read the last name. 

“R. Springer” she breathed out effortlessly, the name rolling off of her tongue as if it was engraved there. “Constance..con-Conny! That’s what I’ll call you my handsome boy..” The smile that grew on her black lined lips was bright enough to convince a blind man that the sun had risen, the blood flushed through her body as her face and hands warmed up, adrenaline giving her the strength of about ten men which allowed her to lift of the casket with ease, and roll it to her wo-mansion on her remote controlled cart that she had created to levy the bodies of men that never made it past the security system, guarded by wolves, and other various poisons and plants. She couldn’t have been more thankful for their intrusions in this moment though, because their hearts would be the reason her beloved would have a new one..

[spacenutspod]

On May 30, NASA’s Curiosity Mars rover, currently exploring Gale Crater on the red planet, drove over a small rock on the Martian surface. The rock cracked open while driving over the rock, revealing its interior composition. Scientists on Curiosity’s team were stunned to find yellow sulfur crystals within the rock — the first time these crystals have been spotted on Mars. What’s more, the rock these crystals were found in is made of elemental, or pure, sulfur, unlike the more common sulfur-based minerals Curiosity has previously detected. Since October 2023, Curiosity has been investigating a region of Gale Crater rich with sulfates, a kind of salt that forms as water evaporates and contains sulfur. Scientists aren’t yet sure if there is a connection between the pure sulfur found in the rock and the sulfur-based rocks that have been found in the past. Sulfur can only form in a very narrow set of conditions. Curiosity’s scientists haven’t associated the region the rover is exploring with these conditions, which is why the team was shocked by sulfur crystals within the rock. This also isn’t the only rock in this region like this — the team has since identified an entire field of similar rocks in the area around the rover. The rock Curiosity drove over and subsequently discovered sulfur crystals within. (Credit: NASA/JPL-Caltech/MSSS) “Finding a field of stones made of pure sulfur is like finding an oasis in the desert. It shouldn’t be there, so now we have to explain it. Discovering strange and unexpected things is what makes planetary exploration so exciting,” said Ashwin Vasavada, a Curiosity project scientist at NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory (JPL) in California. See AlsoCuriosity Mission UpdatesSpace Science CoverageNSF StoreClick here to Join L2 In September 2014, Curiosity began climbing Mount Sharp (also referred to as “Aeolis Mons”), a large 5.5 km tall mountain in the center of Gale Crater. Along its trek up, Curiosity has explored several different regions of the mountain. Its latest stop was at the Gediz Vallis channel — a large groove in the side of Mount Sharp that winds down to the base of the mountain. Each layer of Mount Sharp that Curiosity encounters on its climb represents a different part of Mars’ history. Gediz Vallis is one of the main reasons Curiosity’s science team selected Gale Crater as the rover’s landing location before its launch in 2011. The team believes that the channel was carved out by large and long flows of liquid water and debris. In addition to the channel’s geographical nature, the 3.2 km-long ridge of boulders and sediment that extends down the mountain is evidence for these water flows. When Curiosity arrived at the channel, the team’s main goal was to develop an understanding of how the landscape was carved billions of years ago. Since then, Curiosity has studied whether ancient floods or landslides formed the ridge that rises from the channel’s floor. Curiosity’s findings suggest that both floods and landslides played a role in some way, as some of the sediment and rock piles in the ridge appear to be left by violent flows of water. Other piles appear to be the result of landslides. Panoramic image of the Gediz Vallis channel, taken by Curiosity. (Credit: NASA/JPL-Caltech/MSSS) To reach these conclusions, the team commands Curiosity to investigate various rocks found within the debris piles, as the shapes and appearance of these rocks help determine their past and origin. For example, rounded stones that look similar to river rocks were likely carried by water flows, whereas angular rocks were likely deposited by dry avalanches. Once all of these rocks settled into their mounds within the ridge, water soaked into all of the material. This water then caused chemical reactions that likely created the sulfur-based and pure sulfur rocks that Curiosity is now discovering. “This was not a quiet period on Mars. There was an exciting amount of activity here. We’re looking at multiple flows down the channel, including energetic floods and boulder-rich flows,” said Planetary Science Institute scientist Becky Williams, who also serves as the deputy principal investigator of Curiosity’s Mastcam instrument. The team’s initial expectations for their findings in the channel were much less complex than expected. The more Curiosity explores, the more complex the region becomes, and the team was eager to drill into of one of the rocks in the channel to better understand its composition and history. On June 18, they got their chance as Curiosity drilled into a large sulfur rock named “Mammoth Lakes” using its drill at the end of its two-meter-long robotic arm.  Most sulfur rocks are too small and brittle to be drilled into and sampled, but Mammoth Lakes was an exception. Even with Mammoth Lakes’ large size, though, the team had to search for a part of the rock that would allow for safe drilling and sampling. What’s more, the team had to find a safe spot for Curiosity to park while it drilled, as the surrounding surface was loose and sloping. After drilling into Mammoth Lakes — the 41st time the rover had performed drilling during its mission — the rover poured the now-powdered rock into a set of instruments inside of the rover. Those instruments have since investigated the rock, and teams are now analyzing the data from those instruments to learn more about the rock and its internal composition. After successfully drilling into Mammoth Lakes, Curiosity drove away and is currently exploring other areas of the channel to learn more about its history and what it means for Martian history. (Lead image: Curiosity takes a selfie at the Murray Buttes region of Mount Sharp. Credit: NASA/JPL-Caltech) The post Curiosity discovers pure sulfur rocks, continues to explore Mount Sharp on Mars appeared first on NASASpaceFlight.com.

[silvercap]

ough thats a lot of prompts woag. i would love to see what you think of with "pinned" or "buried" ? love to see a guy struggling with all his might but hopelessly trapped and in danger >:)

Ooohh absolutely 🤭 (for this prompt list)

Pinned/Buried

Leon can't breathe right. The first thing he's aware of when he swims shakily back to consciousness is how hard it is to suck in a full breath, entire ribcage aching when he tries. He groans, attempting to roll onto his side--only to cry out as his eyes fly open, ragged, excruciating pain shattering the dreamlike haze. It takes him a long time to focus, the slowly-building agony in his thigh making itself known at the same time as his left arm begins to throb, tingling like it's losing circulation. There's daylight pouring in from somewhere above him, autumn sunlight dappling a small sliver in the rock above him in vivid gold. He vaguely remembers that the weather had been nice before he and Piers' team had entered the underground laboratory, all rustling leaves and cool breezes. Speaking of, where is Piers?

It's then that he makes sense of the massive chunks of concrete pinning him in place, a glance downward revealing the spire of twisted rebar that plunges into the outside of his right thigh and keeps him from moving an inch in any direction. The rock it's protruding from is half leaning on Leon's chest and shoulder; not a huge piece of wreckage but still enough to make breathing hurt. His left arm--

Leon swallows down the urge to vomit, taking in the sight of his mangled left arm, hand pointing the wrong way and fingers crumpled like a wad of bloody notepaper, aching all the way from his upper arm to the tips of his nails. He whimpers. That can't be good, can it?

The sudden shriek of what can only be a licker freezes him in place, adrenaline flaring as he automatically tries to shoulder the piece of cement off of his body. It doesn't do much more than drive the metal spike even deeper into his leg, a stifled groan echoing around his small pocket of air. He blinks hazily as the world goes a fraction more out of focus, unable to do anything but stare up at the sky. The clouds are fluffy and white, like lines of sheep bobbing happily across the sky.

