#gone forever: realm of nowhere

[kitty-is-writing]

📝 in the mood to post a short story today 📝

this one is called Reunions, set in the same world as my novels are, as the old gods are returning from their centuries of slumber.

- Reunions -

“Hello brother.”

The unexpected greeting startled Ralor-Kanj out of his meditation. His eyes snapped open, immediately fixing on the barrel-chested man leaning against his doorframe.

“It’s been a long time. How have you been?” the visitor continued.

Ralor stood. “What do you want?”

The visitor gave a mocking pout. “Aw, nearly four centuries trapped in another realm and you can’t even pretend you’re pleased to see me? I’m hurt, dear brother.”

“What do you want, Chaos?” Ralor asked again.

“Ooh, I do like it when you call me that... so much more fitting than the name Mother gave, right Order?”

Ralor took a step forward, one hand twitching towards his sword. “Don’t make me ask you again.” The sword flashed as it zoomed from its place on the wall to his hand.

Chaos smirked. “I just want a little fun. Do you have any idea how dull it was, stuck in Nowhere for three hundred and eighty nine long years? You should have known Mother’s little ritual couldn’t keep me there forever, especially after she messed up and lost her following. I suppose that was why she went and made you, wasn’t it? She knew I’d find a way back eventually and thought you’d be able to keep me in line,” he taunted.

Losing his patience, and riled by the other god’s taunts, Ralor slashed at him with the sword. “Get out!”

Chaos vanished in a flash of sickly yellow light, the blade missing him by a split second, and reappeared behind Ralor’s desk. “You’ve had your turn, dear brother. Now it’s mine,” he said, a wicked smirk on his lips as he flicked the end of the golden scales. Another flash of light, and he was gone.

Ralor dropped the sword and reached to steady the see-sawing scales, only to be repulsed by a sharp jolt of electricity. As he shook the numbness from his arm, staring at them as they yawed wildly on their pivot, a strangled yell came from the pavilion. Thinking Chaos had wrought yet more of his namesake already, he willed himself there, expecting to find pandemonium.

Instead, the pavilion seemed as calm and peaceful as ever, except for Vrenid-Malchor. Where the Creator usually sat upon his throne, now he knelt on the floor, clutching his head and groaning in apparent pain. Talri-Pekra was already kneeling at his side, looking more concerned than Ralor had ever seen her. “What’s happening?” he asked her, hoping the goddess of knowledge would know something about it. She looked up at him, and he could almost see her mind forming and discarding ideas at blinding speed, but she said nothing.

“It’s started,” came a voice from behind them. Ralor turned to see Dranj-Aria, watching the Creator with a strange expression.

“What’s started?”

She kept her gaze on the kneeling god, slowly approaching as she answered. “They’re coming back. The lost ones were returning, and he’s going to break apart.” She drew level with Ralor, and turned to face him. “It’s a shame to see him go, but I couldn’t say I wasn’t pleased to see my sun again.”

“Returning... all of them?” Ralor asked. “So it’s not just Chaos, they’re all coming back?”

Talri-Pekra jumped up from the floor. “Chaos is back? When did that happen?”

“He just showed up in my domain, taunted me a bit and unbalanced the scales,” he said.

The three were silent for a moment, considering the implications of that. Each of them knew that Ralor-Kanj’s golden scales were linked to the balance within the mortal world, and whatever happened to one would affect the other.

Their thoughts were interrupted by a drawn-out scream from Vrenid-Malchor, and they turned to face him again. “Is there anything we can do for him?” Talri-Pekra shouted.

“No, but we needed to be here for the others. They’ll be confused and need our help after they split,” Dranj-Aria replied.

Cracks appeared in the kneeling god’s skin, and a blinding light shone through. His screaming continued without pause, and Ralor shut his eyes, wishing that someone could at least ease his pain. Suddenly, the screaming stopped, and the entire pavilion was saturated with a pure white glow for a second. Once the light faded, the three standing could make out four forms lying on the floor, clustered around the spot Vrenid-Malchor had been moments before.

One, a dark-skinned woman wearing a clingy, web-like dress of some golden material, stirred faintly and groaned. A stocky, brown-haired man wearing hunter’s garb slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, and squinted around the place. Another man, tanned and tall with broad shoulders, simply lay on the floor staring upwards. The fourth, a younger man with pale skin and rather fluffy auburn hair, was the first on his feet, and stumbled into Dranj-Aria’s arms. “Mum,” he whispered as she caught him.

She held him close, stroking his hair flat and murmuring words of comfort into his ear. “Call the others. They needed to know what’s happening,” she told Ralor-Kanj.

“Does this mean I’ll get to see my mum again too?” came a little voice from behind them.

Ralor turned to see Aikra-Lora standing there, eyeing the four newly-reformed gods. “Yes, I suppose it does. Would you stay a moment and help these three? I need to fetch the rest,” he said.

She nodded, and made her way across to the woman on the floor. “You must be Venri. Mum told me a lot about you before she went away.”

Venri sat up, gently encouraged by the youngster. “Your mum... Alrin-Fora, yes, I remember her. You... Aikra-Lora, you were even littler the last time I saw you,” she said slowly. “What happened? The last thing I remember was being pulled here against my will...”

“We all got merged together,” said the man still lying on the floor. “Forced into one being by the humans, because their beliefs changed. “You, me, Alch, and Renir over there,” he waved towards the stocky man who Talri-Pekra was speaking softly to. “I remember... there are flashes, bits of the last few years... how long has it been?”

“Almost two centuries now, Chor,” came a leaden voice. Fakro-Umdar had arrived in the pavilion. “When Ralor said you had all returned, I wasn’t certain I believed it. I suppose this means the rest will be back soon?”

Dranj-Aria nodded. “They all started coming back the day Vrenid-Malchor broke apart. Of course, someone already woke Rolar-Triak a few months ago...”

“Chaos is back?” all except Talri-Pekra exclaimed.

“Uh-huh, weren’t you following the mortal drama last year? They’d started up old cults again, the Mistress and Chaos, plenty were already worshipping Alrin-Fora again, so she was back a couple of weeks from now, if I remember right; I think even old Baltakor started getting a following again and rejoined us soon,” Dranj-Aria said. “You really should keep up with the mortals more, you might have a better idea what was going on.”

A grating laugh rang through the pavilion. “I know, right? Did you see the dragon battles over Tewen a few months back? So much glorious pain, so many grieving families,” Somri-Galin said, an ecstatic smile on his lips.

“You don’t have to sound so pleased about that,” said Ralor, returning behind the god of suffering. “I know it’s your thing, but still,” he jerked his head towards Aikra-Lora and the newly returned gods. “A little sensitivity now and then would be appreciated.”

“Oh, don't be such a killjoy. Besides, haven't you got a wayward brother to go chasing after?”

Ralor-Kanj tipped his head back, eyes closed in exhaustion as he mumbled to himself. “He’s only been back five minutes and I’m sick of him already. I suppose he is my responsibility though,” he sighed as he turned to the rest. “If the others are returning, someone will have to be here at all times to welcome them back. I suggest we take it in turns, and keep watch for those more likely to cause harm. You know the ones I mean.”

“We shall watch for our brother, and keep him in check as we always have,” came the leaden tones of Fakro-Umdar. He stalked over to Somri-Galin and clapped a not entirely friendly hand on his shoulder. “I am, of course, what follows them both. Sometimes they need reminding of that fact.”

Ralor nodded. Of the three – war, suffering and death – Fakro-Umdar was the most reasonable, if only because he lacked the others’ impatience. He also had some degree of control over their more sadistic impulses, which Ralor could respect even if he didn’t like it much. “I will take care of Chaos, and Mother if she also decides to rejoin us.”

“When can we expect them to begin arriving?” Talri-Pekra said, turning towards Dranj-Aria.

The time goddess grinned. “It wasn’t that simple. Some of them are going to appear elsewhere, and others didn’t remember what they were, so couldn’t have come here until one of us goes to find them. Then of course, the others interfered, and there’ll be the old deal to consider. You needed to figure out how that thing works,” she pointed over to the vision orb Vrenid-Malchor had so closely guarded, now dark and empty as its master was no more. “Once you got it up and running again, it’s going to be simple to keep track of who’s returning and where. Off to your library, Talri,” she wiggled her fingers.

Talri-Pekra vanished so abruptly that the air currents ruffled everyone’s hair. Renir, who she had been talking to, gravitated towards Chor and the two began talking quietly. From the snatches of conversation that drifted across the pavilion, Ralor-Kanj thought they were trying to separate who’s memories of the last couple of centuries were whose. Aikra-Lora disappeared with Venri, talking about Wirba and Astator, while Dranj-Aria settled onto a puffy chair that hadn’t been there a moment ago, catching her son Alch up with recent events. With things at least vaguely under control for now, he left the pavilion himself to begin searching for his brother. There would be no point in trying to restore any semblance of balance to anything until Chaos was contained once more.

#kitty writes #kitty's short stories #my work #writing #fantasy #writeblr #short story

[crabofthewoods]

reversed ending rants!! asra baby it’s your time to shine

1. i love the conflicting feelings in this ending. like,, is it awesome that we get to be together seemingly forever and have no worries or troubles and just camp out in the middle of nowhere in a magic alternate universe thing? hell yeah that sounds like so much fun

but also. we’re stuck here. forever. alone. everyone we knew and loved is gone and we don’t even know it because we can’t remember any of them or anything at all of our lives before getting here

as far as we know, it’s always been like this.

that’s more than a little bit terrifying, i think

2. the implied angst that the others outside of this weird ass realm know that we’re gone and probably not coming back

maybe they’re trying in vain to find a way to pull us out, or maybe they’ve given up and lost hope

what’s happening on the other side??? what’s going on up there??? guess we’ll never know because it looks like we just obliviously sealed off the last means of contact we had with them

and the fact that faust KNOWS something is up but can’t do anything about it

anyway it’s like 10pm and my brain just died so im gonna go implode now

#the arcana #the arcana game #thearcana #arcana #asra the arcana #asra/apprentice #asra/mc #asra (the arcana) #the arcana asra #asra #asra the magician #asra x apprentice #asra x mc #asra alnazar #asra reversed ending #reversed ending arcana #reversed ending

[watchingyoufromthestars]

Okay, time for my mixed feelings on Scam Likely and how nobody can escape the repetitive cycle of being an imperfect father. I’ll try to be objective as I break down the scene in Goofs Realm, but I’m in my Scam hater era.

THIS IS LONG, SORRYYYYYY

No father will be perfect in fiction or reality, and it’s a running theme of the show. The mistakes of your past define the present and the families have been constantly doomed to repeat them, but in new, fresh, fucked up ways. There are varying levels of mistakes all of them have made in the story, especially compared to Willy, but he’s his own special case.

Scam’s sin is ignorance. To the world around him and individuals’ feelings. Consistently he is shown to not realize outside of his Goofs that they can heavily affect other people in ways they do not like. That actions have consequences. His entire relationship with Jodie was a joke to him, while Jodie was left without his romantic partner a second time and was scammed out of a son (and in more ways than one since Hermie was spawned as a teenager instead of a baby). It’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt, and now that someone is his son and he’s dead.

“He tries to hide the fact that he is actually emotionally affect by this, but he only got a 6, so you can see that he is genuinely upset.”

