#somebody ask me about my comics *please*

[red-ro5es]

Did I tell you guys I got nightwing #105

[taylor-titmouse]

hey i want to talk about how you should be promoting your work as an erotic author/illustrator

i'm writing this up because the marketing aspect of my work as an erotic author/illustrator is a science to me, and also because i'm the guy who gets unreasonably annoyed when i see other creators not properly advertising their work. you presumably want to make money off your work. this post will be written under the assumption you want to make money off your work but are doing a bad job at it. it will be very confrontational. if you read this and feel attacked you're right and i am attacking you.

this is geared toward selling erotic comics/writing/books/art as products. i will probably write more than one post about this subject so if i didn't touch on something you want to know more about, comment/send me an ask and i'll keep it in mind for the next one.

i will start with my first and least specific but most important point:

DON'T GET FUCKING CUTE

hi are you paying attention. i'm gripping you by the sides of your face. do not get fucking cute with what you are trying to sell. you are not a big enough property to get cute, nobody LIKES it when big properties get cute, and you are selling porn. you have to own this. you have to be up front about this. don't be tongue in cheek, don't be all teehee i wonder what this could be~, don't be secretive. you are selling a product. you have to fucking act like it. you are an adult selling pornography to other adults. i am GRIPPING your HEAD you NEED to understand this.

and to be clear when i say 'cute' i mean coy. i don't mean cutesy, as in the aesthetic. you can be as hello kitty pastel ten emojis a post uwu as you like when you're building your audience and generating hype. but when you start trying to sell, don't be vague, don't be sarcastic, don't mislabel your work as a joke and assume everyone is on it. because they're not.

you must always assume 75% of the people seeing the thing you are advertising have no fucking idea who you are. and that includes a huge chunk of the people who already follow you. they do not know who you are or what you've been working on for two months or why they should care about it. they just got here. somebody just reposted it. they are seeing it for the first time. most people are only looking at social media for a tiny chunk of their day. they are not keeping up with you. you cannot get cute about what you are trying to sell because nobody knows what it is until you tell them.

okay are you still with me. we are going to talk about clarity now.

YOU GOTTA TELL ME WHAT IT IS

good lord the amount of times i have gone to buy somebody's comic or book and had no idea what's actually in it or what it's about. who are the characters? why should i care about them? what do they do in it? what is the premise of this thing you want me to spend $5 on? why would you not tell me? i'm shaking you again. please i have to know what i'm buying i only have so much money to spend on porn.

porn, arguably more than any other genre, relies on knowing exactly what is in it. you do not want to surprise your readers with a kink they were unaware of! and on the flip side, you do not want to miss out on your target audience! if your book contains a hot spider babe laying eggs in an elf, you have to say so. not just so people who don't want to read about eggs know it isn't for them, but so the people who are egg crazy can see that and go "oh fuck YES i love EGGS here is my $5 and an extra $2 tip for catering to me specifically". a contents/features list is as much an advertisement as it is a warning!

as for re: who the characters are and why should i care, i'm sorry but you need to learn how to write sales copy. you have to write blurbs. you have to get good at the shit that goes on the back of a book. we all hate it but we have to do it. i want to know who the characters are and what the context is. i, personally, am not interested in contemporary stories as much as fantasy and historical. please tell me what genre this porn exists in so i know if it aesthetically appeals to me. pull some books off your shelves and see how they do it. hell man go look at mine.

while you're there, note that every single book of mine has a sample of what's in it. this feels like such a no-brainer to me but again! the amount of times i have gone to buy somebody's work and they don't show me what their work looks like! you gotta give me the first page or two! just enough that i know if i like the way your writing sounds, or the way you draw your comics! i don't know you! i am not going to trust that you're good at what you do just based on a cover. the cover is to get me to this step, it is not the only step. you have to show me that you're worth spending my money on!

to put it less cynically, you want to catch my interest. you want me to go 'oh i want to see more of this', you want me to go 'ahh i want to know where this goes!' you need to get me invested and craving more. earn my $5!!!

YOU HAVE TO MAKE IT EASY TO GIVE YOU MONEY

hey go look at your bio right now. go look at your pinned post. do you have a link to your patreon there? do you have a link to your itchio/gumroad/whatever? do i have to click more than once to get to the places you want me to go to give you money? why? why are you making me click twice? have we learned nothing from every website making you click an extra time when they make some stupid UI update and how much it pisses us off? i have already given up, i have forgotten you, i am not giving you my $5 today. put your links in the easiest places to get to them.

god literally as i was writing this post i went to go find somebody's itchio to see how they described their work and it was not anywhere on their profile. grabbing you and shaking you PUT THE LINK WHERE I CAN FIND IT. don't make it hard! make it easy! i am a dickhead sitting on the toilet scrolling, saw your post, and was interested enough to read further. but you made me go to your bio to find your linktree and oops i have already gone back to my timeline to look at the boobies in the next post. stop wasting precious bio space on DNIs and put your fuckin links there!!!

this is more for the twitter people, but: just put the link in the damn post. just say the word commission. just say it's for patreon. "wuh wuh the algorithm" it is not the damn algorithm it's that everybody hates advertising and nobody wants to retweet ads. putting slashes in the words doesn't do anything and you look like a fool. i have posted so much art that says it's 'a commission for ___" and it did exactly as good as any other art despite having the word commission in it. and by doing the slashes you just made it impossible for anybody to search your account for your commission information (which should be at the VERY LEAST in a post under your pinned tweet if you're not actively posting about them being open).

okay that went on a tangent i'm going to back to the point of putting the link in the tweet. put it in the first post. not in the first reply. don't tell them to go to your bio. put it in the post people are actually going to share. it's fine to put more information in the thread but people are only ever going to share the first post. so put the link there. you have to make it easy. putting links in tweets can hurt you algorithmically, even in the replies. so you're better off having it in the post that actually gets seen and shared. i don't want to open the tweet and scroll to get to your sales page where i ASSUME you will have put all the information anyway. put it in the tweet that just got retweeted by itself onto my dash!

also you have to share it a ton of times. i repost my shit every few hours when i'm trying to push a new product. as i said before people are not 24/7 looking at their timelines. they missed it the first time. they missed it the second time. they didn't get paid yet that week but they were after the eighth time and you reminded them again so they finally bought it. that i will still get sales every time i repost a book ad weeks after release says there are always people who missed it, or who only just showed up.

abandon your pride and shill. shills pay their bills. anyone who gets annoyed about it isn't giving you money in the first place. don't worry about looking like a sell out. don't apologize for plugging your own work. post about it often, post about it in different ways. post about it. post about it. you are not going to make money if people don't know you have something to sell them. if you want to make a career out of it, you need to act like it.

I DON'T HAVE A FOURTH POINT

kisses your forehead. i'm sorry for yelling at you. i've been making and publishing and selling adult art for the past two-three years and have got myself to the point where it pays my rent, and i got there by paying attention to what does and does not work.

please do your best to make money. i want you to make money.

as i said above i plan to write more posts on this subject, such as cover design, how to actually write sales copy, and best practices with running a patreon, but if there's things you would want to hear more about leave a comment or send an ask! i will probably be less aggressive on future topics. these are just things that have grinded my gears for a grip.

[3d-wifey]

This is such a niche ask, but I saw that you do Mortal Kombat. Can I ask for some flirty intro dialogue? You know like the conversation the characters have b4 the fight? But like with a Goddess!reader who's basically Hecate? like a Nyx/Hecate fusion if that makes sense. Oh and can you do what some of her taunts would be? I feel like those and her fatalities would be illusion and tarot based :)))

Flirty Intro Dialogue

Pairings: Johnny Cage x Reader; Noob Saibot x Reader; Erron Black x Reader; Dark Raiden x Reader; Cassie Cage x Reader; Shang Tsung x Reader

A/N: (Back to using gifs for headcanons). This is just for the MK 11 timeline. Once MK 1 comes out, I'll do new ones. Had to do a little research fan fiction-wise for this one, but I got a good amount out (plus some taunts the reader would say during the fight). I put a lot of thought into the reader's backstory in the MK universe, even though it'll never be used lol. Please, feel free to request more of these characters or some intros for different characters. Maybe even request a one-shot? Who knows ;)

Behind the Scenes: You know how when Erron Black shows up in the intro, he's looking at a Wanted poster of his opponent? I feel like Goddess!reader has something like that where she's looking at a tarot card that's different for each character before it disappears into mist. Another opening is the reader strutting in shapeshifted into her opponent, before turning back. Her friendship fatality has her stirring a comically large witch's caldron and Noob Saibot pops out in a cloud of mist.

You: Jonathan Carlton

Johnny Cage: Sexy witch goddess.

You: I…Hmm.

-

You: I can feel the magic coursing through your veins. You are one of my Night children, Jonathan.

Johnny Cage: You don’t mean that literally, right? Because it would suck to have the hots for my mom.

You: (sighs)  And what a waste.

-

Johnny Cage: Somebody pinch me, I must be dreaming.

You: Do you dream of me often, Mortal?

Johnny Cage: Ohho, absolutely.

-

Johnny Cage: Somebody pinch me, I must be dreaming.

You: (sighs) How many times must you make that joke?

Johnny Cage: You know you love it!

-

Johnny Cage: So…what are my chances of getting you into my next movie?

You: I’ve told you. I have no desire to appear on your “big screen”.

Johnny Cage: I was thinking we’d make a different kind of movie.

-

Johnny Cage: Goddess of dreams, huh? Can I call you Sandman?

You: You may call me whatever you please, dear mortal.

Johnny Cage: Oh, you do not wanna give me that kind of power.

-

Johnny Cage: Heard you and Shinnok had a thing.

You: A…thing?

Johnny Cage: You two boned! Get it? Cuz he’s a skeleton.

-

Johnny Cage: Tarot, huh? Card tricks are cool and all, but do you got any other witchy gimmicks?

You: I'm particularly fond of palm reading.

Johnny Cage: ...So what I'm hearing is, you're good with your hands?

-

Johnny Cage: You, Fujin, and Raiden go way back, huh?

You: Since the dawn of time.

Johnny Cage: (grimace) Yeesh, they've been friend zoned that long?

-

Johnny Cage: Not so fast, Hermonie.

You: Must you always spout such inane drivel?

Johnny Cage: Someone's been using their word-a-day calendar!

-

Johnny Cage: I've never met a non-evil Eldar God.

You: Evil is quite subjective.

Johnny Cage: I'll remember that next time I'm kicking one's ass.

Noob Saibot: My Goddess.

You: Bi-Han.

Noob Saibot: The shadows cling to your presence. 

-

Noob Saibot: Many have wanted me to yield to their command.

You: Oh?

Noob Saibot: Only you have succeeded, My Goddess.

-

You: You are not touched by the Night, dear Bi-Han. You are shrouded in it.

Noob Saibot: What better way to show that I belong to you?

You: It certainly seems that way, doesn’t it?

-

Noob Saibot: The shadows whisper your name.

You: (smiles) What do they say about me?

Noob Saibot: That your beauty is combated by no other. They speak only the truth for their Goddess.

-

You: You have been a steadfast worshiper, Bi-Han. How shall I reward your loyalty?

Noob Saibot: I only ask for one thing: to be your consort.

You: Hmm. That could be arranged.

-

Noob Saibot: I do not want you to be upset with me, but I will not take back what I said.

You: Your brother cares for you, Bi-Han.

Noob Saibot: Yet, here we are.

-

You: Why must we fight?

Noob Saibot: I wish to prove to you my might, My Goddess.

You: Oh, dear wraith. For you, my love is freely given. You have already earned it.

-

Noob Saibot: You're different than the other Eldar Gods. You...care.

You: Do you think me weak?

Noob Saibot: Never.

-

You: Care to spar?

Noob Saibot: I'd be honored.

You: Then don't take it personally when I beat you.

-

Noob Saibot: The shadows crave your touch.

You: Only the shadows?

Noob Saibot: I'll always long for you, My Goddess.

-

You: Do you fear me, dear Bi-Han?

Noob Saibot: I respect you.

You: (sigh) That wasn't a no.

Erron Black: You've got quite the pretty penny on your head.

You: Are you here to kill me then, Erron Black?

Erron Black: With a face like that, I wouldn’t dream of it.

-

Erron Black: You got any love spells up your sleeve, witchy? I swear ’m good for it.

You: Love is not something to take lightly. Who do you have in mind?

Erron Black: (smirks)  Look in a mirror, darlin’. 

-

Erron Black: You the Goddess of lust, by any chance?

You: That is not a purpose I was created to serve.

Erron Black: Pity. You’d certainly suit it.

-

Erron Black: You had something to ask me, beautiful?

You: Yes. What is “reverse cowgirl”?

Erron Black: (smirks) How ‘bout I show you the ins and outs after this?

-

Erron Black: ’M not usually one for marriage, darlin’.

You: Neither am I.

Erron Black: I don’t have to be the only one, as long as I’m your favorite.

-

Erron Black: You ever find out why Shinnok offed you?

You: I believe he wanted to turn me into his revenant bride. He became rather desperate after I declined his proposal.

Erron Black: (chuckle) Well, I guess I can’t blame the guy.

-

Erron Black: Why don’t you take a peek into ol’ Erron’s dreams? Swear you won’t be disappointed.

You: I’ve seen your dreams. I must say, you give me very generous proportions.

Erron Black: Then you must know I’m a very generous lover.

-

Erron Black: I've struck gold

You: How so?

Erron Black: Well, you're here, ain'tcha?

-

Erron Black: You cast a spell on me, Goddess?

You: I have not, Erron Black.

Erron Black: Do you want to?

-

Erron Black: How 'bout you and I see where the night takes us?

You: Do you think you can keep up?

Erron Black: Trust me. I may be fast on the quick draw, but I don't shoot quick.

-

Erron Black: You've got the magic touch.

You: A good deal of my powers flow through my hands.

Erron Black: I want 'em on me.

You: I’ve heard of how you…disposed of Shinnok.

Dark Raiden: After what he did to you, after how I mourned, I would behead him a hundred times over.

You: It isn’t judgment you sense in my voice. I would have killed him myself if you hadn’t beat me to it.

-

You: Do you still desire me, even as you are now?

Dark Raiden: If you need to ask, then I have failed to show you my devotion.

You: Hmph.

-

Dark Raiden: Will you abandon me too, my love?

You: It is not in my nature.

Dark Raiden: They do not deserve your blessings.

-

Dark Raiden: How have you…How are you here?

You: I sensed my presence was needed and returned to my corporal form just in time to be put in Kronika's void.

Dark Raiden: You could not sense how much I needed you, how much I mourned?

-

You: We are in such uncertain times, my vision is clouded.

Dark Raiden: I’m sorry for the part I play in your duress, my love.

You: You are only doing your duty. It’s how you’re going about it that leaves me weary.

-

Dark Raiden: How can you find such beauty in their shortcomings?

You: The Night welcomes all into her shadowed embrace.

Dark Raiden: You are wasted on them!

-

Dark Raiden: I was so lost without your guidance.

You: When I died?

Dark Raiden: When you were taken from me!

-

Dark Radien: How did Shinnok do it?

You: He lied to me and attacked me when I let my guard down.

Dark Raiden: (growls) If I could, I would bring him back to enact justice upon him once more.

-

You: I have but one wish.

Dark Raiden: Anything.

You: I wish for you to come back to me.

-

You: Is it true? What you've done?

Dark Radien: It was the only way.

You: You have lost yourself.

-

You: We've never fought before, have we?

Dark Radien: We never needed to for me to know you're the stronger between us.

You: Flattery will not save you.

Cassie Cage: You know, I think I’m finally understanding why Raiden lost his marbles.

You: How so?

Cassie Cage: I think I’d lose my shit too if someone like you was taken from me.

-

Cassie Cage: Are you a good witch or a bad witch?

You: I’m…afraid I do not understand.

Cassie Cage: Oh, you have got to let me take you on a movie date.

-

Cassie Cage: Who’s your favorite: Fujin or Raiden? Come on. You can tell me.

You: I’m a Goddess. Why would I limit myself to one lover?

Cassie Cage: You dirty girl.

-

Cassie Cage: What are you the Goddess of again?

You: (hesitates) …It would be easier to list what I am not the Goddess of.

Cassie Cage: (whistles) And I thought my parents expected a lot of me.

-

Cassie Cage: Come on, just one kiss!

You: I am older than you could possibly imagine.

Cassie Cage: An older woman. What’s not to love?

-

Cassie Cage: I heard you died. So, how are you standing here in all your godly beauty?

You: I have much power over death and the comings and goings of the Underworld. My soul simply dispersed there.

Cassie Cage: Yep. That’ll do it.

-

Cassie Cage: So…You didn’t happen to see that one dream, did you?

You: I’ve seen all your dreams, Cassandra. And I’m flattered.

Cassie Cage: (clears throat) …Right.

-

Cassie Cage: It’s a full moon

You: She calls to me and all who feel her light.

Cassie Cage:…You’re not gonna turn into a werewolf, are you?

-

Cassie Cage: You gonna turn me into a frog, Goddess?

