#pardon the messiness this was drawn on a mouse

[north-noire]

Behold! I am the magic anon #058! Now it’s time to dropkick William Afton into the fifteenth dimension!

The FNAF good ending just dropped.

[xarniae]

☁︎ ᴇᴛᴇʀɴᴀʟ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍꜱ ⋆⁺₊⋆

a/n: should I write more things like this??? synapsis: after falling into a coma you find yourself stuck in the dreaming and in love with the Lord of Dreams, and when you eventually awake you leave him in despair. warnings: hot and heavy makeout sessions......(i tried y'all😭) not proofread or edited pt2

☆.｡.:*

Years had gone by, and many seasons had changed. But you were still injured. You lay motionless in your hospital bed. Peace was drawn on your face. Your mother and father had withered and aged, Your siblings and friends had empty hope that you would make it. But they could never bring themselves to pull the plug. That’s how it was in the waking world. However, in the Dreaming it was different. Your face had life and color, and your smile was brighter than a million suns. And all signs of sickness left your body. You were walking, running even dancing. It truly was a dream you never wanted to wake up from. But alas all good things must come to an end. 

The first time you and Morpheus met in the dreaming,he was awkard. You had wandered into the palace library and met the lovely Lucianne. You were quite confused, you remember your eyes going heavy after being placed in the hospital and your chest tightening and then here you were. The librarian was nice and sat you down. She told you all about the dreaming and reassured you that you would awake in a few hours when morning came. So you sat and enjoyed the day, the library was magnificent. It really took your breath away. Its large shelves filled with books could only found in a bookworms dream. You wandered around the library not wanting to bother Lucianne. Your look for a familiar book, any familiar book. A surge of happiness runs through your body as you finally find a familiar title, Romeo and Juliet. It wasn’t one of you favorites but it was familiar so you picked it up off the shelf. It seemed to be freshly printed. The spine was crisp and untouched.

“Lucianne.” deep mellow voice calls out,

“I think she went out for a moment.”  you reply softly, your head swivels around trying to find the source of the voice.

“I beg your pardon-” you finally see the man walk out from behind the book shelf infront of you,

“Who are you.”

The man was very pale and had messy hair as dark as molasses. You quickly tell him your name and greet him holding out a hand,

“Whats your name?” You gently ask

“Morpheus.” He leaves your hand hanging until you eventually drop it. It was very awkward. The silence made you squirm under his gaze. Just as you were about to open your mouth to say something to ease the silence Lucianne barged in,

“Lord Morpheus-” her voice trailed off as she saw the two of you,

“I see you’ve met our new guest.”

His gaze shifted to Lucianne,

“What do you need me for.” they both walked away from you. Leaving you with the comforting silence of the books. 

After that occurrence, he would see you around every corner of the palace. You were like a curious mouse, looking at every crevice. Running your hand on every solid object. Time had passed and you should have awoken by now. But here you were, still in the dreaming. This predicament seemed to alarm not only Lucianne but also Morpheus. They had their fair share of humans who fell asleep for months even years but never usually were lucid, or conscious of the fact that the dreaming was there. Nevertheless, there was nothing they could do now. You were stuck in the dreaming whether you liked it or not. 

Many weeks had passed since you first entered the dreaming. You had already gotten bored of being confined to the palace, you didn’t even get to sleep in the dreaming. It was eternal morning. You had gotten to the point in your life where you were begging Lucianne to help her with her work, but she would only shoo you away.  A huff left your lips as you sat on the large staircase in front of the large palace doors, your knees up to your chest as you buried your face in your legs. You wanted to wake up. You were going insane due to boredom, you had read so many books that your brain physically hurt to see letters on a page, and the smell of the books made you queasy. You craved human interaction, physical affection, and adventure. Lucianne was working 24/7 and Morpheus was out of the question. After your first meeting you hadn’t spoken to him again, he was too odd for you to socialize with. At that moment you heard the large doors creak open and footsteps tap on the floors. You knew who it was but kept your head down. 

Morpheus kept moving until he reached the top of the stairs where you sat, slumped over. He wouldn’t lie, he felt for you. Being confined to the dreaming must be agonizing for you. He wished to relieve you of that burden even for a few moments.

“Would you like to go walk in the gardens?” Your head snapped up to where he stood next to you

“Yes please.” your eyes twinkle pleadingly

He leads you out the palace doors and into the flourishing gardens located behind the palace. The sun gleamed down onto you for the first time, it felt so pleasing and euphoric. Morpheus watched as you observed every flower and plant with awe. It was amusing to him, watching you gawk at unknown flora.

“Are those fruit trees!” You exclaim turning around

He nods and gestures for you to go explore. And you did.