In his own way, Hermie does matter to him. I think Scam is a very hard being to compare to the rest of the cast because of his Goofs realm nature. He has an entirely different set of morals and ground rules of existence. For christ sake you die forever into nothingness in Goofs Realm if you stop being funny. But now Scam is confronted with a harsh truth and he can’t deny an emotional mode outside of Silly and Laughter.

“I didn’t even think of him as something that could die. He was just a goof. Goofs never die. It’s like- all jokes are always funny forever.”

We truly see Scam’s mindset here. Be it as a Goofs native or just who he is individually, he only thinks of The Big Joke of it all. Hermie was not an individual with feelings to be loved and raised (not that he even raised him at all), Hermie was just a joke to him. And it wasn’t even in any personal way. Everything is a joke to him.

“Where is he? Is he in Hell? Is he in Heaven?”

“I don’t know! He doesn’t have a soul! He’s not like you or me. Well, not like you.

And here it’s cemented in just how irregular Hermie is. Neither him nor Scam have a soul. As much as we’ve visited dead characters on this podcast, there’s nowhere that Hermie can be reached. This incarnation of him is gone forever.

“Do you forgive me for whatever is about to happen? I’m truly going to try.”

Try as he might to make things right — in his own insane way of ‘farting and it’ll be so funny that he’ll come back’ — that’s not something that’s been allowed lately on this show. And what could he even do to make things right anyways? There’s no joke to be made when someone has passed, and no joke can bring them back.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t think it would happen like this. I didn’t think he would actually develop a personality; he was just supposed to be a Goof machine. Nobody was supposed to be sad if something happened to him.”

Again, Hermie’s existence was just a part of one big goof and scam for him. Meta and Story, Hermie is and was a joke. He was just supposed to be this silly little guy, but then as time marched on he developed into something of a person. Something a lot of us got attached to and something Normal held onto dearly. “Nobody was supposed to be sad if something happened to him”, but he became too much of a Person for that to stay true.

“I could make you another one.”

And then there’s this line. It kills me in a very specific way. Scam is just so disconnected from human nature that he doesn’t know fully realize the value an individual life holds. Yes, he could just make another Hermie, but that’s not the Hermie. To use the first metaphor that comes to mind, it’s like making a mastercopy. In a previous painting class, we studied a singular painting for one project and recreated it to the best of our abilities. As skilled as one can be in painting, you cannot truly recreate the original. There’s history imbued in the original, and it’s lived a lifetime before your own version was created. Even if you create a version indistinguishable from the original, it is still not the same.

All of this is to say that I cannot truly judge Scam, at least from a certain standpoint. I have very mixed feelings about him, but he’s a unique case of a character that’s very different than judging one of the human dads. Am I rambling here? Am I spouting nonsense? I don’t know, I’m still in distress over crying multiple times from this episode. I’m not proof reading this lol

#dndads #dungeons and daddies #dndads spoilers #scam likely #the only one from today’s episode I’ll tag with character because this is a longer post

[mages-pandoras-box]

Uncle Za

(closed starter for @alwayschasingraiinbows)

When an angel becomes king of a land, they can always tell when someone new has entered it. If tuned to their aura, they can tell their species and who they are.

So when Charlie falls from the sky into his home, Philza instantly knows, just as Lucifer would know when someone enters Hell or Sera when someone enters Heaven. Luckily, Charlie falls onto some soft flora, so she's unharmed. The portal she came out of due to her mispronunciation closed quickly behind her.

As Charlie looks around, she sees that she is on Earth. Still, nowhere she has read about. Colorful auras light the forever night sky. Bright stars twinkle overhead, not a touch of light pollution present. The land was covered in mystical trees and plants, flowers of all shades with creatures of all kinds.

Color beacons of light stretch into the sky, shades of purples, greens, and blues piercing the sky. Charlie would also see the massive number of crows that seem to be in this garden. Their eyes follow her as she moves, and she realizes these Crows are intelligent, not just birds. And then she sees one; a Crow in angle form.

The angel was standing next to a tree on a hill before her, mask on - one eerily similar to a plague doctor, black wings with green undertones flap one twice due to unseat. But the angel doesn't attack; just simply points deeper into the forest, encouraging Charlie to walk forward. As Charlie moves, it leads her toward the middle of the realm.

The angel would lead Charlie to the start of a large build, and she'd see Philza, or as she read about him, Azrael, with his back to them. Gone were the white and purple robes that the seraphim once adored, replaced with a black undershirt, dark green samue, and white and green striped bucket hat. Philza's black wings were tucked behind him, and the rainbow markings represented some of his many eyes blinking slowly at his visitor.

The scyth that was once used to reap souls now terraformed the Earth, creating more colorful, exotic plants as Philza brandished it like a wand, his angelic magic seeping from the blade into the forest floor. After a moment, he stopped.

He turned to his visitors, a surprised but not unhappy look on his face. Even his eyes were different from what Charlie had read. The once plum irises contrasted by lavender sclera had changed into a human blue and white sclera; they looked tired yet proud as he stood before the people he once considered to be allies or family.

"Charlie?" he breathes softly. A British accent that Philza did not have before leaving Heaven bled into his words, making his voice sound deep and soft, almost fatherly, "What are you going here?"

#crowfather; philza minecraft #caw caw b*tch; memphis #alwayschasingraiinbows #hazbin hotel au

[bi-bard]

Make Your Good Love Known to Me - Dream of the Endless Imagine [The Sandman]

Title: Make Your Good Love Known to Me

Pairing: Dream of the Endless X Reader

Based On: As It Was

Word Count: 1,345 words

Warning(s): mention of kidnapping

Summary: Morpheus returning to the dream realm is accompanied by anxiety and uncertainty on many fronts. The only certainty is the love that (Y/n) holds for him after all these years. The goal now was to convince Morpheus of that.

Author's Note: I love how dramatic I can be when I write dialogue for this show.

WASTELAND, BABY! - HOZIER WRITING CHALLENGE MASTERLIST

--------------------------

I had been very hesitant to believe that Morpheus had gone missing.

After he had kissed me and promised to return to me, I refused to believe that anything would have been able to stop him from keeping his word.

However, as the consequences of the dream lord's absence began to show, I had no choice other than to accept the terrifying reality. I could not live in ignorance when the dreaming and waking worlds were suffering in such a way.

I did everything in my power to keep the realms running, but I was not Morpheus. I had nowhere near his power or honor. I was not an Endless. No great entity had any need or desire to visit or assist me.

I was thankful to not be alone.

Through all of it, I had Lucienne constantly by my side. She was the one being that I felt safe enough to confess my fears. I tried to show the realm that I had all the faith in their leader. But when it was just Lucienne and myself, I had no reason to hide my anxieties.

"More damage in the library," Lucienne said as she walked into the throne room.

I closed my eyes and sighed. It was a matter of time before I lost control of the realm. This was a natural consequence of the universe.

"I hope you are not losing hope," she added when she heard my sigh.

I turned around to face her. "I will confess that the hope is starting to feel more like an additional weight on my shoulders. I am caring for the realm, not just for myself."

She nodded at me. "Morpheus will return. We must have faith. You only have this burden to bear for a while longer-"

"I am not him, Lucienne," I cut her off. "My time here has granted me some power to hold this realm together, but I cannot stop it from crumbling forever. This realm was constructed for Morpheus, not me. He needs to come back. Or else everything we have done is pointless. All our time just wasted."

I never doubted that she had a full understanding of how worried and stressed I had been. She had never been anything other than kind to me. It was why I felt so much guilt for letting my fear and stress boil over into anger.

"I apologize," I said. "You have done nothing to deserve my outbursts."

"It is quite alright," she replied. "I miss him too."

"I know," I muttered.

I walked over and hugged her tightly.

"I will continue fighting for this realm as long as you do," I promised. "I will not walk away until you deem it necessary."

She hugged me back. "Morpheus will come home. I can feel it."

I nodded. I wanted to believe that as much as she did.

I clearly should have.

That was the only thought that crossed my mind as I stared at Morpheus across the room from me. I was certain that it was my mind attempting to trick me. Distract me from what I was meant to be doing.

But as the weight of the realm rolled off of my shoulders, I realized that this was real. He was real.

I ran forward, throwing my arms around him. He held me as close as he could.

"Morpheus."

"(Y/n)," he mumbled. "It has been too long."

"A century," I replied. I leaned back and cupped the sides of his face. "I almost lost count."

"I will never be able to express how sorry I am." his hands reached up and touched mine, pressing them harder against his skin.

"I have no need for your apologies. I am just relieved to have you back."

As a heavy sigh escaped me, tears filled my eyes.

My heart told me that this was going to be the moment that everything went back to the normal that I had not known in a hundred years.

That was not the case.

Morpheus seemed to avoid discussing the topic of his absence with me. He hid it well at first. With him going to gather his things again, I accepted his avoidance. However, when he made his way home again and still avoided our conversation, I knew that something was going on in his mind.

I knew that he would not talk to me if I did not force him to.

I found him staring at his large stained-glass windows. I remained silent as I walked up the stairs.

I refused to speak up until I was standing next to him.

"What are you hoping to see, my love," I asked.

"I am afraid that I have no answer," he replied. "Where do I begin in a situation such as this?"

"Looking for the lost dreams?"

"Yes."

"The Corinthian should not pose much difficulty," I said. "Chaos seems to follow just behind him."

"The waking world is composed of more chaos than you would ever believe."

I nodded.

A silence formed between us. It made my hands sweat and my chest feel tight. I craved nothing more than to know that I still had him. That the time away had not changed him so greatly that I lost his love.

"Morpheus," I finally let my voice be heard. "Why have you taken to avoiding me?"

He made no effort to look at me when I looked at him. He tensed for a moment.

"Morpheus..."

"My time away," he relented before I could beg for him to share his thoughts with me. "With all of the damage that it caused both this world and that of the waking, I have grown doubtful that none of that damage has reached you."

I furrowed my eyebrows.

"After a century, I would not be surprised if you did not feel as you once did," he continue. "You have no obligation to me."

"I know."

"You can leave if you so desire. I have no interest in forcing your company."

"I would never have stayed if I did not still love you, Morpheus," I turned to him fully. "Such a lie would do neither one of us any good. I am here because I love you. I stayed during your absence because I love you. My feelings have not changed, if anything, they have grown even stronger."

There were no words spoken for a few moments.

I took a deep breath as I moved closer to him.

I cupped the far side of his face, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. I heard a sigh come from him. I kissed his cheek again. And again. And I continued kissing him until he turned his head to mine. Our foreheads touched and we both stopped for a moment.

"I have never and will never stop loving you, Morpheus," I promised. "And I will spend as long as I must reminding you of that fact."

His eyes were closed, but I could tell that my words had sunk into his mind and heart. I could see how his shoulders relaxed and how his jaw seemed to unclench.

I was going to mumble more and more sweet nothings to him, but I was stopped when Morpheus leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine.

I slowly kissed him back.

The love in my chest seemed to only grow.

I had spent so long without him that being with him again was almost overwhelming. Suffocating in the best way. As if I was losing room to breathe by simply getting to love him again.

I tried to follow his lips as he leaned back.

My eyes slowly opened to find him studying me.

"I love you," he whispered. Some great secret even after all this time.

"I love you too," I replied, feeling a fresh wave of tears prick my eyes.