You: It’s a possibility.

Cassie Cage: (shrugs) As long as you change me back with a kiss.

-

Cassie Cage: Heard you hung out with Jacqui.

You: Yes, though she didn’t mention you at all.

Cassie Cage: She is the worst wing woman.

-

You: You’ve come to my crossroads. Do you need my guidance?

Cassie Cage: Just wondering if you could teach me a trick or two.

You: So it’s my protection you seek.

Shang Tsung: Your beauty entices me

You: My power entices you.

Shang Tsung: Two things can be true at once.

-

Shang Tsung: Soon, you shall be my bride.

You: You cannot tie down a Goddess; you cannot tie down the Night.

Shang Tsung: I can try.

-

Shang Tsung: Do my powers impress you, Goddess of magic?

You: They certainly intrigue me, Sorcerer.

Shang Tsung: Allow me to give you a closer look.

-

Shang Tsung: Every time I invoke my magic, I do so in your name.

You: Your loyalty changes with the moon’s phases.

Shang Tsung: I devote myself to you, my Goddess.

-

Shang Tsung: I want something more valuable than your soul.

You: Such as?

Shang Tsung: Your love.

-

Shang Tsung: You forgave Shinnok, but not I?

You: I did not forgive him. He killed me when I refused to be his bride.

Shang Tsung: I will succeed where he has failed.

-

Shang Tsung: I kneel at your altar, my Goddess.

You: You needn’t prostrate yourself before me.

Shang Tsung: It is never a hardship to be on my knees for you.

-

You: Do you fear me?

Shang Tsung: I’d be a fool not to.

You: Then why challenge me?

-

Shang Tsung: You have the godly brothers on quite a tight leash.

You: I demand no loyalty from them.

Shang Tsung: It’s doubtful that they stray far from you.

-

You: Kronika spared me in hopes of using my powers. When I refused, she cast me into the void.

Shang Tsung: We have been similarly wronged by her.

You: That is why we must aid Luai Kang in defeating her.

-

Shang Tsung: You are the last Eldar God.

You: Yes. And I shall help Luai Kang in his creation of the new timeline.

Shang Tsung: Then this will be goodbye for now.

Taunts

You: The Wheel of Fortune comes for us all. You: Your future is uncertain. You: You cannot hide from the Night’s embrace. You: Knell in repentance. You: Your path ends here. You: You are lost. You: It is simply an illusion. You: You challenge an Eldar God? You: Will you make an offering? You: You are forgiven. You: I will lead your spirit through the gates of the Netherrealm. You: You shall not pass. You: Are you seeing double? You: Allow me to guide you.

[infictionalwonderland]

hot physiotherapist | j.potter

SUMMARY, james has a rugby accident and has to take physiotherapy - he’s pretty down about, but all that depressions forgotten as soon as he sees you, his physiotherapist. why had he not done this sooner?

James Potter was miserable.

A very odd occurrence, although it did happen (evidently). He was pouting the whole way as Remus drove them to the physiotherapists, Sirius was giggling to himself in the backseat the whole time—Remus, ever the angel he was, tried to cheer James up by giving him complete control over the music in the car and even greeting him with his coffee order and a chocolate croissant.

James was still miserable.

“Have fun, darling boy!” Sirius chirped out the window as James got out of the car, “try not to break any bones on your way in. God forbid you need physiotherapy.”

He burst out into borderline manic cackles and fell down completely into the row of backseats, never one to wear his seatbelt as he hated being constricted—James glared with upmost venom and hatred at the backseat windows, Tarzan looking cunt.

“I hope everything goes well.” Remus’ voiced gently, shooting his boyfriend a blank stare even as he tried to stop his own amusement. “D’ya want me to fetch you any food or anything for you when you come out?”

“No. Thanks.”

Remus winced.

James was still miserable.

He trotted his way indoors, cursing inside his head at the shooting pains all up his back and his hips, with the largest pout there ever was he made his way over to the reception and told them who he was—why he was here, before behind asked to take a seat in one of the rooms where he would be joined shortly by the physiotherapist.

He sat, frowning at the large room with equipment and soft turquoise coloured walls for a short about of time and then the door opened.

And then his world stopped.

In you stepped. . your hair was tugged into a low ponytail, front strands out of the pony to frame your face. He had died, he was certain. Your skin looked so soft, the beaming white lights giving you the most heavenly glow, he was sure you were an actual angel. Your eyes gleamed beautifully, and he was lost in the exact shade of them—trying to pinpoint every little detail and speck of colour. Your lips were pulled into such a fucking lovely smile, he could’ve melted (he did melt). Even from where you stood in the door, he was greeted in the pleasant aroma of your perfume and he felt like he was floating.

Your mouth was open—oh my god he was missing an opportunity to hear your voice—wait, what had you been saying. Balls.

“Um—h—muhuh?”

Double balls.

Your beautiful smile didn’t even waver in the slightest, though, amusement weaved it’s way into your eyes and created a mesmerising pattern into your irises that he forever engraved into his memory.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Mr Potter! My names Y/N and I’ll be your physiotherapist for the foreseeable future.” You grinned, walking closer to him, “Hopefully.”

Wha—was that flirting? No! You had said it in a normal tone, like Hi I hope I stay your physiotherapist because it is literally my job, James and I enjoy it. But—yeah, no. It was like that. You were so close to him now—so so much more beautiful up close, he didn’t think that was even humanly attainable.

“Yeah—i—I hope so too, ma’am.”

MA’AM?!

Somebody sedate me, he thought.

You didn’t seem thrown off or even slightly offended, or disgusted by him. Which was, good, really, really good.

Instead, you let out this little bubbly burst of laughter and fucking hell, James knew from that point he was gone and could never return. His eyes were probably comically wide and maybe in literal heart shapes but he could truly care less. He look at you in awe—your nose scrunched when you laughed, your eyes squinted and to James you just became even more perfect.

“Please, call me Y/N—Ma’am sounds overly American anyway—“

“Would you prefer Miss?”

I’m never leaving the house again.

You blinked.

He almost stumbled to his knees in apology though that would obviously only give you the impression he was more of a creep than you already thought he was—but—hold on. He watched, mouth falling open just slightly, as your cheeks flushed a very very pretty pink and your mouth formed into the cutest smile he’d ever seen in his entire life.

He was definitely leaving the house again, and it was going to be to come here everyday.

“Just Y/N is fine, thank you for being so considerate though.” You laughed teasingly.

“Can I be upgraded to just James?”

“Oh? You don’t want to he called miss? Or Ma’am?” You grinned at him, white teeth glistening from under your full lips, cheeks turning a faint rosy shade under the strength of your grin and a strand of hair swooping in front of your eye. He was in love. “Or, Sir maybe?”

Jesus Christ of Nazareth.

James is one hundred percent that he would’ve fallen over fast first had he been standing and he’s never been more thankful he’s not. He can feel his cheeks turn red—his face heating up to an embarrassingly tomato red state at an embarrassingly quick rate.

“Nah—Ju—Just James, please.” He huffed out, moving the material of his shirt dramatically off his chest and fanning himself. “Is—um, is it hot in here or is just you? Me! Is it just me?!”

You smile at him, adorably crinkle eyed and slightly pink cheeked, looking every bit the goddess and the angel James already knew with certainty that you were.

James Potter was, as it turns out, no longer miserable.

In fact, he can’t wait for his next appointment.

[skyeslittlecorner]

Little Foras headcanon based on nothing but my silliness

After CH5, I fell in love with Hades. Especially Foras. The Kings' closest nobles act like magnets on me, what can I do. 👀 There may be light spoilers, but I won't post any screenshots in case anyone wants to read it and hasn't finished CH5 yet.

So, for me Foras is one of the youngest nobles, and this thought lives in my mind rent-free. Of course, he's an adult. But he is closer to a twenty-year-old when both Barbatos and Glasyal seem much more mature.

I recently went through the comics again to see them after what we learned about in Hades and this caught my attention.

Poor Foras, to be pulled by the horns. You know what it means to the devil.

This is the moment Leviathan accepted Foras as his nobleman. It's obvious that Barbatos has been here for some time.

Let me remind you what we learned from the event at Avisos. Beel told Amon, when he accepted him as his noble, that some devils find their calling on their own, while others need a trigger. Amon had just come of age. This may suggest that it is younger rather than older devils who feel this calling, since such a young man was considered as somebody who need to get a trigger.

Of course, we don't know what happened earlier, but Foras doesn't look very traumatized in this comic. It's possible he found Leviathan himself.

I don't think anyone will deny the next one. He's such a fanboy.

He resembles a teenager totally in love with his idol.

Levi, you complained that you didn't like the undying loyalty of your nobles, so what is it, you little liar?

No explanation needed.

As I promised, there will be no screenshots here, so as not to reveal anything specific.

In CH5 we saw that Barbatos and Glasyal (especially Glasyal) can oppose Leviathan. They do it in a respectful, clever way, but they are able to suggest to him that he should consider other options, and in such a way that he will not hang them (okay, Glasyal is hanged, but tell me straight in my face that he didn't want it). Foras, on the other hand, had no hesitation. What Levi says is sacred.

And what's more, he boasts a lot that he is Leviathan's closest subject. Not like he was better than anyone. He's just happy, genuinely happy.

Another thing, his behavior towards other nobles. He complains about them all a lot. Nothing particularly bad, but he complains about little things and it reminds me of that teenage attitude "look, I'm younger and I act more mature than you". Especially when he admonished them in CH5. It was just so cute.

Plus, he's curious. Very. Too much. Foras, did you really have to taste- well, we all know what this silly man did in sub story. Yes, I know it was "to check if the white liquid was not poisonous", but come on. This sounds like a cheap excuse. He saw it being made. He is a devil. Can't he put two and two together? Please.

Additionally, his shyness and insecurities. Of course, he's as eager for sex as any devil. But although Leviathan himself envies his horns, he asks us if they are really so nice.

Okay, at the end he was smooth as fu- Yes my princess yes I do I want gimme this beautiful horns

Of course, as a devil from Hades, he can doubt. No one has ever said a bad word about his invisibility, but they still doubt himself.

Shy bby i love you

Generally speaking, apart from Leviathan, we are the only people Foras comes to and he is obviously happy. In his scene when he comes to apologize to us at the very end, he is really polite. I've already compared it here to Sitri. Instead of on the lips, he kissed us on the hand. Cute. I will just add that his entire behavior towards us is charming.

Seeing all this, I feel like his attitude is a little immature, but in a good way. He wants to be serious, he tries, but sometimes enthusiasm comes out of him.

And this whole train of thoughts came to me only because I thought it would be funny if Foras was the last to appear at Levi's court and was immediately promoted to his right-hand man because of what a fanboy he is.

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Hi. I hope your day is being kind to you. 🙂

For the sentence Ask?

"My ears miss your heartbeat."

With Astarion x Evie (Ace!Tav) please? If you want.

Astarion x Evie (Ace!Tav) Masterlist

A/N: Sorry, this went well over an extra 5 sentences. I guess I really just needed to write.

Warning: Tooth rotting domestic fluff

Word Count: 1.1K

Astarion didn’t make a sound as he slipped through the front door, stilling the bell with his hand before it could alert anyone to his presence.

The shop was completely empty, which would not be unusual at this time of night were it any other shop in town. The owner kept odd hours, not opening until well after sunset, the exception being when his wife managed to stumble down the stairs past noon to take orders. An odd set up, but nobody could deny the craftsmanship and so there was little to grumble about.

Astarion moved through the space with practiced ease, not bothering to light a candle as he moved towards the back room and up a small flight of stairs. He did not so much glance at the rolls of golden thread, or dig around the drawers for where he knew a small fortune of gems and finery could be found and easily pocketed. Such treasures were far from his mind at that moment.

Jumping the last few steps, he easily avoided the small creak of the second to top panel before deftly maneuvering his way through the waiting door.

The barest breath of relief escaped his lips. The entryway was completely dark, only just illuminated by the street lanterns peaking through the barest sliver of heavy curtains. Once again his dark vision proved a blessing as he took a quick look around.

The room was empty of anything other than comfortable but undeniably stylish furniture and the lines of bookshelves full bear to bursting along the walls. He slipped off his boots, placing them gently near the door making it almost comical how silently he could move along the beautifully embroidered rug. It felt like cheating, but then again, since when was he above cheating.

One final door lay in front of him. At his feet he could see the smallest flicker of candle light peaking out from below the door frame. Somebody was still up.

With a grin, he turned the doorknob and slowly pushed the door open.

It was moments like these that cause Astarion to lament not having a more artistic hand. The being before him deserved to be preserved in oils and canvass, marble and stone.

She did not notice him come in. Her clear blue eyes were focused intensely on the page in front of her, her finger moving slowly under the words while her soft lips mouthed them in time. Her hair lay loose about her, a few strands tucked behind her ear. Astarion could just catch the barest hints of white hiding in the field of black, something she would no doubt deny the existence of if he pointed them out. Her dark olive skin seemed to glow in the firelight, but the final detail that make his unbeating heart stir was the fact she was dressed only in his shirt.

On second thought, maybe it was a good thing he wasn’t a painter. He didn’t much like the thought of anyone else gazing on this image but him.

“Hello darling,” he said, softly.

Evie’s head snapped up, her eyes going wide in alarm as her hand gripped the book in her hand as of to throw it. As soon as he caught the quick progression of fear to recognition to annoyance slip across her face he let out a laugh.

“Milil’s tongue Astarion,” she grumbled, snapping her book shut. “You’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days.”

“Just be happy I’m the one doing it,” he teased, setting down his bag beside the door. “You’re getting slow my love.”

She gave a small pout, but still rolled onto her back, opening her arms to him.

He didn’t need further incentive, launching himself onto the bed causing them both to bounce and his love to laugh. Gods he missed that sound. However, he decided he missed her lips more, kissing her soundly as they both sunk into the too soft mattress.

“Good trip then?” she asked in between his attentions to her mouth.

“Tedious,” he corrected. “Better if you were there.”

“Well if it was so tedious I’m glad I skipped it.”

Astarion gave a huff of annoyance moving his lips across her face and jaw and down towards her neck. He took a deep breath in, the musk of her skin mixing with the perfume of her blood pulsing just below. He could drown in that scent.

“Hungry,” she asked, turning her neck slightly in invitation.

He shook his head pressing a kiss against the fading scars.

“No need darling, just enjoying being home.”

He didn’t need to look up to know she was smiling. He could feel it in the way her hands rubbed up and down his back and brushed the stray hairs at the back of his neck. All the same, he decided to look anyway.

This was his home. Even all these years later, he still had a hard time believing it. He and Evie had all but hung up their adventuring gear and settled in a town just big enough to justify a fine tailor shop. The occasional helpless damsel or bandit gang causing trouble could pull them from their daily routines, but little else. They were both getting older and ready for a place to call their own, something that was denied to them for so long. Even stranger and more wonderful still, Evie had agreed to marry him.

She brushed a stray hair back from his forehead, her fingers tracing down his face before teasing the edge of his ear.

“I missed you, too,” she said, her full love only just tempered by a hint of humor.

He didn’t have the strength to pull away from that perfect touch, and settled kissing her sternum in response.

“I did plenty more than just miss you darling,” he confessed. “There are too many parts of me that miss too many parts of you.”

“Oh?”

He nodded. “For example, my lips missed your lips quite a bit.”

“I gathered,” she said with a barely contained laugh. “What else?”

“My hair missed your fingers.”

The corners of her eyes crinkled in amusement as her hand moved slightly up, allowing her fingers to comb slowly through his hair.

Astarion sighed in contentment, settling his head to rest comfortably on her chest.

“Go on my love,” Evie encouraged. “Don’t stop now.”

“My arms missed your warmth,” he said, wrapping himself tighter around her for emphasis. “My nose missed your smell. But if I really had to name it, my ears missed your heart beat the most.”

“And you say you’re not a sentimental,” she teased.

“Exceptions are always made for you my heart.”

She hummed in acknowledgment settling into the sheets, her fingers still running soothingly through his hair.

Astarion feel asleep in her arms as he had done for countless nights and hopefully countless more; safe, loved and truly home.

[7-wonders]

A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes

Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x Reader

Summary: Life has never been the kindest to you, and you've come to expect only the worst from it. But when a golden-eyed stranger shows up at your place of work and promises you that all your dreams will come true if you just trust them, how are you to say no? Get ready—a ball in the Dreaming awaits.

(Based on the below ask)

Word count: 14.2k

Notes: A couple of housekeeping notes before we get into it! First, this is very heavily inspired by the "Season of Mists" plot from the comics. In the wider universe for this story, this replaces the events in that comic arc. There are no spoilers for the actual comics, though. The only thing you need to know about SoM is that there's an event that brings basically every important magical being to the Dreaming. This isn't super important, but I wanted you guys to be aware of the thought process behind what I did.

Also, for all my nonbinary and male readers—this fic features a gender neutral reader! I sincerely hope that everybody enjoys this.

As always, likes, comments, and reblogs make my world go round (but especially comments and reblogs), so if you enjoyed, show a gal some love!