It's possible that he's hit his head, too.

The licker shrieks again, closer, Leon's muscles coiling as much as his broken body will allow as the thing peeks it's awful head over the edge of the nearest mound of rubble. It hisses, tasting the air with a long tongue, and Leon hopes against hope that it won't head in his direction. But of course it does, wicked claws scraping over crumbling stone as it creeps slowly down towards him.

Leon can't move a muscle.

[blueiscoool]

Has Noah's Ark Been 'Found'?

Researchers may have found the final resting place of Noah's Ark, with the Biblical boat mound now researched by experts taking a series of samples to prove whether the boat was left there.

Noah's Ark may have been found after experts uncovered a 5,000-year-old mound of a boat-shaped object.

New images from scientists working hard and wondering whether they found the Biblical vehicle show a massive mountain with space for a boat-like object in Turkey.

A team excavating geological locations in the country believe rock and soil samples could show they contain remnants of a vessel which took two of every animal during a flood of the world.

Archaeologists concluded the site was around the area the Bible references from almost 5,000 years ago, with the mound mentioned in the Book of Genesis. Ararat, now eastern Turkey, is believed to be the resting spot of the Ark.

Ongoing since 2021, the project is still determining samples of clayey and marine materials, as well as seafood found nearby. The highest peak in Turkey, standing at 16,500ft, could be the resting spot of the Ark's ruins.

According to researchers, human activity was present on the boat-shaped mound between 5500 and 3000 BC, The Sun reported. The formation is now believed to be the site of the Biblical boat, which researchers have so far collected 30 potential samples of.

AICU Vice Rector Professor Faruk Kaya said: "According to the first findings obtained from the studies, there have been human activities in the region since the Chalcolithic period between the years 5500 and 3000 BC.

"It is known that the flood of Prophet Noah went back 5,000 years ago. In terms of dating, it is stated that there was life in this region as well. This was revealed in the laboratory results.

It is not possible to say that the ship is here with the dating. We need to work for a long time to reveal this." Though considered a historical event, most archaeologists and scholars do not believe the literal interpretation of the Noah's Ark story.

The Biblical story, which sees God demand Noah to construct an Ark to survive a future mass flood as he was the only righteous man worth saving on the planet, is not currently believed by scholars. They do believe, however, the mound could be where the Ark was left.

[birgittesilverbae]

thinking about babea au and beatrice taking ava home to mary’s apartment the first time for a movie night. standing in the grocery store with mary live-texting the ensuing Gay Overplanning to shannon

(these, softer days. shannon still trying hard to reconnect, fighting the scar tissue on her back as she moves through her bō forms and bea soft-stepping into the secluded courtyard to make light, but expressionless suggestions. bea having read about therapeutic matial arts, learning to move around injuries, the half-charred bones in shannon’s back, the times she has to take her crutches back out of the closet. shannon crying privately in the bathroom mirror when she finds two old stickers from the star wars books she found for bea in a discount store years and years ago. a sticker of darth vader on one crutch and c3po on the other. bea’s queer thinking and the articles she has downloaded on disability in sci-fi, how she’ll get cross about it if you press)

(they’re learning to love each other again)

bea in the snack aisle doing the social equivalent of quantum mathematics trying to guess what snacks ava wants. nothing with apple. does she prefer savoury or sweet or bitter or-

mary sending bea off into the attached clothing section with a €10 note to get her new socks while mary pays for €50 worth of sugar, hoping bea will be too distracted to do the easy math & guess what it costs. she could use the ocs card but she doesn’t. wants to give this to bea. like she paid for the takeout on her first at-home visit with lilith. because this is her kid on a tragic technicality.

picking ava up in one of the ocs vans and bea kind of shivering with anticipation on the way, mary swatting her with the sleeve of her hoodie while they idle in traffic like ‘cheer up. we’re not in your stupid emily dickinson poem.’

bea obligingly saying, ‘because i could not stop for death, he kindly stopped for me. the carriage held but just ourselves, and immortality.’

‘thanks, nerd.’

but it calms her, and she’s all smiles when they collect ava, an older ocs sister leaning in and tracing a cross onto bea’s forehead as she stands waiting with ava in the foyer. it’s not uncomfortable, just the blessing you give to someone much younger. for a nun it’s like saying ‘good luck.’

at home with the mound of snacks and ava laughing at it all, but summoning bea down to kiss her cheek. ‘thanks bea. for the thought.’

(ava who has so seldom been thought of in her life)

‘what are we watching?’

‘oh, whatever you want. i have most blockbusters from the last 38 years.’

‘oddly specific but okay.’

bea blushing like, ‘i was going year-by-year and then it was time for morning drills.’

they watch jurassic park because ava loves dinosaurs, and bea’s read her the novels, and of course bea’s like, ‘did you know that one day before the release of this film scientists actually published a paper about a weevil preserved in resin, whose remains offered up what researchers believed were the oldest strands of DNA ever recovered? amber can preserve intracellular structures.’

‘they really did visit laboratories when they designed some of these sets.’

‘it’s an interesting commentary on how our best human ventures can be corrupted by imagination. if we recreated dinasaurs they would look different. usually fossilisation destroys DNA though.’

‘the idea that they collected so much data on species from amber so quickly is quite outlandish.’

bea falling asleep towards the end of the movie because she’s been up since dawn. little bruise blooming on her chin from a hook kick demonstrated a little too enthusiastically by one of the trainees. mary coming in to see ava not watching the last few scenes, just watching bea in the low light, half-draped in a quilt, wearing her oversize green hoodie and pyjama bottoms.

and I'm like "No! That's the thing I'm SENSITIVE ABOUT!"

[dotieeee]

The Dream That Got Away

Chapter 7

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

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

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

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

Link to the Masterlist

Overall Warnings!! Take heed:

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

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

DUB-CON and NON-CON scenes

Character death (sort of)

Creator vs Creation drama

And other dark stuff that may be added in the future

This chapter’s warnings:

mentions of blood and injury

signs of PTSD and trauma

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

Link to the previous chapter

Chapter 7: Nightmarish Visits

It was nice to sit back and watch the humans form their own dreams for a change.

You arrive in Maurie Ellis’ dream just as it starts. As you have seen in all your visits, her dream always begins with a memory: that of her getting lost in the woods as a child, from which she was rescued only the morning after. She had probably relived her traumatic experience night after night, being trapped in her five-year-old body, hungry, thirsty, and helpless. That was until she had chosen to participate in Ollie’s sleep trials.

By now, it was the third round of trials for his invention which he had temporarily named LeRêve – “It’s French for ‘the dream,’ I can’t think of anything yet,” you remember him saying. With his work now becoming increasingly popular among his peers, there are now three sleep laboratories running the LeRêve experiment, with three more on the waiting list vying to be a part of this groundbreaking study. He had a myriad of investors backing the study, and for the past eleven months, both of you had been busy – him overseeing the studies and rallying stakeholders, and you going back and forth between the participants’ dreams to observe the device in action.