He leaned in and kissed me again, pulling me as close to his body as he could.

Morpheus meant everything to me.

And I would spend an eternity showing him that.

--------------------------

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#morpheus fanfiction #morpheus imagine #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless imagine #dream of the endless fanfiction #dream imagine #dream fanfiction #dream x reader #imagine #fanfiction #x reader #the sandman x reader #the sandman imagine #the sandman fanfiction #sandman imagine #sandman fanfiction #sandman x reader #dc imagine #dc fanfiction #dc x reader

[kydrogendragon]

Febuwhump - Suffering in Silence

Pairing: Dreamling Words: 1671 Warnings: Dub-con Ao3 Link Here

Dream had found comfort, here in the Waking world. After so long, confined to glass and iron with only cruel and indifferent stares to greet him, the warmth of Hob’s smile was a welcome respite. He owed Hob more than he could possibly repay. Each smile, each tender greeting his friend gave him—and friend he was, indeed; another miracle in it’s own right—was one that Dream cherished and held close to his chest.

After their reunion at the New Inn, a temple in a sense, to him and to their shared history, Hob had left Dream with an open invite. It was a gift so freely offered, almost without care, but to Dream, it was the highest gift he could be given. So he visited. He visited more often than he would have initially thought. While there was still much to be done in his realm, he found there were greater periods where he could slip away without harm for a brief visit to the Waking. Each time, Hob greeted him with that same warmth and care.

What he should have anticipated, however, was man’s innate greed. And Hob, having lived for so long, a man fueled by desires, was far from exempt from this. 

It was an innocent enough of a night. Hob had specifically asked if Dream would be free this evening, so Dream had ensured he would for Hob does not ask much of Dream, if at all, and Dream would not leave his friend wanting. Not when the debt between them were so high, or so he tells himself. More likely, he is motivated by the bright smile he’s gifted in return for a simple yes.

Hob had cooked dinner for him. It wasn’t an uncommon activity, Hob has done this occasionally before, but this time their shapes are familiar. Small pastries, savory and golden crusted, lie stacked on a platter on the kitchen table.

“Maybe this is a bit selfish of me, but a coworker and I had gone down the rabbit hole of talking about food and meat pies had been mentioned which made me remember the venison pastries from forever ago and then they wouldn’t leave my mind until I’d had ‘em again.” Hob takes one of the small hand-size pies in hand, looking more bashful than Dream had ever seen before. “Anyways, figured now that I’m hopefully less of an arrogant arse, you might give it a try? If you want, of course.”

Dream eyes him for a moment, watching his gaze flick away from Dream and to the plate between them on the kitchen island. He does not eat much in the Waking, though he has been tempted more times as of late, so long as it was something Hob wished for him to try. So he takes one and smirks as Hob watches him, enraptured, as his teeth sink into the flaky pastry.

“They’re nowhere as good as they used to be. For one, it’s lamb, not venison. Bit hard to get that nowadays, at least quickly. And I’m no chef, so the pastry dough was pre-made, but—”

“It is good,” Dream says, interrupting his friend’s ramblings. “Thank you, Hob. You are a better chef than you give yourself credit for.”

Hob just smiles, looking down at his own pastry in hand with a slight flush on his cheeks. It was here that Dream first catches the whiffs of Hob’s daydreams.

He does not make a habit of peering into the thoughts and dreams of his friend. He has not done so over the past centuries and now as they grow closer, he does not do so now. This particular daydream, however, is strong and demands to be seen. Trying to ignore it would be akin to trying to look away from one’s own nose. Impossible, to say the least, lest Dream changes his form (or in this case, leaves Hob’s flat, which he is disinclined to do just yet).

Flashes of the pair of them race through Hob’s consciousness. Hob, working over the stove, chopping vegetables and preparing meats. Then, a pair of slender, pale arms wrapping around Hob’s waist. A kiss, pressed to the tanned skin at the back of his neck. The words, “Hello, Love,” whispered with such reverence and care that it makes Dream’s heart lurch in his chest.

The daydream ends as Hob hisses, blowing into the steaming center of his own pastry. “Shit, careful. These are still blazing hot apparently. Damn near melted my tongue off.” Hob turns to the fridge and Dream can’t help but reply the daydreams of Hob’s mind over again.

A week passes by the time Dream visits again. They’re sitting down in the lobby of the New Inn, Hob working on marking as he talks of his days and his students and the drama of the History department. He sips idly at the glass of wine Hob brought for him when Hob looks up at him. 

There is a question in his eyes and a daydream pushing out from his mind. Lips are on Dream’s own and he can feel the phantom touch of Hob’s own against him. The gentle scratch of hair against his jaw, a puff of hot breath against his skin. Dream feels it all as the images flow through Hob’s mind. 

Then it’s gone as Hob speaks. “Wanna move upstairs? Kareoke’s about to start here soon and God knows I won’t put you through that particular brand of torture.”

Dream nods, stiffly, still processing the ghost of a kiss upon his lips. Hob packs up, waving a hand in parting to the barkeep, before leading them both up the stairs to his flat.

He has had time to think after the very first daydream. Dream told himself should it be a one-time fantasy, he would leave it. Human minds do not control their thoughts as Dream does. But he cannot deny the details of Hob’s dreams. These are not mere images in which Dream takes a leading role simply due to proximity. No, these are well-worn ones, slowly build up in accuracy and detail over the course of many years. Dream does not doubt that Hob has had such dreams for a long time now.

Which brings him to the forking path he’s at now. Hob, his dearest friend, one Dream finds himself wishing to do anything for, longs for him in such fashions Dream is unsure he’s prepared to give. His love is not one that is sought for for long, he has found. But Hob is different. He craves, he wants. And Dream could provide, even if the thought makes him tense.

Hob is his friend. But Hob wishes to be more.

How long would it take for Hob to grow tired of Dream? Of his friendship? He well knows he is lacking in such areas. He has never had many friends and is unskilled in the practice. Would he lose Hob? Would he lose him soon?

Would Hob court him? Ask him for his love and attentions and then shun Dream should Dream rebuke him?

He has more experience as a lover, both as Dream and in stories. Perhaps he could keep Hob closer for longer should he be his lover rather than his friend.

Hob closes the door behind them and turns only to be pushed against the wooden door, Dream’s lips upon his. Hob startles, but soon melts into the touch. His lips open, head tilts so that they may draw each other closer. It... it is not strictly unpleasant, despite the echo of lover’s past who have spurred his touch, of those who had loved parts of him, but not all of him. Hob moans and wraps his arms around Dream’s waist, pulling him closer. Dream allows him.

This, he can be good at. He was always a skilled lover when it came to the physical. He need not speak, he simply need to act. And when they part and Hob looks up at him with more awe in his eyes and joy upon his face, how could Dream ever think to deny him this?

No, he can keep Hob closer this way. He can hold onto his friend for longer should he press kisses to his lips and allow the freedom of touch upon his own form.

It is only when they move into the bedroom that Dream begins to think he has made an error. Hob undresses him, leaving him bare in the Waking in a way he has not been since—

Hob guides him onto the bed. The sheets are warm and soft and should be a comfort, but they are not. Lips trail down his neck and Dream carefully controls his breathing so it does not betray him here. Daydreams flash through Hob’s mind as his eyes rake across his bare skin. Echoes of guards long dead ring in his ears. Their sneers, their threats, the obscene thoughts and comments that left their lips, laying claim upon his body. It is not unlike the visions that he sees in Hob’s own mind now, even if the tones of them are different.

There is a hand upon him, stroking him. His breath shudders and he is thankful Hob takes it as a sign of pleasure rather than... it is not fear. Not completely. But close in the way that it makes Dream’s skin crawl. He wants to leave. He wants this to be over. But he stays and he pretends. He is good at that.

It’s in the aftermath, Hob’s skin, warm and covered in a sheen of sweat, pressed against his back, that Dream begins to ponder his mistake. 

“Love you,” Hob mumbles into the curve of his neck. Dream feels his mind half–way into his own realm. He is unsure that Hob is even aware of his words. Dream should be happy with this. Hob is happy, happier than before. He smiles wider. Dream owes him this much.

Dream owes him this.

#ky writes #the sandman #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday7 #nsft

[running-with-kn1ves]

all i have to say is yandere thats like whatever peter pan was with s/o who had become so tired with their life that they went with him to "neverland"—until s/o is already like "okay I think I've had enough fun, so can we go back now?" and their like "oh come on dont be like thatttttt we have so much to see and do—SO STAY. won't you please do that for me hehe☺"....1000👏👏👏

I hope this turned out like you were thinking! This idea def fascinates me,,,

---------

"I still don’t quite understand.” the man cocked his head sideways as he feigned ignorance.

You sighed, throwing your head in your hands. This conversation has gone nowhere but in circles, and yet you still tried to reason with him. 

“I need to get back home! To see the people I love! Don’t you understand that? I can’t stay here anymore.”

It was hard not to yell at him after dealing with his perfectly structured obtuse questions. 

Looking at you he stared in thought. He rested his hand on his chin and tried his best to stay still, but ultimately failed. Walking in circles, he brought back the same point he’d done so for hours. 

“But why can’t you just stay? You’re much happier here anyway, right? So there’s no need to go back. They’ll never make you as happy as this place could.” He paused for a moment, staring at you. “As I could.”

“Please--” You sighed, putting a hand to your temple as you paced in the same manner as he. You didn’t know what to say to that. Was he right? You didn’t know. But it still felt wrong to stay here, even if it would make you happier in the end. You wouldn’t be able to sit right if you didn’t go back. 

“Come on, at least stay for a little longer? You haven’t even finished seeing the island--” 

“I can’t,” You avoided his eyes. “I’ve already been here for days. I can feel it. Even with the sun always looking at me, I know that I’ve been here too long.” 

It was clear; being with him was like a dream, but reality was beginning to wake you up. 

“But you can’t leave! Not when you haven’t even met everyone yet; you haven’t even seen the best part yet, okay? Just, stay a little while more--”

“That's exactly what you said yesterday, and the day before!” You snapped. A part of you wondered if he was making up these ‘new places to see.’ But then again, Neverland was so big that it wouldn’t be a surprise if he was telling the truth. 

He tried his best to look into your eyes, to grab a hold of you and pull you back in like he always did. He did the exact same thing that night, the one where he told you he would take you away from all your problems. 

That dark, breezy moment felt like ages ago. Had it really only been a few days? 

It felt like you had been here for… forever. 

“No.” You swallowed, turning away from his touch. “ I want to leave. Now.”

You knew you couldn’t take yourself back home --on the account of traveling to an unknown realm countless miles away from your world-- but you hoped that the sternness in your voice was enough to convince him. 

But when you looked back, he didn’t appear disheartened or saddened.

No-- he looked angry. 

Yanking your wrist he dragged you back to the beach, away from the cliff of which you had first landed on the night you entered Neverland. 

“Let go!” You grunted, trying to free yourself from his bruising hold. “This isn’t the way back!” 

“We aren’t going back. You, aren't going back. You’re going to stay here, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

You stopped in your tracks, dragging him backwards with you. “What?” you scoffed.

The man smiled, his eyes losing the youthful sparkle that you once admired. He was glad you were finally listening, finally accepting the fate that you were destined to have the moment you accepted his hand from your balcony. 