Desire of the Endless

Desire of the Endless is facing a problem.

For the first time since…well, they can’t remember, actually, that’s how long it’s been since they felt the need to apologize for anything.

Desire has always prided themself on being completely and unapologetically them. If somebody didn’t like that, or if someone’s feelings got hurt, then too bad. That was their fault for not knowing what they were going to get into when they made Desire’s acquaintance.

However, Desire can also recognize when they’ve taken things too far, which is a very steep bar to hit. Practically everything that Desire does, they can justify it completely. This time, though, they finally can’t justify what they’ve done.

So an apology it is. A simple apology, however, is not going to cut it in this situation. Not that it should! But still, it would be a lot easier to patch things up if all it took was a “sorry.” 

Oh well, Desire would just have to get creative in coming up with the apology to end all apologies. Thankfully, they had their dearest twin to turn to when they needed help with a little brainstorming, which is how Despair ends up lounging on a shiny red settee created from the very fabric of the Threshold.

Said anthropomorphic personification watches as her twin continues to pace, back and forth and back and forth, the heels of their shoes clicking against the floor for maximum effect. They perk up every so often before muttering something and shaking their head, discouraged once more. Despair, apparently having finally had enough, lifts her head from the armrest to give her full attention to her twin.

“Your despair is too much for even me to bear, Desire. Please, what is it that troubles you?”

“Our brother troubles me, and not in the way that he normally does.” Desire takes a seat next to their sister. “I find that I…regret the way that I have treated him over the past couple of centuries. I went too far.”

“Was it the ‘helping to trap him in a magician’s basement for a hundred and sixteen years’ or the ‘impregnating a sleeping woman in an attempt to make him spill family blood by killing the new Vortex’ that went too far?” Despair asks dryly.

Desire bares their teeth in a teasing warning, but Despair merely shrugs as if daring their twin to do it and rip her throat out. Desire sighs, knowing that they won’t be able to rattle her, they’ve never been able to accomplish that, and continues. “Regardless, I realize now that I went too far, and I want to make amends with him. Apologize to him.”

“And how are you planning to do that? I doubt a simple ‘I’m sorry’ will patch things up between you two.”

“I realize that too, which is why I seek to give him something to prove just how sorry I am. That’s where you come in, my dearest Despair. I’ve been brainstorming for days, but I have absolutely no idea what to give him as an apology.”

“Hmm.” After a moment, she nods. “I see your problem. Dream’s never exactly been easy to give a gift to.”

Despair begins to think, absentmindedly digging her fish hook into the skin of her face before dragging it down and repeating the process. Desire has always found themself morbidly fascinated by this compulsion that their twin has, unable to look away from the jagged skin that hangs open and the black ichor that drips sluggishly from the wounds.

The hook comes to rest on Despair’s lap, a sign that she’s finished thinking. “Most of your transgressions against our brother have involved you seeking to destroy the two things that control him most. His realm, and his loves. His realm is his duty, his function, his responsibility; he must have control over that, for it’s who he is.”

“Yes, Dream is nothing if not a stickler for his silly little rules,” Desire agrees.

“True, but you’re forgetting that second piece of the puzzle I mentioned. What has Dream always wanted more than anything?”

What was the one thing that Dream wanted, needed, desired, more than anything? The answer, though Despair already said it, hits Desire in the face. “Love,” they gasp. 

Love! A mere step away from, and more often than not, intertwined with, Desire’s very function. 

“But I cannot make somebody love him. Desire him, yes. That’s easy. Though the two are similar, love is something that even I cannot meddle in.”

“I’m not saying that you make somebody love him, nor that you even use your function to acquire this gift.”

Desire’s brows raise from the intrigue of what’s just been said. “Then what?”

“We both know that you’re extremely talented when it comes to meddling in others’ affairs. Instead of using it to harm this time, use it to help. Find Dream’s true love, and make it so that they come together. I believe mortals today call it a ‘meet-cute’?”

At first glance, it seems difficult, if not impossible. While the idea of true love is not rare (at least, to higher beings that know such a thing exists–mortals are still attempting to figure that out for themselves), true love among the Endless is, as of yet, still undiscovered. What if Dream doesn’t have a true love? Even if he does, how is Desire to find out such info—

Their train of thought screeches to a stop as they remember the function of their other brother. Of course! Destiny surely has it in his stupid Book whether or not Dream has some poor soul destined for him. And if he doesn’t, and the rest of his life is meant to be a string of shorter, passionate loves, then it would still be written down. Desire can bring him that happiness sooner as a show of good faith, a way to prove that they’re truly ready and willing to make amends. It’s growth, baby, and Desire’s entering a new era.

So yes, the task does seem difficult. But if there’s one thing Desire loves, it’s getting to play matchmaker. Getting to play matchmaker while meddling in the life of their favorite/least favorite sibling? Even better.

Slowly, a Cheshire Cat grin spreads across their face, and they press a kiss to Despair’s cheek, who begrudgingly accepts the affection. “You, my sister, are a genius.”

“I know.”

After seeing their twin back to their realm, Desire begins their second favorite hobby of scheming as they try to figure out how they’re going to trick Destiny into giving them a peek at his Book. Tough, considering the Book is literally chained to Destiny, but Desire has never been one to back away from a challenge.

Their chance at trickery comes sooner than expected, a mere two weeks later at the first family dinner held since Dream was deposed. None of the six remaining Endless are particularly thrilled to be in the Garden of Forking Ways, and it shows in the guarded way that they hold themselves as they stand around the room and wait to be summoned to the seven-sided table that sits in the middle of it. 

Well, all except for the youngest are guarded. Delirium sits upside down in her chair, creating multicolored butterflies that fly out of the palms of her cupped hands and lazily around the room.

As the shades that serve Destiny move in and out of the room with various platters of food and drink, said Endless finally motions for his siblings to sit down along with him. Even then, they remain in an awkward silence. This family dinner is such a sudden event that none of them are entirely sure if there’s a reason behind it, leaving all feeling a little wary.

Destiny, being the eldest and the host of tonight’s festivities, is the first to speak. Naturally, it answers what none had been brave enough to ask. “I suppose you must be wondering why I called you all here.”

“Yes,” Dream says, even though it’s an obvious question. Of course they’re all wondering why they’re here. 

“The Book has determined that we must meet.”

“Obviously,” Despair sighs. “But why? What are we meant to do while we’re here?”

“Rainbow butterflies!” Delirium throws her hands up into the air, releasing a swarm of rainbow butterflies. “Has everybody been watching the butterflies that I’ve been making? They’re pretty.”

Everybody simply watches the youngest sister, none saying anything. Finally, Destiny shakes his head. “No matter why we’re meant to be here. It clarified much that, previously, made little to no sense. Something important will happen. Something that sparks a chain of events, causing much change and upheaval.”

“And what is that occasion?” Death asks.

“This meeting. That is all.”

“Explain this further, my brother,” Dream prompts. “What must happen?”

“No. I have told you all I tell you. I have brought you all to this place. The rest is up to the five of you. Drink the wines. Eat of the fruit of my garden. Talk. It has been centuries since we were all together. We must have much to discuss.”

Desire sees their opening and takes it. “Mm, I bet we do. Why don’t we start with…Dream!”

Dream looks across the table at his sibling suspiciously. “Me?”

“Yes, you. Tell me...” 

Desire is tempted to say something about his scorned lovers, but since they’re trying to work on making amends and not taking things too far, they refrain. One of the most difficult things they’ve ever had to do, truly.

“Killed any more of your unruly dreams or nightmares lately?”

What? They can still try to get a rise out of Dream in ways that won’t cut so deep. By the way his nose flares as he sits up straighter at the table, they know they’ve accomplished this mission.

“It needed to be done, and I will not take criticism from you on the choices I make regarding my realm,” Dream spits.

“Okay!” Death, ever the peacemaker, attempts to cut the tension. “Why don’t we talk about a different subject. Anything exciting happening for you, Dream?”

“Yes, actually.” Dream sits up in his seat a little straighter. “There is to be a ball in the Dreaming on the next full moon, to celebrate the return of my realm to its full strength. You are, of course, all invited.” 

Ah, so Dream is to show the other monarchs and higher beings, gods and goddesses and deities, that his power has returned and that he is not to be trifled with. Desire can appreciate a good power play, and this is really all that the ball will be. A chance for the Dreaming to pull out all the stops, serve their finest food and drink, offer the most raucous and extravagant party so that every realm in existence will know that the King of Dreams and Nightmares has returned and is more powerful than they will ever be. 

“Oh, how fun!” Death claps her hands together. “I remember when those used to be a regular occurrence in the Dreaming. Your dreams and nightmares do know how to throw a proper party.”

“I like parties,” Delirium chirps, hands chasing after the butterflies. “I’m gonna wear a princess dress!”

The rest of the dinner is fairly boring, compared to other family dinners in the past. Talk of Dream’s visit to Hell and the potential concerns there, minor gods ceasing to exist in the memories of mortals and thus returning to nothing, the problems that the Endless face in their daily lives as they continue their functions: it’s too normal for Desire’s liking, but they’re truly trying their hardest to not cause any major spats. Plus, they need to remain in Destiny’s good graces if they wish to have a chance at momentarily separating him from his Book.

When the dinner finally ends–Death is the first to excuse herself, with an earthquake calling for her to return to her function–the siblings begin to trickle out slowly, one after the other. Desire motions for Despair to go on without them, and while she would normally cause a fuss at having to leave without her beloved twin, she knows that they have an ulterior motive tonight and nods before disappearing back through her portrait.

When Delirium finally tumbles her way into her realm, it’s just Desire and Destiny left remaining in the Garden of Forking Ways. Desire sidles up to their older brother, who sighs wearily and looks with his unseeing eyes at his sibling.

“Desire, shouldn’t you be back at the Threshold by now?”

“Brother Destiny,” Desire coos, trying to seem as laid back as they usually are. “Doesn’t that book of yours ever get too heavy to carry?”

“You’re not going to fool me,” he says. Desire grits their teeth and curses under their breath. “For reasons beyond my understanding, however, the Book dictates that I do this.”

“Do what?”

It’s obvious that he doesn’t want to, but Destiny holds his Book out towards Desire. They can’t believe their luck, and quickly snatch the book from their brother before he can say that the Book said something different and take it back. Their nails–red, of course–run along the plain brown cover before they flip the Book open.

There, laid out as plain as can be, is the answer to Desire’s query. Dream does have a true love, much to Desire’s utter delight, and said true love is a human. A human! If the Universe didn’t want Desire righting their wrongs, then they wouldn’t make Dream’s other half the same species of being as the one whom Desire first meddled with all those years ago.

“Did you find what you were seeking?” Destiny asks, making Desire remember that they’re not alone. When they look up from the Book, they notice their brother’s hands twitching as he fights to snatch back his most precious belongings.

“Yes, I did.” Desire hands the Book back, and Destiny cradles it as if it’s been missing for months and not like he was inches away from it the entire time. “Thank you very much, brother mine. I believe I’ll be going now.”

After all, they have a lot to do between now and the full moon.

You

You’re attempting to sneak a couple of quick bites from your shift meal when the door chimes to signal that it’s been opened, and you sigh before setting down the french fry you were so looking forward to enjoying. Though you want to be disappointed, you know better than that.

Life has taught you better than to enjoy things so that you can find yourself inevitably disappointed by them.

Maybe that’s a little pessimistic for one just entering adulthood. Still, when you’re kicked out and left to fend for yourself in your teen years while your peers are only worrying about homework and if their boyfriend will still be their boyfriend by the time the school formal rolls around, cynicism feels a little warranted. 

You’ve worked anywhere from two to four jobs at a time just to have enough money for a place to live. While you’re now down to only two jobs, which you enjoy, for the most part, it still means that you’re far more stressed and tired than you would wish to be. You’ve made peace with the fact that you’ll seemingly always have to fight to enjoy any quality of life…well, you’ve mostly made peace with it. There are times, like now, where you’re exhausted and hungry and you just want to scream and rage at the cards life has dealt you.

Instead, you just put a smile on your face and get ready for your next customer. When you make your way to the end of the restaurant’s bar where the newcomer has seated themself, they’re already watching you expectantly. Their eyes, golden and piercing, make your skin crawl in the way that it does when it feels like someone knows more about you than you’ve cared to divulge.

“Well, hello,” they greet.

The newest bar patron grins at you with dark purple-painted lips. They’re stunning, and also insanely overdressed (seriously, a fur coat?) for a casual bar. You’d think that they were just coming from a party if it weren’t for the fact that it’s 7 p.m. on a Wednesday. Going to one, then? Mid-week parties are rare, but they seem like a person who just naturally gets invited to every and any party.

“Hi there, how are you?” you greet, cringing at the worn-out sound of your customer service voice after almost 12 hours of using it.

“Oh, just swell.”

“Great! What can I get for you?”

“Hmm, gin and tonic?”

You nod, hands already reaching for the required ingredients. Though it took forever to really get the hang of bartending, it’s kind of like riding a bike; once you learn, you can’t forget. “I’m on it.”

Your patron gratefully takes the glass that you slide across the bar to them, taking a long sip before letting out a satisfied noise. “My, you do know how to make a good drink.”

“Hah, thank you. Can I get you anything else?”

“No, but I’d love it if you could spare a moment to chat.”

“Um–” You scan the bar in a quick check of your other customers, of which there are few now that the dinner rush is over. Just a couple of regulars, so you really have no excuse to say no. “Yeah, sure. Just for a moment, though.”

It’s not uncommon that people want to talk with you. Whether because of your job, that you’re a captive audience, or the fact that you’re providing them with a steady stream of alcohol, customers love spilling their guts to their bartenders. This customer, however, gives you hesitance. They just look like they’re up to no good, like they’re hoping to use you for something that you don’t want to be a part of.

Regardless, you put away the bottles you were using and turn your full attention to the customer, who’s savoring their drink in much smaller sips than they did previously. Although you’re a great multitasker, people think that you’re not fully listening when you’re doing other tasks. And though you try to get your busy work done during your shift so you can get out of here the second you’re scheduled to clock out, you also know how to maximize your tip potentials. You win some, you lose some, you suppose.

When they finally do speak, you’re not expecting them to say, “You look like someone who wants more out of life.”

It’s an odd way to start a conversation, but you’ll bite. Not the first philosophical patron you’ve had. “I mean, who doesn’t? I feel like life is just constantly seeking…more. More money, more knowledge, more connection.”

“A very interesting way of considering the meaning of life. But you, specifically. You have not had a very easy go of things, have you?”

You narrow your eyes. “What are you getting at?”

“You wish for adventure. For a purpose bigger than that which you’ve been led to believe you’re destined for. For something great.”

Swallowing harshly, your pulse thunders in your ears as you grip the wood of the bar, suddenly feeling extremely disconcerted. It could just be a generalization, one that most people would relate to were they called out on it, but it seems like the customer knows you, knows your innermost desires, just from looking at you. Finally, you slowly nod. Their grin somehow seems to grow even bigger.

“Mm, I thought so. Take this.” From within the sleeve of their coat, the stranger produces a business card. “It will help make all your…dreams come true.”

Hesitantly, you take the piece of paper from them. When you look down at it, expecting to see the usual business card information like a name and a phone number, you’re surprised to see that it’s completely blank. Even when you flip it over, the blank back greets you.

“But there’s nothing on—” Your sentence trails off when you look back up, the nameless customer long gone. In their place sits the empty glass, stained with their dark lipstick, of course, and a ten-dollar bill. Other than that, an intoxicating perfume is the only sign that they were even here in the first place.

An indeterminate amount of time passes as you try to figure out what just happened, with the only thing snapping you out of your stupor being the calling of your name. Tate, this evening’s line cook, stares at you expectantly.

“You okay?” she asks. “I’ve called your name three times now, but you’ve just been standing there like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Um.” 

Are you okay? Spooked, yes, but there’s nothing that you can really do about that now. 

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Good.” Tate nods, still not looking too convinced. “Table seven’s looking like they’re ready for the check.”

“I’m on it.” 

And you are. Like the good, dutiful worker you’ve always been, you push down any of your actual emotions and thoughts and put on your service face, smiling and ready to accept anything thrown your way.

By the time your shift is over at 11, the encounter with the nameless customer is long forgotten. All that you can think when you finally make it home is about going to bed and sleeping until you have to be up for your other job tomorrow morning. 

Just unlocking the door and stepping into your tiny apartment has your shoulders releasing the tension that had been built up in them all day. Yeah, your apartment is tiny and probably not the best in terms of quality. But it’s yours, and it’s home, and that’s what matters to you. You’ve made the very best of it, and for now, nobody can take that away.

It takes almost all of the remaining energy you have to strip off your work clothes and do some semblance of your nighttime routine, and you mentally thank Tate for insisting you eat something while on the clock. You don’t think you could stay awake long enough to actually eat something right now. When you fall into bed and pull the covers up around you, your only thought is that you hope that you have the type of deep sleep that doesn’t produce any dreams or nightmares. Lord knows you need it.