Five-year-old Maurie, now aware of the nightmare she’s in, walks to a dead tree with decided steps and touches its bark. In an instant, the tree shakes violently before disintegrating into minuscule pieces. She picks up a piece of the tree and eats it, and when she swallows, the other trees also crumble, leaving behind tall mounds of what you recognize as tree bark. You watch your entire surroundings transform –  the night sky gives way to a pinkish, sunny glow; the forest floor, previously strewn with gnarly root trees and dead leaves and twigs, starts sprouting tiny blades of green grass, and right before Maurie, a cobblestone path appears, stretching on for miles until it disappears through the smaller patch of trees on the horizon. Now in her thirty-something-year-old body, she looks around in awe of her creation. A butterfly flies a little too close to her – she catches it, and like the tree bark she picked up, she also places it in her mouth and chews lightly before swallowing.

Curiously, you walk up to a pile of bark and pick it up. Making sure it is what you think it is, you bring it close to smell it – and the wonderful aroma of chocolate invades your senses.

Not the cheap, drugstore candy you’ve tasted in other dreams, no: Belgian, silky-smooth chocolate. Eagerly, you take a handful of pieces before sitting down on the grass. You regard Maurie with absolute pride – she had just managed all by herself to turn a recurring, nightmare-memory into a candy-filled hypnagogic dream that wouldn’t look out of place in Willy Wonka’s factory. Finishing your chocolate, you pluck a lollipop growing out of the grass to munch on as you watch her chase more of the poor butterflies, which upon closer inspection, are made of delicate, spun sugar. As Maurie crouches down to lick the cobblestone path, however, a resonating beeping is heard all over the dream, indicating that the dream is being drawn to a close.

You get up, stretch your limbs, and will yourself back to Ollie and his dream-space to report your findings.

***

Ollie sets down a cup of coffee on the coffee table right before you. Absently, you whisper ‘thanks,’ concentrating on the book you had propped on your knees. You hear him settle down on the couch before you and wait for him to say something snarky as always does, but surprisingly, he doesn’t say a word. Putting down the book, you see him facing you with an odd expression on his face.

“Out with it.” You decide to say.

“With what?” He asks innocently.

“I know that look on your face,” Raising your eyebrow at him, you continue, “Come on and just ask me, Ollie, how bad can it be?”

He rubs the back of his neck, a guilty grimace growing on his face. Before you could find yourself regretting asking him what he had in mind he blurts out, “Uh, I…Imayhavetoldafriendaboutyou.”

“You what?”

“He’s my best friend. His name is Marcus Sutton, he’s the engineer I told you about that duplicated the prototypes. We can trust him.”

Why did you have to ask? You rub your palms on your face, involuntarily whispering a string of choice curse words.

“Now, don’t lose me just yet, I didn’t tell him that whole you’re-a-dream thing, or else, he’d have committed me to the psych,” His hands holding out to you as if trying to placate you. “I told him you’re the really smart… friend who kind of helped me discover this.”

You place your hands on your hips, trying to maintain an irritated expression, but it’s a difficult feat with that wide, innocent smile of his plastered on his face. “So what are you saying, Ollie?”

“I need you to come with me to the Waking World, please. To meet him, that’s all.” As he sees your jaw drop at his request, he adds, “Look, he’s been badgering me for the past few months. You’ve no idea how much of a nuisance he can be once he’s made up his mind. Come on, Mera, please.”

“Are you seriously suggesting I commit treason?” You ask him incredulously.

“Just one dinner? Besides, your boss isn’t here. It’ll be like taking an extra five-minute break on your terms. Goodness knows you need a damn break.”

You don’t deny his analogy, but you cross your arms in mock annoyance, contemplating the request. Certainly, a short visit wouldn’t hurt, especially in your King’s absence, right?

Crouching down in front of you, he takes hold of both your hands, his smile widening as if sensing your train of thought.

“Please? The restaurant we’re going to has this amazing, melt-in-your-mouth mango-crumble basque-burnt cheesecake.”

Not being able to hold down our smile any longer, you reply, “Fine.”

Ollie lets out a delighted giggle. “I knew I’d get you at ‘cheesecake.’”

You watch him as he slowly brings your right hand to his lips and plants a kiss.

Then he had the gall to flash you a knowing smirk that sends butterflies flying in your stomach.

Swallowing that lump in your throat, you tear your hand away and get up from the sofa, focusing instead on the view of the gardens outside the tall windows. In an effort to maintain your composure, you joke, “I get two slices.”

From behind you, you hear him chuckle, saying, “Get the whole damn cake, I don’t care.” He gets in front of you, blocking the view, and softly adds, “I just want you to be there.”

You give him a furtive nod, muttering ‘great’ while avoiding that warm gaze of his. This isn’t a date, get a hold of yourself. You force your treacherous thoughts away and clasp your hands together, signaling your readiness.

“Alright then. Wake up, and I’ll be there.”

“See you.”

With a wink, he’s gone, leaving you alone to finally concentrate on the upcoming task of traveling to a world you’ve never been to before.

Ollie had thankfully constructed the study to match his own in the Waking Realm, making the work so much easier. In your mind, the thread connecting the Dreaming and the Waking is as clear as you’ve seen it more than a century ago – with a deep breath, you steel your resolve, close your eyes and grip the thread firmly. In an instant, you feel a tug in your navel, and you begin to fall.

The journey is surprisingly much lighter and quicker than you had anticipated. This allows you to keep your footing as you land on the Waking version of Ollie’s office and, on impulse, change your clothing to one that could be more acceptable for the mortals.

“Mera? Is that you?”

You turn around to face the Doctor, but you’re greeted with a tight, enthusiastic hug. Ollie lifts you off your feet and spins you around, earning an embarrassing yelp from you, but his unintelligible shouts of joy drown it out. Finally, he props you back down, cupping both your cheeks and squeezing them lightly.

“You’re here! You’re actually here, in the flesh! You’re – what the fuck are you wearing?”

You’re still breathless from his rather animated greeting, but you laugh with him all the same.

Looking down at your clothes, you remark, “Hmm, I suppose I haven’t been keeping up with fashion trends, these days.”

“Oh that’s fashionable – granted it’s the year two thousand and one, and you’re a backup dancer in a Britney music video.”

Sticking your tongue out to him, you walk to a mirror in the study and, with a wave of your hand, change your attire to a long-sleeved black dress with a classic heart-shaped neckline and with an A-line hem reaching just a little over your knees. Your eyes dart to the ruby and the gold chain on your head – you take it off and put it in your dress pocket, feeling lighter than you have ever felt in a century. Happy with your handiwork, you turn to Ollie and ask, “What time is the dinner, anyway?”

“It’s, uh… eight, I-I think?” He stutters absently, staring at you with his cheeks and ears all red. Gulping and running his hand through his hair, he mumbles, “You look really pretty.”

You mutter ‘thanks’ and give him a small smile. You could feel your own face threatening to blush, so you distract yourself with the clock on his wall to take a look at the time. Get a hold of yourself. Clearing your throat, you note, “It’s only thirty minutes away.”

Seemingly composing himself, he says, “Yeah, we better get going. I’m driving.”

“Aw, and I thought I’d finally get a chance to test my driving skills,” you feign a pout, earning a small, affectionate pinch on your cheek from him.

“Fat chance. I’d like to get there in one piece, thanks.”

***

You glance up at the clock hanging just above the towering shelves of booze on the bar: a little over eleven o’clock. For the bartender named Gabriel wiping the glasses on the counter, his day is just getting started. With a contented sigh, you stir your cosmopolitan with the toothpick-skewered cranberries, looking around the chic, arte-moderne bar you had moved to after dinner. You watch the patrons with a certain fondness, getting lost in the mellow cacophony of chatter, laughter, and light jazz music. After a while, you feel Ollie’s warm hand on your shoulder, and he takes the seat right beside you on the bar and orders an old-fashioned.

