#Anyone showing stronger emotions than usual just makes me want to look at them and listen closely | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heliads · 4 months

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Hey, can I request something platonic with divergent. Something where reader was a dancer (I'm thinking ballet but it's up to you) before coming to dauntless so everyone underestimates her because they don't know how much strength it takes to dance. Feel free to ignore, I love your work.

'finding the moment' - divergent

masterlist

You’d think a faction that prides itself on taking any person and making them stronger than all others would know better than to underestimate somebody, but you’d be wrong. You’d think that the several years you’ve spent in Dauntless would be enough to wipe the glaring target clean from your back, but you’d be wrong again. You thought you knew what it took to stop the endless rumors about just how you got into this faction, but– well, by now it’s a pattern.

Everyone talks badly about the transfers. Everyone. All it takes to clear your name is one good fight in front of everyone or one great display of strength, and then even the most fervent of naysayers will shut up for good. That being said, apparently you’ve just got bad luck when it comes to finding that one moment, because no matter how many fights you win, it seems like the right crowd just isn’t watching.

You passed initiation with a far higher score than even you expected. You weren’t the top two, but definitely among the top five. It was more than a respectable showing, especially for a transfer. You picked a job you liked and showed your success with it. Dauntless is clearly changed for the better because you’re here, yet you still hear the whispers of rumors whenever you enter a crowded room. Everyone does something big to prove themselves. What’s your grand show going to be?

It’s starting to gnaw away at you, rust at a grand metal showcase. You have never failed your chosen faction. You’ve gone above and beyond at your job, but it seems like behind the scenes work isn’t the way to cut it when it comes to Dauntless popular approval. When two years have come and gone since you entered initiation and yet the tide still hasn’t turned in your favor, you decide to throw in the towel and go to the best source of advice regarding former transfers who managed to rally this bravehearted faction behind them, and that would be Four.

Although he’ll never admit it to anyone but a chosen few, Four isn’t exactly Dauntless born and bred, although you’d never guess it by looking at him. Four emanates cold, calculating judgment, always in control but quick to a punch when he needs to be. Yet behind him in a dusty and well-hidden past lies an upbringing not in Dauntless, but Abnegation of all the factions. Talk about a reversal of roles. Four wears Dauntless well, but he, too, had to go through the pain of being a transfer once, and if anyone can tell you how to hack it, it’s your friend.

Four knows what you want from the moment you find him. “I was wondering when you were going to start asking that sort of question,” he admits. A slight twitch of his lips is the only sign of a smile, swallowed up by his usual stony demeanor. No one can do a poker face like Four, although you’re secretly not sure if it’s due to supreme control over his emotions or perhaps just apathy at life surrounding him. A childhood in Abnegation would certainly do that to a guy.

You arch a brow. “So you were just keeping that information from me all this time? Way to be a good friend, Four.”

He coughs. It might be a laugh, but it can be hard to tell sometimes. “A true Dauntless would seek out information on their own. They wouldn’t need someone else to hold their hand and give them what they need all the time.”

You frown. “That sounds more like Erudite, really. You might be getting your factions confused.”

“I see why no one takes you seriously as a Dauntless,” Four deadpans. “Attitude.”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, Four, because you certainly don’t have an attitude. And neither does Eric. Or anyone else here.”

This time, you’re sure he grins. “You might have a point. Although Eric might not be the best example of Dauntless pride. He’s a transfer too, you know.”

Your jaw drops. “What? No way, he seems like he’s been here all his life. If you told me Eric Coulter just appeared one day out of the pit, I’d believe you.”

“It would make sense,” Four muses.

You shake your head, clearing your thoughts. “Jokes aside, I’m serious. How is it that both you and Eric were able to get rid of the transfer gossip so quickly?”

“We weren’t,” Four reveals. “We both had a bunch of public, bad fights in the ring before anyone started taking us seriously. That, and the fact that we were both in the top two initiation results. We had to have a moment where we proved to everyone that we deserved to be here.”

You groan. “I keep hearing about this moment thing. That’s not real, right? I’ve won plenty of fights here, but that doesn’t impact my reputation in the slightest.”

“Probably because they think you’re pulling your punches,” Four says. “Look, I didn’t lead your initiation when you went through training, so I don’t know for sure, but rumor has it, people don’t think you’re willing to go all the way. That’s why they accepted me as one of their own, you know. I got into a fight with a rival initiate, hurt him so badly he never dared to look at me again. That’s how they know you’re a real Dauntless. You have to give up fear completely.”

You whistle under your breath. “Dark stuff, Four.”

“It’s Dauntless,” he says. “What else did you expect?”

Truth be told, not much else. You love your chosen faction, even when its acceptance can be slow going, but it’s always been gritty, violent. Real. It’s what drew you here in the first place. You’re used to people lying to your face. In Dauntless, everything is fact or fiction, no gray areas. At last, everything makes sense.

You’re still mulling over Four’s words the next day, trying to wrap your head around just how you can eliminate fear completely from your person. This proverbial moment of Dauntless infamy is far harder to come by than anyone seems to suggest, and it’s starting to drive you mad.

Tired of seeing you tired, your friends drag you out for a training session one night. In true Dauntless fashion, nothing lifts your spirits like a round or two in the ring. After another thrilling victory, one of your friends laughs disbelievingly as she pulls herself up.

“I don’t get it,” she says, brushing herself off. “You always move so easily. How do you keep your balance that well?”

You grin. “I used to dance before I came here. It was great for coordination.”

Your friend nods along, and starts to say something about how she could see that when she’s suddenly interrupted by a voice a few feet away. “You did dance? I can’t believe it.”

You frown, glancing towards the source of the trouble. It’s a young man about your age, he went through initiation a year or so after you did. “What did you say?”

The man scoffs again. “If I were you, I’d never admit to something like that. Dance. Might as well transfer to Amity. It’s probably a better fit for you anyway.”

He starts to turn around, but he stops dead in his tracks when you call after him. “You want to try that again? Don’t talk to me like that.”

He casts you a disbelieving glance. “I’ll say whatever I want.”

“Then you’d better transfer to Candor,” you tell him icily. “Or, better yet, how about you meet me in the ring?” When he hesitates, you laugh. “What, are you scared? I thought you were so much better than me just because I did dance.”

That does it, and the man crosses the floor to join you in the ring. Your raised voice has started to draw a crowd, but you couldn’t care less about the other people there. The only thing that matters is making sure you get this guy to the ground before he can draw another breath to put you down. He’s substantially taller than you, and his arms are well muscled, but he’s underestimated you, and nothing– nothing– makes you as furious as that.

See, there’s one thing nobody here realizes about dance, because none of them have done it, and that is the incredible strength it takes to pull off even the most basic of maneuvers. You have exquisite balance, fantastic timing, and your legs and core are stronger than many people here.

So, although it comes as no surprise to you when your opponent is toppled and swiftly pinned in a matter of minutes, the ripple of shock that surges through the training hall echoes all the way up to the high ceilings. You stand over the felled man, looking down on him coldly. “Don’t ever try to belittle me again,” you inform him. “Also, you might want to look into some dance lessons. Might help you stop being so weak.”

With that, you jump down from the ring. A crowd has formed, but they part to give you space wherever you walk. For once, though, the faces aren’t judgmental but awestruck. On every expression here, you see something new: grudging, genuine respect.

It occurs to you at last, when you look back at all the people who’ve seen you win, that this was it, this was your moment. You’ve proven yourself. At last, you’re one of the Dauntless, and everyone knows it, too. This is victory, and it is yours.

divergent tag list: @blondsauduun, @with-inked-solace, @gods-fools-heroes, @23victoria, @manyfandomsfanvergent, @imwaysthelastchoice, @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed, @crazyhearttragedy, @alex-1967s-blog, @aoi-targaryen

all tags list: @wordsarelife

#divergent #divergent imagines #divergent oneshot #divergent fanfic #dauntless #dauntless imagines #dauntless oneshot #dauntless fanfic #four #four oneshot #tobias eaton #tobias eaton oneshot

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tastybluesprite · 7 months

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Chaos (Blue Lock)

Two fics in one day! Hooray! Hope it’s good!

Warnings. This is a tickle fic so if that’s not your thing keep scrolling.

Summery: Bachira reigns his chaos on Isagi once again

When Isagi was picked to join Rins team, he thought things would be less chaotic and only more tense.

“Isagiii!!!!”

However he had forgotten that Bachira was also with them.

Isagi braced himself, as he watched Bachira run and tackle him to his bed in the second selection dorm room.

“B-Bachira!” He gasped, slightly winded as the bob cut haired boy pinned down.

“Sorry Isagi, I’ve just really missed being able to do this to my partner in soccer crime!”

And with that, he began digging his fingers into his ribs, making Isagi burst into cackles. He couldn’t believe Bachira for doing this, and in front of the top three at that!

“BahAHAhAhahachiHIHiHihihrahaha!!! NoHOhOhoHo!!!”

“Awww but why? Are you embarrassed of being tickled in front of them???” He teased with a wide mischievous grin, referring to the other three team members.

“Your laughter is, adorably, quite glam Isagi.” Aryu commented.

Isagi only blushed harder upon hearing that. He was certainly not adorable nor was he glam!

Not even when Bachira went for his lower ribs.

“AHAHAHA NOHOHOHO BAHAHACHIRAHAHA!!!” He gripped onto his attackers wrists, desperately trying to pry him off. His face was flushed red and he was kicking his feet around wildly behind Bachira.

Soon the next interjection came from Rin Itoshi.

“Can you guys please keep it down.” He said with annoyance in his voice. Not even as a question, but more as a statement.

Bachira finally stopped and looked behind at Rin with a smile. “Hm? Are you jealous Rin?”

Rin growled in anger “Of course not you weirdo!”

Bachira smiled only wider. “Then, judging by your embarrassed expression on your face, would I be correct in assuming that you’re ticklish too?”

Isagi almost laughed again at such a statement. Then he looked up, and he saw clearly, a pink color that tinted his cheeks.

“N-no! You’re just being loud and annoying, so please shut up!”

Bachira could read people quite well. He could tell when someone was lying, or trying to trick him.

“My monster says your lying Rin Itoshi…”

Before anyone could do or say anything, the bumble bee hair had jumped off from Isagi (accidentally kicking him in the stomach in the process), and went right for the youngest soccer prodigy.

Rin probably could’ve fended off against him, given that he was bigger and stronger than Bachira was. However with Bachira being way faster, as well as the sudden attack taking him by surprise, it left him entirely unprepared to suddenly get slammed to the floor on his back.

Bachira had him straddled and pinned down before his brain finally caught up to what had happened.

“So Rin. Are you sure you aren’t lying to me? If you tell the truth I promise to go easy on you.”

Rin glared, his pride clouding the view of his own position here. “Is that a threat.”

Bachira just smiled at him, and began digging into his sides.

Rins eyes widened at the sudden sensation lighting up his nerves. Nonetheless, he kept his mouth sealed shut. He refused to laugh. To show any sort of emotion that would make him appear weak. Rin Itoshi was not weak!

“Awww Cmon Rin! Don’t hold it in!” Bachira teased. “Hey Isagi!” He then called to the raven haired boy. “Wanna help me?”

Isagi had to admit it was tempting. Who wouldn’t want to see a usually stoic and grumpy person finally laugh and smile for once?

He decided, screw it, and threw himself right into the chaos. He grabbed Rins arms and pinned them above his head with one hand, while the other hand went to work fluttering at his neck.

Rins mouth quivered upward, and suddenly, it was like watching a dam burst.

“N-nahahaha screhehew yohohohu guhuhuhuys!!!!”

They were both pretty shocked. This was laughter unlike what they expect. While Isagi was prepared for rough and low laughter, he heard light and higher pitched laughter. It almost sounded childlike!

“Wow Rin. Your laugh is so nice!” Isagi said with a grin.