The hopes that you had are promptly crushed when you open your eyes to find yourself standing on a bridge that leads to a large palace. It’s the oddest place you’ve ever seen, an amalgamation of palaces from all sorts of cultures. Domes and spires and turrets make up the outside architecture, and though it sounds like an eyesore, it’s actually quite beautiful. Strains of music spill out from the open doors, and guests in a variety of finery make their way inside to join what appears to be a party. 

You should be wondering why you’re here, as well as how you’re currently having the most vivid dream you’ve ever had, but all questions seem to be answered by the logic of it being a dream. Of course weird things are going to happen; it’s a dream. Maybe tomorrow, you’ll wake up and think about just how strange the dream actually was. But right now, you’re just going to go with the flow, even if that flow is, apparently, a royal ball.

“Hello, mortal,” a voice as sickly-sweet as honey croons next to you. When you look to your right, you find your golden-eyed customer from earlier in the day standing next to you. This still doesn’t concern you, and if you took the time to be concerned, you’d still just chalk it up to the nature of dreams.

“It’s you!” you exclaim.

They hold their hands out and wave them in an effortless jazz hands. “Yes, it’s me.” 

They’re somehow dressed even more elegantly than they were at the restaurant, wearing a silver corset tucked into a pair of wide-legged, black trousers. Their heeled boots add a couple of inches to their already-tall figure, and you have to look up in order to properly look them in the eye.

“I was beginning to get a little concerned that you weren’t going to take my offer.”

“Uh, sorry? I just got off of work a little bit ago.” 

They wave a hand dismissively. “What, didn’t tell your boss that you had better things to do?”

“You weren’t exactly forthcoming with the details,” you mutter. Your former customer begins to take long, purposeful strides towards the crowds waiting to get into the palace, and you hurry to catch up. “Wait, where are we?”

“This is the Dreaming and you, my dear, are about to attend a ball.”

“What, like in Bridgerton?”

They scoff, obviously offended by your reference. “Please, this is miles better than anything Bridgerton could even hope to come close to. But yes, I suppose so.”

Panic floods you, but not for the reason you’d think. “But I’m not even dressed for a ball!”

They raise a perfectly-sculpted eyebrow at you. “You’re not?”

When you look down at yourself, you find that you are, in fact, dressed for a ball.

An entire galaxy has come down from the heavens in order to settle itself on the champagne-colored fabric of the most fancy clothes you’ve ever worn. The golden stars, all different sizes, shimmer with each twist of your body that you make in order to properly catalog your outfit. The best part of this ensemble, by far, has to be the cape that you’re wearing that’s held on your shoulders by three delicate chains clasped together across your chest.

“Oh my god,” is all you can say, finding it difficult to tear your eyes away from the complete transformation your wardrobe has undergone.

“Close, but not quite,” they say cheekily. “Though, I do enjoy being worshiped.”

You meet their liquid gold stare. “Why are you helping me? Why am I here?”

“Now that’s a long story. Let’s just say that I owe somebody an apology, and you’re a part of said apology.”

There are so many more questions bouncing around in your mind, but they turn on their heel before you can ask any of them, forcing you to keep up with them as they walk to the entrance of the palace. 

“Hello, Wyvern.”

The dragon (a dragon! You’re staring at a dragon!) bows his head at the greeting. “Desire.”

“Is that your name?” They ignore your question.

“You are, as always, welcome in my Lord’s domain.” The wyvern looks at you. “Your guest, however, needs an invitation to enter.”

“Go on, present your invitation,” Your companion prompts.

You furrow your eyebrows. “My invitation?”

Oh! The paper that they had given you back at the bar. But wait, where had you put that stupid paper? You have to think for a second before remembering, and any relief you had felt is washed away by the panic returning in full-force when you remember where it is. Looking at your mysterious benefactor with wide eyes, you grimace as you try to figure out how to explain this to them.

“I left it in the pocket of my work jeans.”

They sigh as if you’re a minor nuisance, which, maybe you are. “Check your pockets, dear one.”

Slipping your hands into your pockets, you’re already preparing an “I told you so” speech. After all, how could that business card have magically moved from one set of pockets to another? When your fingers brush against something very paper-like, you almost can’t believe it. Your mind has already worked out the whole “dream logic” issue, but teleportation seems to be too much even for that.

When your hand emerges holding the paper, your friend smiles smugly at you and nods their head in the direction of the large, mythical animals. “Now present your invitation.”

You hold the paper up towards what had previously been referred to as a wyvern. Even though there’s nothing written on it, he studies it for a moment before nodding. “I bid you welcome on behalf of my Lord. Enjoy the festivities.”

“Uh, thanks!” you say, manners winning out among the insanity of the evening.

The crowd parts for your friend as guests bow their heads politely, which makes you think that there’s a lot that you don’t know about this person who inserted themself into the middle of your life. What did I get myself into?, you wonder as you hurry behind them and into the ballroom.

You haven’t exactly seen very many ballrooms in your life before now, but even if you had, this one would be your favorite. It reminds you of pictures you’ve seen of Russia’s Imperial Palace during the reigns of the tsars, all cathedral ceilings and marble columns. One of the walls is just a line of windows that looks out over a picturesque valley, and breathtaking artwork from some of history’s most exalted artists looms overhead. The guests of this ball, all opulently dressed, mingle below, with many already dancing to the music that comes from an unseen orchestra.

At the top of a long set of stairs sits a stone throne, currently unoccupied. The ruler of this land must be really lonely, you think. Why else would they purposely place themselves so far away from everyone else, if not to feel the sharp sting of being alone?

The pièce de résistance of this entire room, however, has to be the ceiling. You’re not sure whether it’s magic or if the ballroom doesn’t even have a ceiling and instead looks straight up at the most striking view of the sky you’ve ever seen. You can’t tear your eyes away from the swirling galaxy that’s more beautiful than any NASA telescope picture could even begin to capture, and you’re sure that your jaw is hanging open and making you look like an idiot.

You’re so caught up in the wonder that sits directly over your head that you don’t notice when your new friend spots someone or something that they want to go check out. Apparently deciding that it’s a good idea to at least give you a little courtesy warning, they sidle up behind you.

“Have fun,” they whisper into your ear. 

When you turn around, they’re nowhere to be seen, which means you now have to fend for yourself in an unfamiliar situation. Not ideal, but you should be fine. After all, this is just a dream, right?

Since you were given the advice to “have fun,” you decide to try and actually do so. People watching is always fun, made even more so when everyone is dressed up in all manner of finery. As you study the crowd a bit more, you realize that “people watching” is the wrong term to use, because the vast majority of the guests here aren’t human people.

There are beings clothed in white robes with huge wings on their backs that surely must be angels. Some guests wear traditional regalia from Greek, Roman, Japanese, and other historic empires. The most unsettling are the ones that look human, beautiful, even, until you’re able to take an extended look at their faces and realize that the beastly masks they’re wearing, the horns and the snouts and any other combination of monstrous features, aren’t masks at all. Rather, those are their faces, heavily decorated with makeup, but terrifying just the same.

There’s a little girl in an oversized party dress and clown makeup clapping her hands as a gargoyle tries blowing up a balloon, and a literal void with faces in it speaks to a tall, imposing figure with golden curls and black wings. You’re pretty sure one of the guests is even a human-sized cat woman. Not Catwoman, like the supervillain, but a cat woman. You try not to stare, but it’s impossible, and your eyes keep finding your way back to her as you continue to walk around the outskirts of the ballroom.

Even though you’re completely and utterly normal, it’s impossible for anybody attending tonight’s festivities to not feel the sheer power that each and every being here seems to possess. It’s beginning to make you feel self-conscious: if you can sense the magic that all of the guests have, then surely they can tell that you’re not like them. Everywhere you turn, it seems like you’re meeting somebody else’s eyes as they judge you and how out of place you are.

Your chest grows tight as your skin pricks with heat, the room suddenly beginning to be far too crowded for your liking. There must be a way for you to get outside. You need air, or else you’re worried that you’re going to pass out in front of all these partygoers—after a moment of frantically scanning the room, you see the main hallway that you and your strange new friend had entered through. Knowing for a fact that this path will lead you outside, you set out with a determination to make it through the crowd.

This task, however, is much more difficult than you had previously thought it would be. Apparently, the room being so crowded wasn’t just a part of your panicked imagination; there are far more guests here now, and it’s almost impossible to move through all of them. The music, which just minutes ago seemed whimsical and charming, now sounds sinister in your ears as somebody grabs you and begins to dance with your unwilling form.

Like a doll, you’re spun from one person to the next, all of them ignoring your helpless pleas as you beg them to stop. Instead, much to your chagrin, they all seem to take joy in your panic as they laugh and leave you with no choice but to obey their whims. You’re dizzy and breathless, and at this point you can’t tell if it’s from the dancing or the anxiety.

The next set of hands that grab you are much gentler than all the preceding pairs, and they bring you to a stop instead of sweeping you into another dance. Finally, finally, it seems that somebody has taken pity on you, the poor human that’s become nothing more than a glorified plaything. When your vision finally rights itself, you note that your savior’s even managed to pull you out of the maelstrom of people that had so easily claimed you. You go to thank this person, only to have what little breath you’ve regained stolen from you when you look up.

The man standing before you is a classic study in contrast. His chalk-white skin stands out strikingly against his robes and his hair, both as black as pitch. The only difference in shade comes from the flames that you can see licking up the bottom of his robes like they’re meant to be there. Though, in this dream world, it makes total sense that flames would be a good accessory.

He’s objectively one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen, but his features are sharper than that of a normal human’s, from the stately slope of his nose to his high cheekbones that are completely devoid of the flush that normally hides behind skin. The biggest giveaway that he’s not like you are his eyes: black pools in which stars twinkle and sparkle. They should be frightening; after all, nobody should have eyes that look like that. Instead, you just find yourself enraptured as you try not to lose yourself in them.

“I do not know you.” The bluntness with which he makes this statement is so jarring (not even beginning to mention that he has the deepest, smoothest voice you’ve ever heard) that it pulls you out of your daydreaming about his eyes, and you glare up at him.

“Okay? I don’t know you either.”

He seems to realize that he came off like a major jackass, and quickly backpedals. “Apologies, I did not mean to make it sound so accusatory. I simply find myself…curious. I believed that I knew everybody here.”

“Well that makes one of us, because I think I only know one person here.”

“Who?” he asks curiously.

You look around the room to see if you can find your mysterious friend, but they’re nowhere to be seen. “I can’t find them, it’s too crowded in here. You already know that though, considering you just saved me from being crushed or forced to dance until I collapse from exhaustion. Thank you for that, by the way.”

“Of course. After all, I could not let one unfamiliar with those here be forced to mingle with Cluracan of the Faerie.”

He nods his head in the direction of a tall, willow-thin man with golden blond hair and pointed ears. If his pompous attitude wasn’t visible even from a distance, then his outfit, a coat and breeches with the same coloring as that of a peacock, would surely clue you in.

“By the looks of it, that would have been a fate worse than death,” you remark solemnly.

The man laughs. It’s a harsh bark of a laugh, one that sounds like it comes from someone who both doesn’t know how to laugh and has never heard a laugh before. People in your general vicinity look your way in alarm and discomfort, but you can only watch with a delighted, albeit confused, grin on your face.

“What’s so funny about that?”

“If you were to meet Death, you would find that she is actually quite pleasant. It is…enjoyable…to spend time with her.”

“Sounds like you’ve spent a lot of time with her.”

“I have.” 

His eyes grow soft and distant as he thinks of Death, and it’s obvious that he’s quite fond of her. He shakes his head slightly, pulling himself back to the present. 

“You did not look as though you were enjoying yourself, even before you were forced to dance.”

“So you were watching me?”

He suddenly feels the need to fastidiously study the galaxy ceiling, but you can see how his cheeks flush with embarrassment. To your surprise, it’s not the normal pinkish shade. Instead, it’s a light purple that spreads under his skin.

“You were!” you tease triumphantly.

“As I said, I believed that I knew everyone here. I was curious when I saw that wasn’t the case.” He looks back at you, those starry eyes twinkling. “You have not answered my question.”

It takes you a second to remember what his question was in the first place. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, everything here is so wonderful and fantastical! I guess I’m just not much of a party person. Never have been.”

“I must confess, I also find I am not too fond of these parties.”

“So then what are you doing here?”

“Currently? I am attempting to avoid Queen Titania of the Faerie.” 

He nods his head in the direction of a woman with blue-tinged skin and some of the most frighteningly dainty features you’ve ever seen, almost like those of a china doll. She’s frocked in a midnight blue gown with puffy sleeves, and as she moves through the room in an apparent search for your companion, a whole entourage follows obediently behind her.

“She’s not as good of a time as Death, I’m guessing?” you ask.

A smirk is the only answer that you get from him, apparently deciding to be enough of a gentleman that he won’t outright insult anybody.

It feels like a lightbulb goes off over your head as you think over what he said. “Wait, Queen Titania, like the character from Midsummer Night’s Dream?”

He looks immensely pleased at the connection that you’ve made. “The very same.”

“Huh. I wonder how Shakespeare met her.”

This seems to make him ponder something, and after a moment, he speaks again. “Where were you trying to go? Before you became an unwilling dance partner, that is.”

Oh yeah. You’ve so thoroughly enjoyed talking to this man that you almost forgot that you were on the brink of panic just a few minutes ago. “I was trying to find a way outside so that I could get some air.”

He nods. “Come, then. We shall get you some air, myself a reprieve from hiding, and I will tell you the story of how Shakespeare came to develop his cast of characters.”

When he holds his hand out to you, taking it is one of the easiest decisions you’ve ever made.

Keeping to the walls is a much better strategy than what you had tried before, which was to forge your own path through the crowds and hope for the best. You duck through one of the stone awnings near the back of the room, one that’s partially obscured by a heavy curtain. When you’ve successfully made it out, your companion’s relief at not being caught by the Queen of Faerie is palpable, and it makes you giggle.

You walk with him through the gardens for the rest of the evening, enjoying foliage that absolutely doesn’t exist in the real world and the company of one of the most enigmatic creatures you’ve ever spent time with. Yet, as he asks you question after question about the most mundane of subjects in your daily life, listening with rapt, awed attention as you answer each and every one, you feel like you’re the one that’s mystical and worshiped across all cultures.

(Though he hasn’t said it outright, you get the feeling that he’s some type of deity, which is simultaneously frightening and fascinating)

The flowers continually pull your attention away from the conversation at hand, not that your companion seems to mind too much. He dutifully fills the air with facts about each of the plants that you stop at, which is why it’s such a surprise when you’re suddenly surrounded by silence.

Looking up from a variant of daisy that shimmers as it goes down a gradient of white to red, and back again, you notice that he’s watching you. You smile at him, waiting for him to launch into the tale of how this flower came to be in this garden, and when he still doesn’t move, you grow a little concerned.

“What is it? Are you okay?” you ask. He seems to finally rouse himself from whatever daze he had gotten himself into.

“Yes, I…” He trails off, continuing to stare, before he shakes his head a couple of times and looks back at the party. This time, when he speaks, his voice is somehow softer than before. “I believe I promised you a story, yes?”

When he finally does get around to telling you the promised story, it’s so much better than anything you could have imagined. The man is a truly gifted storyteller. You can practically see the scene as he develops it, of a man in a darkened pub being offered the tantalizing gift of inspiration for works that would live on well past his death. Did Shakespeare worry that he was making a deal with some sort of demon, or was the prospect of everlasting fame more powerful than any fear or trepidation he may have felt?

“Is it a true story?” you ask, when he finishes with the first performance of Midsummer Night’s Dream which was, surprisingly, performed for an audience that included the actual Queen Titania. Apparently, she was thrilled by her portrayal, and gave the play a glowing review.

A coy tilt of the head is the only answer that you get, leaving the true interpretation of the story up to you, the listener. Though you want to say that it’s fake–after all, Shakespeare making a pact with an immortal creature that then helped him to come up with plays that would forever change the course of humanity just sounds ludicrous–another part of you, the part that has spent this impossible night surrounded by Fae and gods and all other manner of fantastical creature, knows that this is, in fact, true.

“Are you the one that gave him inspiration?”

“Perhaps,” is all that he says.

“You’re frustratingly vague, you know that?”

This makes him smile, and he looks down to simultaneously rein his emotions back in (he does that a lot, you notice) and to pull something from the sleeve of his robe. 

“Am I?” he asks.

His pale hand comes up to present you with one of the color-changing daisies you were looking at earlier. Your breath catches in your throat when he tucks the flower behind your ear, and when his hand lingers against your cheek, you think you’ll never establish a normal breathing rhythm ever again.

“And what would you do, were a stranger to come up to you and offer you anything you ever wanted?”

“Well, I–I guess it depends.”

“On what?”

At this point, you can barely do more than whisper. “On who the stranger is.”

Though you try not to, you can’t help yourself from looking down at his plush, pink lips. You dart your eyes back up to his face, worried about being caught, only to see that he’s done the same.

He leans in even closer, nodding his head slightly towards you. “May I…?”