Turning the chair to face him with a relaxed smile, you ask, “Did Marcus get home alright?”

“Yeah, he just got in a cab.” His tender, smiling eyes never leave you as he takes a sip of his drink. “I hope the Waking World has made a good first impression.”

The dinner with Marcus was fantastic. Although the food in the Dreaming was second to none, the fare was made more delectable with the first company you had since Ollie – Marcus proved to be just as energetic, bubbly, and full of ideas as his best buddy. They made an instant connection in college with the same interest in sleep technology, so he was more than happy to help with the prototype devices when he heard Ollie’s idea, even throwing in improvements of his own. He said he was glad you talked him into it, because according to Marcus, Ollie was bored to death with the routine in the old clinic, and had no creative outlet. After the hearty main course, the three of you proceeded to decimate an entire cheesecake, while they animatedly recounted their misadventures in medical school. Cheerfully, your eyes wander once more around this total gem of a bar. So, as far as first impressions go…

“Everything’s wonderful, Ollie. Thank you for convincing me to come here.”

As your gaze focuses on him, he inches closer to you, your foreheads almost touching together. “That’s good,” he whispers, lightly brushing the hair framing your face with his fingers. “Because I still have so much to pay you back for. So fucking much.”

You don’t exactly know who leaned in first between the two of you, but your lips brush together lightly for a few seconds, before he pulls away, completely flustered.

“I’m sorry, was that okay? I don’t know what came over me,” he apologizes profusely, running his hand through his hair.

You take a sip from your forgotten cosmo, trying to convince yourself unsuccessfully that the heat in your cheeks is just the effect of the alcohol in your system. “Well, I haven’t slapped you in the face yet, have I?”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, and, looking at you expectantly, asks, “So, could we…?”

“Could we what?”

“You know what I mean, Mera.” He says with a serious tone. “I like you. A lot. You don’t know how hard it has been these past few months, trying to work and act normal while you’re there. It drives me fucking nuts.”

You couldn’t deny the way your heart seemed to flutter at his confession. At this point, the realization that you probably feel the same way, that you have been feeling the same way for a while, hits you like a ton of bricks.

The face of one furious Endless invades your thoughts – against your will, you remember the heated stares, unwanted touches…Suddenly feeling queasy, you start regretting your decision of getting your fourth glass of the drink; it wasn’t the brightest idea you’ve had in a while.

Ollie seems to sense your hesitation. “I take that as a ‘no,’ I guess,” he laughs dryly, emptying his glass.

“I’m sorry, Ollie, I just…” Inwardly, you fight back the emotions threatening to spill, and your voice trembles at the effort.

He somehow easily recognizes your distress, so he tries to amend, “Oh no, no, sorry I didn’t mean to pressure you!”

When he doesn’t get a response from you, he places a reassuring palm on your shoulder. “Mera? Forget I asked, okay? Is something wrong? Hey, you can tell me, you know that, right? If you need me to listen as a friend, I’m all ears. Unless I turned you off that much. Is it my breath? Odd, I just took a couple of mints before –”

“Ollie.”

“Yeah?”

Whatever feelings he had for you, you know you have to nip it in the bud, regardless of whatever you feel. Ollie does not deserve to be dragged into whatever business you had with anyone who might take his affections against him.

“I’m currently committed.”

“Oh.” He is stunned by your confession, then he smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his green eyes. “Yeah, I should’ve known. Someone as…beautiful and smart and talented as you…it wouldn’t be surprising.”

You could tell he's still reeling from the blow and he’s trying to hide it. I’m sorry, Ollie, this is for the best. “You know you’re quite the charmer.”

Motioning Gabriel for a shot of the whiskey bottle in his hands, he questions, “May I ask who? So I can congratulate the lucky bastard.”

There is no point in trying to hide it, least of all from him, so you say, “The King of Dreams.”

Halfway through his shot, he sputters, spilling most of the drink on his lap. “Wait. Your boss?” He asks incredulously. You could only nod in response.

“What the fuck? You didn’t tell me you’re practically royalty.”

“No, I’m not,” you say, grabbing a wad of napkins from the counter and throwing it on his lap. “I’m his creation. He gave me my current function, then he…changed it. Just before he left.”

“‘Changed it?’ That’s the most fucked up promotion I’ve ever heard. Doesn’t look like you want it, either.”

He’s looking at you with these wide eyes full of concern, but you shrug it off. “It doesn’t matter what I want. It’s my duty. I’m to fulfill it for him.”

“But, of course, it matters what you want. He can’t force you, can he? Have you told him about this?” You shake your head, so he adds, “Maybe you should tell him, then.”

But in your heart, you know that once the Dream King has made up his mind, there was no convincing him otherwise. So, you lie to Ollie through gritted teeth, no matter how much it pains you.

“Hmm. Maybe I will. When he comes back.”

“Good.” He nods in satisfaction, eyeing you sideways. “And don’t think I’m telling you to tell him just because… well, you know…”

Lightly chuckling, you reply, “Yeah, sure. So smooth, Ollie. Can we head back? I’m quite tired.”

He acquiesces, watching you finish off the cranberries on the toothpick. He pays his tab, leaving a generous tip behind. Walking out of the bar, he gently and wordlessly takes your hand in his. You give no sign of protest, and you swear you could feel him tighten his grip, only by a tiny fraction.

***

“It sucks that you have to go back to the dreams. I mean, we could have an actual, proper break…we could drive around the countryside, get some fresh air for once, admire the views…”

“Yeah, keep dreaming!” You shout from the kitchen, sitting on one of the dining chairs with a heavy sigh. From the hall, you hear his boisterous laughter.

After the drive home from the bar, you made a beeline to his kitchen and ransacked his cupboards for some drip coffee. You had just turned the electric kettle on, waiting for the water to boil. You’re bone-tired at this point, noting how much energy your brief visit to the Waking World had cost you. At least, you had some left to change into a pair of comfortable pajamas and a fluffy pair of house slippers. You hear the kettle click shut, so you slowly get up from your seat and pour the steaming water into the mugs, finding comfort in the waft of fresh-smelling coffee. You wait for the coffee to finish, then proceed to dump copious amounts of milk on both cups – Ollie likes it milky and sweet, the same way you do. You pick them both up and carry it them to the study, but you don’t even get past the kitchen exit when it hits you.

It’s a strong, mighty wave that sends you keeling over like you’ve been punched in the gut – it makes you drop the mugs you’re holding, and you collapse on the scalding hot mess of coffee and broken ceramic pieces. The pain doesn’t register; with shallow breaths, you’re filled with horrifying visions of a cracked circular glass cage, its shards flying everywhere; the sound of multiple gunshots is drowned out by the whooshing of strong winds controlled by the ancient, endlessly powerful being stepping out of the glass.

He’s back.

The ominous warning of the Voice awakens the dormant fear you had been downplaying and brushing aside for a long time. The return of your master might spell the salvation of the Dreaming, but what does that spell for you?

“Mera, what the – are you okay?”

Ollie comes rushing to your crumpled figure on the floor cursing under his breath. You’re soaked in coffee and one of your palms, now bloodied, had ceramic pieces sticking out of it. He scoops you up from the floor and sets you down on the kitchen counter. Taking your palm in his hands, he carefully picks up the shards and cleans the cuts, before wrapping your hand with a clean bandage.