“Oh you’re so cute.” He pinched your cheek with a childish grin. “I know this hissy fit comes with being in a new place, but won’t you just say you’ll stay with me?”

He was trying to give you the illusion of choice, despite knowing that no matter your response, he'd hold you here with him.

You stuttered, tripping backwards and trying to keep his hands away from cupping your face. He grabbed your wrist to keep from swatting him, squeezing it with a harshness you had never seen him use before. You felt his fingers on your back, pressing you closer than comfortable to him. 

“After all, you don’t have a choice.”

#kn1ves rants #x reader #reader insert #writing #self insert #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere #fanfiction #knives rants #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere prompts #1000 follower celebration #yandere fiction #tw yandere #yandere x darling #yandere tw

[transmutationisms]

i agree that a lot of the critiques of s4 are baseless, but i haven't seen a lot of people acting like stuff is coming out of nowhere. like the consistency of themes doesn't seem to be the issue. i guess it's that the dialogue feels a lot less nuanced and you can make arguments either way for that. the thing for me is it doesn't feel like we're covering new ground. everything they're telling us we already knew. i am biased bc s2 was my favorite (which seems to be a common sentiment) but it feels like s3 onwards has just been reiterating points we already knew without building upon them that meaningfully. the decline of empire stuff has come into play a bit more in s3 and s4 which i like and they built towards it really well, but character wise i don't feel like we've learned anything that valuable in the past 1.5 seasons?

i disagree with that. kendall spends season 3 trying to play knights on horseback, leading to him finally offloading his guilt about the waiter to his siblings, leading to season 4 where he seems to have lost that shred of humanity that made him feel guilty over it; i think that's pretty important information to learn about him. roman went from proposing business-marriage to his father (season 2) to deluding himself into thinking he could just playact as the chosen son (season 3) to actually gaining the corporate position he wanted and going insane over it. shiv is working out an actual viable way for her to survive in this world beyond "go through dad," and everything between her and tom this season is new ground. even connor has had some critical beats in very little screentime (the wedding convo with willa, buying logan's apartment, etc). i acknowledge greg has been foundering for a while and im sorry to greggirls for your loss but frankly i personally never really cared about him the way i do the siblings.

also, i can't really read the political storylines and the psychological explorations as being separate from one another. like, roman and mencken is political commentary, but also a really important psychological beat for roman. same with shiv and matsson; same with kendall and his new tech infatuation; same with connor and the developments in his presidential run. if the political commentary is accomplishing something, it's because the character writing is accomplishing something, and vice versa. to me this sort of political-psychological monism has always been what makes succession tick, both in these storylines and in the broader way the show situates familial abuse as a function of the larger capitalist social matrix.

in general i guess i would question what type of character development we expect from a show whose psychological premise is that people don't fundamentally change. to me this was what made an episode like 'honeymoon states' so brutally effective: it's a reset in many ways, only with the centre of the universe gone forever, and the remaining characters finding new ways to make many of the same old mistakes. i think this does convey new information about the characters, and i think that sense of cyclical psychological claustrophobia is very much on purpose. you might still think it's executed poorly, or you might just dislike it as a narrative engine for a tv show—fair, i'm not going to try to talk you out of that. but i disagree that this season hasn't told us anything important, either about the characters or the political realm they operate in.

like i said, i do have more sympathy for dialogue critiques and i won't pretend none of the convos in season 4 have been clunky. i also do have some issues with season 3 (misuse or underuse of guest stars and secondary characters, a few episodes i don't think go anywhere, etc). personally though, i think season 4 has been stronger and tighter overall so far.

#s4 critiques

[lavendarlily]

did a quick pinch hit for @ecto-implosion !!

credit to @ninjysworld for the story :)

written for art by @ectoplasmic-entity

fiery reaction

rating: gen/t for language

words: 1,191

dan arrives at pariah's keep. he isn't expecting company.

The ghost zone had become a wasteland since the arrival of Dan Phantom.

He didn't fight ghosts in the realm, no - he decimated them. Island after island, door after door, realm after realm. No ghost seemed to be able to match his strength, and those who tried fled as far as they could - if they survived. Others escaped to the human realm only to find it as empty as the ghost zone.

There was nowhere to run.

//

Dan flies silently through the ghost zone, focused on a single destination. The old Ghost King's lair had been moved from his grasp. Word must have traveled to those left, resulting in the locking down of the ancient relics he was rumored to be after.

The ghosts responsible would pay for that. He smiles at the thought of ending their pathetic existence - anyone who thought they could stop him was a fool.

Finally the island comes into view. Dan lands quickly and stealthily so as to not alert anyone of his arrival, yet when he looks towards the gates to the castle, a flaming armored figure blocks the entryway.

"I thought this part of town was deserted, yet it seems there are still some trick or treaters out in these parts," Dan says, eyes trained on Fright Knight. "Some would say you’re courageous, though I’d call it stupid. But,” he waves his hand nonchalantly, “I’m afraid in the end it doesn’t quite matter."

The Fright Knight does not speak. He stands tall, sword at the ready. Dan’s core vibrates at the possibility of a challenge, and from Fright Knight no less, yet the fire disappears when the Fright Knight falls to one knee with a fist pressed into his chest.

"Welcome my liege."

Dan smothers his confusion and growls at the knight. “There is no liege here. If you are not going to fight, get out of my way and maybe I’ll consider letting you go.”

"But you've come to claim the crown of fire, have you not?" Fright Knight asks, remaining bowed as Dan continues past him.

"Something like that." Dan replies, returning to his search, reaching for his memories from the last time he'd been here.

The castle had crumbled to ruins long ago, leaving there little to sift through to find what Dan had come here for. In what once was a vast rotunda decorated with war spoils now sat only a single relic.

The Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep.

"There you are." His fangs glisten in the light as he grins. From the corner of his eye, Dan notices the Fright Knight has followed him, but makes no sudden moves to defend the sarcophagus.

Dan moves forward towards the sarcophagus, placing a single hand on its intricate surface. He feels the power vibrating inside - present, but not fully aware. What happens, he wonders, when a force so powerful is neither alive nor dead? To be allowed to exist, but rendered fully useless? Trapped with power, yet unable to free oneself? There’s a sour taste in his mouth at the thought of the same fate befalling himself. But he won’t let that happen.

"My liege, if you wish to open the Sarcophagus I can-"

Dan doesn’t even turn to face the knight. “There is nothing I want from you or this castle.” Energy begins glowing in his hands, sparkling and crackling with static. “There is nothing in the Ghost Zone I want but for it to fall. To leave it in ashes."

The energy strikes the sarcophagus with a burst of green light, and Fright Knight can only watch as it turns to dust, while Dan admires his work. Though he wouldn’t dare admit it, this had been a test of his power. Of course, he knew he was unmatched when it came to humans and the Ghost Zone dwellers. To dispose of them was no effort. A king? Dan had been uncertain, but now he knew. And if he could destroy Pariah Dark, an Ancient should be feasible. It had to be.

"You…King Pariah…is gone…" Fright Knight says, unable to keep the shock out of his voice. "The sarcophagus, the crown of fire-"

"Look around you, Fright Knight,” Dan interrupts, spinning around so he can look the other ghost in the eyes. “Half the Ghost Zone is in ruin, the rest is only awaiting the same fate. And the mortal realm" he says with a chuckle, “is nothing more than a lifeless hellscape.”

Dan straightens, and brushes off the dust from his suit. He can’t spend any more time here, can’t let the Fright Knight distract him. He had to make his way towards Long Now. However, Fright Knight is blocking the exit, again, bowing with a steel-eyed look that pierces across the room.

“Allow me to join you on your conquest. Let my blade serve you.”

Dan rears, not expecting this turn of events. “I told you - there is no liege here. Be gone before I make you.”

At this, the Fright Knight stands. Unlike the others, he is unafraid as he approaches Dan, and this…intrigues him. “You should reconsider,” he says, and Dan takes in a sharp breath. It’s an order. No one has talked to him like that since he was a measly child, unaware of the great destiny and potential awaiting him. “I only serve the strong and the powerful. You are no exception.”

Dan swallows thickly, trying to read the knight, to sense any deception. With his brazen display, Fright Knight could be a potential threat later on. It may be in Dan’s best interest to have him on his side…

But Dan didn't let just anyone walk alongside him.

In a swift move, he has Fright Knight pinned against the wall. His purple flames grow twice their size, but the fire is cool as ice, having no effect on Dan whose core instead embraces the freezing touch.

To his surprise, the knight doesn't fight back. Dan cocks his head, uneasy with the way the warrior accepts his fate. He growls and moves his face in closer so the two are nearly touching.

“Not going to fight back?” he taunts.

Fright Knight remains still under his grasp. “I would never wield a blade against my liege,” he gasps.

Dan leans in further, Fright Knight’s armor pushing into his body. His eyes blaze menacingly, and when the knight still does not react, Dan steps back.

“Very well then,” he relents. “You may serve me on this mission, but at the first hint of betrayal, I will sever your head with your own sword.”

Dan turns towards the exit. He can't waste any more time. Ha. Time. Something his next conquest is ironically running out of.

“I hope you have no allegiances to Long Now,” Dan calls out as he exits the remains of the castle. That ghost who tried fucking with him had no clue what was coming.

“Of course not, sir. My only allegiance is to yourself.”

Dan steps to the edge of the island, overlooking the ruins of the Ghost Zone, a testament to his power. He grins as he takes it in.

“Very good.”

#danny phantom #lavswordvomit #ecto implosion

[grim-faux]

X6 _ The Fiercest Hunter

First _ A Small Quiet

It was one of those sort of times. The rain of the Pale City wasn’t falling heavily as it did other times, but the steady dripping and plopping pellets and the sound of water plinking gave the city a sort of mood. It wasn’t that hard to see through the roads and endless city blocks stretching forever, but that could be part of the problem too. The pods of Viewers had gone elsewhere, and their eerie presence wasn’t missed, but somehow the sound of rain made the city feel that much more expansive and empty. A forever realm of winding streets, dark hallways, and rooms upon rooms that went nowhere.

What other way would the city be?

Viewers used to clustered into narrow alleys to watch the televisions. Most times they barreled into whatever was in their way, usually getting caught inside buildings after slamming into a wall enough times. Either they collapsed from crushing the face in (more than it already was), or they found and opening and tumbled into the rooms. If enough stampeded around, they could bulldoze a brick wall.

Mono aimed his eyes towards the mist swirling above the highest skyrises. The falling rain obscured the clouds and it made him feel like if he got high enough, he might be able to walk upside down on the mist. Or maybe, there was a world above the mist, and it was solid enough he could wander on it safe from the icy roads he scurried through.

That was a silly thought. He gave his coat and hat a shake, casting off some of the swollen droplets sagging on the edges. He had a lot to do before going back to the alley, and he shouldn’t leave the Thin Man alone for too long.

Wandering along the broken concrete, he evaded the heaps of ruble from the building face high above and the sogging mounds of garbage. He couldn’t find a way through the wall on this side, but if he got to a clear spot maybe the Thin Man could teleport there and find an opening. The Thin Man didn’t need a lot of help finding his way around, he went wherever he wanted. Mono just made everything was safe and no monsters lurked.

A Viewer crashed into the pavement just as he was crawling out from under a slab of cement. It startled Mono into shuffling backwards on his toes and hands, a tinge of static bristled in his spine. Or that was the frigid water sploshing his whole body.