You nod softly, worried that any sudden movements will ruin the perfect little bubble that you seem to have found yourself in. Are you really about to kiss this powerful being, the most beautiful man you’ve ever laid eyes on? When he brushes his nose against yours, you know the answer is that yes, yes you are about to kiss him. Just as your lips meet his, a harsh alarm jerks you out of his arms and back to consciousness.

Rolling over in your familiar bed, in your familiar apartment, you hit the screen of your phone harshly until the alarm finally turns off. Laying on your back, you stare up at the ceiling and replay every moment of the dream you just had while it’s still fresh in your mind.

You let out a disbelieving sigh at just how wonderful of a dream you had. The giddy smile is impossible to remove from your face, and you run your hands over your flaming cheeks as you giggle.

What a dream. A royal ball, mythical creatures, a gorgeous outfit, and the most captivating man you’ve ever imagined. You already know that you’ll be thinking about your dream man, and the kiss you almost shared, for days to come.

A second alarm, the one that warns that you really need to get out of bed and get ready if you don’t want to be late, begins to sound from your phone.

“Fine,” you mutter to the inanimate object, sitting up and pulling it off of the charger. “You win. I’m up.”

As you get out of bed, you don’t notice the daisy petals that you leave behind on your pillow.

You go about your day feeling like you’re on cloud 9, unable to stop thinking about last night. Not that you want to stop thinking about any moment of your dream. By the time you’re back at the bar for yet another evening shift (only two more days until you have an actual day off!), somebody finally decides to ask what the hell happened to you.

“What the hell happened to you?” Reese, tonight’s hostess for the restaurant side of the establishment, asks. “You’re walking around like a Disney princess or something.”

You shrug. “Just…had a really, really wonderful dream last night.”

“Like a sex dream? I’ve had a few of those that I’d call ‘really, really wonderful’.” Tate pipes up through the kitchen window, meaning you have no choice but to reach through and shove him.

“Fuck off!”

He laughs and jumps back to avoid your ire. “So it was a sex dream!”

“No! It was just really sweet and romantic, y’know?”

“I get it,” Reese says.

You gesture to her gratefully. “Thank you.”

“Who was the lead? Mine’s usually Harry Styles.”

Though you both sigh a little wistfully, you shake your head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this man before last night.”

“Isn’t it, like, a thing that you can’t dream of people whose faces you’ve never seen?” Tate asks.

“With a face like his, I definitely would have remembered seeing him while I was awake.”

“Fuck,” Reese grumbles when the door opens and a family walks in. “Can’t people be a little kinder and realize that we’re gossiping here?”

“Apparently not.” 

Everybody shares in a “we hate our customer service job” groan before breaking to do their respective tasks. Reese slaps on a big smile and asks “how many are joining you guys this evening?” Tate flips a couple of burgers on the grill, and you turn to check on your regulars that are enjoying a couple of after-work beers.

Sometimes, it really sucks that you can’t just daydream about whatever you want because you’re forced to work in order to survive. But as the night wears on and your plastic tip cup housed beneath the bar continues to grow more stuffed with bills thanks to very generous tippers tonight, you see the importance of not living in your head.

That is, until someone’s standing across from you at the bar and you smile at them in preparation to take their order, only to almost drop the glass you’re cleaning when you lay eyes on your dream man from last night.

He’s traded the long robes for a simple black peacoat, a black shirt, and black jeans, but he still manages to look regal in them. The wardrobe isn’t the main difference, though. That would be his eyes. Where last night they were black pools of stars, tonight, they’re a bright blue. Just as stunning, but in a completely different way.

The only thing about him that’s the same is his hair. The black strands are still just as wild and untamed as they were at the ball, and it makes your heart flutter to see. You have to hold yourself back from reaching across the bar to try and smooth them out a bit, but really, you just want to feel how soft his hair must surely be.

He’s smiling at you, that same shy smile that graced his lips while he was talking to you about plants. You realize that you need to say something, anything, but all you manage to come up with is, “Hi.”

“Hello.” His voice still sounds like what you imagine melted dark chocolate must sound like if it could talk, and your cheeks grow hot from it.

“It’s you. You’re real!” You wince at the stupidity of that statement. Obviously he’s real, he’s standing right in front of you!

He looks very amused by this, and you don’t blame him. “Did you think I was not?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “I mean, it was just a dream.”

“It is never ‘just a dream’.”

You come around from the other side of the bar so that you can actually be standing across from him without anything impeding you. 

“I believe we forgot to properly make each other’s acquaintance last night.”

It’s only when he says that that you realize that he’s right. You don’t even know his name, and he doesn’t know yours. A glaring oversight on both of your parts, but one that he looks ready to correct. 

He gently takes one of your hands in one of his, bending just slightly at the waist as he brings your hand up to kiss the back of it.

“I am Morpheus, Dream of the Endless. You may call me by either name, dearheart, for either shall sound sweet coming from your lips.”

You entrust him with your name, and he grins so radiantly that you feel as though you’ve been standing in front of the sun. He repeats it back to you, and you could swear that you’ve never heard your name sound so beautiful before now. You’d give anything to hear him say it again and again. Hell, if the last word you ever heard on this Earth was this man–Dream! Morpheus!–saying your name, you’d die happy.

Even though you’re totally sure that this isn’t a dream (you know, you pinched your leg to make sure), part of you is still worried that either he or you will disappear again. Who’s to say that you’ll be able to find each other a second time? Just in case your fears come true, you decide to act before you can remember why you don’t act before thinking.

Dream’s still holding onto one of your hands, and you use it to pull him closer to you, close enough that your noses are almost touching as he bends his head just slightly to look at you. His eyebrows are raised as he waits for you to make your next move. Said next move consists of you wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a long-awaited kiss.

If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it at all. One hand rests on your waist while the other goes to your chin so that he can tilt your head the way that he likes–you’re certainly not going to stop him from doing that. 

The restaurant patrons all start cheering, and you can hear Tate and Reese wolf-whistling. It’s embarrassing, but you’re too wrapped up in Dream right now to fully care. Maybe after you separate. For now, since both of your arms are over Dream’s shoulders, it makes it easy for you to flip your coworkers off without having to interrupt your kiss. 

Later, you’ll have to see if you can track down your strange, golden-eyed friend and thank them for giving a blank business card to a stranger who worked at a bar. After all, they were right. That card has made all your dreams come true.

Dream of the Endless

Dream of the Endless is not at all thrilled to be playing host to beings from almost every realm that the Dreaming has even the most tentative of alliances with. He received his reputation as a recluse for a reason, and it’s certainly not because he loves being social.

But tonight is not for him, no. It’s for the Dreaming. He had been gone for far too long, even if it was against his will. Not only had the Dreaming crumbled physically, but its standing as one of the most powerful realms in existence had crumbled too. Now that he was back and his kingdom restored to its former glory, if not more powerful than it was before his departure, he intended to remind each and every naysayer just why the Dreaming commanded their respect.

Of course, right as he’s thinking that the night is shaping up to be quite successful, he sees a guest that he most certainly did not invite. He knows this for certain, because he knows everybody and their dreams just by looking at them. Even if he didn’t, when one is alive for as long as the Endless have been, one gets to know most everybody that’s of a higher rank or class of the various realms.

You, with golden stars swimming across your body, are entirely unfamiliar to him. Even more unsettling is the fact that he doesn’t just intuitively know his name, which means there are other forces at play here. And on this night, where the Dreaming is meant to be at its best, he will not allow his enemies any opportunity to take that away from him.

It’s obvious in your demeanor that you’re uncomfortable amongst the crowds, and Dream is not the only one to notice it. When the eyes of the Trickster God, Loki Skywalker, land on you, Dream can almost see the plan formulating in the Norseman’s head. He takes a couple of quick steps, and before you can even blink, he’s swept you unwillingly into a dance.

You’re immediately begging for him to let you go, your fists pounding against his arms as you attempt to free yourself from his embrace. Loki does finally acquiesce to your demands, but simply spins you into another’s arms. Those in the general vicinity all seem to be in on this little joke, all of them laughing and taking their turn to have your resistant self in their embrace.

Suddenly, you don’t look like a threat. You’re simply a person, scared and out of your element, a pawn in the games of beings much more powerful than you. Dream may not know your true intentions, but he can’t continue to let this happen under his purview. With a single thought, he’s across the ballroom and pulling you into his own arms and away from those hoping to be next in line for a dance.

You stumble over your own feet, your body still propelled forward by the inertia of the other dancers that came before Dream. Blinking furiously to try and clear your vision, you’re finally able to look up at him without getting dizzy. 

Dream watches you try to figure out something, anything to say, and in return he studies you as well. It’s still impossible for him to divine any sort of information about you, but he can’t sense any other being’s magic on you that would be blocking his access. Apparently, you’re simply an anomaly, and that’s not including figuring out how you got past the gatekeepers in the first place.

“I do not know you,” he finally settles on saying. Apparently, by the way that you glare at him, it comes out much harsher than he had planned.

“Okay? I don’t know you either.”

He has to apologize, obviously. “Apologies, I did not mean to make it sound so accusatory. I simply find myself…curious. I believed that I knew everybody here.”

“Well that makes one of us, because I think I only know one person here.”

“Who?” he asks, wondering if this is the person that is blocking his access to you.

Though you look around the room, you don’t seem to find whoever it is. “I can’t find them, it’s too crowded in here. You already know that though, considering you just saved me from being crushed or forced to dance until I collapse from exhaustion. Thank you for that, by the way.”

Dream finds himself perturbed. Why wouldn’t he have helped you out of your less-than-ideal situation? It seems like common decency, but perhaps human society has decayed so badly that even this simple act warrants a heartfelt thank you.

“Of course. After all, I could not let one unfamiliar with those here be forced to mingle with Cluracan of the Faerie.”

He nods towards the aforementioned Fae, who is currently strutting around looking for his next conquest. Behind him trails his sister, Nuala, just as fair as her brother but decidedly a much kinder creature. She whispers something in his ear, and he merely brushes her off before continuing his search.

“By the looks of it, that would have been a fate worse than death,” you remark.

The statement, said with the confidence of someone who does not know that there are forces far beyond that which they may believe, is so humorous to Morpheus that he can’t help but laugh. How could anybody regret their time spent with Death? She is the literal oxymoron of her name; in fact, she should be the personification of sunshine instead of death.

Instead of shying away from him, because he does know that his laugh is truly horrific and thus wouldn’t blame you for doing so, you surprise Dream by grinning at the sound and looking rather proud of yourself for eliciting a laugh from him. Oh, he really enjoys this. 

He’s always found himself fond of those able to look beyond his function. As he continues to interact with you, he realizes that you apparently have no clue who he is. He also realizes that talking to you is not the same chore as it is to converse with the others that are here in his realm tonight.

Before he knows it, he’s offering to take you out to the gardens and tell you the tale of how a young Will Shaxberd came to be known as history’s greatest playwright. He shouldn’t be abandoning his guests, for that’s not what a good monarch does. However, it’s too tempting to not try and have you to himself. When you accept, he finds himself thrilled for the first time since before his imprisonment.

Dream takes great pride in the palace’s gardens. Much of the flora there had long since gone extinct, and the only thing keeping them alive in this moment was the Dream Lord’s memory (or, the memories of dreamers long gone whose knowledge Dream had leached from) of when they still flourished. He was happy to share those memories with anyone willing to listen, and you were proving to be one of the most engaged audiences he had entertained when it came to his garden.

Time is a fickle thing in the Dreaming, to be certain. Hours can pass by like minutes, or minutes can be days. It’s why he tends to keep appointments in the Waking to a minimum; he loses track of time far too easily, and often needs multiple reminders that he has an obligation in a realm not his own.

Never has Dream felt Time so keenly in the Dreaming as he does when he finally looks away from the path ahead and towards you, only for Time to seemingly come to a stop. The moon shines down upon you like an ethereal spotlight while you bend just slightly in order to fully study a daisy that was last seen in the Andromeda galaxy two hundred lightyears ago. Softly, so as not to ruin it, you gently run a finger along the edges of the velvety petals. Your smile as you do so is filled with so much kindness that Dream believes he could drown in it, not that he would mind in the slightest.

Dream had experienced love at first sight far too many times for his liking. A secret hopeless romantic, it was far too easy for him to immediately see the best in any potential romantic partner and offer himself up to them on a silver platter. Indeed, he had given lovers the finest jewels or entire worlds created just for them, and every single one had ended up spurning him in the end.

Perhaps that’s why this feels so different. This isn’t love at first sight, for he certainly had held no love in his heart for the strange intruder wandering wide-eyed around the ballroom. He’s had Time on his side, allowing him the chance to actually get to know you.

And after getting to know you, Dream wants. He wants to feel the gentleness of your touch on his skin, he wants your soft smile directed towards him. He wants to hear every thought that goes through your wondrous mind, he wants to know what you like and don’t like. He wants you, in every way that you’ll allow him to have.

Time finally restarts again, and Dream notices that you’re staring curiously at him. Distantly, a small part of him wonders how long you’ve been looking at him like that. A much larger part of him admires the color of your eyes.

“What is it? Are you okay?” you ask.

“Yes, I…” 

He really must stop staring at you, he knows that it’s already far past the point of politeness. Shaking his head, Dream looks back at the ball and tries to contain his emotions once more before speaking again. 

“I believe I promised you a story, yes?”

Dream didn’t earn the title of “Prince of Stories” for no reason. Still, it makes telling stories infinitely more enjoyable when the audience is interested in what he’s saying. You, however, are not just interested. You’re enraptured, hanging on to every word he has to say. This, by far, is his favorite type of person to tell a tale to. The fact that it’s you, the mysterious human who somehow snuck into his palace, makes it even better.

After his tale is finished, you ask him if it’s true. He can’t help but to demur, planting the seeds of doubt even though it’s very much true. After all, if he had wanted you to know that, he would have told you outright during the story.

“And what would you do,” Dream asks, suddenly feeling bold, “were a stranger to come up to you and offer you anything you ever wanted?”

“Well, I–I guess it depends.”

“On what?”

“On who the stranger is.”

Dream really wants to kiss you right now. By the way that you whisper, and how Dream catches you looking at his lips, he thinks that you feel the same.

He leans in even closer, nodding his head slightly towards you. “May I…?”

You nod, and Dream is so thankful that you do. He’s not sure that he could bear the rejection, not when you’ve gone and made him fall in love with you so effortlessly.

Dream has seen plenty of teenagers dreaming of their first kiss. Mere children on the cusp of adulthood, their emotions are always so palpable. The fear of messing up, of getting this wrong. The exuberance of finally getting to kiss the one they have not been able to stop thinking about. The burgeoning passion of young love, sealed, quite literally, with a kiss.

Right now, as your lips just begin to meet his, Dream feels much like those teenagers. He’s terrified that he’ll move too fast or make some wrong move to push you away, while at the same time, he’s thrilled that you want to kiss him just as much as he wants to kiss you. Underneath it all, the embers of something more promise to be fanned into flames once he actually kisses you.

Before Dream can actually do that, though, he feels your lips become less real, less firm, against his. He can only watch as your body fades from within his grasp and you disappear, presumably back to your Waking body. After you’re well and truly gone, with no sign of you falling back asleep and appearing in his embrace once more, Dream can only stare at the spot you once occupied.

When Dream comes out of his stupor, his head falls to his hands in disbelief, unable to believe his truly rotten luck. He remains in this position until the sky begins to grow light and he remembers that he has duties he must attend to, duties that include politely but firmly seeing all of his guests out of his realm.

As Dream nods his head at guests telling him how much they enjoyed the festivities and thanks others for coming and accepts quiet alliances re-formed by those who had believed the Dreaming well and truly gone, he’s quite proud of the fact that he’s somehow pulled himself together enough to not currently have a hurricane that reflects his emotional state sweeping through the Dreaming proper. It doesn’t matter that said hurricane will likely begin to rage the second the doors to the palace close and the hastily-constructed dam holding Dream’s feelings back breaks from the pressure. For now, he has it all under control.

At least, he has it under control up until he walks back into his throne room to find Desire lounging at the bottom of the stairs.

“Sibling,” Dream greets reluctantly, his patience wearing extremely thin. “Do you not have the desires of my guests to chase after and feed off of in your realm?”

“Don’t you worry, big brother, I’m on my way out.” They stand and stretch in a way reminiscent of how a cat stretches. “Great party, by the way. Why, you look really bummed out for somebody who just met the love of his life!”

It should not be nearly as surprising as it is that Dream’s sibling has once again inserted themself into his life, where they do not belong. Regardless, it is as surprising as it is rage-inducing. Between one blink and the next, Dream has Desire pinned against the wall with his hands wrapped around their neck. Desire simply laughs breathlessly.

“I should have known that you were behind that,” Dream spits.

“You don’t have to say it–” Desire’s sentence breaks off with a choking sound, courtesy of Dream squeezing even harder and resisting the urge to wring their neck. “–Like it’s a bad thing.”

“I told you that, were you to mess with me or mine again, I would not hesitate to spill family blood. Are you really so stupid as to disregard our last talk, so soon after we had it?”