“Shuhuhuhut uhuhup!!!” Rin cried through his laughter. He was squirming around and kicking his feet, but nothing he did helped him escape.

When Bachira suddenly got his ribs, that all increased by about a hundred.

“NOHOHOHOHO GUHUHUYS PLEHEHEHAHASE!!! DOHOHOHONT!!”

“Uh oh~ looks like we have another person here with extra ticklish ribs!” Bachira grinned, winking at Isagi (which made Isagi blush a bit).

Soon it looked like Rin was going to explode, and Bachira let him go, followed by Isagi.

Rin didn’t say anything as he managed to catch his breath.

They watched as he slowly got up.

“You guys are sohoho dead for that…” Rin began. “Starting with you.” He told Isagi.

Isagi yelped with a squeak. “W-wa- me?!”

Rins eyes narrowed. “Run.”

Wether it was more personal hatred towards him that made Rin go for Isagi first, he didn’t know. Mainly because he was too busy trying to escape him. Boy was he in a lot of trouble.

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railroad-migraine · 1 year

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Hey Poet! <3 First, thanks bunches for all that you do, your writing never fails to make me smile! If it's alright, may I please request Molly, Essek, Yasha and Caleb with a socially anxious F!teammate/friend or crush who's a half-dwarf? She usually passes for a short human, but her dwarven heritage shows in her body being hairier and a bit more thicc than the average human female, which makes her very self-conscious. Thank you and have a lovely day <3

Okay but first, you're adorable. And second, I never expected to have a request like this but I'm so so glad you sent it in. You're lovely, honey. Thank you x

~ Poet

Reassuring Fem!Reader about body hair

Caleb 💜

To be honest, as perceptive as he is, it's not something Caleb ever really regarded as something to be noted or commented on. Your hair is just another part of you, another piece of your body for him to admire - it's no different to how he loves your hands, your eyes, your smile... Cough not that he's ready to admit that he loves you yet tho cough

He's always looking out for you and can just sense when you're having a bad day. He gets them too. The perfect person to talk to about anxieties or insecurities with because he can share his own experiences with you. Together, you work to fight against the niggling voices in the back of your heads and grow stronger and accept this is who you are, and that's good.

He makes more of an effort to try convey how he feels for you. His pinky shyly links with your own and he mutters something about how nice you look today, how confidence suits you. You know he means it.

Molly 💜

Molly has never really been one to judge someone on their appearances, and you better believe he's not gonna start now. You are lovely. You are strong. You are healthy. You are so very normal (in a extraordinary way). You're hot, stop doubting yourself sm <3

King of reassurance and looking after you on days where you're less confident or more self conscious. Treats you like royalty, recommends and drags you to a spa day to treat yourself and ease your worries, make you feel pretty and comfortable in your skin.

Beauty standards and trends come and go. Your body, and the hair that comes with it, is yours for life. He wants you to learn to love it. If you let him, he sits you in front a mirror at a vanity and points out every single thing about your appearance that makes you special and beautiful and handsome. He kisses your cheek, and asks quietly for you to see yourself just as he does.

Yasha 💜

Yasha thinks you're the cutest thing. She's quite tall, and since you're smol in comparison, it's a huge win for her. Lifts you up like you weigh nothing, more than happy to hold you on her hip or on her shoulders. Likes how the sunshine catches on your hair and skin because you practically glow.

Is kinda hairy herself and stops shaving her arms when you confide in her. She never really had a preference to having or not having hair - it was more of a habit than anything else. She wants you to know that it's completely human to be as you are, and you don't have to change for anyone. Change because you want to, not because you feel like you have to.

She thinks that no one should feel like they have to conform to societal pressures and such. It can be hard, especially in the beginning, but she's with you every step of the way to give encouragement and reassurance when you need it. Beauty comes in many shapes and sizes, and you're no exception (°^°)

Essek 💜

Also enjoys the height difference. He's not super tall himself, but the levitation helps give the illusion that he is. Presses sweet lil kisses to your forehead when you least expect it only to see you flustered and smiley.

Hot boi finds it hard to grow hair anywhere other than the top of his head, so he actually likes the contrast between you two 🥺 You're soft and warm and he just holds you happily. There are qualities he seeks in potential partners, such as intelligence and emotional maturity and kindness. You have all of those. He likes the the shadows and the stubble and fuzz (no matter how thick) and everything that comes with you because it's you.

He also thinks it's nice that you physically show your dwarven heritage! He wants you to be happy and proud of your people, your background and where you've come from - it's just a reminder of how much he loves every single inch of you. Life is too short not to love your body, fluff and all xx

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mia-tiny · 2 years

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『 Yunho & Make Up Sex 』 | KTB ‘22

⇒ pairing: j. yunho x fem!reader

⇒ smut, unhealthy relationship, controlling yunho, unprotected sex (a big no no), fingering, slight choking, mentions of drinking, slightly yandere

⇒ word count: 1025

💕 view my masterlist here

🖤 view my Kinktober ‘22 masterlist here

⇒ author’s note: I mean this prompt was supposed to be more fluffy but damn did I get carried away and it ended up kinda yandere

'*•.¸♡ ALSO I finally decided to turn tips on in case anyone would like to support their local unemployed simp who spends more time writing than looking for jobs ♡¸.•*'

You are lounging on the couch and scrolling through your phone when the sound of the front door opening and closing signifies that your boyfriend has finally come home from working overtime. The sound of some stumbling and clanging causes you to curiously walk to the entryway only to find Yunho clearly intoxicated. He is struggling to take his shoes off as he bumps into walls and nearly falls over.

Anger quickly ignites in your chest as his drowsy eyes meet yours and it is undeniable that he has broken his promise to you once again. Instead of working overtime like he claimed, he has again gone out, gotten drunk, and possibly done all kinds of things you don’t want to think about. After all, there isn’t much you’d put past him.

“Y/N, wait!” he calls out as you simply turn on your heel and march back to your bedroom, slamming the door closed behind you and curling up in a frustrated ball on the bed. You can hear his clumsy footsteps following after you and it only takes a minute or so before he is sitting next to you.

“I’m sorry, baby. I know what I promised but it’s just this one exception because…”

His monologue of recycled excuses drones on as he once again begins to squirm his way out of trouble and keep you in his grasp. As he speaks, he begins wrapping his arms around you to pull you into his chest, but you instantly shove him away in anger. He is finally silent and you meet his surprised eyes.

“I’ve had enough,” you choke out as you suppress the tears stinging at the corners of your eyes.

You swiftly get off the bed, wanting to escape him, but he firmly grasps your wrist and pulls your back against his chest. His large hands now snake around your torso and you grab them in an attempt to remove him, but he is far stronger than you and has no trouble resisting your efforts. He lays tender kisses along your neck and one hand travels up to gently grope your tits.

“Baby,” he purrs seductively right next to your ear, your tears finally beginning to spill as you feel yourself caving under his touch. “This is the last time, honestly. Please don’t be mad at me.”

His right hand gives a gentle pinch to your nipple as his left sinks into the waistband of your pants and starts rubbing firm circles on your clit. You can’t help the moan that escapes your mouth. You want nothing more than to tell him off and make him realize his wrongs, but the feeling of his lips against your skin has you feeling dizzy.

“Yunho,” you whimper with mixed emotions, not even entirely sure what you’re asking of him at this point.

“Shh, baby,” he coos as he slips two of his long, thick fingers into your already wet hole. “Let me show you how much I love you.”

Your knees get weak as he presses against the perfect spot inside you and picks up pace exponentially. You want to yell at him, kick him out, make him grovel. You want to do anything other than give in to his touch as usual, but a moan falls subconsciously from your mouth and he knows he’s in the clear yet again. He knows he can always use your body against you in order to keep you under his control.

He lets you bask in the pleasure momentarily before removing his hand and holding you close to him. Laying sloppy kisses on your neck, he moves you towards the wardrobe and bends you over the top. The angle of your body is awkward and the feelings in your heart are conflicted, but Yunho can only think about fucking you so hard you forget your own name.

He pulls your pants and underwear down enough to expose your desperate pussy and it takes only moments before he is shoving his entire length inside of you. You yelp in surprise at the sudden intrusion, but Yunho just groans from behind you as he revels in the feeling of your tight hole fluttering around him.

“I love you so much,” he states sweetly before immediately gripping your hips and beginning to pound into you mercilessly.

Pathetic whimpers fall from your lips as you tightly grip the wardrobe that bangs on the wall with every thrust. The lewd sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the room and you can’t even remember what you’re supposed to be mad about. The only thing you can think of is Yunho, which is just how he wants it.

“Yunho, please,” you beg, your climax building quickly from his constant assault on your g-spot. He fucks you with a passionate fervor that only shows up on nights like this. In fact, you have become convinced that sex can be a love language only after meeting him.

Yunho’s hand snakes down around your neck and pulls you back so you are against his chest again. He only slightly squeezes along the sides so that your head feels fuzzy while his other hand sneaks down to rub hasty circles on your clit.

“Say you love me,” he commands as he pushes you towards your high.

You want to do as he says, but you are unable to choke the words out as the pleasure paralyzes your mind.

“Say it, Y/N.”

His voice is practically a growl at this point and you comply just as your orgasm hits at full force. He stops his thrusts as he feels your walls constricting mercilessly around his cock, not wanting to cum just yet. He can go for hours on nights like these and absolutely intends to.

All night, he doesn’t stop showering you in pleasure until you’re crying on his cock from how overstimulated you are and begging him to cum so you can rest. When he wakes up in the morning with you in his arms, he smiles to himself as he has once again proven how wrapped around his finger you are.

Just as you should be.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Taglist: @minkysmilk @annaflwrs @han8ul