“I didn’t know the dreaming had fruit trees.” You strolled shoulder to shoulder with Morpheus,

“The dreaming has anything anyone could dream of.” 

“That's amazing.” 

He felt a sense of pride at your praise for his domain. 

“May I eat one?” Your fingers point to the dangling juicy red apple.

“You do not need to ask permission for every movement you make in this realm.” He grabs the magnificent fruit and hands it to you to devour. You weren’t hungry but you ate it, the sweet taste invaded your tastebuds and drove you to feel ecstatic. Maybe you were wrong about Morpheus, he seemed to care more than he liked to show. 

“Thank you Morpheus.” your smile pierces his heart, when was the last time a human smiled so gratefully at him? He could feel his lips curve,

“It is no problem, the gardens are yours to roam.”

Your heart swelled with joy,

“But what if I wish to roam them with you, would that be permissible.” 

“Of course, I would be more than willing to keep you company.”

Your smile only widened, Life in the Dreaming might not be so bad.

For the next month, Morpheus took you out into the gardens every day without fail. Somedays you would go fruit picking or have a picnic. Other times you would make a pie or a fruit-flavored pastry and bring it to him in his throne room. You two became very close in a short period of time. You might have even called each other friends. But I hardly think friends suck each other's faces in the gardens. But there you two were, smushed against an apple tree your mouths locked onto one another. The kiss was hot and heavy, your teeth clashed and your tongues invaded each other's mouths. Even the sun wanted to secrete behind the clouds at that act of indecency. Your hands grouped every part of each other's bodies as if you wanted to tear each other's clothing off. Only after you have to pull Morpheus off your body could you catch your breath. A dopey smile was planted onto your face as you watched his chest heave. He looked like a mess, his hair was more tousled and messy than usual. His clothing was wrinkly and he had love bites on his pale neck. Some old and some newer ones growing in hue. 

“We really should go back inside,” you say after finally catching your breath,

“ Do we really?” Morpheus challenges leaning his face closer to yours, his short breaths hitting your lips

“I guess not.” Once again the messy kiss fest began,

One might wonder ’how did this start?’. It happened to start after the fourth week of Morpheus taking you to the Palace gardens. Morpheus was starting to feel his heart gravitate toward you and his eyes capture you more beautifully. He felt his feelings for you were becoming more romantic. You on the other hand also started seeing Morpheus more romantically but you were also severely touch starved and craved physical connection and affection. This is why when Morpheus explained his feelings for you in the valley of berry bushes you wasted no time kissing him on his lips, your heart was frivolous and floating. He grabbed your waist and held you close as you both locked lips until you both pulled away, sweet smiles on your bruised lips, and walked back to the palace hand in hand. No words were ever spoken about the status of your relationship and never would be until further on in the future. Ever since then your garden trips always either started or ended with your mouth on each other. This leads us to the current time, Instead of your usual kissing spots you both were currently locking lips on his throne. You sat on top of him as you both vigorously kissed, your tongues dancing the waltz and his hands finally found purchase on your waist as he had previously been groping your chest. You gripped his dark black coat, seeking some stability, you felt as if you would float away into the clouds. After you both had your fill, you both settled down, you rested your head on his chest and sat there absorbing his warmth. 

“Morpheus.” You whisper

He hums in acknowledgment, caressing your hair,

“What would you say we are” Your head lifts to watch his expression, its the epitome of adoration

“Lovers.” He fondly pecks your lips

You contently hum and lean back into his chest. It was perfect, everything was perfect. But nothing lasts forever.

Many months pass. It has now been about 4 years since you entered your coma and ventured into the Dreaming. All day you had felt odd, your entire body tingled and felt floaty. Like you were groggy. You sat in the library with Lucianne and Morpheus. The pair were coming up with ideas for new dreams and nightmares. You were sitting on a comfy brown plush chair, reading a book when it happened. You could hear voices in your head. Like they were in your skull. Your book dropped to the floor and you gripped your head. You could smell the faint scent of antiseptic and plastic. It was familiar. You could hear the heavy footsteps of Morpheus and Lucianne rushing towards you,

“Are you alright darling?” His voice was filled with worry

“My head.” You groan, the voices were all too much, their yelling mixed with Morpheus's voice was all too much

‘Grip my hand if you can hear me.’ you heard in your head

“What is happening,” Morpheus asked turning to Lucianne for help, she was more knowledgeable in these situations,

“It seems as though they are waking from their coma.” 