“This is the second time you scared me half to death. Do it for the third time and I might just have a heart attack.” He tries to joke, but he fails to get a reaction from you. Cupping your cheeks so you’re looking at him, he asks, barely in a whisper: “What happened?”

Those green eyes bring you back to reality. You hold the hands cupping your face and tethering you to reason – having to lie to him once again sickens you to the stomach, but still, you find your voice and say, “I slipped. I’m sorry.”

The look in his eyes says he doesn’t believe you, but he’s sensible enough to let it go, so you get off the counter without preamble and go straight to the balcony on the study to get some air. You couldn’t be near him now that your time with him is coming to an end. Your King of Dreams, after all, would not take it lightly when he finds out the transgressions you had committed – coming to the Waking World being the least of them.

But if you go back now, what would you say? How would you explain to Lucienne and to your King your year-long disappearance? Would they believe you if you said you simply got stuck in the dreams and couldn’t find your way?

Can you go back, knowing you’ll be forever stuck to a function you dread fulfilling?

You rub your biceps, realizing it’s gotten cold outside. You step back inside the study, with thoughts of saying your farewell to Ollie. Perhaps you could do it once you see him, like ripping off a band-aid? You slowly pace in the study you had grown so fond of. Inside, you’re conflicted; you don’t know whether you could bring yourself to run away from the Dreaming and abandon the kingdom you call home, or just go back to your creator, confess your sins and let him decide your fate. You stop just before the bookshelf, lazily running your fingers over the books that you have read from cover to cover.

Without warning, your hairs stand on end, and you sense a presence behind you. Your breathing turns shallow, and you couldn’t help the tears brimming in your eyes from the trepidation – has your Dream King finally found you and come to fetch you himself? What will he do to you now that he knows you had willingly committed an act of betrayal by being in the Waking World?

The feeling of a hand on your shoulder finally breaks you.

You burst into terrified tears, mumbling all of the apologies you know to try to appease the being that had finally come to take you back to your world. A pair of strong arms wrap around you and pull you close, shushing you and trying to calm you down. Bristling at your closeness, you resist on instinct, and to your surprise, the arms let you go.

“Mera, Mera, it’s me, Ollie, it’s okay, it’s me!”

Through your tears, you peer, not into anger-filled blue eyes, but a pair of gentle, forest green ones – whimpering in relief, you break into a fresh bout of sobbing. You halfheartedly hit him in the chest with your bandaged hand, barely feeling the stinging on your palm.

“Don’t you ever walk up on me like that again, you, you fucking –”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He places both hands on your shoulders to still you, and when you offer no resistance, he wipes your tears softly with his knuckles.

“I-I thought you w-were h-h-him!” You exclaim through your mess of ugly tears and hiccups. “He’s b-back, a-and I thought you were him!”

He regards you with utmost concern on his face, whispering his ‘sorry’ over and over.

You sit on the floor and hug your knees to your chest. You will your inner storm to simmer down, sniffling as you do. Ollie follows your example and sits on the floor right in front of you. You both stay in the same position in silence.

“Jesus Christ, Mera, just what the hell did he do to you?” He finally whispers. His hands are balled into fists like he was trying not to touch you with great effort – one of the many things you have grown to appreciate with him – he knows just what you needed, or didn’t, in the exact moment.

Finding your words, you say slowly, “He tried… he made…inappropriate advances.”

His expression hardens as the meaning of your words dawns on him. “You don’t have to say anything further.” He tells you with tenderness in his voice. “Can I hold your hand…please?”

At your furtive nod, he encases your trembling, uninjured hand with both of his.

“You’re not with him anymore. You’re with me, yeah? You don’t have to hurt like this anymore.”

Your heart tries to take comfort in those soothing words, but your head shakes automatically. “You know I can’t stay.” Please make me stay. Please. Don’t let me go back there with him.

“Can I hug you?”

The moment your ‘yes’ leaves your lips, he pulls you to him and tucks you under his chin. “I don’t think you’re going anywhere, not in this state. Damn if I let him near you and hurt you like this again.”

But what if it’s you he hurts?

This intrusive thought is the last thing on your mind before you close your eyes, falling asleep to the calming rhythm of Ollie’s beating heart.

***

The Dreaming Realm holds no fanfare for its returning, long-awaited ruler.

As soon as the ivory gates swing back at the command of its weakened King, it reveals nothing but the remnants of his empire – once the most majestic kingdom of all kingdoms, perhaps only second to the Creator’s – everything Dream of the Endless had built and nurtured since the beginning of time now lie in ruins. He is devastated at the sight – he’s also furious and bitter that his weakness had led to his capture, and his capture led to this – Lucienne must’ve felt this, for she explains how, in his absence, everything came falling apart.

She tells him of the library. The castle. The residents. The staff. Then she gets to you.

At the mention of your name, his heart wrenches in pain at the thought of a cruel fate befalling you. He recalls, with a pang of sorrow and regret, how your voice so desperately called out to him, and how, at that moment, he could’ve given up anything to come to your side, take all your troubles away and finally make you his.

His only loyal subject earns a glare from her King when she pauses at your name. To her credit, she doesn’t flinch, possibly aware of how urgent the matter is for him.

“You must tell me, Lucienne. What has become of her?”

Lucienne lets out a deep sigh before she speaks. “She said she was going to keep looking for you, for signs of you, in the dreams of the mortals, but the waters have been unsafe for her, Sir. Sometimes, she comes back weeks after, extremely exhausted. In her visits that led to her disappearance, I’d often find her unconscious on the shore. I have tried convincing her to cease her search for her safety’s sake, but she adamantly refused. That was about a year ago.”

Morpheus is rarely ever taken aback, but he is floored at his librarian’s recall of your relentless pursuit of his whereabouts. He allows his heart to soften momentarily at your unwavering loyalty – you had risked your own life to try and find him and bring him back to his realm and to your arms. Yet, he had no time to dwell on this – he makes an inward vow to reward you richly for your efforts. Lucienne’s as well, he adds. He worries about what has happened to you in the dreams: had something barred you from surfacing in the waters and, in turn, prevented you from awaiting his return?

He had much to do if he were to retrieve you from the sea of dreams. Stepping into the ruins of his palace, he gets to work, his resolve now ever stronger to rebuild his kingdom and bring it back to its full glory.

“I will bring them all back, Lucienne. I will bring her back.”

Whatever kept you away from him, he will crush with his bare hands, and he will need all his tools to unleash his fury.

***

Ollie made a rather convincing argument with you about why you should stay with him in the Waking. And you were sorely tempted to, except for the knowledge that the King of Dreams will eventually come after you, like the nightmares he had sought before his disappearance – or capture, if your visions had indeed revealed the truth. You are, after all, now a fugitive in Dreaming terms.

And you had revealed to Ollie this single misgiving – you trusted him with your life, now that you had no more secrets to hide from him. This big snag on his plan stumps him, of course – what could he, a mortal, do against one of the most powerful beings in the universe? The Dream Lord might have been weakened in his capture, but you know he will eventually gain his powers back to their full extent, as the Endless are all wont to do. It’s only a matter of time, the Voice adds.

Two days after your emotional breakdown in Ollie’s study, however, you’re hit by a sudden stroke of genius.

Who else, save Dream of the Endless, had enough knowledge about the Waking World to thrive in it for more than a hundred years? He might be a Nightmare, but at the moment, he is your best shot at perhaps keeping away from a master that would surely seek to punish you for your errors against him and the laws of his kingdom. To find him, however, you need absolute concentration, so with a word to Ollie about not disturbing you under any circumstances, you lock yourself in a room in his home and begin your search.