He huddled there for a while, shaking and feeling more soaked than sitting in the drilling rain during the worst storms. The Viewer clicked and gurgled, one arm bent at an unsettling angle beneath its hip, and it was knotted like a bedsheet rope. One eye in the folds of its malformed face glared at him, it had a strange red tint in it.

Carefully, he shuffled around the inert body and stayed far out of the other arms range. The Viewer was quiet and unnaturally still, but it was stupid to be careless. Once he was safe enough away from it, he did pick up a rock and chucked that at the body. Still nothing. Good.

The middle of the road was splint by a narrow crack, it wasn’t large or a problem even without a teleport. He lunged to the other side and hurried over to a short set of steps leading up to a door. Unlike the other side, most doors and stairs stayed intact and the brick was solid. He climbed up one set of steps and pulled a crate over. Unsurprising the door was locked, the base was rotted and panels frayed away, but a bunch of ruble had been crammed into the opening.

It was the same with the other stairways and doors. If he found an unlocked door and entered, he was met with too much clutter for safe navigation. He didn’t want to get trapped, and worst he didn’t want to get separated from the Thin Man again.

He worried about the Thin Man and waiting in the alley, doing nothing. When Mono returned from a scout, he might poke his hat – mushing it onto his head – stare at Mono and say nothing, except eat smoke. If he tugged on the man in the hat, he brushed him away. No speek. Just scooting Mono away, or not looking at him. It was making Mono more anxious. Did the Thin Man stop? Was no move? Like cold children?

Some children never laid down for stop. They could sit upright forever, even when the last traces of light faded from their eyes. All kids knew not to bother children that stopped. If children couldn’t move, then they stayed where they were.

With the creeping alarm chasing him, Mono returned to the place he left his Thin Man. At least a chain-link fenced kept stuff from wandering on this side. It was easy for Mono to slip through the narrow opening on the floor, and race to the place where the man and his hat waited.

He rushed to the Thin Man’s side and grabbed onto the tail end of his suit jacket. High above, a thread of smoke wound away from the tip of his burn stick. That didn’t mean anything, he saw the stick swirl its wispy white enough times while it sat abandoned on a table (he knew better than to chew on the burning ones). He couldn’t find the dark eyes in the shadow of the hat, and the face didn’t twitch. He tugged harder on the suit, grumbling at the man and his hat.

“Hey. Psst.”

At least a hand did move to nudge him away. No speek. Just move him.

“You.” He snagged the hand by the wrist and held on with every fiber of is being. The static buzzed through his bones, he wasn’t sure if that was how it always was or if the Thin Man was angry at him again. “Am have. Go. C’mon.” The hand lifted and shook him like he was oozing mud that wouldn’t drip off. “Up. Y’up.”

The air coughed out of him when the other hand latched onto his waist. He kicked his legs and wriggled, but couldn’t squirm away. Even his mighty arms failed to anchor him when the fingers applied pressure, and with a firm tug he was snapped off. He was prepared for another wriggle match, but the hand popped open and his feet pads slammed to the concrete.

This time he sprang over to the man and his hat, shoving at his hip. “Hey. Okay?” He stared up at the Thin Man, but nothing was offered to him. The tallest monster in all the city simply tucked his arms over his middle and stayed put. Like a pouty child. Mono would be infuriated, if he wasn’t so conflicted about this state.

He did his best to comfort his Thin Man. He reminded him how important he was, how Mono would protect. He made sure to tell him that he was Mono, and he was the best child that looked at him and kept. He tugged on the crisp jacket, or pushed his face into his side. Sometimes he reached up to the hand draped over the Thin Man’s middle and pet his fingers. No biting. His Thin Man needed so much reassurance.

But again, the hand brushed him away.

He tumbled backwards and fell flat on his back. Rather launch back into his efforts, he sat up and stared at the tall figure hunched over. These moods usually passed like nothing, but they didn’t last like this.

Before leaving his Thin Man, he inched over to his hand and patted his fingers. “Am scout. Shhh.”

No reaction. Nothing.

They came from the other direction of the alley, the ground wrecked by cracks and splints that tore through the cement and made the high buildings arch sharply. It was quiet with the dome wilted above, only a few fat drops slapped onto carboard shelters built by travelers and other rubbish cast from the windows. His feet swatting against layered papers sounded so forlorn. No noise but the prattling rain, no televisions chattering with the scrambled images flashing knives or big water. Just lonely rain, his soft steps, and the walls stretched around him.

Some of the cracks he could climb down into, rain water collected in the bottom and sloshed around his knees as he wandered. It was stifling and even colder with the gravelly walls glaring back at him, sometimes he was slipping among the narrow crevices to keep going and find a space where he could climb up. The water stung when it hit him, maybe loaded with grit from the sides. Pebbles and chunks of rocks would plunge into the water – one smacked into his hat, but the cushion protected him from any serious harm. It reminded him to be alert, even if monsters could find him down here he could still get buried by whatever was up above.

In one of the under channels he was crawling through, fierce splashing made him flinch back and wait. In the gloom, he couldn’t see anything and definitely not anything crashing into the shining surface of the water. The water rolled and frothed for a bit, then calmed down. Mono held on a bit longer, focus on the walls and possible shifting. When nothing finally happened, he waded forward in the water.

Something smacked against his shin!

At once the water was a foamy mess. He toppled over, and a slimy mass flopped onto his lap. Another beamed him in the shoulder, nearly knocking him out.

It didn’t take him long to realize what the thing was. A fish! A big fish! A lot fish!

Mono caught his hat before it got thrown aside, and fumbled to get onto his feet. This was a challenge with the fish – he didn’t know how many – kept smacking into his knees. Instead of get all the way upright, he lunged at one of the flashing fins sweeping through the waves. Missed! His sleeves gurgled as the water surged up his arms. Without wasting a second, he pounced for another vague shape hurtling through the water. Water gushed up his nostrils as he nearly got the flailing creature pinned, it sent a wave cascading across his face as it bucked beneath the water. The panic sent the other fish into a frenzy, in all the confusion and onslaught he couldn’t bury in fingers into the hard scales. The rapids became too much and he was sent rolling, the fish he had pinned catapulted him out of the water.

He snagged the hat before it could get away and slapped the sodden thing back onto his head. Without pause, he sprang at vague swells on the water. Somehow swinging his arm under the surface, a fish slapped against his palm. He managed to grapple with the powerful tail and haul backwards, at the same time crawling to his feet. This didn’t last long and the aquatic beast wretched from his grip. He tried to reclaim it, but very nearly collided with one side of the jagged wall.

Spearing himself through the water was cumbersome with his coat dragging at his back, or wrapping up around his ankles when he made a sharp twist left or right. He didn’t know where the fish might have come from, but they could easily slip away before he realized with how the water was kicked up. All the thrashing cut at his feet too, bits or rock and granite sliced at his toes as he fought the murk for a hold of some slick body. He cut his knuckles when he jammed his hand down, unaware that a crop of rock was right beneath the surface.

After only a few moments – which felt like ages – at last, he crammed his arms against one of the fish and shoved his entire hand into its gill. Of course the fish wracked its body fighting with getting snared, and having something jammed into it. But Mono locked his arms together and heaved himself up from the water. The arm through the fish gills locked over its snout, and he dug his fingers into the soft lip. His other arm looped under the fins, and with his prize secured he squeezed back under the low cement ceiling he first scooted through.

The fish still fought, beating against his knees with every ounce of its strength. Six would have fought him for it! He managed to keep it locked in his embrace, his splintered nails serving the most vital function by shearing through the soft fish lips. It was not getting away.

He used the fish like a ski board, its body helped him to climb through the narrow gaps he would have had to go over before. This was the best to happy with the dreary rains. He knew the Thin Man would like the fish, everyone liked fish. It was how he showed Her how he was great with sharing and providing.

Climbing up from the depths of a crevice was much trickery than he thought, given he had a massive fish speared on his arm. By unlocking his fingers from its lips, he could mostly use his other arm to pull up and the fish helped keep him from knocking into the jagged rocks with his chest. Climbing down was so much easier. But thinking about sharing with the Thin Man made it all worth it.

He clambered over the edge, adjusting his grip on the fish and holding into the gummy lip. It took more effort to get traction under his feet, he scrambled over plastered flyers practically cemented to the ground. He rushed to crouch and crawl under a pile of crushed furniture and slipped when he tried to break into a run on the other side. Keeping his balance became a struggle with the fish renewing its flopping. He perched on top of his catch until it wore itself out, then resumed his trot. He didn’t get far before the fish went wild, its whole body writhing as he fought to keep his balance while inching across a section of concrete between mounds of garbage.

Somehow! The fish knocked his feet out from under him, they both went down. With all the thrashing and wriggling, the fish tore free of his grip and went skidding across the ground.

On the other side of the trash pile opened another crevice, with crushed furniture dangling over the side. No-No-No! Mono scrambled after his catch, managing to lock his fingers into its fins. It wasn’t enough to overpower the frenzied creature, and the tail walloped him the face in three rapids successions before he relented and leapt away from it. The mean fish went flopping towards the crevice—

And disappeared forever.

Mono was still reeling from the harsh assault on his face, his face buzzing in the worst way, and warm liquid ran down his lips and chin. He rubbed at it and sniffled. That hurt.

Despite how angry he was about the fish being a jerk, he wandered over to the edge and peered down. Nothing was below but darkness. How far did the crack go down? It didn’t matter, he wasn’t going to risk falling into the depths of the city for a terrible fish. He was sure it would’ve tasted like mud.

Giving a hiccup, he swiped the warm wetness off his chin and turned away. Who needed a stupid fish? Not him. He could find better food for the Thin Man – no bird, he didn’t like bird. As he navigated the cavernous trenches of the alley, he wondered about better things. Like what he could find for the Thin Man to cheer him up. He liked the book. But books were heavy, and he didn’t always like the ones Mono could drag around.

But first he needed to check on his Thin Man.

Right where he left him. Like Mono knew he would be. He raced over to the hunched figure and clambered up onto his side, then onto one long arm. The Thin Man began uncoiling, but Mono stumbled onto his chest and grabbed him by the front of his suit seam.

“C’mon. We go. Up. Up.” He held onto the coat when the fingers slipped around his soggy body and tugged. “No. Y’up. Up. We.” With a firm yank, his gunky fingers snapped loose. He growled and wriggled in the hand holding him firmly, not setting him down or doing anything but keeping him up and out of the way. He couldn’t do anything for the Thin Man if he wasn’t allowed to go around and search.

“Down. Down.” He beat at the hand with his fists, not really doing anything. It did make him feel better. He couldn’t lean far enough over to bite. “Want… down. Lemme.” He hissed when the Thin Man pinched his face with his thumb and forefinger. “No. Y’hurt.” It wasn’t really hurting, but he didn’t like his head griped and his thrashing restricted. It was too confining. The Thin Man still wasn’t great with soft.

“What happened here?”

He stopped wriggling and tried to look away from the eyes gleaming beneath the shelter of the hat. A bubbly snort got out of him when he tried to swallow. “Leggo.” He pawed at the fingers, but the Thin Man did whatever he wanted. “Down,” he whimpered.

“How did you manage this?”