“No,” his voice was soft and filled with disbelief. You had never heard him use that tone, or have that look in his eyes. As if his world was crumbling. The feeling was getting stronger and you were starting to fade. The sound in your head was getting stronger and the smell was growing. You could faintly feel cold metal. Before you fully disappear you grabbed Morpheus's hand and give him a sweet smile,

“See you in my dreams.” 

Then you awoke. Leaving Morpheus broken in the Dreaming.

“It’s alright Lord Morpheus.” Lucianne comforted,

“You shall still see her while she sleeps, or you may even visit her in the waking world.”

“No Lucianne.” His voice was filled with despair

“I won’t be the same.” His heart mourned, you were happy in the Dreaming, his kingdom. He wanted to be by your side forever but now you were gone from his home. He never expected you to leave him so soon. He sat in the library in front of that brown chair for hours after you left, his hands rested on the plush cushion of the chair. A few tears left his eyes, but no sounds left his throat. You had left him.

{end}

(maybe I'll write a happier part 2)

[indelibleme]

Fanfic, CID: A Reason To Love

...

Daya was asked this quite a few times in the course of his life.

What attracted you to each other?

What sparked your relationship?

Didn't work dynamics pose a barrier? A problem?

She's a simple junior. A good officer, but not brilliant. Not a genius in any account, not a genius like him. Why did she catch his attention?

What about the age gap?

Does he truly love her?

Why does he love her?

That had been frequent in the earlier stages of their relationship – from colleagues to casual friends, from some particularly nosy reporters to equally prying neighbours, from jealous admirers to long-lost relatives who suddenly had nothing better to do than poke their large nose into his business (Ahem), from… Well, you get the drift.

It had begun like every other relationship did; friendship. A close and good-natured working relation between two officers. But then, slowly and steadily, Daya had been inexplicably drawn to her passion and compassion; passion for her work and compassion towards her friends, family and even everyday strangers.

It was not love at first sight.

It was a slow, drawn out game of cat and mouse – and he still doesn't know who won, but perhaps they both did – and gradual conversion of attraction to affection, then fondness and finally love.

It was a roller-coaster of confusion and uncertainty, a jumble of emotional conflicts, evenings full of introspection, mornings filled with her gentle presence, sleepless nights over her youthful face and kind smiles… But, Daya was sure it was love.

Abhijeet – that smug bastard – had snickered in mirth when Daya had first told him about his…er, 'crush' on her. And, damn, even now, he had to admit he had behaved like a preteen with his first experience at having a crush and oh god, just how embarrassing that was! And when that simple attraction devolved into something more…it had become inescapable.

There was certainly no going back now – he was trapped by this sinful emotion, this passionate desire, this irrevocable change of perspective. He was in love. Definitely.

Well, damn.

Abhijeet had tried to console him through his (ardent, futile, possible, but hopefully not) unrequited love. When, in his holiness – calling Abhijeet any derogatory words would not be conducive to his continued health, so perhaps he'll just stick to sarcasm, yeah? – so, in his holiness' undeniable and blessed opinion, Abhijeet had told Daya that there was a chance she liked him back…well, he had been unable to keep himself from hoping.

Abhijeet had encouraged him through the initial stages, had his back through the difficult times, stayed adamant through Daya's own hesitancies, faithful even when Daya had misunderstood the situation – and Daya was grateful for it. Oh so grateful – so yeah, Abhijeet probably wasn't that bad of a best friend. Not that bad. No need to inflate his ego anymore.

So, now. Now – ten years down the lane, where they were happily married, settled and had a little bundle of joy to keep Abhijeet's little terror some company – Daya had expected the questions to stop.

They didn't really.

They had a sixteen year age gap between them.

Couples couldn't be posted at the same headquarters – she had had to shift.

Her parents were really hesitant to marry their little girl off to another officer of the law – what would happen to the kids if both of them got hurt?

He could do so much better than her – that was mostly from jealous bints (er, pardon the language), so that didn't really count.

He constantly got into dangerous situations; he'd leave her a widower.

He was a genius in the field, no officer alike him (except Abhijeet, of course). She was not of his class – if anything, Daya was sure it was the other way round. How could he have ever gotten such a wonderful woman as his wife?

And really, Daya never cared much for those comments. ACP sir had been accepting of this relationship and had also given them their blessing – and the man was like a father to him, what more did he need? Abhijeet had always been supportive, constant and unwavering at all times. Tarika had been all smiles and cheer, a bubbling fountain of joy, and had also given him a vaguely threating promise about dissecting and pickling his body parts if he hurt her friend – And geez, couldn't Abhijeet have a better taste in girlfriends?

So, yes, with their support, nothing ever mattered. The comments behind his back, the looks, the disapproving demeanour of DCP Chitrole, her parents' distaste…

But, when faced with such questions, he did stop to think.