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mlem-mlem · 2 years

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DP X DC AU idea

First of all, I've ingested very little actual DC media that isn't fan made (& usually crossovers) so if I get anything wrong let me know please.

~~~

Danny's secret is revealed. His parents don't take it great and get in contact with the GIW for help to 'get their son back.' The GIW take him and, like most ideas like this he's tortured and experimented on. He somehow escapes, they let their guard down when he stopped trying to resist the vivisection.

He can't go home. It's not safe there anymore. So he goes to Gotham. One(1) weird kid in a weird city isn't going to stand out right?

An idea I had was that, when they took him, the GIW erased all traces of his existence. Legally, he never existed. The people he knew might remember him but that's all. Of course Sam Tucker and Jazz are looking for him but they aren't really getting anywhere. The ghosts are looking too. He might not have officially been crowned their king, but he's directly in line for the throne and they want him back. As much as they fight, they don't really want him gone.

There's something wrong with his powers though. He's still a halfa, an Gotham has enough death and destruction that finding ectoplasm makes it pretty easy survive, (A headcanon of mine is that he can turn ectoplasam into nutrients so he doesn't need to eat as long as he has enough ectoplasam) but he can't go ghost or use most of his powers. He can do the basics like go intangible/invisible but that's it.

The cause? Selfishness.

With his obsession being protection (with a secondary space obsession ofc) he becomes weak if he doesn't keep up with his obsession. Being trapped so long has kept him from helping anyone so he's too weak to do much.

He has to lay low now too, so there might be obvious chances for him to help people but he can't take them. (Maybe that makes it even worse?) He does what he can as a human though. Whenever his current alley area is getting destroyed he help people evacuate before getting himself out. (Being dissected multiple times makes it easy to realize that he can't really die anymore) this way he's been slowly collected 'karma points' by helping people so he's stronger now. He an creat small ecto blasts with the ectoplasam and create a small amount of ice, but he still can't transform or use his stronger powers (he's been a halfa for a few years now, having eventually been convinced to actually train more than just his duplications abilities)

On one of his many helping trips he gets injured (he might not be able to die but he can still get hurt obviously) Jason (as red hood) find him due to some halfa/revived/ectoplasam shenanigans and is like 'oh shit that's the kid thar keeps escaping Bruce's radar holy shit,' and helps him in a mix of, 'hah take thaft, bruce, I found the kid before you,' and 'oh shit this kid is bleeding out! Wait why is his blood mixed with Lazarus pit goo?' And decides to take him back to one of his safe houses to recover.

Danny wakes up and promptly starts panicking. 'Has he been kidnapped? Where the hell is he?' Then Jason shows up and he's like 'oh shit another halfa? What the hell is wrong with his core tho?'

Shenanigans inuse, eventually Jason and Danny talk it out. They've both got a weird trust as living ghost creatures (which Danny understands and Jason does Not) but anyway they both explain their identities to eachother and agree to help eachother out.

Even if he's weakened, Danny's ghost royalty status seems to calm the pit when he's around so Jason is having a field day with that.

Anyway, Danny agrees to help Jason control his anger and eventually get the contaminated ectoplasam delt with and control ghost powers if they show up. (he eventually gets basic inangeblilty/invisibility and actoplasam blasts along with the white part of his hair getting bigger and his eyes do the glowy thing with all strong emotions not just anger, but doesn't go full ghost)

In return Jason helps Danny help people more so he can recover faster, as well as help him avoid batman as much as possible.

Time passes and Danny slowly gets his abilities back. He still can't transform which isn't really a problem since he's trying to hide, but his other abilities are back, along with the ability to make portals to the ghost zone which he didn't have before.

He visits the zone as soon as he realizes he can and calms down the ghosts looking for him there along with sending a message via ghosts to Sam, Tucker & Jazz to let them know he's safe. (They don't know where he us just that he's safe) He finally agreeing to except the crown. He can't officially become king yet since he can't go ghost but he does so unofficially, starting to form connections with the others, along with starting to clean of the zone. (It is a Mess, with no one really taking care of it for hundred of years it's pretty much completely fallen apart so that has to be dealt with emmediatly)

He drags Jason to the far frozen as soon as possible, where he gets the ghost equivalent of therapy and hot tubs. (which Danny has a pitty party over not knowing exists until now) Danny spend a lot of time going back and forth between the zone and living world helping people on both sides. Still can't transform though which is actually starting to cause problems in the zone.

Somehow Bruce finds out that Jason has become friends with the kid he's been looking for and kind of throws an adult tantrum which consists of threatening Jason, who is Not Taking His Shit, and fucks off to the ghost zone for a mini vacation.

Danny agrees to meet Batman (he knows his and the other kids identites now from following Jason around*) and the rest of the league because he's running out of excuses to visit to living world and 'Forming Conections With Heros' is his last option.

* -Bruce panics when he discovers he'd been followed regularly without noticing, until he is assured that no one would have been able to find Danny anyway since he was intangible, invisible and flying (hc that Danny looses all warmth his body after the tortures and is both constantly cold and invisible to heat vision)-

Danny meets the league and things go about has well as you expect. (He only agrees to go if Jason is there too) they bring him to the space headquarters both as a mix of 'resect' and because that way they can trap him if he tries to escape. (He can phase through the glass and float back to earth but they don't know that)

His space obsession Acts up pretty much as soon as he gets there, and he floats off to investigate before they could even start to talk. Jason just shrugs and leaves the league to their confusion. He find Danny back at his apartment apologing a few hours later.

They meet with the league again. This time on earth so Danny doesn't leave again. They have a somewhat civil conversation (batman is still pissed but the other like Danny so there's nothing much he can do) until someone asks in Danny could perhaps be a batman/other bat-child clone (black hair blue eyes mysterious vibes) Danny promises he's not and they believe him and move on with the conversation, but not before Superman does the equivalent of 'thank God, you wouldn't want a clone anyway.'

Jason explains to Danny that Superman has a clone and insinuates that they don't get along, so he can get more drama. (and throw a clone hater under the bus(jayroy?)) Danny snaps, and pretty much just chews Supeman out for abandoning the equivalent of his own child (Batman is trying to use 'Has a clone' to figure out who Danny is but he still can't find anything) and decides Superman in his least favorite superhero. (batman is close second and his favorite is either greenlantern or wonder woman)

Jason is off on a mission somewhere and Dick drops by because he heard through the grapevine (Bruce has been too busy trying to find some kid that looks like a potential adoptee) Jason has been better lately and wants to check on him. Instead he comes across someone who looks identical to pre-death Jason sitting on Jason's couch eating ice cream and has a Mental Breakdown. ('IS THIS WHAT PEOPLE WENT BY BETTER??? WHAT THE FUCK???')

Danny is like 'who is this man that came through the window and then promptly started crying?' But helps him calm down enough for them to talk before Danny calls Jason who just tells him to just kick Dick out.

Danny Doesn't Do That. Instead he tells Dick everything and makes him promise not to tell Bruce. Dick agrees because, 'wtf Bruce? You don't meet a kid that looks like your previously-dead-son that's friends with said previously-dead-son and Not tell your other children.'

Things go on. Until one day something shows up (power hungry ghost? Doesn't have to be DP related) that the league can't seem to beat. Things are getting desperate and Jason gets severely injured and is about to be killed and all Danny's attempts to keep himself hidden go out the window taking his 'selfishness' with them (cause of course he would consider protecting himself selfish) and he just thinks he purely wants to save his friend.

He goes ghost for the first time in what is probably nearly a year now and pretty much speed runs the process. Becomes king, gets all his powers back with a boost and summons every ghost available (a lot of them have gotten quite attached to Jason the ghost-human (he's not exactly a halfa) and willingly comes to help in a matter of seconds and just tears whatever was threatening his friend (and the world) apart.

The ghosts mostly just congratulate Danny one his Official King status and let themselves be set back (some resist but Danny sends them back pretty easily) he sends Jason too to get healed up in the far frozen and them follows after quickly when he realized that the hero league and their associates are just staring at him with surprised pikachu faces. (Exepted for Constantine who congratulated Danny in an attempt to stay on The Ghost King's good side then fucked off as quickly as possible)

He goes back eventually and thing progress as chaoticly as you expect.

BONUS POINTS IF:

- Bruce is the Last one to find out Danny's real identity and nearly busts a vain (instead he just doesn't talk to Anyone for a week straight. Everyone involved has a great week)

- Danny gets close to the other bat children and starts considering them his sibling, but not Bruce his father so it's just, 'they are sibling, but you are Not The Father.' Everyone other than Bruce finds it hilarious.

- Danny forces Superan to start parenting (or at least being civil) and Connor is confused but the ghost kid seems fine so he doesn't really mind.

- When Dani eventually shows up, her and Connor become best friends

- Bruce is immediately pressured into getting every single ghost law removed, and Danny's parents are arrested for child endangerment. It doesn't bother him much, they aren't really his family anymore.

- Bruce officially adopts Dani and Jazz, but not Danny. Both because he doesn't technically exist, (an easy fix but Danny is too busy with ghost work to really want to deal with human life heis getting his education in the Zone anyway) and because messing with Bruce has become his favorite pass time

-Alfred let's Danny and Jazz into the kitchen. (much to everyone's astonishment and Bruce's annoyance) Having to get by with their parent's (often living) food has made them both food cooks. Jazz doesn't use her privileges very much she doesn't even live in the Mansion since she's at college, (an will eventually intern at Arkham Asylum) but Danny does a lot. Despite not needing to eat he considers cooking very calming and does it quite often.

- Danny Doesn't tell anyone (other than eventually Alfred) he plans to take over Alfred's job when he eventually passes, on the conditions that he will not do so until Bruce is no longer around, (its Mostly a joke) and, if Alfred becomes a ghost (he does) he joins Danny at his palace in the ghost zone. (This offer is given to everyone and their decendents/spouses other than Bruce who is told he will be given an island to brood in peace (again. A partial joke. Danny dosnt actually hate he just doesn’t particularly like him), although he is welcome to visit)

- When Jazz eventually starts working at Arkham Asylum Danny joins her often to make sure she's safe. He also enjoys watching the patients become utterly confused about a doctor that actually wants to help, as well as knowing what ghosts to entually watch out for.

- Danny's first proper decree as king in the Joker's death and End to prevent any further unessiary deaths. as it's legal by ghost law decree batman has no saw in the matter and is forced to except it.

- Everlasting trio. Either romantic or as a QPR, it doesn't matter. Just. Everlasting Trio.

#dp x hp #dp x dc prompt #dp x dc crossover #ao3 #danny phantom

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onlycosmere · 2 years

Text

"Sneaky Brandon! But good writing! (No spoilers)"

ForceForFiction:

My sister just made an observation which I thought was pretty insightful.

You know how in writing classes, you're told to use adverbs as little as possible? Show, don't tell and all that. Like, rather than "He stared angrily at her" it should be "He glared at her, lip curling". Well, it's pretty hard to do that every time. But Brandon ingeniously solves this problem with spren! "He glared at her, pools of angerspren boiling at his feet". "She gazed at him lovingly" becomes "She gazed at him, awespren bursting around her". Spren become your adverbs.

Clever move, Brandon!

Brandon Sanderson: Robert Jordan also had a clever way of getting around this by having Perrin smell emotions on people. Once I became a writer, I found myself admiring how this managed to both make the writing more efficient and characterize Perrin and his magical abilities at the same time. It's one of the things that led to the creation of the spren, wanting something similar to be able to play with as a writer.

For those in the crowd wondering why adverbs are usually taught this way, the reasoning is about specificity and preferring stronger verbs over weaker ones"He stared angrily at her" is less memorable, as the weak word use tends to hit less powerfully, and the image tends to be less specific. You can often find a stronger verb instead of an adverb, or cut the adverb and use context/italics/punctuation to convey the same feeling.