Finding the Corinthian was not an easy feat. Vaguely, you recalled how hard it was to find Candor in the Dreaming because she was masking her presence (and because you were juggling between your Dreaming duties and looking for her) – if the Corinthian is doing the same, you were likely to hit a dead end, potentially wasting your effort.

Dreams and Nightmares, however, have this unique way of sensing even the tiniest hints of each other’s presence.  While it’s true that your connections in the Waking World are significantly thinner than in the Dreaming, making it much more challenging to sense each other, The Corinthian hasn’t exactly been subtle. After six long hours of pure concentration and grappling through the thin, fragile strings of your connections, you find him at last – or a trace of him, at least, strong enough to tell he had recently been in there.

You focus on the trace he left behind and will yourself to it immediately – you had no time to waste.

You land on an empty, dimly-lit alley. It’s void of humans, at least until a door bursts open, and out stumbles a group of them in their early twenties, drunk on their heels and laughing raucously. Masking your presence, you get a glimpse of the establishment inside: you recognize it as a club with its flashing strobe lights and thumping electronic music. Using your Dreaming ability, you don a tiny, sequined dress and put on some makeup so you could fit in the crowd, and through this back door, you enter the club with senses on high alert.

You make your way through the frenzied, dancing crowd, muttering loud ‘sorry’s’ as you go, trying not to stumble on your high heels. Once you get to the bar, you order a cosmopolitan from the bartender. Realizing you had no money, you flash him your most charming smile, which seems to work – he sets your drink down on the counter with a wink, saying “it’s on the house.” You say your ‘thanks’ with the coyest smile you could muster, cringing inwardly at your behaviour. At the bar, you had a better view of almost everyone in the club, so you quietly scan the establishment for your target, ignoring the stares you’re getting and politely declining the men and women offering to buy you a drink.

It doesn’t take you long. You find him on the VIP balcony, leaning on the railing, wearing glasses dark as night: The Corinthian, staring back at you with a knowing smirk on his features.

Aware that you needed some sort of pass to get to the VIP lounge, you grab the waist of a tipsy young woman making a beeline for the stairs. She squeals with delight and holds on to you (shouting in your ear, “You’re so pretty!”), probably mistaking you for a friend. Finally, you get to the VIP section, shaking her loose, you walk to the Nightmare you’re seeking. His gaze does not leave you as you approach.

“Hello, doll. Come to buy me a drink?” He drawls, leaning close to you so he could hear, his charming smile growing wider.

With a serious expression, you respond, “Not in here, no. I need to talk to you, please.”

He lets out a knowing hum. “Stay close and try not to get lost.” He says, wordlessly motioning for you to follow him.

And so you do, until your way is blocked by a drunken man asking you to dance with him. You try side-stepping him, but he’s quick on his feet, making a move to grab your arm. Someone else grabs his, however, stopping the attempt.

The Corinthian tightens his grip on the man’s arm, danger rolling off him in waves, yet his charming smile never leaves his face. It’s quite a terrifying and mesmerizing sight: Dream’s perfect Nightmare, in action. When he lets go of the poor man’s arm, he says threateningly, “She’s with me. Scram.”

The guy backs away, still wincing at his bruising grip. The Corinthian then proceeds to snake his arm around your waist to pull you close.

“Don’t get the wrong impression, doll,” he leans in to whisper to your ears. “And try not to get into any more trouble; I don’t wanna have to murder anyone with all these people watching.”

With you in close tow, he leads you from the VIP lounge, downstairs, and to the back door. Once you were outside, he lets you go, and with a flick of your hand, your clothes change into something more modest. You let out a sigh of relief at finally being able to get rid of those heels, which you vow to never wear again.

The Corinthian watches you with amusement before gesturing once more for you to follow. He takes you out of the alleyway and leads to you a nearby dive bar, much quieter and a lot brighter than the club you were in moments ago. He chooses the farthest booth, probably to avoid being overheard. You sit on the cushioned chair, with him directly across the table. He orders a craft beer for himself and a cosmopolitan for you from the passing waitress, muttering how you seem the cosmopolitan-drinking sort. The waitress comes back after a few minutes with your drinks on a tray and a napkin with a phone number written on it, which she not-so-subtly slides near his beer.

Great, he’s managed to charm the waitress with just a look, you note inwardly with a slight shake of your head.

With a final wink in his direction, the waitress walks away with a spring in her step, leaving you both alone.

“I know you: you’re Dream’s little plaything. I believe we’ve met.”

He takes a swig of his beer before leaning back in his seat and resting his arm comfortably on the cushion.

You tilt your head, also leaning back on your seat. “I’m no one’s anything. And I believe we haven’t.”

“Oh, believe me, doll, we have. You just don’t remember,” he says with a knowing, lopsided smile. “Anyway, what do I owe this little date? You know Morpheus would hate to see us both this cozy.”

You roll your eyes at the mention of the Endless’ name. “Never mind him. I came to ask you how you plan on staying here, now that he’s back.”

“And why would you be interested in my affairs? I didn’t know I was your type,” he responds with a raised eyebrow.

With a grin of your own, you say, “Let’s just assume, maybe I’m inclined to stay here, too.”

His expression changes to one of genuine surprise. “Really? Well, I must say I’m proud of you, Mera! You’ve come a long way from following your King of Dreams like a lost puppy.”

“Things change. We change.”

He lets out a deep chuckle. “Not him, he won’t. So, what is it that makes you want to stay? Let me guess…”

You narrow your eyes at him, which he ignores. “Don’t tell me it’s a lover? Oh, he’s going to be pissed when he finds out his little dream has been playing around where she shouldn’t be,” he says with a gleeful tone. “He’s going to come after you.”

Not knowing how to react, you merely nod. “I know. Regardless of my reason, I don’t think I can go back.”

At your declaration, he leans with his arms on the table, losing his spirited tone. “Well, then. At least we now have something in common. You and I seek the same thing, doll: freedom. And he’s never going to give that,” With a flair, he fishes out a thin, silver dagger from inside his coat, adding, “But I have my methods.”

Understanding what he meant, you ask, “How? And I’m not saying I condone it – I just don’t think anyone can kill an Endless.”

“I know a few people I could recruit, doll. Believe me, it can be done.”

You shake your head at this outlandish idea. “I don’t think that’s the right question, either. Whether we like it or not, humanity needs Dream, and the other Endless, for that matter.”

“No, it doesn’t. One of them has gone for good, but look around you: they seem to be doing preee-tty fine if you ask me.” He then adds with a more serious tone – the most serious you’ve heard of him since meeting him: “So, if you really want to be free of him, doll, you have to fight for it. We both do.”

You place your arms on the table and clasp your hands in contemplation. Could you really take part in a scheme that could bring about your King’s demise?

“No, not in that way, I can’t.” You conclude.

Your Dream Lord might’ve demoted you to a role that you had absolutely no taste for, but he is still your creator – you owe him your life, and you sincerely wish no harm on him. Still, you acknowledge the Corinthian’s unconventional methods of dealing with problems are of his nature, and thus you couldn’t find it in your heart to judge him or resent him. You genuinely wish there could be a better way.

“But thank you, anyway. This has been insightful. I’ll find my own way, as I’m guessing you will. I wish us both luck. We’re going to need it.”