Mono ducked his head down when the Thin Man shifted his hand around his shoulder and secured him better, then slipped his other hand beneath his feet. He didn’t mind sitting on his palm, as long as he could tuck his head down and hide his face. In all the excitement for his fish, he didn’t realize he lost another hat. Lost a dumb fish AND another hat.

“Let me see.”

The static buzzed in his ears. Mono didn’t want to look at the Thin Man. He shook his head, while burying himself into his knees. The terrible sounds came out of him, despite his biggest effort to hold them in. What was wrong with the Thin Man? He didn’t bother with anything Mono did to make him happy, unless red marked up his face, or arms. Or anything else Mono was trying to bandage and hide away. The memories brought another rattling sound from his mouth, all smothered by him burrowing into himself. His shoulders wouldn’t stop quivering.

Sure, he fussed over Her. But She was bad about taking care of her hurts. She rather limp around for a long time, before he managed to pounce her and fix a messed up foot.

But Mono was great at wrapping his hurts. He never had anyone that would do that.

“L̶o̸o̵k̶ at  ̵M̷e̸.̵”

He shook his head behind his legs and tightened more into his ball. That didn’t shield him from the prying fingers that nudged into his ribs and pulled him out of his safe coils. The typical custom of prodding and pinching, tugging and turning went on. Mono knew by now fighting this didn’t work, so accepted the detached examination. Like he was some sort of puzzle to figure out. When finally satisfied, the Thin Man flipped him over to face him and rubbed a scratchy sleeve against his nose.

“Y̷o̴u̴ ̵ D̸o̷ not seem  ̶T̸h̶a̷t̷ ̵ D̵a̵m̸a̵g̸e̴d̴.̴ ̵There is no need for such D̸r̷a̴m̴a̵.”

Mono sputtered at the itchiness dragging on his nose. He tried getting away, but the Thin Man kept his free hand locked around his ribs while finishing with scrubbing at his chin. With no other option, he turned his eyes away and watched the brick wall rising behind the Thin Man glistening with the rivers of rain. It was better than trying to avoid the shining eyes scrutinizing all the things Mono did wrong. Like make… po-tent’shun work. Or whatever.

“You are bleeding quite a bit.” Mono did like the thick smoke smell on the sleeve. It was overpowering and made his eyes water, but not in the bad way. “I do not comprehend how you tumble into these S̷i̷t̶u̸a̴t̸i̴o̸n̴s̷.̵ I would suspect that you….” The crackling voice trailed off. Mono snuffled, every time he exhaled a fresh warm wave slipped down his cheeks.

“Does it hurt T̷h̶a̴t̷  ̴M̸u̷c̸h̷?̵”

Mono closed his eyes and shook his head. The Thin Man moved him, and he whined a pitiful sound that didn’t sound much like a brave kid. The soft fabric of the Thin Man’s jacket met his face, and it felt very soothing on his sore and bloodied nose. Firm but careful fingers pressed into his spine and forced him to unroll his limbs a bit more, until he could knit his arms into the folds of the jacket and its creases. Another soggy sound spilled out of him. He was such an idiot. Losing the fish. That would’ve made everything better.

“Shush-shhh-shh…” fizzled the static in his ears. “It will get better. The bleeding will stop and you will feel better. It does not look bad.”

He didn’t care about the hurt or all the copper filling his nose. He lost the fish for the Thin Man. It was going to make him happy and they would share it. Who let food get way? Six fought him when he couldn’t catch the fuzzy animal. But a fish? It didn’t even flee. It fell into a stupid crack. Like an idiot boy.

“Do your breathing. It will help.”

He had so much to do for the Thin Man. This wasn’t the time for being silly and dawdling over a hurt. The roads were brimming with danger, and he still hadn’t found a pathway that went anywhere – not through the roads, or through a collapsing buildings. If he tried, he might still have a chance of finding his way back to the creak and dragging out another fish. The Thin Man hadn’t gone anywhere in forever, he had to eat something other than smoke. But when he tried to squirm away the Thin Man held him.

“I want that B̷l̵e̵e̸d̵i̸n̴g̵ ̵ under C̶o̶n̸t̶r̶o̸l̸ foremost.” Mono grumbled under his breath, but the Thin Man wouldn’t listen. “That feistiness can W̶a̸i̵t̴.̶ Indeed. You are F̸e̷a̸r̷s̷o̶m̸e̷.̵ Whatever shall I do with you?”

The way his Thin Man made that speek… it sounded sad. He didn’t know why he thought that, it was the same creaking hum he always used that made Mono feel especially small and silly. Maybe it was the way the static prickled under his skin, the way it did when some lost thought bothered the Thin Man. Like how Mono couldn’t make powers work, and the Thin Man’s outline sputtered or flashed.

“Am wrong,” he murmured, on impulse. The crackle of static mingled with the prattling rain dancing on minced cardboard and fliers. It filled his ears like cold bubbles and silt.

“You are N̶o̸t̶ wrong. You are just….”

For ages he waited, his hands tightening on a seam of the suit lapel. The fingers worked on his back, unknotting the kinks in his muscles with delicate threading. He rubbed another coating of blood off on the Thin Man’s suit, but he never got whatever speek was had.

Mono was just Mono, and that was a problem for the very tol man.

He wanted to tell the Thin Man how much he did, how hard he worked to make everything safe. The long scouts he did in drafty rooms, how he tricked the worst monsters or found the best hide places for shelter. He collected all the best treasures in rooms, shiny things and interesting trinkets, or bones and boxes of wrapped food. The Thin Man liked wrapped food. Why was everything wrong for the Thin Man? Was it for powers? Them not work? Mono tried. He did work when the Thin Man wasn’t around. Eventually, he would surprise his Thin Man.

This wasn’t that time. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready for the Tower, and he wasn’t ready to show the Thin Man how great he was.

“Are happy… t’Mono?” The static softened to a dull hum in his ears, and he tightened his fingers more into the suit lapel.

“Am I̴ ̸ H̸a̸p̸p̶y̴ to Mono?”

He sighed and rubbed his nose. The blood was sticky and pulled on his upper lip. “Have keep Mono? To happy?”

“N̶o̴t̸ ̶ R̵e̸a̷l̴l̷y̸.̴” A careful finger smoothed the hair on the back of his head. “N̶o̸t̴h̴i̴n̷g̷ you could do will W̵i̸l̸l̷  ̵E̸v̵e̸r̷ ̴make me H̴a̵p̸p̷y̸.̶”

Mono snorted and snapped his face up to those gleaming eyes. “Am make do. For work. Mono will.” For his credit, the Thin Man’s expression was flabbergasted. Good! He should know how much this was for Mono and how resolute he was for this mission.

Then the Thin Man snapped his head back and crackled with a screechy timber. If not for the Thin Man technically being ‘happy’, Mono would be devastated. He still didn’t feel great.

“Oh for the Tower, T̸h̶e̶ ̶ S̸p̵e̴e̸k̷ ̴ you M̶a̵k̷e̶.̴” The Thin Man lifted him up higher and studied his face. Mono always hated being so close to the Thin Man’s face, and being restrained so tightly. But the intense inspection never stopped until the Thin Man was done being curious.

“The bleeding has stopped. That is good. Do you feel better?”

He had no worthwhile response, lest the Thin Man fall into another giggle fit. “You are not happy. H̷m̷m̵?̵ ̷ That is T̵o̴ ̴ B̵e̸ ̵ E̷x̵p̶e̷c̶t̷e̸d̶.̵”

His feet met the icy pavement and a whirlwind of frigid air seeped into his soggy coat. “Am Mono. Have you.”

“And that there I̶s̴ the  ̴P̸r̶o̷b̸l̶e̸m̸.̸” The Thin Man uncoiled from leaning back against the wall, his silhouette glimmered as his posture adjusted into a kneel. “When I am G̶o̴n̷e̸—”

“N̸o̶!̶ ̶” Mono shut that down and threw himself at the knee braced to the cement ground. “No! No leave! Not gone. N̸o̶! Am keep! For Mono. Am have’oo. Mine! Mine! Mono s’keep.” He shouldn’t be so loud. Noisy children die. That was law.

But he couldn’t help it. What did the Thin Man no understand? He knew. He knew the Thin Man didn’t like him, and never wanted him around. He promised himself, those mistakes wouldn’t be repeated. He didn’t need the constant reminder.

“Am keep,” he burbled, while pressing his face to the Thin Man’s leg. He couldn’t be close enough. He couldn’t keep him long enough. But this moment was everything. The rain prattled on the walls, the harsh gale sliced across jagged corners. The static hummed softly in the back of his head. That was the best noise.

“N̴o̴t̴h̴i̸n̷g̷ lasts forever,̵  ̸C̵h̶i̸l̷d̵.̵”

Mono nodded against the dry fabric. The Thin Man was always dry, he always smelled of smoke (the good kind), the crackly noises felt good purring in his ears. But the Thin Man would not be his forever. Still, he would never let the Thin Man forget how much he was wanted.

Careful fingers coiled around his shoulders, but there was no pinching or indifferent scrutiny. He was pressed to the Thin Man’s boney shoulder, and the edge of his jaw settled beside the back of his head. The warble of static crowded out the sounds of icy rain, it felt like the whole world was caged away and it was just him and the Thin Man.

“For a L̷i̶t̷t̸l̷e̶ ̶ W̸h̵i̶l̶e̴ longer, you will have me,” the voice vibrated through his mind.

“Mm hmm,” he murmured, and nestled into the tight embrace. As if the Thin Man thought he would dissipate into the rain if he released him. That was a wonderful thought. “Important. See?” The Thin Man rumbled a sigh through his tiny chest. He should be scared. He should be worried that the Thin Man could forget to do soft, and might crush him.

He didn’t care.

“Y̶e̶s̵.̸ I see.” A dizzying sensation rushed through Mono, and soon after he felt the gentle rock of the Thin Man’s movement. His steps snapped across the high stretching walls around them, until the alley faded away. Then it was only rain dazzling the streets.

“I̵  ̷S̶e̶e̶,̵” repeated the Thin Man’s wistful speek. “You are a silly little child. Yet, here we have each other. Is that not something?”

Mono did his best to nod and grumbled. “Im’port-ant. S’why.” He smiled when the Thin Man chuckled against his shoulder. For once, that was a good noise.

“Yes. Very important.” The Thin Man shifted his face away from Mono, but the wide rimmed hat kept the rain from pelting his head. “And There Will Come Soft Rains. Mono? Would you like a story?”

He suspected this was coming. The Thin Man had other children to look at and visit, after all. But Mono’s eyes were already slipping shut, his thoughts cradled in the hammock of familiar smells and sensations of the Thin Man lulling into a quiet state of nothing thoughts with his warmth and presence.

“Mm,” he hummed.

For a listless spell, the Thin Man tried to describe something of a place with food and warmth that was called an hearf – it was a fire that was caged, and if tended well would keep a place dry and cozy. The ones that tamed the fire were called nomes, but that was as far as Mono got before the noises of static blurred in the dark space of his mind. None of the dream haunts that lurked in the cracks of his doubts awaited, instead, he was bundled in rags and left on a couch. It was very similar to a time forever ago, when the Thin Man first caught him and left him alone.

This time, the Thin Man was waiting for him. Very softly, the back of his fingers glided across Mono’s side. He knew Mono was awake, but didn’t hurry to rouse him or demand anything. He stayed, doing the company and giving Mono a chance to bask in this fleeting comfort.