Desire looks frightened, and they should be. Dream truly wants to kill right now, to unmake something with his bare hands and feel the carnage that he creates. “No, no, no, you have it all wrong!” they say. “I’m giving you a gift, sweet Dream. No strings attached, nothing you have to do besides say ‘thank you, my favorite sibling’ and accept it!”

“A gift.” Dream’s hands loosen around Desire’s neck, but still remain fixed in place.

“Yep!”

“And why should I trust you?”

“Because I really am sorry, Dream. Truly. I regret how I’ve treated you, especially over the past couple of centuries. You’re a pain in my ass–just as I’m a pain in yours, I’m sure–but you didn’t deserve what I did to you, and for that, I’m sorry.” 

He doesn’t believe them, a fact that is plainly clear and causes Desire to roll their eyes. When they push back against Dream, he finally lowers his hands and takes a step back.

“We’ve been siblings for long enough, and you’ve felt my influence on—how many lovers is it? Tell me, did you feel any of that on your little dreamer last night?”

“No,” Dream admits.

“No, exactly. So when I was trying to figure out, ‘how can I say sorry to my beloved big brother and truly mean it,’ I thought it would be nice of me to find out if you had a true love, who said true love was, and then bring your true love to you! You can thank brother Destiny’s little Book for helping me there; he would have never allowed me to look and see if you had a true love if it weren’t for the Book telling him to do so.”

“What?”

This comes as quite the shock to Dream. It’s one thing for Desire to try something as outlandish as looking in Destiny’s Book; it’s another thing entirely for Destiny to let them do so. As Desire said, if the Book did not tell him to do something, then Destiny would not do that thing.

“Mhm,” Desire says, looking entirely too pleased at this situation. “The universe itself wanted me to give you this type of an apology.”

If Desire had used Destiny’s Book to find you, then that means that they know your name. “So, you know…”

“Your little lover’s name? Yes, I do. Why, did you not catch it?” Of course they know that Dream doesn’t know your name; it’s what Dream wants most right now, so naturally, Desire can sense it. “Were you two lovebirds too busy flirting with each other to remember to ask for names?”

“Tell me, Desire,” Dream snaps. He winces, feeling slightly guilty about letting his emotions get the best of him. Not that he’ll apologize, since it’s apparently Desire’s turn to do so.

“Sorry, I had to tease you a little bit.” 

Desire finally feels a modicum of empathy and tells Dream your full name, and a part of Dream that he wasn’t aware he was missing slots into place.

“Well, I suppose I should be off now. Lots of your party guests whose desires I have to chase after and feed off of. You know.” 

They grab the lapels of their opulent fur jacket and smooth out the wrinkles that their altercation with Dream put into their carefully-created ensemble. Dream will feel even more guilt about that tomorrow, he supposes. For now, you’re the only thing on his mind.

However, Dream would be remiss to not acknowledge the effort that they know Desire put into creating this apology. He can’t let his sibling go without having them know that he appreciates it, and so he calls after them. “Desire!”

They turn on their heels. “Yes?”

“Thank you. I…accept your apology.”

Desire grins brightly and nods, which is how Dream knows they’re thankful for this acceptance. They wave their fingers teasingly before continuing on their path out of Dream’s palace. “Have fun with your present,” they say over their shoulder and promptly disappear.

Dream is finally left alone in his throne room which, at the beginning of the night, was all that he wanted. Now, with the silence only 

He knows your name. Not only that, but he knows that you and he are meant to be together. It truly is the greatest gift that anybody could have given him, made more meaningful since it’s Desire who has done this.

There are a number of actual appointments on his docket that he must begrudgingly attend to, even though he wants nothing more than to rush to the Waking and find you. That would be neglectful of his realm, though, and Dream promised himself, back when he believed you to be a threat, that he would not allow you to ruin his realm. 

Now, he would gladly ruin his realm if you were to ask him, which is why he’s so determined to see to everything that must be completed. Though it all feels tedious, the tasks do eventually get completed. Dream leaves almost immediately after the last report, delivered by a young dream in the form of a talking dog, is escorted out of the palace.

(Matthew is extremely confused by his boss’s sudden change of attitude. Lucienne, who’s seen this plenty of times before, simply sighs and hopes that he knows what he’s doing this time.)

When Dream arrives outside of a small restaurant, evening has already fallen in the Waking. It’s been less than 24 hours since you first made your way into his palace, a little over 12 since you were jerked back to consciousness and away from him. Truly not long, in the grand scheme of things, but it’s felt like a lifetime to Dream.

Your attention is divided between one of your patrons, telling a story about a mishap at work and embellishing just slightly, and the drinking glasses you’re pulling from a tray and drying clean. Dream can’t help but watch you in your element for a moment, but Dream is not a patient man, and a moment is all that he can afford before he steps up to the bar and across from you.

A smile is already on your face before you turn to look at Dream, a smile that freezes in place when your eyes meet his. Your hands begin to shake, and the glass nearly slips from your grasp before you manage to firmly set it down on the wooden countertop.

The shock is understandable. After all, most dreamers do not expect to see someone in the Waking that they have previously only seen in their dreams. Dream just hopes that it’s a good shock that you’re feeling, and not the one that he fears.

Your smile turns into something smaller, softer, and those fears that Dream held evaporate when you greet him. “Hi.”

“Hello.”

“It’s you. You’re real!” 

After having spent a few moments trying to figure out what to say next, Dream is amused that this was what you decided on. “Did you think I was not?”

“I don’t know. I mean, it was just a dream.”

“It is never ‘just a dream’.” And today, he is so glad that this statement is true.

You round the bar in order to be on the same side as Dream, and it takes every ounce of restraint in him to not immediately gather you up in his arms and sweep you back to the Dreaming.

“I believe we forgot to properly make each other’s acquaintance last night.”

Gently, he takes your hand and kisses the back of it. By the surprised whimper that gets caught in your throat, Dream assumes that courtship rituals have changed since the last time he attempted a relationship. Interesting, and something that he’ll be sure to ask you about later.

“I am Morpheus, Dream of the Endless. You may call me by either name, dearheart, for either shall sound sweet coming from your lips.”

Though he already knows your name now, he still allows you to introduce yourself to him, if only for the pleasure of getting to see the starstruck way you look at him when he says it as if to confirm that it truly is your name. If there were any residual worries about your passion for each other not translating to the waking, those are promptly wiped away when you throw your arms around Dream’s neck and pull him to you for a kiss. 

Truly, this is a new age that Dream is entirely unfamiliar with if kissing in public like this is acceptable. By the sounds of patrons’ applause, it appears that it is. What a strange new world Dream has found himself in. Not that he’s complaining. No, he’ll take victories as they come. As he brings a hand to your chin so that he can tilt your face and kiss you even deeper, he thinks that this is the greatest victory he’s ever had, for this victory has brought him you.

His own dream come true.

Desire of the Endless (again)

Desire’s enjoying their second glass of ambrosia, courtesy of the Greek pantheon, when they catch sight of Death, tight curls bouncing around her head, marching straight for them. They look both ways in the hope that there’s some other being who’s about to receive their sister’s wrath, but unfortunately, it looks as though they’re the target.

“Sister, how wonderful it is to see you tonight,” Desire greets. “Are you thirsty? Let me grab you a refreshment.”

Death simply narrows her eyes in suspicion. “You’re up to something, aren’t you?”

“What?” Desire holds a hand to their chest. “Me? What would make you say such a thing?”

“Mm, the fact that I’m your older sister and I know what you’re like when you’re up to something. You’ve had that look about you all night, the one that says that you’re just waiting for one of your plans to play out.” She nudges her sibling with her shoulder. “So? Out with it.”

“Fine. I’m in the middle of apologizing to our brother.”

“Oh gods,” Death bemoans.

“Don’t say it like that! This is a good thing!”

“When have you ever apologized to anybody for anything?”

“I apologize to Despair quite often.”

“Because she’s your twin.”

“And I’ll have you know, I also recently apologized to Unity Kincaid.” 

Now that gets Death’s attention, as it should. Desire, apologizing to one of their pawns? Death might need to go check and make sure that Hell hasn’t frozen over.

“Alright, then,” Death says. “You do know that apologizing usually involves going up to the other party and saying you’re sorry, right?”

“That comes later. First, Dream gets his apology gift.”

Desire gestures across the room, where you and Dream are currently involved in some sort of contentious stare-down after Dream had come to your aid when you were being forced to dance with anybody wanting a dance. Not the best start to a relationship Desire’s ever seen, but Dream’s always liked a lover that can challenge him.

Death doesn’t see it in the same way as Desire. All she sees is Dream talking to an unknown mortal, one that Desire brought here. Naturally, she gets the wrong idea.

“Oh Desire, you didn’t!” Death scolds. “Have you learned nothing from Alianora, Killala, Nada, or any of the others?”

“This isn’t like that!”

“Really?” Desire nods. “Okay, then tell me what it’s like.”

“I simply brought the mortal here for Dream to find! Those two are doing the rest.”

“And you swear that you have done no meddling to make them have any feelings for each other?”

“Yes, I swear.”

Death continues to glare at her younger sibling, which, okay, Desire supposes that’s fair. Doesn’t mean they have to enjoy the apprehension, though.

“Fine. I swear on my function, as well as the first circle, that I have not manipulated either Dream or the mortal.” 

Desire makes sure to swear on the most solemn and binding of things that an Endless can swear on, both so that Death will realize how serious they are and because they know that they’re not telling any sort of a lie. 

“All I did was find out whether Dream had a true love, which he does, and then I made sure that the mortal would have an invitation to tonight’s festivities.”

Death nods, satisfied. “How did you find that out?”

“Apparently, even the forces of the universe want Dream to get laid. Destiny let me look in his Book.”

Death lets out a sharp laugh. “Oh, he must have hated that!”

“He gave me exactly thirty seconds before snatching it back.” Desire scoffs. “Not as if I could have done anything to it, considering it’s literally chained to him.”

“It’s like his security blankie!”

A harsh, frankly disconcerting laugh echoes from nearby. While others would simply shrug it off, Death and Desire know exactly who that laugh belongs to. When Death finally fails at trying not to spy, she and Desire both see Dream’s shoulders shaking with laughter. Next to him, you’re sporting a pleased grin from the reaction you’ve been able to elicit. It’s quite the sight, and most try not to look so as not to incur the ire of the Dreamlord. His siblings, however, are exempt from that bit of common sense.

“Aw,” Death coos, her eyes shining as she watches the scene.

Desire knows exactly why their sister has such a reaction. Never, even in the early days of his courtship with Calliope, which was easily the “best” of his relationships, have any of the Endless ever seen Dream smile so freely and openly towards someone. They’ve especially never seen him let his guard down enough to laugh–which is probably a good thing, because the few times Desire’s heard his laugh, it’s left them feeling a little unsettled for a couple hours after.

“So this is simply part one of your apology?” Death asks.

“Yes. I truly am sorry for how I’ve treated him, especially over the last couple of centuries. Dream would have every right to not accept my apology, which is why I’m not just giving him a simple ‘I’m sorry’. Instead, I decided to shorten Dream’s path to finding true love, and both find his true love for him and bring said true love straight to him. A genius plan, truly.”

“You decided?”

Damn their oldest sister for being, well, an oldest sister. “Despair gave me the idea.”

“That sounds more like what I expected.”

Desire’s about to go on a diatribe about how this family only ever sees the worst in them (mainly for the fun of it, not because they actually care), when Death squeals, smacks Desire’s chest, grabs their arm and points back towards the two future lovebirds.

Dream is looking up at the ceiling to try and hide the fact that he’s blushing. His cheeks are a light shade of purple, and you look absolutely besotted by the sight.

“Oh, this is going so much better than I could have hoped,” Desire says as Dream levels his gaze with yours once again, the two of you seemingly challenging each other again on something. If the Book hadn’t told Desire that you and Dream were meant to be, this interaction would surely let them know.

“Shut up!” Death smacks Desire’s chest even more when Dream holds out his hand, which you take, before the two of you begin to sneak off like a couple of teenagers.

“What did I say?” Desire posits triumphantly. “Those two are doing all the work.”

“He’s going to be right pissed when he finds out, you know.”

Desire nods, because they do know. They’re expecting all sorts of threats of bodily harm and promises to break the most sacred rule of the Endless, all so that Desire can finally get their perceived comeuppance. If Desire’s being honest, they deserve that rage that Dream will direct towards them. They just hope that Dream will actually listen to what Desire has to say.

“He’ll get over it once I explain it to him,” Desire says.

“For your sake, I hope so. Won’t be too much of an apology if he doesn’t forgive you because he can’t see the validity of it.”

“He will.” Desire’s sure of it, and they grin at their sister. “Even if he doesn’t today, they can both thank me for my hard work at their wedding.”

Desire has enough tact to keep their triumphant “I told you so” to a smug grin when, barely a year later, they find themself back in the Dreaming for your and Dream’s wedding celebrations.

[ckret2]

I found one of my other old masterposts so I'm taking the opportunity to finally make a pinned post, prioritized based on what people ask me about most often:

Where do I find all the things you write? On my Ao3 or in my #my writing tag! A few things on my blog haven't been posted to AO3 yet. My really old fics are on fanfiction.net.

What about your art? In my #my art tag, but buddy, I create art to lure in fresh readers. Please read my writing too.

Where's your big Gravity Falls Bill Cipher fic? Right here! Also, every chapter has a link to the masterpost at the top! Also also, every post about the fic is under #bill goldilocks cipher. The fic's not going on Ao3 until TBOB is released this summer.

Where are all your Godzilla fics? Right here! Also, almost all of them have links to the masterpost, too. Nearly all of them are on Ao3.

When are you returning to editing In Short Supply/writing Rodorah/writing radiosnake? When the stars align (and when I'm not hyperfixated on a different fandom). You can find my posts about ISS under #in short supply.

When are you reuploading all the broken BtSDLb images? When I stop having ADHD long enough to spend a day individually uploading over a thousand pictures. I've never had access to the mirror on MSPFA, somebody else made it.

How do I find anything else on your blog? I tag everything and cross-link posts as often as I can. Tumblr search is terrible but tumblr tags work just fine. I try to make it as easy as possible.

Are you taking writing commissions? Not right now, unless you happen to have an idea about exactly what I want to write in the exact fandom I'm currently interested in.

Are you accepting tips without commissions? If you wanna send one!

Can I hire you to write for a big fancy legitimate TV show/movie/video game/comic? Yes. (... Hey, doesn't hurt to hope somebody'll ask.)

[alternativeminiatures]

Ok, let's talk about Lost In Space.

In the early 2000's there wasn't as much 40k fanfiction as today, you had Turn Signals on a Land Raider, and... I really can't remember. But I do remember Lost In Space!

This is probably one of my favorite 40k comics, even if it only has around 50 strips and never was completed. Sadly the website was nuked on january 2006, and nowadays, it's a bit hard to find all its published content. But hey, guess what? I'm a data hoarder, and found almost all the comic on my external hard drive, and the four strips I didn't have, I found them on a russian website, in russian, but @varanguard did me the favour of translating them back to english.

So, what now? I think I'm going to put it here with tags, so people can find it; lost media is something we should take more seriously, books, videogames, series, music, etc... all human creation should have a place.

What happened to the website? I asked a friend if he remembers and he told me back then James was throwing a fit about copyright, and closed many fan content websites, so yeah, it could be the answer.

And what about the author? Ok, this is a complex subject. Technically, the last we know about the author is a post on DeviantArt where they talks about getting a copy of all the strips and wanting to publish them there, they started on september 2006, and the last one is from october 2006, there are only 11 strips, I think I have near 80 between LiS, Meanwhile and Grail Quest.

Soooo... I still wanted to know if it was ok to put the comic here, and you see, I am a very good internet sleuth, very good, so good that from a complete stranger putting funny drawings on the internets 20 years ago, now I may know their complete name, where they live, where they work, I got 4 different emails and their work telephone number*. And at this point I realized I had jumped head first without parachute into creepy territory (I blame my autism, when you focus onto something it's hard to know when to stop).

And now, contacting the author with the information I got that they didn't put out there to be contacted, to talk about something they haven't talked about for almost 20 years, feels disturbing, like crossing 30km of red lines and boundaries, and way worse than putting the comic out there without their permission.

I think I'm going to follow the spirit of their last post and share the comic, but if somebody has any idea, comment or observation, please, let me know.

*be vigilant about your internet privacy and what you put out there!! I'm just a basic nerd and was able to get all that information with just google! All the people telling you to be careful are not paranoid, they know how easy is to find information about somebody!

[brattysuki]

Enemies/rivals to lovers??? Lots of sexual tension and teasing between Paige and reader…..maybe even some jealous/possessive Paige in the mix

-🧞‍♀️

hi!! thanks for being my first request sorry it took so long, I hope you like this mini drabble and please let me know if you’d like to see it turn into a full blown fic.

I feel that enemies to lovers would totally suit this girl, she is not shy to speak her mind and you best believe she will make smart comments if you piss her off. Paige is friendly with most, you are not most though. To her, you are the whiney girl from chem who can’t seem to understand how to keep their mouth shut. To her, you are the girl who always steals her seat in class when you know damn well she’s been sitting there for the past two months. To Paige, you are the bane of her existence— forever reminding her how much she cannot stand you.