If he’s disappointed in you, he doesn’t show it. “Anytime, doll. Be careful of Dream. He’s not who you think he is. Oh, and next time you see him, ask him this: what happened to the others?”

“‘The others?’”

But he just gives you a secretive smirk. “Just ask him; he’ll know.”

He gets up to his feet, indicating that your conversation is over. His tone lively once more, he says, “Well, I hate to cut this date short, doll, but you’re not exactly my type. If you change your mind and decide to help, you know where to find me.”

He fishes money out of his pocket. “And next time,” he says, waving the note in front of him, “you’re paying.”

Even if you both had just discussed committing a crime against your creator, you couldn’t help the lighthearted chuckle that escapes you. Craning your head, you watch him saunter out of the bar, wishing you had met him in better, friendlier circumstances.

****************************** Link to the next chapter

Author notes on the Chapter:

Our Lord Morpheus is back!! I promise you'll see more of him in the next chapter - I just wanted this to showcase Mera's internal struggle, as well as the PTSD she has from all the trauma she endured with her master. Please stick with me on this!! We'll have more touch-starved, bat-shit crazy Morpheus in the next!

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

Author's notes in general:

Thank you, THANK YOU for reading!!

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

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

Post date: 12/3/22

Edit date: 12/3/22

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

Tagging the following:

@wt-fxck

@sandman-33

@reallystressedhoneybee

@akiraquote

@safe-teycar

@ponyboys-sunsetsts

@izziclee

@spygrrl99

@intothesoul

@thecrazytealady

@tastyinspection8860

@kittenssss-blog

@trinittyy

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@sarahbullet235

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@justporple

[rodrigobera04]

The next list will be with the scary ghost type:

GHOST pure

Glass frog with a transparent belly,as a school anatomy mannequin.

Geisha kimono possessed by her haunted netsuke.

Ghost slug covered in spectral slime.

Skeleton changing shape into bizarre appearances.

Spectral dinosaur that imitates voices.

Translucent ghost with only its lineart being seen.

Ghost if teleported, can even change next to your Pokémon in the battle.

Entity made of scary children's scribbles, like in horror films.

Sinister forest spirit, imitates animals in a distorted way.

GHOST/GROUND

Decomposer worms forming a zombie arm.

Odalisque spirit creating mirages with sand.

Turtle shell possessed by the ghost of its former owner.

Creature with a single foot like a rabbit, its footprints can bring good or bad luck.

Spirit of dirt hidden and lurking under a rug.

Cow skeleton, covered in clay that covers its bones like a new body.

Serpentine reptile cut into pieces,that move independently.

Specter opening a portal in the floor, like a trapdoor, to scare people.

Whale that died stranded, now its spirit haunts the beach.

GHOST/ICE

Sea cow pretending to be friendly to drown people in revenge.

Frozen vampire mammoth now absorbs blood with its trunk to keep warm.

Vaporous ghost of a melting ice cube.

Undead climber haunting mountains and making jaw noises.

Specter based on an ice finger, freezes everything with its touch.

Spectral snow owl attacking silently through the air.

Aquatic boogeyman of frozen lakes based in qalupalik.

"La Llorona" of ice, female ghost with frozen tears.

Hunter disguised with the skin of an animal he hunted.

GHOST/NORMAL

Flattened ghost of some animal that was run over.

Lemur making scary sounds, like a ghost.

Kaiju or mascot costume animated by a supernatural force.

Umbrella ghost hiding its skeletal body over its membrane.

Funeral comb controlling a ghostly mound of hair.

Stuffed animal, standing still until someone approaches.

Hyena voodoo wizard, summoning ghosts of the deceased.

Doll that is possessed by spirits that animate it.

Ghost rodent, uses the corpse of the snake that bit him as clothing.

GHOST/FAIRY

Vengeful fur coat made from several skinned ermines.

Ghost unicorn taking revenge on the hunters who stole his horn.

Goblin made of Halloween candy, always asking for more to form his body.

Mischievous poltergeist possessing toys;give bird legs to a dollhouse.

Macabre Jack-in-the-box, feeds on fear, scaring the victim.

Chimera created by parts of different deceased beings.

Pooka changing into frightening forms in macabre pranks.

Pure soul transformed into a cemetery fairy; leaves flowers on graves.

Magical gloves animated by phantom energy, perform tasks for their owners.

GHOST/STEEL

Cursed carriage of an amusement park ghost train.

Skeleton of construction beams from a never-finished project.

Harionago creating a web of barbed wire that injures the victim.

Robot possessed by a ghostly force.

Cage haunted by the bird that inhabited it.

Metal instrument playing requiem music, an organ or a harp perhaps.

Ghost with a blade around his neck that he spins to cut opponents.

Knife that was possessed by the soul of its victim.

Can with a hand inside that sucks energy, attracting prey with the smell of food.

GHOST/WATER

Pelican eel drowning the victim in its inflatable mouth.

Aquatic spectrum like a reflection, distorting your image.

Ghost of water entering houses through leaks.

Fish with a vaguely humanoid face haunts rivers.

Fishnet possessed by the animals killed in it.

Food chain of fish, one coming out of the other's mouth.

Blanket octopus carrying the souls of drowned people to the afterlife.

Stingray with a scary fake face on top and a happy, real one on the bottom.

Spectral parasitic crustacean, possessing a translucent jellyfish.

GHOST/ELECTRIC

Pikaclone laboratory mouse with X-ray skeleton.

Stiff-haired ghost that produces static.

"Lightning rod" zombie, being hit by lightning to gain electrical strength.

Abyssal fish stranded on a beach that shocks even when dead.

Ghost playing the prank of scaring people with a flashlight in his face.

Creeping figure made from TV sprinkles, interfering with radio signals.

Soul attracted to electricity, looking like a moth.

Defibrillator ghost that can take and return life with its shocks.

Angel made of lightning, looking like the skeleton of a stingray.

GHOST/FIGHTING

Little creature being possessed by the literal "fighting spirit", becoming a warrior.

Disembodied leg with two arms on top.

Japanese wolf Yokai, protecting the fauna and flora of the mountains.

Armless training dummy that creates spectral arms to aid.

Buer demon with multiple legs to kick.

Fighter using two skulls on his hands as biting gauntlets.

Voodoo witch being able to pass the damage on her body to the opponent.

Dancing skeleton based on a Tibetan dance.

Two guard dogs sewn around the waist, always vigilant.

GHOST/ROCK

Stone ancient wheels that create flames when they turn, like wayniudo.

Brick from a haunted house that looks like a skull.

Stone vase containing ashes of a deceased person.

Spirit resting inside fossils, waiting to be awakened.

Living drawing of a silhouette on the ground, like those drawn at crime scenes.

Cursed pillars guarding imprisoned and angry souls.

Horned god statue with gem eyes that cause amnesia, paranoia and fear.

Condemned ghost holding a large, heavy rock as punishment for his greed.

Maiden decorated with mourning jewelry at funerals.

GHOST/BUG

Tiny ants carrying heavy objects, confused by poltergeist activity.

Butterfly drinking fluids from deceased;insect psychopomp.

Beetle stuck by a needle, as if from an exhibition.

Cockroach with a haunting face drawn on its back that causes fear.

Parasitic wasp with a necromancer wizard theme.

Vampire praying mantis resembling a jiangshi.

Silk caterpillar having its cocoon like a coffin after being slaughtered for manufacturing.