Concrete, specific language tends to pull people into stories. Creating an image of someone's lip curling is going to just stand out more, and will be more likely to create the same image in every reader's head--rather than letting them all to have to take the extra steps to imagine what "stared angrily" looks like in their mind. (Though concrete language often uses more words, which is a trade-off, so there are reasons to choose the other way. Rowling, for example, tends to prefer to break these rules--and that's part of her style, and it works in her stories.)

Anyway, sorry. Professor mode engaged for a moment there. Tell your sister she's right--and if you were to compare first drafts and last drafts of Stormlight books, you'll find me often removing weaker language during revisions to use a spren image instead.

Griz_and_Timbers: This is great info, I love professor mode. But does anyone else feel awkward for a second when mistborn comments in thread, like we just got caught talking about someone at a party when he was standing right behind us the whole time?

Brandon Sanderson: "He's standing right behind me, isn't he?"

In a more serious tone, this is why I generally don't comment on /r/fantasy or /r/books or the like that often these days, particularly in threads about my work. The author being involved greatly changes the dynamic, in ways that I don't always think is fair to the conversation.

All bets are off on /r/Stormlight_Archive, though. You can't hide from me here!

Griz_and_Timbers: Lol,

Nah it's great to have you give us these insights! And thanks for not being shy in here, the internet is a cool place sometimes.

#the stormlight archive #the way of kings #cosmere #brandon sanderson #branderson #cfsbf #root #wob #long post

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tsintotwo · 1 year

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[POV: You were born a Dream vortex, and Lord Morpheus has been watching you all your life. Though at this point, he’s doing much more than just watching you... Part 4. Part 3 here

(Oh, gosh. Hot and sweet and turbulent, I loved writing this. Still hoping to wrap this up within the next part. Let’s see...)]

I am nineteen today, and I have my own palace.

I ponder this before the Chief Architect of the Kingdom (we do have one, after all) arrives, responding to my summons.

‘You don’t have to do much.’, I tell him, gesturing around. ‘As you see, the room is already here. Only, it is in poor condition, so rework this. Make it look new, decorate it as elegantly and comfortably as possible. This is to be my bedchamber.’

‘This, my la- Your Highness?’, He is seeing me for the first time, and can’t take his eyes off my face. I don’t wear head or face coverings for men anymore except in my throne room, and I only do it then for the comfort of my people. So, unusual sight for him, I am sure. ‘The Queen’s bedchamber at the foot of a tower?’

Right next to this is the circular anteroom where the spiraling staircase to the top of the tower starts.

‘Yes. And after this, I’m going to show you the tower top. That too you will fix for me. Make it nice. Fit for a Queen to go up sometimes.’

‘But towers are not made for Queens! They are made for soldiers, and Heaven forbid if ever there is a war, soldiers will have to be passing through your anteroom! This is highly unusual-‘

‘I am unusual.’, I interrupt him, ‘And if there is a war in my kingdom and my soldiers are fighting, rest assured you will not find me asleep in my bed.’

I never went back to the dead King’s bedchamber after I took over the palace. I would demolish it to the ground if I could. Instead, I locked it, and have been sleeping in a smaller bedroom nearby ever since. But maybe it is finally time to believe I have survived, and to lay claims to my own place.

This much I will do on the occasion of my birth anniversary, and no more. There will be no land-wide celebration, no feasts at the palace with more food than anyone could ever eat, and enough alcohol to bathe a village. That is how it is usually done, but I would rather not waste money on something that I see as mostly frivolous. And no one here knows my birth date anyway.

I think of my own family, my father and brother, and a sigh escapes from deep within me. Surely, they had news of my imprisonment, my rebellion, and my eventual queendom. Yet not a single word from them, in all this time. They have shunned their dark daughter, dark sister like one would kick away a barking dog. No gifts or good wishes will be arriving for me from that kingdom today.

I knew this, and I should not be still hoping for love from them, but I can’t shake the sadness that wraps around me, and I have a bad day. But then, I have a much, much worse night.

Except for my visits to the heart of the Dream realm, I stopped dreaming- on purpose. The vortex self of me is stronger as I get older, and when among unknown dream elements, I feel it could get away from me, make things volatile. I promised the Dream Lord I would not endanger his realm if I could help it- and even without that promise why would I want to endanger the universe? So, I resisted dreams, and nightmares, and slept dreamlessly most nights. I could choose to do so.

But not tonight. Maybe it is my emotional state, maybe some too-strong dreamfolk finding me, maybe something else, but suddenly I am vulnerable, and I was not ready. In my sleep tonight, I see fragments of my childhood in the old palace, face of my father, disapproving… no, I am dreaming, I have to stop. But as I start forming that conscious thought, gathering power within me to banish the dream, it changes. Nightmares find me. And they come wearing memories.

I am back at my old bedchamber, and the late king- my former husband, savage monster in the shape of a human, advances. I am frozen in fear. This is not real, I remind myself desperately, this is a dream, and I can change this. I reach for my abilities, but they feel too big, too intense, and I am afraid- what if I can’t control them? I try to focus, to shape what I want out of the chaos within, but it is taking too long- the King tears open my body again, laughing. I am naked, bleeding, writhing in pain. I want to scream, but I know, I just know if I do, if I let it out, lose control, I will lose hold of the whole of my churning, crackling vortex self and it will rip holes in the fabric of Dreaming, of reality.

Focus, focus, pull at the stitches of this nightmare, undo it, unspool... the walls are cracking now, the floor breaking up, face of the King crumbling into gray non-shapelessness, and then it is his son- climbing on my body, eyes glinting, knife sharp in hand, oh, oh the pain, and he will kill me- I almost lose hold, and on the other side of my nightmare I can feel others- others’ dreams, everyone in the castle- trying to push in, merge, and I will not let it happen, and with one last shove of strength I push back, channel my focus towards only my defense and nothing else, and the man is gone, disappearing in smoke.

Slowly the room falls away, revealing gray, barren land, and I’m on it, collapsed. I have all under control now, but still I shake violently, body cringed in the tightest curl, eyes screwed shut, mouth clamped down, face wet with tears. That is how Dream finds me.

Barely just opening my eyes, I see him kneel before me, eyes slightly wide, shock turning into grave sympathy as he takes it all in. Have I not been here before? Nightmares attacking me, and Dream arriving to expel them- I was only seven, and oh, how easily I dove into his arms! I yearn for it now- hold me, gather me, or I will melt, I will disintegrate in fluttery pieces and float away in the air, I have no strength left to contain myself within my body, I can feel myself blurring and spreading away and please, please-

But I cannot ask for it, I don’t know how to, so I curl and cringe into myself more, head between knees, arms around them, trying to hold myself desperately. Dream moves. With a smooth pull that looks impossible, he rips away a part of his cloak. Still it doesn’t look like any part has been torn away at all, yet the piece of cloth is in his hand. He kneels and puts it on my body, and for the first time, I realize I’m still naked.

With shaking hands, I pull the cloth tighter around me, and then he’s gently pulling me up. My knees shake, and I almost fall- he supports me, holding my arms. He leads me, and after a slow, short walk- we are at Fiddler’s Green. It’s the most beautiful dream here, soothing, peaceful, and as Dream sits me down on the wooden bench, I know he wants me to feel it- to let it make me feel better. But still in me all is gray, and everything has teeth, biting my insides with memories I tried so hard to bury. Dream sits with me, and I don’t know when it happened, but my hands are grabbing his shamelessly, hanging on to all that is warm and good by this last thread, and if I could I’d never let go. But he pulls away one of them, and places it on my head.

I looked at his face once when he arrived, and looking again now, I’m afraid to see pity, but his soft mouth and heavy eyes are only sad. ‘Look into my eyes’, he murmurs, leaning in close, and as I do, I fall into the cool, bottomless blue, and then I am not here anymore.

I am a child, and at my palace, except nothing is the same, because I have a mother.

She did not die giving birth to me. She is sill here, and she is beautiful, and she is good, the best thing- she loves me, she holds me and kisses me and tells me stories and laughs with me and with her holding my hands, I discover the palace, and the world. My father is kind, and my brother is my friend, and we are a family- and I don’t know what happens in the end, but every single detail of this picture, every groove of conversation and every stitch of sitting together laughing and every pattern of affectionate touch… all of it brings such unbearable happiness, it’s almost harder to hold in than my vortex self. It seems both like a moment and a lifetime, but in the end, opening my eyes, I’m just here, sitting on a bench at Fiddler’s Green, the happiness dissipating like smoke, dry sobs escaping me.

‘Present that could not be’, Dream says softly. 'But it was fair that you might have a taste.’ He sighs, and touches my forehead, ‘Sleep. Sleep, and do not dream.’, Then all is gone, and all is quiet.

__________

In the next days, and months, I am different.

I don’t dream again, but I don’t sleep much either. I can’t. Some locked away thing came out with the nightmares, and it will not let go of me. I’m tired of fighting, so I succumb. Days are dull, nothing means anything, and this ruling and being Queen and everything else- what do they matter?

My councilmen are surprised that I am absent from meetings, relegating decisions to them. This is all they used to want, but now they are wary. They think I am always in my room, locking myself- and that too since the night every single person in the palace had terrible nightmares- because I am preparing for something they cannot imagine. It will not be long before they realize it is just because I see no point anymore. Then they can go ahead and loot and divide the kingdom amongst themselves- let them, what do I care? My maids, guards, people who used to like me- they ask things, and I don’t bother answering, and I assume they don’t like me anymore as I push them away. Days blend into one another, and all I can think of are things that happened to me- I can think of them with distance now, as if watching rather than experiencing, but still, they happened to me, and my body is sullied, and I am disgusting, and I should not be alive playing at being Queen or whatever. I should just stay here, and wither until I don’t exist anymore.

So that is what I do, endlessly and for long, until this night, when I should be asleep but I’m sitting at my vanity like a ghost, not looking at the mirror, not doing anything, when the air changes. I look up, and in the mirror, behind me, I see the Dream Lord.

‘What are you doing here?’, my question after a stretch of silence is asked not in curiosity, but in indifferent resignation.

‘Since my raven retired, I have not appointed a new one.’, he answers calmly. True, I have not seen the raven with him in several years which to an immortal is not much, I suppose. ‘So, I must visit in person when something needs investigating.’

‘I need investigating?’

‘You are the vortex.’, he replies, watching me in the mirror, and I know it’s more than that. Since my nightmare, I have not been to the Dreaming. I have not seen him.

I couldn’t. Dream had seen me at my very worst that night- ugly, disgusting, ruined, stripped bare in all my unworthiness, and after that, I could not imagine my presence being desirable to him, in the Dreaming. How can he see anything else now when he looks at me, anything but the hideous and loathsome self I hid within? I could not sully his realm with it.

All this I cannot say in words, but he walks up to me, coming close, looking at me intently, and with something like distress in his voice, says, ‘Dreams have lost you.’

‘Yes’, I try to sound matter-of-fact, ‘It’s for the best. I mean, the last time happened accidentally- you know I’d been-‘

‘Dreams in the waking world.’, he interrupts me, putting force behind his words, ‘Your aspirations, hopes- my sister has you.’ I can see the realization hit him, the shock of it on his face.

‘Your sister?’

‘Despair.’, he chews out the word- no love lost here. Despair… yes, that seems right.

‘I thought for you she was too weak.’, Dream looks upset like I have rarely seen him, ‘For you, I thought I would suffice.’ He is disappointed, but not in me, I realize. He’s disappointed in himself.

‘I- what do you mean?’, somewhat bewildered, I stand up and face him, forgetting that during all these months I was afraid of looking in his eyes and seeing disgust. He’s not looking at me in any different way at all.

‘So much I have seen you suffer’, Dream says, slow, putting emphasis on every word, ‘and yet, you braved through. You still had hopes, and dreams, and using them you survived. Humans must succumb to my sister one time or another, but you never let her keep hold onto you before. But now…’, in the golden light of candles burning in the room, he looks impossibly sad, ‘I’ve failed.’

‘How did you fail?’, I still don’t fully understand.