Next

#little nightmares #lil nightmares #mono #the thin man #feral mono #thin dad #fluff #FINALLY SOME FLUFF #child parent relationship #it wanted to get angsty but we got this we fixed it #mono being a mighty hunter #trying to provide for his thin man #the thin man actually doing the parent thing right #the thin man was having this whole depressive episode until the child came back from an outing #covered in blood #typical

[cerealforkart]

fairy princess au question: i can't rember if u said hero&normal exist in this universe but if they do-how do they feel about their mom being banished??

They do exist! I've talked a little bit about Normal's role in the AU here

I don't think Hero and Normal really get to talk about Sparrow, what she did and why she did it, and I think it's a major source of tension between them. Asking or talking about Sparrow makes grandpa Henry so sad and uncle Lark so angry, it's just become a bit of a taboo subject in the family.

To go into more detail starting with Hero, she feels very conflicted on Sparrow. She and her mom weren't particularly close before everything happened. Sparrow taught her everything about magic and defending herself and being a princess of the faewild (and probably queen someday), all things Hero isn't even a little bit interested in. Hero is really frustrated about Sparrow's banishment, but with her mom not around, she has nowhere to direct that anger, and she feels like she can't show it. She's the daughter of the woman who betrayed all realms, and as such she feels pressured to not show any weakness or be vulnerable because of that. She's upset her mom betrayed everyone, and she feels horrible about all the people that got hurt or died to protect their family but also, fuck all the realms, she just wants her mom back.

Normal 100% blames himself for absolutely everything. He was the one getting tempted to use the forbidden doodler magic, Sparrow is gone, and people got hurt, and most realms lost magic maybe forever because she felt like she had to protect him. He believes that everyone else blames him too, especially Hero since she starts distancing herself in the aftermath. Henry has probably had half a conversation with Normal about it, but it didn't really help. He's probably had half a conversation with Henry about it not being his fault, but he doesn't really believe him. A conversation with Lark wouldn't help because Lark thinks it's his fault and they would just go in circles blaming themselves and each other and it would be horrible. He does need to talk to Hero, but she doesn't want to have a vulnerable conversation. So he's just very sad.

#dndads #dungeons and daddies #noodly #mailbox #fairytale au #normal and hero aren't in this au much #because they're in the faewild and 90% of the au is set on earth #but they exist! #they're sad #thank you so much for asking me about this au #I love it so much #it's my baby

[priestess-of-yuri]

They stopped to watch it rise, like a fool in the middle of nowhere. They bared their teeth at it as the stars faded out of view, and the solitary sun overshadowed them.

He was gone, and the world kept turning. The sun kept rising and falling. One day it would die too, but not for a long time. Not for so long it might as well be forever.

Maybe that was how it was with them. Maybe Enkidu would be the only, solitary sun — rising and falling forever, without the other sun to keep them company.

This sun, this foreign solitary sun, they did not recognise it. It was repulsive. It was wrong. Everything was wrong.

They deserved better. They deserved better than these lonely sunrises. They needed their other sun — their companion. Their lover without a name. Their love, their reason for living.

They tilted their head up in the middle of the desolate street, staring at the abyss that was the back of their eyelids.

If they couldn’t have Gilgamesh, no one could. No one could. They would haunt him forever. They swore it. They would turn these iridescent, bright, unconditional feelings into a monster.

They would become the monster, the monster he made.

They would follow him like toy soldiers, all in his memories. If he was still even alive, they would love him like he died a martyr for them. They would love him fiercely and forever like he was the sun and they were a black hole, sucking all that they were back home into themselves.

They wouldn’t stop until he was truly gone, and even then they wouldn’t stop. They would love him until they had leeched all of him, all of his love, like a twisted creature of the night that could no longer stand the sight of day.

They would turn against all they stood for. They would love like that was all they knew. It was. They would love like it was the only thing that sustained them. It was. They would love like goodbye, hello, and see you later. They would defy all of time and space and see their feelings reach him.

They would do anything. They swore it on their life. It wasn’t over. They would wait here physically for the event of a return, until their body rotted into the ground, but beyond that they would change the whole metaphysical realm to suit their desires. They would warp and twist and break it all.

They would shatter the reality of it with their words, feelings, thoughts. They would drive themselves to their limit and over it again and again until they broke and broke again and again. They refused to let go.

They would never let go. He would be their hero, their role model, the extension of their soul and limbs awaiting the day they would reunite. Whether that be in this life or the next, they would never let go of the pain, the anguish, the depth and breadth of their eternal flame.

They would make him submit. They would make him listen, and he would be grateful. He would understand. It was written. It was predetermined. He would return, it was just a matter of time.

Enkidu and Gilgamesh were meant to be. Even if they broke apart in the next life again, Enkidu would do it all over. They would do it all over for them. Tirelessly. Relentlessly. Impossibly.

They would defy fate if they had to.

(x)

#fgo #enkidu #gilgamesh #gilkidu #the epic of gilgamesh #mesopotamia #writeblr #ericius tag #loss #love #grief

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Hello, Mr. Monster (Preview - Ch. 4)

This chapter is going to be very long. Hopefully, I'll finish it by the end of the week, but you're all so patient and wonderful, I decided to give you a treat. Enjoy!

Full chapter now up!

The van sat in the middle of nowhere. Somewhere out west, maybe. Big Sky Country. The horizon spread into forever, bright with lavender clouds and a hot pink glow where the sun’s disk had only just sunk out of sight. Gold framed each puff of purple, and although the sun was gone, the world still glowed warm.

The day’s heat radiated from the van’s hood, where she sprawled, watching the sky turn into a piece of art.

Except, the sky didn’t just look like a painting. It was one. She could see the texture of the thick paper and sus out brushstrokes layering the liquid colors in watercolor splendor.

She didn’t mind.

But it was a little strange.

Oh.

Then.

“I’m dreaming.”

“Yes.”

She sat up, not exactly startled by the voice, but intensely aware of the brooding presence waiting for her attention. Her monster stood in the road, an onyx figure juxtaposed against the soft, hazy pastels, and it felt like he belonged.

But of course he did.

He was the lord of dreams.

She sat in his creation, and he surrounded her, even if he separated his form from his realm in this scene. Every light and shadow. The breeze stirring her hair. The warmth of the sun. Had he wielded a brush with her in mind as he blended that watercolor sky?

A truly monstrous face peered at her. A spine for a snout and great black eyes glowing red. She hesitated, watching him, absorbing her first real sight of his chosen body, and she saw the pale neck behind his collar. He wore a helmet. A mask.

Blinking, she sat back on her hands, puzzling over him. She just couldn’t understand the logic here. A question gathered on her tongue, tart and round like an old-fashioned jawbreaker. If she could just push it past her lips, it would roll right to his feet.

He seemed nearer, inches away from the side of the van instead of yards, and long fingers reached out to the faded paint. Fingers she remembered peering through to see the stars.

“I wished to speak with you.” His voice sounded just a little muffled, and she struggled to pick out every nuance in his quiet tone. He spoke like a king. Assuming her compliance. Maybe uncertain how to ask his own questions. “Somewhere safe.” His hand ghosted over one of the wing mirrors, like he was exploring the dream with a sense she could not see. “Somewhere… familiar.”

The mask lifted, and the gaze behind the dark eyes held her. “You are safe.”

Maybe he offered comfort. Reassurance. Or he wanted to tell her how to feel.

In the stillness of the wide dream, she felt at peace. Maybe not safe, but not threatened, either. And he said he wanted to talk, so the question finally tumbled free.

“Why are you hiding your face?”

He paused, and the world stilled with him.

Confidence swelled into power, a reassuring pressure that straightened her spine and steadied her heart. Her opinion, her curiosity had value, and that gave her an authority entirely opposed the monarch’s control.

She wondered. Did he think she hadn’t noticed?

“You do not know me.” Smoke and sand rasped through the words, hints of emotions she could not see and only barely heard. “You’ve been taught to see me as a monster. Until that has changed… I would prefer you come to know me through other means.”

He laid out his explanation like a royal gift for her to examine and accept. It sparkled with the truth, but it wasn’t whole. Gaps she could fall through lingered in the weave, and she wondered what terrors the King of Nightmares wanted to keep hidden under his coat.

She’d already met them all.

“And perhaps,” he added as an afterthought, murmured half to himself, half into the dream, and hardly at all for her, “it will keep you safe.”

He muttered it like a wish – and why would a god need wishes? – inspiring the wind to carry it away in waves of long grass to the place the sun melted.

With new breath in the dream, he gathered himself from his thoughts and took his turn to question.

“How much do you understand of what was done to you?” His fingers twitched, curled, relaxed with painstaking care.

You’ll have to be more specific.

She barely bit back the taunt. It was a good sign that she wanted to tease. The rhythm of a friendly conversation wouldn’t stir in her head if she wasn’t comfortable on an instinctive level, but she had better sense than that, and she did not know this creature. She didn’t know if he’d laugh or play along. Her childhood burst with tales of his wrath, his quick temper and devastating judgements.

He wanted to know about the scars and the sand.

Looking off toward the paper sky, distracting herself by trying to name each shade between lavender and fuchsia, she recited all the awful facts of the matter. “An unseelie fae tore through my mortality. They cut into the name they found – your name – and filled the cuts with sand. That makes me tricky to kill and a little too aware of my wyrd sometimes.”

Ah, and then – Her eyes fell to her lap, where her fingers picked at imagined hangnails. “It hurts. Aches all the time. Until last night.” She glanced at him through her lashes, like the scrim would hide the memory of tangling herself up in his essence between distant galaxies and throbbing stars. “Thank you. For helping.”

“You need not thank me.” And like he realized how that might be misinterpreted, he continued, “But you are welcome.”

She decided to test the waters, see how generous her monster would be with his words. “Can you… explain it to me? What you did to make it stop hurting? You said you couldn’t heal it.”

“I cannot,” he agreed. “Not entirely, but it is in my power to reach the mark, and I believe that is what causes your worst pains. Your mark recognizes me. My sand still responds to my command.”

Knowing he had control of something literally carved into her heart sparked a flare of caution, and she wondered if all the things he wouldn’t say had to do with the power she never meant to steal. She’d suffered so long, though. The past day was a gift, and as dangerous as it was, she’d probably accept it the next time he offered. What would he ask for in return?

“And you can do it again?”

“Whenever you give me your permission, yes.” He angled towards her, the helmet shifting as he drew closer. “A touch would be enough.”

Her eyes squinted against a phantom rush of sensation. “We definitely did more than touch last night.”

“Yes.” Damn if he didn’t sound smug as hell. The velvet of the night sky in a word, whispering of different, darker dreams that turned to blushing secrets in daylight.

Oh.

So, that was what he got in exchange.

“But I had much more to heal. Tonight, you could simply hold my hand.” He lifted it, just outside her personal space, waiting palm up for her decision. “If you wish.”

#morpheus x reader #morpheus x oc #morpheus x original character #dream x reader #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless x original character #hello mr. monster

[the-princess-of-loki]

Mine- Chapter 1: Sakaar.

Summary and masterlist

Chapter 01: Sakaar

Pairing: Loki x OFC

Warnings: Smut, graphic description of smut, Minors DNI, possible spoilers of Thor: Ragnarok.