Whenever she walks past you in the halls, she never fails to “accidentally” bump your shoulder. You respond with a snarky comment or if you’re feeling extra bitchy, an extended leg to trip her— especially if she’s carrying heavy textbooks.

Your friends mess with you all the time, asking you when you were going to kiss her already. You’d scoff at the thought of even kissing the dumb blonde, you couldn’t stand her big ego having self. If there was any excuse to keep you away from her, you’d already used it at least twice. It was comical the serious beef you had with this girl considering you’d never had a full conversation with her in the two years you’d known of her. The distaste for each other was born through nasty looks and petty behavior.

It isn’t until one odd interaction between the stupid blonde and yourself that you notice a shift in your dynamic. Paige had gotten so used to seeing you mess with her in the pettiest of ways that it had become a part of her daily routine, so when you had traded your attention to somebody else— she felt a sourness in her stomach she did not like at all.

Suddenly you were walking hand in hand with some stupid football jock in a jersey that didn’t match hers. This jersey read a last name not even close to hers. Paige couldn’t decipher why she even cared whose jersey you wore, she hardly even spoke to you— and yet, she couldn’t stop herself from cornering you one day after class in the hallway, away from the others.

“What’s the matter with you?” The blonde huffed, staring down at you.

You attempted to step away but she smacked her hands against the wall on either side of you, caging you in. Her cologne smelled good, a little too good, making you slightly dizzy.

“What the hell are you doing?” You furrowed your brows, shoving her chest.

Paige gripped the collar of the stupid jersey you were wearing, “What the fuck is this?”

Finally, you understood, “Oh. That’s what this is about?”

A smirk broke out on your face, glossy lips ghosting her ear as you leaned forward. Your sweet perfume was intoxicating, pulling the blonde in closer to grab your hip with a menacing grip. You even tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear to make sure she heard what you had to say.

“You wanna know whose jersey this is?” You teased a kiss under her ear, leaving behind a glossy stain, “It belongs to the person that I’ve been fucking for the past couple weeks— and you know what? They fuck me so, so fucking good. Better than you ever could, blondie.”

Paige grunted, blood boiling at the thought of somebody else touching you. Despite never really getting along with you, she had never wanted anything more than to kiss you right then and there. Perhaps this whole time she had confused her annoyance with you for attraction. Your brattiness and pettiness enticed her to punish you, she wanted so badly to see you begging for an ounce of her touch. She wanted to see your teary eyes glancing up at her as she tormented you, bringing you to the point of complete submission.

“You’ll be begging for me to fuck you before you know it.” She nudged her knee in between your thighs, eliciting a gasp from you.

“In your dreams.” You scoffed, squirming away before walking away leaving the blonde utterly confused and wanting more.

Paige watched as you excited the building, the scent of your perfume lingering in the air around her leaving her with the hunger for more. She would have you, sooner or later— she’d make sure of it.

[kokomiin]

I didn't want to have to do this but I am currently being harassed by somebody I worked for with no sign of letting up, so here it is. Some of you might remember me working on an RPG called Moonatic since last month. I was contacted by this person in early December to be the artist for the game, after seeing how many people were working on it I decided to accept, but everyone involved was working out of goodwill under the promise that we would eventually be paid. I was encouraged by the director to work at maximum capacity every day, I am aware that I have an especially fast art output compared to some people, but this still takes work and energy as I am a human being. If I was only able to complete one piece in a day, he would comment on that being "a shame" and would point out if I finished my work day earlier than him due to exhaustion even if I had actually gotten things done. I kept working hard every day because I genuinely believed in the project and thought this kind of crunch wouldn't be permanent, and I didn't want to cause friction between myself and the director by complaining which I now realise was a huge mistake. Whenever I took a day off I had to announce it, there was no set schedule and I believe he would have me working every day if possible.

My friends can attest to the decrease in my physical and mental health before I even realised how I was being affected by this. The director also initiated a friendship with me as well as me being his employee, I accepted but over time personal boundaries were crossed, he made judgements about some things in my personal life and just two days ago, the day before I decided to resign, he implied a romantic interest in me knowing full well that I'm in a relationship. This was a breaking point for me and I had to reevaluate everything, after discussing with many people I decided it was best for everyone if I left. But when I gave the director my resignation, explaining to him the stress I was under and how I was uncomfortable with how he spoke to me, but that I would still let them use my work for the project, he immediately reacted with a mental spiral, blamed me for the project failing and even now still refuses to contact me directly.

A few weeks ago he insisted on purchasing a VR Headset for me, which I declined multiple times due to the cost and because I didn't ask for it in the first place, but around my birthday when he kept insisting I decided to accept, considering it my compensation for the month's worth of free labour I had done. I drew many character design sheets, environments, a comic, promotional artwork, helped to finish the trailer's storyboard and had begun animating it, with only a few days of breaks. I left the project because of stress and a lack of personal boundaries that were caused by him, and now this person is spamming me with payment requests to give him back the money for this gift. He claims it as a work tool, but when we talked about him getting it for me he treated the 'work' aspect as an excuse and said he really wanted to hang out with me in VR after work. Now he is declaring it as a work tool that needs to be repaid if not shipped back. A VR headset is not at all a necessary tool for this project, which is an RPG game developed in game maker.

I'm genuinely afraid about what else this person might do as he is blaming me for the project failing as though it was my own, and refusing to take responsibility for his treatment of me. If you are an artist, in the future please avoid any company with the name Andel in it. If I end up being forced to pay back the price of my free labour :') I'll open emergency commissions, ok?

screenshots under the cut (i'm pretty shaky right now so I forgot to add some, the ones related to my resignation have been added now)

[discowingneckline]

Character Ask : Dick Grayson

Please and Thank You! ❤️

Ah, thank you, my love. I knew I could count on you! <3

First impression: I first saw his character in the animated Teen Titans (2003), and I loved him. He was my favorite with Starfire being my second favorite. Though I disagreed with his butt a lot. Does that make me Roy?

Impression now: I love him so much, and I really enjoy his stories. I think he, like many comic characters, are incredibly complex and mishandled. I really like to get in his head and think like him. I also relate a lot more to him the more I read his stuff, which...well it enables me to write him pretty well apparently.

Favorite moment: Oh, absolutely it has to be when he first dawned his Nightwing suit in NTT for the Judas Contract.

Idea for a story: Well, how about I give you a summary of what you're getting March 30th! It focuses mainly on Dick Grayson and Koriand'r!

It had taken exactly three days for Dick Grayson to come to the conclusion that he couldn’t keep what happened a secret. For three days, he’d replayed what Miriam and Rosabelle had revealed to him and remembered the much more soured night before it all. Maybe…maybe Dick needed to tell somebody.

Unpopular opinion: I despise, absolutely despise that this man has the audacity to be poor emotional communicator. Like get a grip man.

Favorite relationship: Dick and Koriand'r for romantic; Dick and Damian for platonic (with Dick and Donna being a very, very close second)

Favorite headcanon: I like the idea that instead of being a police officer, that he is a gymnastics coach for kids. I also enjoy the idea that he goes into social work or something law related.

[jorrated]

Some super stray thoughts I had while reading STCO so far:

Knuckles would NOT prioritize his past over Tikal’s suffering are you crazy in the head!!!!

Zak Simond-Hurn’s art is really charming, if it wasn't for the digital onomatopoeias, I wouldn’t mind having this style by a base for an official sonic comic! The design for the red echidna villain however… HM. Not pleasing to the eye.

I like that Ebony are having a bigger role on the fist few issues! But also Ebony’s constantly referring to Super as his friend and doing things to bring him back. Like I get it but also is this going to be her only trait now? Girl…

And porker is going on adventures again. Actually I don’t think they ever explained why Porker went back to being more adventurous in the og comic, participating in Chaos defeat and all. Not against it, and I like to see he still has a bit of bite and wasn't reduced to only a coward, tho it would’ve been cool to see at least a comment on how hes back on “adventuring”.

It’s cool to see Amy dealing with grief over Jhonny (I’ve given up trying to write his name correctly, too weird for me), but IDK. Amy probably was the best grounded character in that situation, so it feels weird to see her distressed over it? I don’t know how to explain it but in my eyes, Amy’s grief for Jhonny would definitively be more melancholic than scary/guilty. I’m glad they are trying to flesh out Amy more, but it doesn’t feel very cohesive with the comic to me. And Jhonny-zombie the killer… a bit tacky but in a funny way.

WHO…. Designed Vichama. I just want to talk. Tell me why you made him look that way. What is that. What went through your head. Dude. I get that Ebony has considerably more anthro body features than the other animal characters, but I feel like Vichama crosses the line into the “gross valley”. If he were drawn closer to how Zachary is I probably wouldn’t care, he probs would’ve looked like an Archie character. But the bulging muscles are kinda upsetting to look at. Cover up man.

So Shadow was created by some enemies of the echidnas. Noted.

Big and the Drakon prosecutor are actually really cute. I like them. Knuckles trying to break Ebony’s spell on Tikal is making me fume. HE WOULDN'T TRY TO DO THAT!!!!! He maybe would be a little desperate trying to trigger some memories but he wouldn't knowingly hurt someone to get information!!!! There is a pannel tho in this part of the comic that makes Knux ask “Where is Porker” and then “Where is the emeralds”. THAT is Knuckles to me, checking in on people before anything else.

Knuckles not being able to carry Big is bullshit. KNUCKLES PUNCHES ROCKS IN HALF LMAO. It’s fine I assume they need to be separated for a reason.

ROUGE STICK LEGS. Somebody please give my girl a double cheeseburger with extra fries and a big gulp of soda.

Actually I love that Rouge is a cunt here. Girlboss!!!! Stole this dudes emeralds AND left them to die, queen shit. Didn’t work but she did have the intent to kill them.

Big wouldn’t eat his friends….. He’d never eat Froggy, and DP (Drakon Prosecutor) even tho looks like a fish, Big considers a friend. BIG WOULDNT THINK ABOUT EATING HIS FRIENDS!!! HE IS A KIND BIG GUY!!!!!!!!!!!! ← most egregious mistake until now. Fucking funny tho can you imagine dying by vore They kept Mighty funny, that’s good.

MMMMN. I like that Sonic is consistently arachnophobic. Really nice continuity. How he first met Shadow tho… It felt underwhelming? Like yeah we know they were going to meet some time but IDK. The framing/pacing is weird to me. Either have them meet quickly at the start of the issue and Sonic is like “IDK WHO that guy is but I don’t like him!!!” or have them meet at the end of the issue, but only show Shadow in shadow (lol) to hook to the next issue. Shadow’s bland ass “I am Shadow” has the same energy as two kindergartners introducing themselves first day of school.

Shadow’s personality is interesting tho. I like him being a bit cocky but not too much, it’s a good take on him, plus he bounces off Sonic pretty well. I do wonder what the hell they’re going to do with him tho.

Awn… acknowledgment of some of the chaotix families… Blockhead Bill my dude

Tikal being given more of a spotlight is neat. It doesn’t give her much, but it’s refreshing to see her thoughts and intentions. However, I can’t help but think that she was mainly inserted to aid Knuckles and be a well of angst. Like IDK, Knuckles has moments mourning his past, or wondering if he will ever understand his ancestors, and Tikal well… She sees things rather than feel? If that makes sense? Like in this comic she is able to see a bit of the past and think “wow this is horrible! Must be a nightmare!” but she doesn’t feel despair? Or anything much? The only moment so far she felt despair was to make Knux Angst, like “ooooh shes suffering so we need to wipe her memories, that means Knuckles wont have his backstories :(“. Smells fishy.

Oh wow, Shadow has an actually interesting backstory here. It gives a reason to follow Robotnik, hate Sonic, not give a shit, aaaand its ambiguous enough you can probably pull off whatever. Fucking congrats STCO writers.

Fave image. What the fuck are they even doing here. Freaks.

Hm. No thoughts on Shadows maybe death. Thematically it’s interesting and all, but we don’t get enough time with him to give a shit. Unless I’m reading it wrong it seems like Shadow is sacrificing himself to save Robotnik, but IDK.

Grimer develops a situatioship depression.

2007 ANTI-ASIAN RACISM. BAD.

Bro what’s with this Knuckles characterization. He would NOT be mean to Tikal. If anything he’d probably be a bit overbearing, trying to give attention to her even if she didn’t want it. I get trying to tie him living his whole life alone being overwhelmed and feeling frustrated that Tikal can’t give him answers, but he wouldn't treat her like crap what is this. I like Porker’s and Knux bro moment, but that doesn’t make up for treating Tikal badly for no reason. Where’s her catharsis? She’s probably just as confused and desperate as Knuckles but she doesn't get any of these moments. Sigh. This idea could’ve definitely worked if Tikal was pushier or more imposing, but like she doesn’t do much, so Knuckles just snaps and it feels off. Knuckles’s stories are probably the issues with the biggest potential, but the writers for sure squander him the most, whomp whomp.

“One of Sonic’s fears is seeing Amy settle down with someone else” no it isn’t shut the fuck up. And the fact they put this on the same level of fear as Jhonny death is deranged.

The tonal whiplash between character comics is p funny honestly. You’ll have one really serious comic followed by a comedic one, lil bit of a mood killer. I guess STC also did this, but to me it at least wasn't jarring like this. Like how am I supposed to process Big getting shot, after Knux and Tikal experiencing the worst nightmare of their lives, living the trauma of seeing million of dead echidnas, after Vector put angel island as a security fund for his ship LMAO.

SONIC CHARACTERS HELPINH OUT THE POLICE SFAJHBJHBWRKJBJB??????!!!!!!!!????????????????????!!!!!!!!!????????11111111!!!!!!!111!!!!111!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I hate this actually.

These Shorty and Tekno comics…… I don’t know what it is about them but god. I just don’t like them! Firstly that now it seems they are a completely separated duo from the rest of the team. Like They don’t interact with Sonic or Amy or whatever. Secondly.. Shortfuse is TOO nice. It doesn’t feel like him where is his tantrums??? And this isn’t a diss on the artstyle itself, cause I think it looks pretty nice and cute, but I don’t think it’s really fitting for the characters? Tekno and Shorty look like they’re in a shoujo manga.

I really like how Sonic is now a loser LOL. He got canceled to hell and back.

Finally Rouge makes and appearance. Kinda only realized how little she showed up during the SA2 adaptation.

Grimer destroying Sonic’s reputation is actually kinda nice. I like that they acknowledge his Robotnik situationship depression, tho I think it’s a bit over the top have him be behind EVERYTHING. Still like it tho. Go gross boy go! (Also the art in this issue is REALLY solid, wow, Zak Simond-Hurn really is my favorite artist from the STCO group).

At some point I think I need to stop complaining about Knux’s characterization. But I Do Not Like How They Write My Boy. Doc Zach is still serving cunt so that’s great. Go grandpa go!

It’s kinda awesome to see how the issues expanded through STCO’s run, but I think having so many stories at the same time kinda makes stuff bloated. Like I’m sure I’ll forget some parts of this, even if they are short bits. Like do we really need to follow 2 sonic stories and 2 amy stories at the same time? I think it would’ve been better to pace this with a limit of 3-4 stories MAX per issue. And then once a character story is done, release the next story with the same character. Sonic and Knuckles are kinda always going to be there, having the biggest pull on the comic’s lore and story, so the other ones could cycle out between amy, tekno, shorty, tails, sonic’s world, chaotix, and so on. I haven’t read some of the other non-sonic stories like decap n attack, but those could be thrown in the cycle too!

Actually I love that DP is just hanging out in Big’s restaurant. It’s goofy I really love it.

I wonder how old Sonic’s gang is supposed to be here. Like in theory some years have passed in the comic, but how many. It’s not important at all but Amy is seen drinking wine with Chrysalis and it’s like?? Is she a kid?? Is she an adult?? Is she underage drinking? Again it’s not a big deal, and I don’t even think these characters need a specific age but IDK this was odd to me.

Oof the multiple stories at the same type problem came instantly. I like how Amy acknowledges the losses of the group, Sonic is “evil”, Jhonny is dead, Tekno is missing and stuff, Porker has PTSD and cant fight… But like. That feels so weird when you have a story right next to it with Amy and Tekno together!!! This is why the pacing and bloating feels whack, the comic has continuity with SOME of the stories but not all so its confusing. I know the OG comic had moments like these but because it had less stories per issue, it was way less noticeable, and usually were one-off stories I think.

And on the topic of Porker, I did mention before how he just kinda.. went back to being more adventurous? But know the comic insists that he can’t do it? Man this is kinda messy. I don’t mind Porker starting to become more adventurous again and then maybe regressing a bit in recovery, being too much for him, but it doesn’t feel like that is what it’s being intended here. It feels like someone read STC and maybe skimmed on STCO and then wrote this, so it feels out of place? Like you have porker in the first issue of STCO going on a mission no problems at all, but then on another issue he goes on a mission to blow up an eggman database or smth and hes freaking the fuck out being nervous all the time. Like which is it!!!!! I don’t mind him progressing and regressing on his trauma but at least acknowledge or be consistent with it! Is it because the underwater mission didn’t involve Robotnik? Is that it? Who knows.