He lowers his eyes for a second, ‘A folly…’, he looks up again, ‘You reminded me of what dreams are capable of, mortal Queen. You reminded me of my purpose, of why I must do what I must, why I am. Perhaps…’

‘You’re giving up on me?’, the way he speaks like it’s all in the past makes some kind of frustration, or even anger start to simmer underneath my gray haze of- of despair.

Dream looks astonished, ‘I cannot give up on you, or any human, or any creature that dreams. By function, I am there for all. You have to choose me. Or,’, he steps back, ‘You can give up on me.’

It’s not fair, the way he puts it. It’s not as if any of what I feel is on purpose, is it?

‘I don’t-‘, I don’t know how to say this, ‘I’m not, I’m not good enough, don’t you understand?’, it almost sounds like a plea, like I’m asking him to confirm what I know, because it can’t be a lie, I can’t be wrong, can I?

But Dream just shakes his head, ‘You are what you make yourself. And you made yourself a Queen, until you forgot that.’ From inside his cloak, he pulls out a leather pouch that I know is filled with sand. He casts the sand around himself, disappearing in its golden swirl without another word.

‘What?’, I say to the empty air, properly angry now. That’s what he had for me? Complaints and laments and nothing else?

Anger is more than I felt in months, and it brings with it many more things. Indignance- at Dream- how dare he, like he understands how it is, coming in here and judging me (but I guess he didn’t, really); frustration and rage at the universe- why did I have to suffer, and if I did, why am I not allowed to just be, in grief, or despair, or whatever--

But I am, of course. I can just give into despair, like Dream said. He had zero kind words for me, zero sympathy, zero encouragement, he gave me nothing, so why not?

But that’s not true, is it? Instead of those human things, he did give me what he can give- dreams. For myself, and my people, and my kingdom- he has always given me that.

After the storm of rage comes the quiet of contemplation, and it is sparkling in clarity I scarcely hoped for. I said what happened to me did not define me. But maybe it did. It gave me the most brutal scars, but it also made me into this woman who can choose to heal- not by locking it all away, but by looking it into its eyes and defying it. She is strong enough.

So it takes days, and much silently raging conflict, and thinking, and making peace with things, but then, I open my doors, let in light and air, and I am the Queen once more. I go to the Dreaming that night, after so long. At his palace, the Dream Lord is walking down the hallway, and seeing me, he stops in his tracks.

‘I choose you.’, I say simply. Slowly, his mouth curves up in a smile, eyes sparkling, and at this moment, I feel something solidifying between us. I can’t name it, but it is born of us both seeing our purposes reflected in each other. It is a bond, and it is strong.

___________________________

Things are once again as they were, but also not, because for my queendom, I feel the purpose more strongly, and in my visits to the Dreaming, I feel freer. I am lighter with some frozen thing melted and evaporated from within me after those dark months, and it shows in the added spring in my steps, the sound of my voice and my laughter. I could allow none of this to be as unrestrained as I do but for that bond I can’t name- it still feel it simmer, with the realm and with Dream (they are one and the same, I suppose). It makes me feel like I belong here. Maybe it’s a delusion, a lie I tell myself, and the only thing that’s changed is my ability to allow myself to at least nurse the idea.

Today, I am in Dream’s throne room again, trying to convince him to leave his book, or register, or whatever that is he is poring through, and come on a walk with me.

‘You work too much.’, I tell him, ‘You never stop thinking about the realm for a moment. You just need to relax sometimes.’

‘Proper monarchs are busy.’, he turns a page, ‘You should know.’

‘I still relax- I’m relaxing right now!’

‘Are you.’, he looks up, smile slightly mocking at my hands on my waist and raised voice.

I shake my head, ‘You know what I mean. I’m asleep- which you don’t even do- and I’m visiting you. Maybe you’d notice if you took your nose out of that dusty, old thing long enough!’

‘You seem to have no regard’, he closes the volume and sets it aside, ‘for kingly duties. Or the King himself, I might add.’

His words are not angry. A smile plays on his lips, little and teasing. I love that smile- the thought sneaks in.

‘Maybe it’s because you’re always on these stairs and never on your actual throne.’, I tease right back, grabbing on whatever comes to mind, ‘Maybe if you sat on your throne, I’d show you your kingly regard.’

‘Oh? How?’

‘Hard to say now- I suppose we’ll both find out when you really do it.’

‘Let us find out, then.’, he stands, and starts walking up the stairs.

I’m bemused- I didn’t think he would do it right now. But Dream is not one to let questions float, and I’m not entirely sure he always sees or understands jokes the same way I do. He would want to find out.

Dream doesn’t need his throne. The very first time I saw him I was barely seven, and before he uttered a word, I knew he was a King- he exudes that power, that regal dignity. But as he settles on the throne and looks at me expectantly, I am in a fix. I promised a show of regard, and I must deliver, whatever that means.

I search for inspiration. The first thing I decide is I am too far away down here- I can’t even see his face properly. So I walk up the stairs, keeping my eyes on Dream. If his expression hints going nearer is disrespectful, I will stop. But he is stoic, waiting for me. Then I'm at the end, the last step becoming the platform for his throne, and on just the one below, I kneel. These steps are narrow, my body almost touches Dream's knees.

I knelt before I ever consciously decided to. This close to him, his seat of power, I can feel it- the Endlessness of him, the enormity. Kneeling to it came naturally. But I'm still not sure what I'm doing at all. Then I think of something- a gesture I saw offered to my father long ago in his court.

Dream’s hands are on his lap, and I pull one of them between mine. 'Lord Morpheus,’, I say, slow and deliberate, bowing my head, 'Dream of the Endless, Your Majesty. You are the uncontested sovereign of this realm, a just King, and wise. You are worthy of the highest regard, and such do I offer you as a privileged and humbled guest in this kingdom.'

I press my lips on his hand, kissing it softly. Then I look up. Dream has leaned in, watching me.

His face just above mine, I can see every detail of it, and Dream- he has always been beautiful, but maybe I forgot because how did it not take my breath away every second as it does now? The windows are behind the throne, and in the pool of colored light and shadows, his pale, sharp face glows like moonshine. His eyes are fixed on mine, and this close, I can see flecks and streaks of silver in the deep pools of blue, and faint rings of amber around the dark pupils glinting like stars. The mass of black hair framing his forehead makes the stark slopes of his cheeks more striking. I can hear him breathe, I can feel the warmth of his hand- still between my palms- seeping into me, and as my eyes fall onto his slightly parted lips, strangely, I can hear my heart beating in my own ears.

Slowly, Dream places the tips of the fingers of his other hand on my cheek, thumb on my chin.

‘Perhaps I should sit on my throne more often’, he murmurs, not taking his eyes off my face, ‘if you are to be so obliging.’

I open my mouth, but no sound comes out. I-I want- what? I don’t have words for these things that I never felt before. I want- want to be closer to him- but that’s not possible, that doesn’t make any sense, I’m already so close. My lips still tingle from their touch on his skin, and his voice, it’s still making soundless echoes within me, making me feel- what?

Bewildered, I let go of Dream’s hand and try to take steps back, forgetting I’m on a staircase, and I almost stumble down. With a quick and gliding grace that seems impossible, Dream reaches out and holds me by my arm, stopping my fall. The pull almost makes me lose my balance, and for the smallest fraction of a moment, I consider giving into the imbalance because then I’d be falling onto Dream’s body, crumpled on his lap, between his arms, and that, that is…

Insane. Senseless. What is happening? What is happening to me?

‘I-‘, I can’t quite catch my breath, ‘I’ll go. You can work. I’ll, I’ll see you later.’

I almost fly down the stairs, and as I will myself to leave the Dreaming, I can feel Dream’s eyes still on my back, intent, watching.

________________________________

The confusion is never entirely cleared, but settles into a thing, alive, always there, every time I see him, and then, even when I don’t. We talk, and sometimes now I lose the thread- distracted by how his hair falls on his face, lips move as he explains something, thick-lashed eyes flicker in response to what I tell him. Like always, he wears his long, dark cloak. Underneath- sometimes he is wearing simple clothes but sometimes he is wearing nothing. The cloak still covers his body then, but as he moves, I see flashes of his pale limbs, sliver of his throat, piece of his chest. All of it looks exquisitely defined in a way that hurts me- it hurts, and it is perplexing. A yearning has started to throb, constant- to be closer, to touch, to- I can’t think beyond that, I don’t know how to. I sit and stand and walk with him, near, but it’s not enough, it’s never enough.

If Dream notices any change, he does not comment on it. But when I’ve let the conversation evaporate, trying not to lose myself in his eyes, he doesn’t look away. Lightly he touches me on my arm, my shoulder, my waist as we move. It feels natural rather than deliberately thought out- but this is not what he always allowed himself before. A few times, his eyes follow mine when I’m looking at his body, and he smiles. Or smirks. I’m not sure. But afterwards, he looks speculative, sometimes becoming quiet and reserved for a time.

I don’t know what to do with any of it, so I try to ignore it. It makes me restless, but in a strange way, more alive. That yearning to be close- it finds non-physical ways to express itself and I discover myself speaking more openly to Dream- letting him see me as I am, speaking truths, agreeing with him when he doesn’t expect me to, challenging him even when he doesn’t like it. And Dream, he never has pretended to be other than he is- he is so assured in his ways. But now, rarely but still there, I see traces of things underneath- doubts and confusions and sometimes desolation. I don’t know if he lets me see them or I have become better at reading them within him, but either way, it makes me feel more intimate with him. And yet the yearning is never doused.

Then it gets infinitely worse, because for a time, I don’t see him at all.

It happens like this. He has been cross and moody about something lately, and he would not tell me about it. That is completely valid. I would not share every single thing about the inner goings-on of my queendom with him either- there are things I don’t want his opinion on, things that I am still processing, things I am not too proud of so I’d rather he didn’t know. Same things might apply to him. I understand this, but it makes me irrationally irritated. Then, that day, I’m in the Dreaming’s library when I hear him talk to Lucien.

I still visit the section where books about my kingdom and councilmen are, and I’ve just got what I need and managed to send Sir Woodby away when I hear Dream. Lucien has misplaced a book, let it be stolen or something, and Dream is not happy.

Lucien hangs her head. It is clear she has beaten herself up about it enough without Dream having to berate her. ‘I will get it back, my Lord.’, she says.

‘And what if you cannot?’

She has no answer, and Dream’s voice is cold, ‘It will be another show of severe incompetency, and perhaps I should expect it this time unlike-‘

Then, Dream notices me for the first time, half-hidden behind a shelf. As I walk out in full view, he looks embarrassed for a second, but in the next his face is stony and set.

‘What is this?’, I ask, and without pausing for a moment he answers, ‘Not your business.’

I’m not so much hurt as I am angry. ‘Oh, yes, you are ‘disciplining your employee’ or whatever, and that would not be my business, except Lucien is my friend, as she is yours. A mere lost book justifies you speaking to her like that?’

‘Excuse me.’, Lucien says politely, and retreats, the situation getting increasingly difficult for her to participate in.

Dream’s eyes burn. ‘You would teach me how to speak to my own subject, would you?’

‘Again, subject, yes, but she is also your friend! Why can’t you admit that? You’re angry about other things, probably, and taking it out on her. You know she is not incompetent at all!’

‘Ah, yes. Your ideas about friendship are trustworthy indeed.’

He is referring to all the times I tried to call him my friend when he said he wasn’t. A hot flash of pain rips through me.

‘I guess I’m wrong to be here right now, then.’ He doesn’t stop me as I turn around and will myself to leave.

We’ve had small arguments before. Mostly those were about things that don’t have singular right/wrong resolutions. But this time he was wrong, and he was unkind to me as well as Lucien. I know this, so the increasing urge to just forget everything and go see him as days go by is as annoying as it is embarrassing. But I have discovered a new sensation- it is the one of missing someone- him- with my complete and whole being. I did not feel this way before, and, like with so many things lately, I don’t know what to do with it.

I go about my duties as the Queen- I join meetings, draw up plans, make decisions, appear in front of people, and when I sleep, I only sleep. But the thought of Dream never completely leaves me. It is disruptive, it makes me go through too many conflicting emotions in too short spans of time, and when two months later one day, I snap at my sweetest maid for no reason, I collapse on the couch in my sitting room, head in hands. I have done the exact thing for which I got angry with Dream, unable to help myself at all.