Why did he love her?

And that query would probably never get a full response to it.

He loved her for her gentle behaviour with her friends and her fierce protectiveness of victims of crime. He loved her for her youthful naivety and her constant hope in humanity. He loved her for her jaded soul that hadn't escaped the world's cruel truth. He loved her for her perseverance, for her unwavering loyalty, for her positivity.

He loved her profound insight into matters that he'd never given much thought. He loved her for her kind gestures, her genuine concern, her helpful demeanour. He loved her for her humour, her sensitivity, her courage.

He loved the way she would concentrate during a case, the way she would bristle with righteous indignation at a wrong-doing, her unhesitant firing of her gun when needed and her analytical mind. He admired her skill with a pocketknife and hair pins (Despite what Abhijeet said about being the one to teach her and thus demanded half credit) at picking locks.

He loved her special way of brewing tea and just the right amount of sugar she put in his coffee. He loved how she looked in green shirts and denim jeans. (And black dresses too. And black lingerie…but that's another matter…). He loved her simple aloe-scented shampoo and her naturally pink-ish, peach-ish nails. He loved how beautiful she looked without make up (Kissing was so much messy when you put on lipstick…er, right, back to the point). He also loved how adorable she looked the first thing in the morning as she sleepily smacked away the alarm clock before realising that no, she had work to go to and five more minutes was not applicable.

He hated how her omelettes would always have bit too many tomatoes (Is it egg you're feeding me or tomatoes?!). He hated how she'd always put off the ironing till the last minute, leading himself to do his own if he wanted a presentable shirt for the morning. He hated how her home slippers would always be in the way, just waiting for him to trip up on it (Are you trying to give me a concussion, darling?).

He hated how she'd insist on applying oil in his hair on every Sunday, at the very least (My hair was fine without oil for the past twenty years, woman!). He hated how she'd push an apple into his hand early in the morning when he was already late for work and did she want him to be even more so? He hated how she'd decided that two days of the week would be his turn to water the plants (Those are your stupid plants in the first place! Why am I supposed to water them?).

But he adored her. He adored how she cared enough to make sure he ate well, he dressed well, he took care of himself. He adored how she insisted they share household duties, because it was their house and therefore their duties. He adored her absent-minded ways in which it made her more human – because had she truly been that perfect, Daya was sure he'd have not deserved to be married to such a goddess.

So, why did he love her?

Well, he wasn't sure.

It was all the above, yet so much more. To put a label to love, to define it… would be truly undermining it. Love was so much more than that and words would be inadequate to express it fully.

Besides, love was illogical anyway. And he may have been a slight bit crazy to marry her – they were oh so different. And opposites in a way that they might have never really attracted, never really fit together in the messy, disjoint, seamless way they had…

And with all the struggles they'd faced to just be together, sometimes they'd wondered if they should just give it up. To let go, because that was just so much more easier!

But, they'd held on, because the end result was worth it. So, yes, he might have been a little mad to tie the knot with her – but well, we're all a bit mad in love.

…Aren't we?

"Daya! We're running out of bread! Go down the street and buy a loaf, would you?"

"Eh?" Daya blinked out of his stupor, looking away from the cricket match playing on the television screen, "Bread? Why do you need it now? It's nearly nine o' clock!"

Shreya peeked her head out of the kitchen, sighing exasperatedly, "Your best friend's son is coming over tomorrow. And your son wants to make bread rolls for snacks. So, go and get the bread, won't you, dear?"

"I'll get it tomorrow," Daya dismissed, returning to his match. Ah, that was a six, definitely!

"Oh, no, you're not!" she huffed, marching towards him and thrusting out his wallet, "You and Abhijeet are going to sequester yourselves in your study the whole day, leaving me to watch over the kids! Really, perfect waste of a good weekend! So, better go and get the bread now."

Daya gave a look at the wallet, considering it. She wiggled the money case a bit. Daya relented with a sigh – she was right, Abhijeet and he would be in the study all day, going over case files…he could probably get a head start now and get out of bread-shopping...

Shreya gave him a look, as if she knew what he was thinking. Evil woman. He so hated her.

"Okay," Daya agreed with a long suffering sigh.

Shreya beamed, pressing a swift kiss to his cheek as she disappeared into the kitchen again.

Well, now. Perhaps he loved her, after all.

"And do get a bottle of tomato ketchup while you're at it, too, okay?" Shreya gave him a last call from her kitchen.

Statement revised: he did hate her. She was going to make him miss the match.

"Yeah, alright," Daya agreed as he slipped on his shoes.

"Love you!"

Daya grinned, resigned, "Love you too."