Specter fly, seen only by the person it torments with its buzzing.

Scavenger bee collecting carrion and creating macabre-looking hives.

GHOST/FIRE

Star born from a soul that went to heaven and became a "little star".

Odori-don octopus motionless until hit with heat.

Imp of fire and brimstone, torturing people with fire.

Swift fire spirit hunting like a stray bullet.

Bonfire animated by the ghost stories told around it.

Skeletal and singed animal, victim of a forest fire.

Decapitated chicken with a fireball for a head.

Vampire on fire from the sun, drinks heat instead of blood.

Flaming ghost jellyfish with fiery tentacles.

GHOST/FLYING

Whistling spirit, imitating the breath of the wind.

Medium lyre bird, imitates the sound of the deceased.

Ghost holding fans, can control wind.

Predator bat catching prey with its net wings.

Kite using his tail to grab things and strangle victims.

Grim reaper stork taking deceased souls away.

Itta-mommen curled into a humanoid shape like a mummy.

Severed head with small wings, looking for a body.

Striga-based vampiric ghost, can turn into an owl.

GHOST/GRASS

Headless plant monster with a necklace of literal garlic heads.

Fungus that covers a spider, giving it long legs.

Banana peel ghost, making people slip.

Severed tree stump with a crushing spectral trunk.

Dry Venus flytrap with its mouth reminiscent of futakuchi-onna.

Spectral creature of dry autumn leaves, makes plants wither.

Humanoid covered in genipap paint, representing mourning.

Mummy with papyrus scrolls for bandages.

Predator shrouded in thicket, never revealing its form beyond its eyes.

THE MYTHIC TO FINISH:

Small mummified ghost reducing living beings to dust; personifies decomposition.

See you soon.

[kozykricket]

yknow what why dont i just put out my terraria build ideas that i havent quite gotten to (or some that ive gotten to a bit) out there?

so. ofc theres gonna be new furniture sets in 1.4.5, and i def wanna get building around those. those seem fun (fallen star set, aetherium set, etc) but theres also like. the lihzahrd furniture set exists and ... yknow, i think building an underground temple of my own for a jungle pylon seems quite fun. maybe it'd make the witch doctor feel a lil at home. could have an alchemy kinda area um, also i think it'd be awesome to make an iceberg with a home inside of it. like. im reminded of a certain iceberg you can swim inside of in subnautica below zero... has a cool interior. twists and turns, then u surface and . its like a cave ! i'd love to live in an iceberg heh i think a ghost pirate ship with the shimmered pirate would be a cool build ! could use lotsa fog machines and ofc gravestones for the graveyard biome i think meteor and sunplate furniture could really go together well if painted right, they both feel like. really unique "high tech yet in a fun way" vibes though speaking of high tech i think it'd be cool to build an abandoned overgrown laboratory in the jungle, for housing your planter boxes. if only i knew how to build metal stuff and make it look nice..

in terms of shimmer theres lotsa stuff i think u could do. ofc theres crystally hallow kinda place.. or clouds are also cool. but i think just making shimmer into more of like, a secret hotspring area would be cool. make it into like, pools that cascade down into each other.. maybe its even like some cave aquifer that opens up from a big ol tunnel in the ocean, and the further down into the oceans abyss you get, the more shimmery and ethereal (aethereal?) the vibes get

okay heres a real fun one: shimmer can change how NPCs look. so. have a seecret nightclub looking uh. neon... well. ig a fashion club of sorts with the clothier and stylist. tbh shimmered steampunker is very fashionable too. and just have like, a very Pool looking pool of shimmer in there. could store lots of vanity items there! call it the uhh Shimmer Salon or something. a ... mirage club. maybe the entrance to it is on the surface but only appears at night time bc . echo coating stuff. or something. disco balls ! and most recently, im thinking "yknow, granite caves look cool in the jungle. could contrast the jungle really interestingly with a granite elemental themed house, or a manmade detailed granite biome of sorts"

but also you could apply that to like... a mushroom surface build? have it be some weird granite-shroom grotto? you CAN paint glowing mushroom grass and do some funky stuff...

oh, and also you could do a yin yang kinda vibe for an underground base made of half marble and half granite. cus theyre like, opposites

in terms of places in games i think would be cool inspirations? area zero from pokemon SV, as well as any stage from the risk of rain series. and ... maybe some certain lategame areas in slime rancher. if you're bold, a rain world outskirts style place would be cool i think the best places to take from risk of rain could be a combination of both of the games' snowy places.. as well as ror1s temple of the elders and ror2s sky meadow. sundered grove is also very pretty but i think it'd be hard to really nail the vibes of oh and. minecraft ancient city? mayb..e...

...and now you see how i overwhelm myself ! lots of ideas! i think ill try and just focus on granite or maybe a hallowed crystal themed area (oh , and i have an unfinished TOTK sky island build. actually 2 of them. different takes on the idea. i think zonai stuff could be cool...)

FINALLY: what i want to do for my next world where i spawn inbetween 2 hills, is fill in the area between them with lotsa dirt and make a burrow like. rabbit burrow kinda vibe area. or a Mound . an anthill. a.. yea i think a Burrow like moles or rabbits make would be cool. just a big one. for people to live in. cool mega-spawnbase idea !

[lasplaga]

𓆙      —       𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 [𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐏𝐒] --- @lehazard 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐖: 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 [ 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 ]

SACRIFICE! The price to pay for resurrection must be drawn in the blood of the innocent! Humanity must atone for their ancient sins!

Hallowed spirits to replace the fragmented, the torn, THE DYING, so that the Everlasting God may finally be reborn. It was a sickly cycle of rebirth, but natural for a parasite who inflicted mass suffering, who drew power from leeching upon CELLULAR revitalization. --- Valdelobos, on behest of the calling of a dead martyr, a true descendant of Adam, demanded offerings. Bodies piled in the rot-afflicted region, but the flyblown mounds piling in the hundreds did not sate his hunger. Human informants were ordered to scout the globe for lambs to lead to the altar. Mercenaries that invaded were strewn of their armor & casted to the growing pile. Despite governmental interference, victims continued to disappear across Spain & beyond The Mediterranean. All lost to biohazard sanctions were deemed irretrievable by the local police, to not contribute to the slaughter --- but not for private agencies.

𝐃𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐂 was one of these aforementioned agents, soon to be unknowingly casted for the lot, to be part of a unified, ABOMINABLE 'whole'. Rescuing personnel from quarantined Umbrella Europe & Paris Laboratories drew him unfortunately close to the fray, Los Iluminados raiding the dismantled corporations for abandoned equipment --- & on rare occasion, human researchers who lingered where they were no longer welcome. Being transported to Rockfort Island for trespassing was no longer a concern after the prison was forsaken & overtaken by mutants. Now, being picked off by infected scavengers, enemies of the pharmaceutical company was the growing concern in the 21st century.

A quintal of flesh was his demand to end the bloody banquet. No longer would Osmund be incomprehensible in form, but remade into something that vaguely appeared as human. The consciousness that faded would resurface to the forefront, an amalgamation of departed spirits & persistent survivors which held a collective purpose. Though he did not thrive ( yet ), necrotized militants on his behalf swarmed the abandoned facility in France for search of fresh prey. By the shattering of glass & incoherent mumblings in Castilian, the presence of animalistic, cyanosis-ridden Ganados were made known. Needing their hunt to be delivered ALIVE, lethal means of execution were traded with tranquilizers.