I mutter a ‘sorry’ to the maid, who could probably handle a rebuke from the Queen with ease but is baffled with an apology, and tell her to go away. I’m taking deep breaths, trying to find some semblance of perspective when someone clears their throat. I look up, and my jaw drops.

‘Lucien?!’, I stand up, ‘How are you here?’

‘Quite a long walk.’, she informs me, ‘And it was not easy sneaking by your guards. I suppose that should reassure you.’

I doubt she really 'walked' here from the Dreaming, but the details are not relevant. ‘Can I offer you anything?’ I ask, ‘A drink?’

I’ve always been used to Dream's presence one way or another- whenever or wherever I’ve met him, it has always felt like the way of things. But somehow I’m unsure of how to deal with Lucien being here in the waking world.

‘Thank you, but no.’, she says, ‘I will not be here long. I came to tell you that Lord Morpheus has expressed regret to me for behaving as he did that day. He was very sincere.’

This makes me feel a definitive kind of peace. ‘I’m glad. Did he send you?’

‘Not exactly’, Lucien hesitates, and the crushing disappointment I feel is truly mortifying.

‘Oh.’, I say, trying to swallow it. ‘That’s fine. I appreciate you coming here and informing me anyway. Thank you.’

‘I mean, he didn’t tell me to do it in so many words, he can be remarkably vague when he wants to. But- well. You know him.’

I stare. If I’m understanding this right, Lucien is telling me Dream would like me to know he’s done the right thing so that I’d go back to visiting him, but he is too stubborn to admit it.

‘Well,’, I tell Lucien, ‘He knows me too. So if there’s something he wants me to know, tell him to come and say it to me.’

‘Oh, dear.’, Lucien mutters, looking quite distressed, and I feel bad for her. I don’t mean to harass her with problems between Morpheus and I. But I can’t just go back to visiting the Dreaming, not yet.

‘Did you find the book?’, I ask her.

‘No.’, she admits, ‘But the Lord says it’s okay. I will appear again, in some way.’

‘It will? That makes his behavior with you even worse!’

Seeing me get indignant on behalf of her, Lucien smiles, her eyes kind. ‘Thank you for defending me.’, she says, ‘And calling me your friend. I am honored.’

‘Oh’, I wave my hand, embarrassed. ‘You know you are. I’d never be able to navigate that library without your help.’

She watches me, not saying anything, and I sense a regret in her. She has never been quite comfortable with me getting close to Dream. It’s because she still doesn’t completely trust me not to destroy the Dreaming one day, and she never completely will. She is too loyal to the realm for that. We could’ve been better friends without this between us. But sometimes, things are what things are.

Whatever hint or nudge Lucien provides Dream I don’t know, but it must have worked because tonight, he is here.

I find him in my sitting room, admiring a painting on the wall. He turns around hearing me enter- I was passing through to my bedchamber.

Seeing him feels like breathing. I don’t know how else to put it. It’s like I was constantly trying to catch my breath the past two months, never quite succeeding, and now that he is here, I have, finally. It's a disorienting kind of relief.

‘Lucien tells me she saw you.’, Dream comes to stand in front of me.

‘Yes. She told me you two are in good terms again. I’m glad.’

‘Yes.’, he sighs, ‘I was not right in treating her with words so sharp… and the same is true for you.’, He meets my eyes, ‘I did not mean to offend you.’

‘You did, though.’, I point out, and faintly, he smiles.

‘Then I must offer an apology.’

‘Well, if you must…’, despite myself, my returning smile is wide. I’ve just missed him so much.

Quietly, we stand before each other, my acceptance of his apology understood without me having to vocalize it. The air is flickering orange-gold with candlelight, and Dream’s face in the soft glow makes me want to touch it very badly.

‘How have you been?’, I ask, trying to distract myself.

‘Long days.’

I raise my brows, ‘Because you missed me?’

‘Perhaps.’, he’s studying the carpet as if the pattern fascinates him.

‘Perhaps?’

‘Yes.’, he sighs, bringing his eyes back to me, ‘I missed your presence in the Dreaming.’ He steps back. ‘Well, I take it you will resume your visits?’

I nod, and he starts reaching for his sand pouch. ‘Good. Now I should be-‘

‘Don’t go yet.’, I interrupt him. ‘I’m at your palace so often, you are rarely at mine. Now that you are here, I would like you to see it. If you can stay, please do. I’ll show you around.’

He considers this. ‘Fine.’ He agrees eventually.

‘Okay, okay, wait here. I’ll change, won’t take a minute.’ I'm a little too happy, it’s making me speak fast.

Dream eyes me, saying nothing. When I’m in the Dreaming, I assume regular day clothes for myself, but now I’m in my sleeping clothes. They’re thin and don’t cover as much of me. Which wasn’t something that even occurred to me until now, but seeing him quietly take me in, a hot flush starts creeping up on my skin. It’s bothersome, and it’s baffling.

I leave quickly. I change in my dressing room and take deep breaths to calm myself. I’m a Queen, for goodness’ sake. It won’t do to start acting like a foolish child, however happy I am.

Dream is waiting for me where I left him. I pick up the biggest single candle holder in the room. ‘Let’s…’ My feet stop before he can follow me. ‘No. Wait. Will everyone be able to see you? I’m assuming most of the palace is asleep, but still- if we meet anyone?’

‘I can veil myself from others if you prefer so.’, he answers, and I am relieved.

‘Yes, please do. Thank you. Just, the Queen out of her quarters with an unknown man at this hour… it would be a grave scandal. My people, even close ones, would care even if I would not, and some are just waiting to use anything they can against me.’

As I lead Morpheus down the hallway, pointing to various halls and rooms and courtyards along the way, he asks, ‘Is such your custom? You may not choose men?’

‘I may choose a man’, I say, paying only half-attention, trying to plan our route in a way that will let him see the most of the palace in the least amount of time. ‘whom I must marry before allowing him anywhere near me at improper hours.’

We are in my throne room. It is big and empty, the throne creeping in the dark like a crouching animal. I gesture with my hand. ‘No staircase here’, I joke. ‘But this suffices for me.’

Dream looks around, taking it in. ‘Fitting.’, he says. Then he looks at me. ‘Your previous experience was terrible and cannot be disregarded. But there must also be good men. You could take a husband again if you wished.’

I stare. He’s still thinking about this while I wasn’t- not just now and honestly, not ever. ‘I don’t wish to.’, I tell Dream.

‘No?’, his gaze is locked with mine, eyes hooded in half-darkness.

‘No.’, I am firm in my answer, ‘I have enough,’ This is the truth. Even setting aside the fact a suitor would be hard to come by- I'm too old, a widow, a witch- it has never occurred to me to look for a man’s company or commitment. In my life, I have my queendom. My people. And Dream. I have enough.

‘You don’t have a Queen.’, I point out, and Dream looks away.

‘No.’, he murmurs, and is then quiet. There were women he loved long and mourned long- this is as much as I know. In the absence of his enthusiasm in such conversation, I never probed much.

‘Come.’, I tell him, ‘Enough of the palace. What I really want to show you is outside.’

The garden is awash in moonlight, and I leave the candle behind. This is where I wanted to bring Dream when I asked him to stay. My palace may be magnificent, but it came to me as is- everything designed and decorated by people I never knew or knew and hated. This garden, on the other hand, was born in my mind.

‘They would sometimes let me go out in the garden when I was a child’, I explain to Dream. ‘But it had high walls around, and within it, high hedges. Also, everything was perfect- every leaf patterned, every branch in line, every blade of grass aligning… I never liked it much. It never felt like I was really outside.’

In my garden, I had everything made, built, and planted the opposite of that. A gate exists, but once we’re inside, it’s more like a self-grown forest. There are briars instead of stone walls, streams instead of fountains, wildflowers instead of flowerbeds. The winding narrow paths don’t lead anywhere, and clearings come to one unexpectedly. It is one of the first things I demanded when I became Queen- a place to get away from things when I wanted to (and it was often). And this is what I designed for that.

‘It is no Fiddler’s Green, obviously.’, I tell Dream, feeling oddly vulnerable and defensive, ‘But I still wanted to show you. I mean, of course, you’ve seen everything there is to see, so not that you’d be impressed with this, I understand that-‘, I’m looking at him instead of the path, trying to see his expression, and I stumble on a fallen branch.

‘Careful.’, Dream says, soft and low, and then I feel him taking my hand.

Earlier, when I teased him about missing me, he was not direct with his response. But this- the firm hold of his hand on mine, not released as we walk together- gives him away. He has missed me, and he is glad to be here with me now- his touch conveys and confirms this truth. With my hand secure in his, I feel an odd kind of safety- a protected comfort that defies explanation, and I also feel quite giddy- if I ever were drunk, surely this is what it would be like?

Fingers intertwined with mine, Dream lets me eventually lead us to a large flat rock near a stream. Sharp silver moonlight pours onto the clearing, reflects off the singing, running water of the stream. The odd bird coos, the odd insect buzzes, the odd animal scurries. All else is still, and quiet.

Dream sits down with me on the rock, and I hold onto his hand a little tighter without meaning to- I’m afraid he’ll let go. But he won’t, and slowly I relax as I realize this, letting our joined hands loosely fall onto my lap.

‘You made a beautiful place.’, he says, and he would never lie to placate anyone, so I know he means it.

‘Well, I mean, I didn’t make it, I had people, brilliant-‘

‘You dreamed it.’, he says simply, and that is true, I suppose.

‘Thank you.’, I say, ‘It… it means much to me that you like it.’

He nods, accepting. ‘It is you.’, he says.

‘What is me?’

‘This garden.’

I don’t know if I completely understand him. I often forget, but this being- simply by definition of his existence he has such depth that is near unfathomable.

I don’t ask what he means. Instead, I say, ‘I have never really been in a forest in the waking world. No, I have once- when I was coming to this kingdom as a new bride. But the carriage was covered all around- imagine a man accidentally looking at the Queen, the horror- and I only heard it instead of seeing it.’, I breathe, ‘There are much taller trees, aren’t there? And sunlight falls in narrow slants on the moss-carpeted floor?’ I feel a little embarrassed, ‘That’s how I’ve seen it in my dreams anyway, really it might be different? If ever there were time, if I ever could, I would travel. My world has been so small.’

Dream is silent for a moment. Then he slightly repositions himself so he’s more facing me instead of the stream, and says, ‘There is a forest.’

I listen, mesmerized, as he speaks of that forest- dark, wild, deep, ancient trees gnarled and scaly like unknown monsters, animals that would hunt you before you ever hunted them, folks living in it who are not human, and in winter, it is winter for eleven months, white-blue frost slowly freezing and icing and cracking everything. This forest he talks of, and then other forests, and then deserts- as oceans but with sand- red and gold and blinding and scorching in the sun- and then mountains that touch skies and ensnare clouds and hold snow and spit fire, and in their bellies, they birth rubies, and sapphires, and emeralds…

I listen, and I see as I never have, as I never would. Lucien once called Morpheus ‘the Prince of Stories’ and it puzzled me, but I understand, I understand now. This he gives to me, stories- shaped and real, and through them, I travel, I see, I know. I don’t know how long he talks. I don’t know when the moon gets higher, night gets deeper, when my head falls onto his shoulder as he gently curves an arm around me, I don’t know when I close my eyes and drift away, still holding his hand onto my heart. I dream in my sleep- dreams not created or chosen by me but given to me by him. I can still see as he speaks of, I can be safe, and I don’t see him, but I know he is here, he is here with me.

_________

Tag ask: @emy635

#sandman fanfiction #the sandman fanfic #morpheus #dream of the endless #dream x reader #morpheus x reader #dream x oc #morpheus x oc #fanfiction #fanfic #fic

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granolabird · 2 years

Text

Take a Break

Weekly hournite fic is here :) Post 3x06, we get some Rick and Beth at the Pit Stop just before Beth goes home and finds out about the security cameras. .

After the confrontation with Cindy, and then the second confrontation with Courtney, the Pit Stop is silent. There’s an air of quiet despair as Rick, Yolanda, and Beth all sit together around the table. Yolanda keeps staring longingly at the door, somewhere between enraged and forlorn, as if she’s waiting for Courtney to come back and say it was all one big prank. She doesn’t. Nor does Pat, or Sylvester. The trio are entirely alone, left to their own devices as they try to comprehend what’s just happened. Rick is pissed, and rightfully so. He can’t shake the rage that fills him, no matter how hard he tries to focus on anything else. His thoughts don’t stop racing. The Hourglass is working again, you should be happy- I would be happier if Courtney hadn’t lied to us- You aced that test from last week- The test in the class with Courtney, who lied to us- Beth looks cute in that jacket- She would look cuter if he wasn’t so sad.

That seems to snap Rick’s brain back into focus. Beth is sad, that's a red alert on the Rick radar. His rage subsides, if only slightly. In the back of his mind he wonders if it’s the hourglass doing this to him. Heightening his emotions tenfold, making him unable to think straight. He hasn’t turned it over yet, just in case. Just in case Cindy Burman, or Cameron Mahkent, or any other villain decides to bust in and threaten them. He knows it’s unlikely, but every time he reaches to turn the hourglass over he hesitates. It’s like something doesn’t want him to. So he doesn’t. Not after an hour passes and there’s no sign of anyone showing up. Not after Yolanda finally gives up and leaves, leaving only Rick and Beth at the Pit Stop alone. Not even after Beth carefully rests her hand on his knee to stop his incessant leg bouncing.