I get that Knux and the crew planned to bait Zachary and shit, but like, then why did they act like that in the previous issue? Like the plan was to break the shield so why did Porker said to Knux be careful about it? Girl. This information is only given to bait and switch the audience and it doesn’t work. Porker and Knux have no reason to pretend to not have a plan when they are alone what.

Tails working with cops I’m going to kill myself.

Oh so like. The special zone is dead for real. Like for real FR. Jesus. Could’ve let the characters grieve a bit huh.

Really liked the #250 issue (Tho its funny that I complained about the number of stories per issue, and then #250 has ONE story LOL)! It’s awesome to see the different arts from the varied artists on the STCO team. And even with my complains and whining, it’s an impressive project full of love, good to see stuff like this!

TURBO TURBO TURBO MY BOY TURBO!!!!

The art on this issue is great but some of the flow of the dialogue is off, as in, sometimes I don’t know which speech bubble I’m supposed to read next, cause usually you go left to right, but it seems this story follows top to bottom for speech bubbles and left to right to panel. Not awful but it did throw me off, and it does fuck up the pacing.

um. hi shadow? ok.

(Only read until issue #250)

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

Hey, I'd love a matchup for Castlevania, if you're up for it (was not the person who wrote you those ask anons btw, although I appreciate them clearing things up).

I’m a heterosexual cis woman, although I’m starting to suspect I’m on the asexual spectrum. So, I'd prefer a male matchup. Also not super sure I'd be down with polygamy.

I'm a premed student (no time for irl dating unfortunately 😭). I also work as a volunteer EMS on weekends. Outside of my school and work my hobbies are singing (musical theatre and classical mostly), theatre (backstage work as well as performing), skiing (the only sport I’m any good at) and TTRPGs (was this close to getting my group to play a Castlevania campaign 😔).

I’m also a big nerd about history, American comics, and folklore. I’ll rant for hours about my special interests if nobody stops me. I’d describe myself as ambiverted. I'm socially awkward, but also very loud and expressive. I’m a bit oblivious, I’ll admit lol, but I do my best. My MBTI is ESTJ, and while I doubt MBTI's accuracy, I agree I’m very Type A. When it comes to the things I’m good at, I’m a major perfectionist, but I’m proud of how hard I work. I think my greatest weakness is probably thoughtlessness, but my greatest strength is humility.  My giving love language is acts of service, and my receiving love language is quality time. I'm verbally affectionate towards friends but I freeze like a deer in headlights if somebody flirts with me. Also: I know appearance isn’t super important, but I think it’s important to know I’m only around 5’0 tall. As my friends say, "headpat size."

A/N: Okay for you my PreMed Student Anon (that’s amazing, congratulations by the way!)I have two potential matches in mind. You said you’re heterosexual and would prefer male results, so I chose two from that gender because I honestly couldn’t decide which would please you best. For you, I’m thinking either Dracula or Alucard would be your perfect romantic matchups! (It really does just come down to which man you’d like better: father or son, lol.) 

Dracula (Vlad Tepes), as terrifying as he may be when he decides to enact justice on the human population, is a very reserved and intellectual man. He’s introverted and devoted much of his life to learning about anything and everything from medicine to history to poetry. 

In this instance let’s pretend he’s either never met Lisa or he did meet and fall in love with Lisa but she either lived a full life and died of natural causes, or Dracula was able to overcome the anger and blame he held for humanity following her murder.

Dracula is a patient man. Being immortal means he understands that you must dedicate much of your time to your studies and your volunteer work. So long as the few moments you do get to spend with him are uninterrupted and meaningful, I believe he’d be understanding, and even supportive of your academic endeavors. He was more than happy to aid Lisa in her quest to learn more about biology, so I have no doubt he’d do similarly for you. Any questions you have, he’d gladly answer them. Any resource he has in his castle, any book or scroll, any record of any kind is yours to inspect. He has no doubts that you’re going to make a very accomplished professional one day, and he has every intention of doing whatever it takes to help you get there.

Along with that patience comes an understanding that sex is not the end all be all in life. Sure, it has its place for either pleasure or reproduction but it doesn't need to dominate relationships. If sex is something you're hesitant about, or against having, it doesn't make much difference to him. Dracula would be fine without sleeping with you, so long as he can have you in other ways. Holding you close, holding your hand, sitting next to you in front of a warm fire- those things are what make him feel close to your heart. 

Dracula also enjoys how animated you get when you go on rants about your special interests. He’s very versed in history and folklore as well, although not American comics, so he would listen intently as you teach him all you know. 

As an ESTJ, you would be very grounding for him (an INTJ), while still having a great deal in common. The both of you value an intellectual connection in a relationship while your more empathetic, extroverted side would help push him to see the truth of humanity where he may previously have only seen things in shades of black and white. You both strive for the best, and that suits you just fine with your perfectionism, but do be warned, there may be times you don’t see eye to eye. What you hold as most important in an issue or debate may be different than what he holds. Remember to be patient. INTJs are prone to stubbornness, but being a Type A personality, I do not doubt that you’ll be able to handle any contrary moods of his just fine. 

Your thoughtlessness can also be a source of discourse within the relationship, as Dracula is bound to worry about you. You’re human, you're fragile and under so much pressure. He cares deeply for you and does not want to see you hurt. The one advantage you do have, however, is your humility. It keeps you from being both arrogant and thoughtless which is a much more dangerous combination. So long as you are aware enough of your limits, and keep your wits about you the best you can, Dracula promises to trust you enough to let you come and go as you need to, so long as you’re willing to admit when you need help. But with your best trait being your humility, that shouldn't be a problem. 

Dracula is so touched by your acts of service. Being such an ancient and scary vampire no one ever thought to make him tea or ask if he needed help with anything. He feels so fortunate to have a partner who does not see him solely as ‘Dracula’, Lord of Vampires, but as Vlad Tepes, a man at heart. 

Not to mention your size difference is too adorable for words. He’s so tall and you’re so tiny… He always kneels whenever you ask for a kiss, he’ll never ask you to step on a stool or climb a ladder to reach him. He’s more than happy to come to you. He loves you. You are his new light, his new reason to believe in humanity. 

Alucard (Adrian Tepes) could also be a good match for you! He’s an ambivert like you, although he may not admit it. He’s the son of a scholar and a doctor, so he’s very understanding when it comes to your education and career. And his empathetic nature makes him extremely compatible with your considerate one. 

As Alucard is a dhampir and immortal, this matchup could work in either medieval times or modern times. For the sake of this matchup, imagine whatever you might prefer. 

Alucard hasn’t always had the best experience when it comes to sex. Granted, you can’t judge every potential future experience based on one horrible one, but he’s not the kind of guy who jumps into bed easily. He has reservations and feels very insecure about the whole act. Should he ever engage in it, he’d need a partner who’s very understanding, or just as nervous as he is about the whole thing. In hindsight, I don’t think Alucard would mind not having all that much sex: for him, your continued company means more than any sexual endeavor could. 

Alucard is very impressed with your decision to go into pre med. He knows how much work that means you’re going to be undertaking, and he’ll do whatever he can to support you, either in your studies or in your personal life. He’s very well-read and rather educated on biology as his mother was a physician, so feel free to ask him any questions or have him quiz you before exams. He’s also a bit of an obsessive lover. When he decides he likes someone, he makes a point to memorize that person. (Recall the Trevor and Sypha dolls?) He wants to know what you think and why you think it. That way, he can anticipate your thoughts or needs. 

And he does quite enjoy it when you sing to him, especially if you sing him to sleep. Sleep hasn't always come easy to him, but with your presence and your lovely voice, it’s as if an angel is singing him a lullaby. I also believe Alucard would absolutely thrive playing TTRPG: he’s sarcastic, smart and strategic. I really think he’d dominate any campaign he set his mind to. Plus, it’d be great socialization for him besides you. 

As an ESTJ you’re fairly compatible with Alucard’s INFJ. You’re just extroverted enough to pull him out of his idealistic daydreams, but grounded and predictable enough not to shake his confidence or trust in you/your relationship. The only possible issue is that INFJs can sometimes get caught up in the fantastical destiny of it all: it’s about people and purpose. Whereas ESTJs tend to be a bit more practical- you value reality and stability a bit more than potential and daydreams. But I don’t envision this to be a huge problem, so long as you push communication with Alucard. He internalizes a lot. He’ll need to be reminded to share his inner feelings. So long as you do that, I don’t see any major discourse between you two. 

Alucard may be a little disappointed in your moments of thoughtlessness, but at the same time, he finds them endearing. You try so hard: you’re a perfectionist like he is, and even though you’re only human, you strive for the same greatness. It’s rather admirable. He likes that about you. 

Alucard would also be very touched by your acts of service, mainly because he often finds himself doing the service for others. It’s nice to be taken care of for a change. And he is very happy to spend quality time with you. He’d follow you everywhere if you let him. So long as he’s near you, he feels complete. He’s always leaning down to give you soft forehead kisses whenever you’re around. You’re so precious to him. 

[password-door-lock]

Saeran lingers outside your door for a moment before knocking as gently as he can. He's still getting used to the feeling of the leather gloves against his skin, but the rest of this disguise is easy for him. He's spent so much of his life pretending to be Ray that by now it almost feels natural to imitate that marshmallow. “Come in,” you call from inside the room, your voice soft and sweet. 

Already, you are falling for Saeran's ruse, hook, line, and sinker. All he needs to do is knock differently to convince you that he is no longer a threat, that your darling Ray has returned to comfort you. “Are you sure you even want to see me, after everything I’ve put you through?” He calls back, sounding as timid as possible. The look on your face when he finally pounces is going to make up for all of this groveling, Saeran assures himself. Then, you’ll be the one asking embarrassing questions and averting your gaze. 

“I always want to see you,” you reply, sounding almost cheerful. This is nothing out of the ordinary, of course— you’re usually energetic, even when Saeran is doing everything in his power to make your life hell.

Well, you're practically asking him to mess with you now, he decides, restraining himself from throwing the door open. Instead, he calmly turns the knob, allowing himself just enough space to slip between the door and the wall. “My MC,” he breathes, trying to sound pathetic. Judging by your expression, he's doing a phenomenal job. “My prince(ss). I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too,” you reply, still sounding painfully tranquil. You must be pretending to be strong to trick Ray into trusting you— well, to your credit, it worked the last time. This time, though, Saeran is going to show you what happens to weak people who try to act stronger than they are. “I was getting worried. I'm glad you came— I was just about to call and check on you.”

Ha! You would try calling Ray even after he disappeared. You're probably too much of an airhead to figure out that he wouldn’t be able to answer. Saeran needs to change the subject fast, before he bursts out laughing and ruins his scheme. This is really just too good, and he's barely even started. “MC…” he lets your name escape his lips as a breathy sigh, “Would you... could I please… well, could I have a kiss?” He widens his eyes as far as they'll go, letting his lips part in a pantomime of vulnerability— he's sure he looks as comical as he sounds, stumbling over one simple request, but you seem unperturbed. 

“Of course, honey.” You speak so casually as you hold out your arms for him, like this was exactly what you expected. Then again, of course you would expect Ray to fall for your strange tricks. “C'mere.”

“Sure,” Saeran breathes. It takes a lot of effort to keep imitating Ray's voice as he approaches you, pitching into your embrace. Unlike Ray, he's never done this before, but he must be doing a passable job, because you don't have anything to say about his strange behavior. Seriously, he’s not even trying that hard anymore, and you still can’t tell the difference between him and Ray? Pathetic.

You draw him into a hug, and Saeran inhales the breezy scent of your shampoo. He hates that smell, hates how weak it makes him, hates the way it mixes with your natural scent and expands to fill up the whole room. It takes all of his effort to keep from pushing you away, from punishing you for giving him these complicated feelings— you must be doing it on purpose. How could anybody's passive existence have anything resembling this effect on somebody as strong as Saeran? But it will all be worth it when he reveals himself.

You say you love Ray so much, but you don’t even notice when Saeran dresses in your lover's clothes. It will destroy you to realize that you unknowingly kissed the monster who waltzed into your bedroom wearing your prince's face. You'll prove once and for all that all you care about is that face, anyway— you're just like every other liar, making false promises that you do not intend to keep. Saeran is going to revel in ruining your plans, in the tears that you shed once he turns this game around. 

He expects you to pull away a little to kiss him on the lips— that was certainly what he hoped would happen when he made his initial request. Instead, you press your lips gently to the top of his head. “You don't have to act like Ray, you know,” you breathe, caressing his arm with affection that feels obvious, even through the ridiculous pink coat. “First of all, I can tell the difference, anyway, and more importantly, I never want to make you pretend to be anything you're not. You’re safe with me, Saeran. I hope you know that.” 

He pushes you away. Of course, he has to. Saeran can’t let you go around thinking that he liked being held in your arms— no matter what you say, he has a reputation to maintain. “What the hell are you doing?” He demands. It’s all he can think of to say.

Before you can tell him what he already knows— that you were only giving him what he asked for— Saeran darts across the room and slams the door behind him on his way out. He doesn’t need to hear your excuses, anyway. He’s too busy making up his own. 

[a-strange-server]

Strange Tales Of Halloween 2023

Hi everyone! In honor of the spookiest, weirdest, and dare we say, strangest month, we have created a prompt list for Doctor Stephen Strange for every day in October! Last year saw a hord of spooky, ghostly works created for the occasion. We are hoping this year will be as much fun!

This list is open to all forms of creativity. Fill as few or as many prompts as you would like in October and tag it with #strangehalloween2023 so we can reblog! You can also submit your work in the Strange Tales Of Halloween 2023 ao3 collection.

Full written list and the FAQ under the cut.

Strange Tales of Halloween 2023 Prompt List

1. “What was that? Is somebody there?” | Scales

2. “Wait, kids can trick o'treat here?” | Trapped

3. “Sometimes the world tries to end.” | Spirit

4. “Dormammu, I've come to bargain—“ | Alone

5. “There aren't many of us left.” | Cauldron

6. “I thought you were dead!” | Witch

7. “So what do you do for Halloween?” | Cursed

8. “Is that supposed to be a costume, or what?” | Cat

9. “Well, that's strange...” | Moon

10. “They’re not the traitor. I am.” | Mythological creature

11. “No, don’t tell me that.” | Dimensional breach

12. “Something’s happened to you.” | Shroud

13. “Stay with me.” | Nightmare

14. “Huh… that’s new.” | Future

15. “You what?!” | Celebration

16. “Crap. Imps!” “Imps? Crap.” | Ancient

17. “I know everything. That’s my curse.” | Fire & Ice

18. “I have seen a horror movie before.” | Tradition

19. “I know you!” | Cave

20. “Is that a bloody butterfly?” | Fever dream

21. “Strange... what have you done?!” | Scars

22. “The Cauldron of Cosmos is not a bowl for Halloween treats!” | Supernatural entities

23. “You’re a bad demon.” | Candy

24. “Oh, a meeting with the devil? Just when I thought I have a free afternoon... Fine.” | Baking

25. “No. Tell them to get Ghostbusters, or something.” | Pumpkin carving

26. “There was no other way.” | Horror movies

27. “You messed up the ritual.” | Trick or treat

28. “Nightmare has him.” | Will-o’-the-wisp

29. “Don’t be so superstitious.” | Bog

30. “Are you really afraid of a little black cat?” | Crown of thorns

31. “Donna... Is that really you?” | Tam Lin

◇◇◇◇◇

FAQ:

What must be included in the content of a filled prompt? Stephen Strange (any version of him: film, TV, or comics) must be either the main or co-main character. Otherwise, anything goes!

What must be included in the tags of Tumblr and Twitter posts? Please use the hashtag #strangehalloween2023 and the # of the prompt you're filling (i.e. #no6 and/or #witch). On Tumblr, please include additional tags for NSFW and common triggers (see AO3 for examples).

When can I post my prompt fill? In the spirit of the theme, these should be posted in October! We'd prefer if you post prompts the day of or after the day has passed. For example, prompt 10 fills can be posted on or after Oct 10, and preferably not before.

What medium can I use? Anything! Written prose, poetry, gifsets, mood boards, artwork, all is acceptable as a prompt fill. It's all about Stephen Strange in any form he comes in.

Can I combine Strange Tales of Halloween prompts into one submission (i.e. #1 "What was that? Is somebody there?" and #6 witch)? Sure! If you post it on social media, you can use both prompt tags to help us identify it as such.

There are two prompts per day. Do I have to do both? You can use the sentence prompts, the words prompt, or do a mix of them!

Can I use this prompt list with other prompt lists/bingo cards? Absolutely! Combine it with any other event you'd like to use it with.

Are there any limits to how many prompts I can use/have to use? Nope! Participate with one piece or 31 pieces! Do as much as you'd like--we'll love to see it!

Any other questions? Send an ask to @a-strange-server and we'll get back to you soon. We can't wait to start seeing what you come up with come October!