“Rick?”

“Yeah? Hey.”

Rick looks up from where he’d been crumpling and uncrumpling the same sheet of homework over and over until it’s basically a shredded mess.

“Are you alright?” Beth asks, moving her hand from his knee onto his hand for just a moment, before sliding the paper, or what's left of it, away from him.

“Of course. Why?”

“Because you’re like a rabbit on caffeine. You haven’t stopped moving since you got back from Cindy’s house.” Beth sighs, looking him over worriedly. “It’s the new hourglass, that’s all. It gives me a lot more energy.” Rick explains, holding it up for emphasis.

Beth leans forward, looking at the hourglass quietly studying it as the tiny glowing particles float aimlessly in the glass.

“You haven’t turned it off?”

“No. I didn’t think I needed to.” Rick admits with a shrug, and Beth’s face of wonder instantly turns to one of concern.

“Rick… Do you even know if it has any side effects?” She asks, putting on the voice Rick knows best as the ‘Beth Chapel doctor voice’. She only does that when she’s serious.

“None, other than being stronger for longer.” Rick deflects, tucking his hourglass back away.

He doesn’t make eye contact for the fear that one look at Beth would make him regret everything he’s done today.

“Are you sure?” She leans closer, forcing him to look at her.

“Yeah. I mean, I’ve had it on all day and nothing bad has happened yet, so-”

“All day!?” Beth gasps.

“Beth, I’m okay, I promise. Here, I can show you if you want. C’mon.”

She looks like she’s going to decline, so Rick acts quick. He gets up, offering Beth a hand to help herself up, before leading her to the training room. He doesn’t let go of Beth’s hand. He doesn’t want to. Usually he would be flustered, absolutely a blushing mess, but right now he feels confident. Apparently he needs to wear his hourglass more often, if this is the result he gets. As soon as they reach the training room, Rick lets go of Beth’s hand and leans his weight from foot to foot, scanning the room for something to lift.

“Okay, how should I start?”

“I… don’t know? This was your idea, I’m not sure what your plan is here.” Beth says, looking at him expectantly.

She’s right, he brought her here, he has to do his best to show her what he’s talking about.

“Oh. Yeah, sorry. Here, lemme just…”

Rick walks over to the corner of the room and picks up a four stack of tires effortlessly, walking it around the room. He considers attempting to juggle them just to show off even further, but he has to remind himself the hourglass heightens his strength, not his reflexes. It probably wouldn’t end well. Rick doesn’t miss the way Beth’s eyes lock onto his arms as he passes by, however, and he slows as he walks by her, trying his best to show off while still balancing the tires.

“Y’know this morning I lifted over six hundred pounds.” He tells her, slowly returning to his route around the room.

“Six hundred? Have you ever done that before?” She wonders, trailing behind him.

“Close, but never that much. It’s a new record for me.” Rick admits, putting the tire stack back into the corner.

“All because of your hourglass improvements? That’s incredible!”

Rick smiles and nods, proud of himself, until he clocks the troubled look that crosses Beth’s face.

“But also dangerous.”

Ah. There it is.

“What do you mean?” Rick asks, looking for any elaboration on what she could possibly think was dangerous about his ability upgrade.

Beth sighs, “Rick, it’s not safe. You don’t know the long term side effects of using the hourglass for this long, and you don’t know what you could do, even accidentally, with it on. You’re more powerful than ever, and with that comes a lot of potential for injury.”

Rick feels all the pride he had been feeling previously be replaced with frustration. He knows Beth means well, but he knows his limits. He has to prove it to her somehow.

“I know what I can do, Beth. I could walk right out into that garage and pick up the truck that Pat’s been working on if I wanted to. Here, look.”

Rick heads towards the door to go prove his point, but Beth runs forward and grabs his arm.

“I… I get the point. Demonstration not necessary.” She says, though she doesn’t seem entirely sure of her words.

She keeps staring at his arms, and she hasn’t let go yet. Rick raises his eyebrows, and she immediately realises what she’s been doing, dropping her hands to her side.

“Sorry. I’m just… um… Not used to seeing you using the hourglass without your suit on is all. It’s weird. Not weird, but like, different. I don’t usually see your arms, is all. I think the hourglass makes you a little buffer.”

“Noted.” Rick huffs with a smile, glancing down at his own arm.

He doesn’t notice much difference, but he has had the hourglass on all day. He makes a mental note to wear shirts that show off his arms while the hourglass is running more often, to see how Beth reacts. Just for personal amusement, of course.

There's a pause, an awkward silence as Beth tries her best not to look at Rick, and Rick searches the room for something else to lift. Finally, Beth breaks the silence to say,

“You can turn it off now, you know? Nobody is coming for us. We’re safe.”

Rick glances down at the faint glow of the hourglass through his shirt, and shakes his head.

“We’re not safe until the murder is solved, and Cameron Mahkent and Cindy Burman are out of this town. Then, maybe I can relax.”

“Rick, you don’t have to keep everyone safe. You’re putting too much on yourself. It’s okay to just take off the hourglass and relax. You’re allowed to take a break.” Beth tells him, but Rick just keeps shaking his head.

“Yeah, but what if I take a break and something goes wrong?”

“Then you’ll have the hourglass ready, just like before when it only worked for an hour.”

“I… don’t know.” He sighs, lifting up the hourglass to look at it.

“Every time I go to turn it over, it’s like something stops me. Like there’s a voice in the back of my head that’s telling me everything is gonna go to shit if I flip it over.”

Beth seems to stop to think to herself for a moment, before giving a small nod.

“Then let me do it.”

“What?”

“Come here.” Beth says, gesturing for Rick to come forward.

Rick shuffles towards her, letting go of the hourglass allowing Beth to take it. She reaches up to hold it, carefully cradling it in her hands. Rick almost backs away but he forces himself to stay rooted, eyes locked on Beth as she slowly, carefully, turns the hourglass over. She looks up at him with wide concerned eyes, as he feels the power leaving his body. She doesn’t let go of the hourglass, hands pressed lightly against his chest as she studies his face, clearly waiting for his strength to subside entirely.

“Are you better?” She whispers, as if her speaking normally would break the moment.

Rick takes a moment to breathe, as the stress of the entire day hits his body all at once. He wobbles on his feet a little, but steadies himself, looking down at Beth. He feels his breath stutter as it finally hits him how close she is. He could lean down and kiss her if he wanted to. He does want to, but the more energy from the hourglass he loses, the less courage he has. He blinks, backing up slightly, forcing Beth to let go of the hourglass.

“I’m alright. Sorry it’s just, everything is hitting me now. Everything that’s happened today, it’s… a lot. I guess I wasn’t processing it because of the hourglass, but now it’s all kinda crashing down on me. Ugh, I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. Can I turn this thing back over?” Rick groans half jokingly as he stumbles.

Beth shoots him a look. “No you can’t. But, you can sit with me while I try to decode the files from the Gamblers laptop until you feel a little better. Then I’ve gotta go home.”

Rick winces, rubbing at his eyes, but forces himself forward, following Beth as she heads out of the training room, trailing behind her with heavy steps.

“Fiiine. I’m still driving you home, right?” He asks, exhaustion pervading his every word.

“If you feel well enough, yes. If not, I can call my parents to come pick me up.” Beth tells him matter of factly as she pulls out a chair for Rick to sit beside her.

Rick slumps as soon as he’s seated, flopping his head down onto his arms.

“Nope. Don’t do that. I’ll drive you, just give me a few minutes.”

“Alright.” Beth says with a bemused huff as she grabs her laptop.

“Rick?”

“Mm?”

“What you did back there was impressive, just so you know. The fact you managed to not only fix the hourglass, but improve it, it’s something to be proud of. Don’t think that I’m not excited for you, I just worry.”

Rick knows he says, “I know. That’s why I like you so much.”, but his head is buried in his arms, and his words are slurred, so it comes out more like “Ifknw. Thswhyliksmch.” Which is verifiably illegible.

Beth blinks at him, taking a minute to try and decipher what on earth Rick is trying to say, before giving up.

“Just rest for a while.”

Rick can barely muster the energy to nod as he already feels sleep tugging at his brain, pulling the world out of focus. He wishes he could be as cool and confident as he was with the hourglass on, not stupid, and sleepy, and weak, but then Beth looks at him with a soft, sweet smile, and he thinks maybe he doesn’t need the hourglass as much as he thought he did. Maybe Beth likes him better like this. He tries his best to smile back at her, but he’s pretty sure he’s failing. She doesn’t seem to mind, though, giggling quietly at his lopsided smile. That’s the last thing he sees before sleep consumes him. Beth trying her best to keep her laughter quiet as she looks at him, hand covering her mouth and eyes alight with something Rick can’t identify. He wonders if it’s love. He hopes it is, because at least then he’d have one less thing to worry about. If she feels the same about him… The thought doesn’t even get to conclude, as he fades out of consciousness, leaving Beth to her work, and his dreams to fill his mind. When he wakes, he’ll drive Beth home, and think over everything she’s said. But for now, he’s doing exactly what Beth told him to. He’s going to take a break.

#Stargirl #3x06 #Stargirl spoilers #Hournite #Hournite fic #Rick Tyler #Beth Chapel #Hourman #doctor mid nite #Stargirl fic #rick x beth #Very excited for the hournite content in upcoming episodes

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aztrareia · 2 years

Text

Repose;

This is definitely a journal entry. But hear me out a bit. I'll try my best to rack my brains to make it into some form of logical train of thought.

RM's solo works are usually so full of metaphors and wordplay that I end up just taking words and phrases off of it. Which is what I'll actually do because it relates to what I said about my own two eyes becoming harsh critics. feelsbadman.jpg

When your own heart underestimates you probably called out to me stronger than I wanted it to. It physically hurt (not really).

It's not that I wanted to please anyone with things I do (even though I sort of do, that would be great if it did??). But I get kinda sensitive that I have to stop when my own voice tells me something is off. It's happened twice today, and even more in the past days with different other wips. So maybe that was why I had that momentary idea of maybe just sticking to traditional art in the past days.

Maybe I'm escaping, because traditional art has been that sorta fake it til you make it thing that it somehow looks great in the end. Made a funny little happy mistake? No problem, it's part of the art now. It actually adds a charm to the thing. With digital I see every damn pixel that's off. Every little dot that's a bit too jagged and misplaced and I want to keep fixing them but at the same time—it looks just fine? And that's what hurts. Is it a skill issue? What more am I expecting myself to do.

I might have lost that authoritarian maternal nagging voice, but it seems to have been replaced with my own. I don't know how to fix it but to give myself a rest.

I think I felt bad attaching these sort of feelings to things I'm truly enjoying working on. But at the end of the day I can't escape the fact I may have tried to bring my own heart down today. And that's not cool. I happen to like injecting a part of my soul (not literally) into my artworks. It's like they have an essence of their own. And I think that's also been most of the oc and non-oc art I've done. Every single one has been a whirlwind of emotions and I don't know if they show but it's also OK if they do not.

I'll repost those works soon with complete breakdown to their content.

I think that's all I wanted to say.

I haven't listened to the rest of 「Indigo」, so instead I offer Suneohair's 「Kyouhansha」. Idk why. It sounded nice.

#Spotify

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fueledbysano · 3 years

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𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐑. ᴍᴀɴᴊɪʀᴏ sᴀɴᴏ

summary: After fleeing your own wedding, you meet a familiar face once again. They said nothing good starts in a getaway car, are you an exception?

✧ pairing: bonten Mikey x reader

✧ includes: angst to comfort, emotional ride

✧ a/n: this is what I get from blasting getaway car on repeat. also, this definitely needs a part 2. lmk.

✧ wc: 2.5K

PART 2

“Dear [Name],

This is not the way I want to do this, but you know me.

You deserve more than a letter.

This, this cowardice, is the absolute worst thing I've ever done. It's not about you; it's about me. You are deserving of so much more.

[Name], I adore you. I admire how intelligent and brave you are, and how no matter what you go through, you never let anything stop you. It makes you stronger and more compassionate.

You made me a nicer person. You loved me for who I was, and I loved you back. I love you. Maybe it’s not fair to say that but it’s true.

But this is also true— I can't stay.

I wish getting everything I've always needed didn't have to hurt you in the process.

But I can't lie to you, and I can't be here with you and everyone else. [Name], I'm not coming home. I'm afraid to look you in the eyes because I won't be able to walk away... Thank you for looking after me when I needed it the most. Being with you the best privilege I've ever had.

You deserve everything good in this life.

I hope you find somebody so much better than me. Thank you for everything. I’m sorry.

Mikey.

The night you kept your trinkets and letters inside the time capsule to dwell in the grounds of the Earth was the last time you've seen of him.

All of you were happy and comfortable as usual, clueless of what was about to come for your friendship.

We never think the last time is the last time, right? We think there's still forever, but there isn't.

For a few days, you haven't heard or seen any of your boyfriend for a while. It was until the dreaded letter arrived at your home, along with the guys who had just a falling out with Mikey. and you couldn't believe it either.

“Ow!” The piping hot surface of the curling iron made contact with your nape, pulling you back into your senses from your thoughts.

“Sorry, love!” The hairstylist apologized, carefully tapping on the area that was burnt, thankfully, nothing imprinted.

“[Name], I'm here!” The moment Hina's sweet voice entered the room, you were once again pulled into your composure.

She looks down at her pastel dress and heels, showing them off to you. “I can't wait to see yours!” She exclaimed.

“So...” Hina carefully walked behind you on the mirror, your eyes meeting through the reflection. “Cold feet?”

“No, not at all. I'm great.” You shrug it off, as if you weren't just thinking of your ex a few seconds ago.

“Okay so remember when you asked if you could borrow some accessories from me and I said yes?” She asks, and you hum in agreement.

“Well, I didn't really have much accessories myself but... I went through your jewelry box and found this! Sorry!” Your smile dropped at the sight of the black diamond necklace. Although dark, midnight blue tones beautifully illuminated from it.

“This is so heavy.” You lift the box in your hands.

“Just open it already.” Mikey lazily rest his head on the couch.

“Holy shit, Mikey, this is the best birthday gift anyone's ever gotten me.” You exclaimed, actually shocked. “This must have caused a fortune...” You comment, hesitating to take the necklace.

“Just a little work.” He mumbled. “Thank you so much." You engulf him in a hug, before you hear him whisper an “I love you”.

You didn't object as Hina carefully secured the necklace over your neck, “Gorgeous!” She proudly smile before you glanced at yourself on the mirror, briefly seeing your younger self for a moment.

“Can you guys... give me a moment?” You excused yourself as Hina and the stylist happily obliged.

Something didn't feel right about this day. It definitely wasn't like how the movies and books described a wedding day for a bride, you weren't feeling as happy or excited.

The dress, maybe if I put it on, I'll feel more like it.

You carefully took the simple, yet white dress hung nearby, fingers grazing over its intricate details before deciding to slip it on with ease.

Well, that was a step.

Slowly turning around, you met the reflection of yourself in the dress. It was a beautiful mess. The dress, while lovely, seemed to cling to your frame as though it was wearing you. It didn't feel right. You were suffocating, inside out.

Anxiety was washing over you and suddenly felt need to get out of the dress immediately. You stumble behind, almost knocking the lampshade off from the impact.

Cold feet are often symptomatic of a legitimate intuition that you may be heading for the wrong place at the wrong time, and it's exactly how you're feeling right now.

The black slip-on sneakers resting on the doormat was silently calling out to you, looking so appealing as well as the open window letting the rays of sunshine in where you can definitely fit through.

It's now or never.

You didn't know what was it that took over you, but you were suddenly slipping on the sneakers and rushing to the windows in a hurry. You've done it, there is no turning back now.

You felt bad for not feeling bad. For such a long time, you've finally felt being free.

You didn't exactly know where you were running off too, but thankfully, no one was around from where you escaped from. But once you hit the crowded streets, you've started to attract looks from strangers. and you didn't care.

You just ran, desperate to be anywhere but the church. You couldn't even remember when was the last time you felt this kind of adrenaline rush. and it felt so good.

After what seemed like minutes of running, you reached a familiar empty building you've hung out at as a teenage delinquent. Colorful graffitis broken bike parts, and shattered glass scattered through the area, as if it hadn't changed a bit.

Dried leaves crunched under the weight of your feet, some even managing to stick over your dress.

On the way here, you managed to get yourself a can of soda from a vendor out of exhaustion and thirst, taking this opportunity to quench up and drink.

You gazed through the broken walls that exposed the inside to the horizons, eyes meeting the harsh rays of the sun. You look away from instinct, but that didn't stop you from stepping towards the edge. The moderate, cool winds made up for the hot temperature, you decided to take a seat on the ledge and let your legs freely sway back and forth.

The sight of the busy city from up here still looked amusing as ever. Soda can in one hand, you pop the lid off and finally drank off of it. God, did that run exhaust you.

It's funny how this whirlwind of emotions started from the memory of your ex.

But you didn't regret fleeing. You felt the exact opposite– great and free. You saved S/O the burden of getting into an unsure marriage before it was too late.

This isn't definitely how you pictured this day would be, but you know what? Nothing could be any better than this— sitting on the filthy floors of an old building, at the top and overseeing the city with a good ol' cold drink in your hand.

At least, that's what you thought...

“My god...” Your breath hitched at the sound of the voice coming from behind. Who could be here with you?

And that voice... sounded so foreign yet familiar, “You look beautiful.” Turning around, you couldn't even speak at the person who stood before you.

You never expected the person standing right behind you with concerned eyes, to be the boy you loved as a teenager.

The only man you ever felt truly in love with. And the man who ultimately disappeared from your life in thin air and bid his goodbyes through a letter.

You went on for years, wondering how Mikey had been. At sime point, even considered looking for him, but, eventually accepting that his walk out was for the good of everyone.

But there he was now, standing right im front of you.

All you could hear was ringing in your ears, overpowering any other sound in distance. Your eyes went wide as you stared at the man in front of you, hand over your chest to feel your rapid heart beating.

It was strange, this feeling of home just wash over you, as well as what you have felt the moment you were reading his handwritten goodbye.

Nostalgia is the heart's way of reminding you of something you once loved. Was this what it is?

But you would be lying too if you said you didn't dream of this moment at some point. You dreamt of seeing Mikey again. For this very moment.

And it was happening. Right in front of you, stood the only man you ever shared such strong feelings with.

You almost couldn't recognize him, but when your eyes met, your heart immediately clicked and knew it was him. “Mikey...” You repeated, as if a hundred times in your head wasn't enough for your mind to realize it.

“Hi [Name]...”

Although devoid of color, the littlest ounce of hope glistened in his eyes at the mention of your name.

You still looked beautiful as ever, features a bit more matured and sculpted to that of an art picturesque. You were a sight for sore eyes, and just the very view of you brought immense joy and ease to Mikey.

But he also knew that you would have questions on where he had been, and how he showed up here. But that was pure coincidence.

“Mikey...” You shook your head, brushing the strands falling over your face in strays.

“Hi [Name].” He spoke once more in assurance that all of this was real. Mikey practically jumped to his feet as he cautiously made his way over to you on the ledge, sitting down beside you comfortably.

“Hey,” Suddenly, his voice was much closer to yours.

Mikey's heart ached for the woman he still loves, wishing he'd take all the internal turmoil away from you. Wishing you didn't have to go through this because of him.

So he decided to do what he did when you would felt overwhelmed when you were younger.

He remembered those days like it was yesterday.

He carefully reached his rough hand, cautiously hovering it over your shoulders, debating whether or not to go through this.

He didn't want to spook you, but this was the only way he knew how to comfort you.

Because this was what he did before— engulf you in a hug and express the care he dearly have for you.

“I like your hair.” You comment, head now resting over his shoulder as he joined you gaze upon the busy city.

“I like yours,” He replied, faint smile painting on his lips.

You let his head rest over yours, sitting in comfortable silence and felt the tip of his fingers delicately brush against your styled hair.

“[Name]?” Mikey called,

“Why are you in a wedding dress?!” He asks, not wanting to just sit and pretend as if you're not supposed to be anywhere. Because clearly, you are.

“Well, I'm uh, supposed to... get married today.” You admit, withdrawing from his touch.

“I see. So, all your friends and family are waiting for you in some sort of church right now?” He asks.

“Well, not all. Just a few.” You shrug. “Like... twenty.”

“Oh god.” He cursed.

“Well, it's... we rushed into it anyway! It feels like I'm making a mistake! So, I... I left.” You spoke, getting up and stepping away from the ledge.

“and I don't feel bad, at all.” You admit “Which is so messed up!” Your statement came out with a laugh.

“[Name], I was so tempted to come back to you so many times.” Mikey blurt.

It's so assuring to hear that, isn't it? He is thinking about you all those years...

You were also a firm believer of— “What belongs to you, simply finds you.” and you and Mikey clearly find your way back to each other again. True love— indeed, has a habit of coming back.

He was thinking of you, and you'd just left a relationship you're so uneasy in— the two of you are here, and clearly more than available.

“Nothing's stopping you now...” You answer, searching his eyes which remained still. You understood; it was a bold, honest statement. So you nod, deciding to give him time while fixing some things.

“I'll quickly go home and take my car... If you're ready to drive off the sunset together.” You suggested, pulling the hem of your dress up to give space for your feet to move as you stepped towards him. “If you don't feel the same way, if you've closed the doors on us, just say the word, and I'll go.”

Your confession came out as a surprise, as he wasn't expecting you to offer him such idea. But the feeling of your warm palms being taken away from his cheeks sent him into thinking in an instant...

There's a reason I said I'd be happy alone... It wasn't cause I thought I'd be happy alone... Mikey thought, watching the fabric of your dress disappear down the stairs along with your frame.

It was because I thought that if I loved someone and then it fell apart, I might not make it. He pondered.

It's easier to be alone, because what if you learn that you need love, and then you don't have it?

What if you like it? and rely on it?

What if you shape your life around it, and then... it falls apart?

Can you survive that kind of pain?

Losing love is like dying, the only difference is— death ends. The grief can go on forever.

But I also learned that—

Mikey realized he had been looking into this far too deeply. When in reality, the answer was simple and was just right in front of him.

Just because you can live without something,

He quit staring at the scrapped brick wall, now sprinting towards the stairs where you previously had been.

... doesn't mean you have to.

“[Name].” He called, catching up to you just before stepping off the flight of stairs.

“Why take your car? My bike's just downstairs.” He asks.

Although he didn't exactly say yes, Mikey's question was clear— he wanted to do this. You smile out of exhilaration.

You definitely didn't think this through, but the feeling of spontaneousness only brought you back to your younger days when you'd take on shenanigans and last minute plans with Mikey and Toman. God, how you missed those days.

“Okay.”

The journey down the highway were filled with laughs mixing with the roaring engine as your arms securely swathe over Mikey's form.

You whisk in and out of the traffic through the road, dress flowing swiftly through the air as you executed your great escape.

The engine of his motorcycle still sounded the same, if not, even smoothly. He definitely took good care of it through the years.

Although both of you got what you wanted, there was a certain thought at the back of his head that couldn't be easily ignored.

“Where are we going?” You have been running into nothing for several minutes already.

“Your place? My place? We could go to my honeymoon.” You snort. “Just kidding... although, it is paid for.” You added, your remarks never failing to make Mikey smile.

It's no question that Mikey had done controversial actions and decisions. He's the head of Tokyo's leading crime organization, after all.

But driving you off, taking you away from what could be a perfect and easy life for you didn't exactly feel right for him.

Someone is waiting for you at that church, who he is sure, loves you with all they have. Who wouldn't?

What if you did in fact, find someone better than him?

and he was taking you away from them...

He loved this. He wants this. But what happens after this?

He slowly pulls over at the nearby parking space, careful to park and shift to face you.

“I think I know where we should go.” He finally spoke. “Where?” You ask with a hint of anticipation.

“Your wedding. I'm taking you back.”

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