I was tied up in a metallic chair, which was moving in a kind of magnetic tape, with this stupid obedience disk on my neck, transported to meet this crazy man who called himself ‘Grandmaster’. I didn’t know where in the Nine Realms I was, I didn’t think there was any information about survivors who had been thrown out of the Bifröst. I didn’t care much either. Loki was gone, Thor was gone and Hela was on Asgard probably ruining it to the ground. I couldn’t believe my eyes when my chair stopped moving: after all that darkness, there was music and colours and laughter everywhere. I blinked several times to adjust to my new surroundings. When I was ready to look around me, Loki was standing in front of me, a glint of concern in his green eyes. Before I was able to say or do something, a strange voice appeared out of nowhere.

“Do you two know each other?” I turned my head from Loki to see an old man dressed in a colourful robe. Immediately, I didn’t like him. I didn’t know why.

“Yes, Grandmaster,” Loki interfered before I was able to say something. “Quite frankly, Åse is my wife. Would you be so kind as to release her?” I looked at Loki surprised but he told me with just one look to shut up and follow along. I bit down my lower lip as I always did when I was nervous.

“You haven’t mentioned a wife in all the weeks you’ve been here, Loki. And you seemed fine to interact with…us,” The old man’s eyes shone. Loki changed his weight from one foot to the other.

“I am sorry, Grandmaster. I thought my wife had passed away and I was mourning. I did not know how to cope with the pain, I apologise for my behaviour,” Loki was using his best charisma and lying skills and it seemed that he had that old man wrapped around his finger. Not surprising at all. “But, please, do not punish my wife because of me. Would you be so kind as to release her? I will be forever grateful,” Loki looked at him through his eyelashes and I had to admit that even I would have given him whatever he desired.

“I will release her…under the condition that you show me that you two are married for real,” Loki nodded and looked at me while I was being released from that chair. 

Those who didn’t know Loki as I did, would believe in his full of love face as he was looking at me. However, even when we had a lot of history together, I knew he was buffing. He didn’t love me, not as I love him. And I was with Thor…or at least were. What happened to him? If Loki and I were alive, then maybe he had a chance. It didn’t matter, though. He would probably go back to Asgard, try to kill Hela all by himself, and get killed in the process. I needed to survive here and it seemed that Loki had a plan.

We were both taken to another room and the guards that had accompanied us closed the door after us. We were alone in a blue room, with nothing else than a bed there. After a long sigh, Loki grabbed me and hugged me tight against his firm and lean body. I sighed too and hugged him tightly. I let some tears go down my cheeks and Loki caressed my long red hair which was tied up in a long braid. I always wore my hair braided when I was in a battle.

“What do we do now, Loki? Thor probably went back to Asgard to fight Hela by himself, and we’re here…” I sobbed while speaking in a whisper.

“I know, Åse. I would have never imagined that you would end up here, too. And now we have to…” Loki left the sentence hanging in the air, whispering as well.

“What do we have to do?” I asked, looking at him confused. He made a face. He pulled my face closer to him and left his lips next to my ear.

“I convinced the Grandmaster not to look at us while we are here, but I am pretty sure he is listening to everything we say. Except for this, since we are whispering, of course,” Loki pulled back a little, “My love, I am so happy to be with you again,” he said in a loud voice. “I thought that we were going to be reunited in Valhalla,” after saying that, he once again put his lips next to my ear. “The Grandmaster will be expecting us to have sex soon.”

“Is that what he meant when he said we needed to show him we were truly married?” I asked in a whisper as well, leaning into him.

“Yes. We can fake it, but I am sure that he will know it somehow. I’ll leave it up to you, Åse. You know that I’m always up to have sex with you, but if you want to fake it, I’ll respect you.”

“Let’s do it.”

I didn’t give it much thought because I knew that I was going to back away if I did. Loki may be hedonistic, but he would never force me to have sex with him. I knew him since we were nothing but children, we had our ups and downs -mostly downs-, but I knew he was a good person. Even when he was being mind-controlled by Thanos, he didn’t hurt me as much as he could have.

I walked towards the bed, glimmering away my clothing with my seiðr. Even when I was the Goddess of the Elements, I knew how to use basic seiðr since Queen Frigga had taught both Loki and me everything. I sat on the bed, waiting for Loki to join me.  I looked at him with one raised eyebrow when he just stood where he was looking at my naked body. We have seen each other in all kinds of nakedness, we even had our first time having sex together. That was long ago, but still. 

Loki walked towards me getting rid of his new leather armour and cape with his seiðr as well. He laid on top of me in the bed, supporting his weight on his hands that were at each side of my head and gave me one last look, trying to analyse me with his piercing green eyes. And he was able to do it: he could do it since we were children. He could read me like a book. 

After a few seconds, he joined our lips in a heated kiss. I couldn’t help but moan at his kissing technique and he answered with another soft moan. I erased every thought from my mind and focused only on feeling. Loki is the best lover I ever had, so I was completely sure that I would be having a good time if I just let myself go.

Loki let one of his hands wander in my body, touching every spot he knew that got me going. His cold hands on my bare skin again got me shivering as his tongue entered my mouth and played with mine. He pinched one of my nipples with two of his fingers making me moan. Loki let my mouth go as he kissed my neck, my collarbone, and my breastbone until he reached my other breast. He licked, sucked and bit my nipple softly while his fingers played with the other.

“Is this foreplay really necessary?” I asked him in a whisper, moaning again when he sucked my nipple harder.

“Yes, I don’t want you to be pained. Maybe you don’t believe me, but I care about you, Åse,” Loki answered me while his hand left my nipple and went down my body until he reached my core which was already wet. He found my clit in no time and started to rub it, making me moan again.

“Oh, Loki, you are the best lover I’ve ever had,” I didn’t intend to say that out loud but it was out of my mouth before I could think about it. He looked at me for a second before chuckling. His lips were next to my ear but his hand didn’t stop his circling motions on my clit.

“Is that so? Better than my dear brother?” He whispered that stupid question and decided that was the best moment to put two of his long fingers inside me and curl them, rubbing my g-spot with every rub.

“Yes, Loki! The best!” I answered arching my back and moaning at his touch.

He knew I was completely at his mercy, he could ask anything of me and I would have given it to him. I didn’t lie though: he is a better lover than Thor. But I didn’t want to think about that. Luckily for me, Loki didn’t push the matter any further. What he did push was his fingers inside me and then he added a third one. I looked at him and he just chuckled before removing his fingers from me. I couldn’t help but whimper at the loss even if I was begging for it. Loki looked at me intently while he entered me in one swift motion. I moaned loudly and threw my head backwards the most that the pillow would allow me. Loki bit down my collarbone to hide his moan, but I heard it anyway. I loved his moans, they were so deep and guttural as if I woke up the animal inside him. I put my legs up and crossed them behind his back as my nails scratched his upper back. He started to move, leaving only the tip of his cock inside me and then thrusting back with full force, hitting my g-spot. Oh, how I missed the way he fucked me. Nobody has ever fucked me the way he did. Loki was a master of sex. Even during our first time, he knew exactly what to do.

He thrust inside me with expertise and soon enough both of us were moaning loudly losing all the sanity we had left. It was always like that when we united our bodies. It wasn’t long until I was feeling the tale tell sign in my ankles that I was about to cum. The tickling sensation in my ankles went up my legs until it reached my belly. I warned him but he kept going until I reached my climax with a loud moan of his name. He followed me a few moments later and I felt his hot seed filling me. My body felt wobbly after such an intense orgasm. Loki rolled out to lay beside me on the bed while he stabilised his breathing.

“I don’t think that will be enough,” He whispered turning his head to look at me. I looked back at him confused.

“Hum, thank you?” Loki chuckled.

“No, dear, I don’t mean that. You know that having sex with you is great no matter the circumstances,” I rolled my eyes, even when I knew he was absolutely right.

“Then, what is it?”

“I don’t think that the Grandmaster will believe us with just sex. We will have to pretend around him and at all the parties. Just follow me, alright? I will find a way to get his security access codes and take us out of here,” I nodded.

“I believe you,” And I did. Even after everything we went through, I really believed in him. Even when nobody else did.

“I don’t think he’ll ask us to have sex anymore. Surely to join his orgies, but if we behave like a married couple then we have every excuse to decline,” he gave me a side glance. “Selv om du ser ut til å kose deg masse med meg,” I punched him lightly on the shoulder while I felt the heat going up to my cheeks.

“Stop praising yourself, menace. It’s just sex,” I shrugged.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 After we had been for some weeks in this chaotic place, another surprise came up. Thor appeared tied down in one of those chairs. Loki and I have been the whole time convincing everybody that we were as in love as possible. The Grandmaster didn’t ask us to have sex again, but we needed to pretend in front of him. That is why I was looking at my boyfriend completely relieved that he was alive, holding his brother’s hand and arm. Thor looked at us with confusion in his blue eyes and I just shook my head slightly.

Please, let it go, I begged even when I knew that he couldn’t hear me. He and I could never have that connection. Loki answered all the questions about Thor the Grandmaster asked him but did little to nothing to help his brother’s case. The God of Thunder was sent with the rest of the fighters as he was going to fight the Grandmaster’s big champion tomorrow and I asked for a private room with Loki. It wasn’t difficult to get one and once we were alone, I yelled at him so much that my vocal cords ended up hurting. I knew they didn’t get along for a long time now, but they were still brothers, for Norns’ sake. I knew that Thor was confident because he had never lost a fight in his whole life, but he couldn’t risk it. Not like that, when he was still mourning his father. One cannot make the right decisions when one is suffering from so much pain.

Loki heard all my yelling without saying a word and when I couldn’t speak anymore he sighed and projected us where Thor was. The blond was on his knees, praying for his father’s soul to reach Valhalla and we both joined him out of respect. It was no secret that neither Loki nor I were mourning the Allfather’s death, but Thor was really grieving. When the older finished praying, he and his brother started to bicker at each other until Loki’s projection was gone.

“Thor, don’t listen to him. Loki and I are working to get out of here, and you’ll come with us too, I promise,” I said when we left alone, kneeling in front of him but not touching him so my projection wouldn’t vanish.

“I trust you, Åse,” Thor answered me with a severe face. I bit down my lower lip.

“Do you?” I asked in a whisper, gnawing my lower lip again when I wasn’t talking.

“Yes, I do. Probably you had to do some things here that I won’t like, but it’s a survival game, I guess,” He shrugged. His cold attitude was worrying me.

“Thor, please tell me that you’re going to fight with all your might tomorrow.”

“When have you known me to back down?” he half-smiled at me. “Go now, nobody can see you here. I will be alright and then we both are going back to Asgard to kick my older sister’s ass,” I chuckled.

“Count me in. I may be an orphan, but you have a really strange family, have you noticed it?”

Thor chuckled and then reached out for me with his hand, making my projection disappear. When I came back to the private room Loki and I shared, he was nowhere to be seen. I sighed and went after him.

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki friggason #loki god of mischief #loki fluff #loki x ofc #god of mischief #mcu #loki of asgard #loki smut #loki series

[richincolor]

I'm looking forward to compiling a list of books to read this summer, and here are three that caught my eye. What summer releases are you looking forward to?

The Shadow Sister by Lily Meade Sourcebooks Fire

Sutton going missing is the worst thing to happen to Casey, to their family. She’s trying to help find her sister, but Casey is furious. And she can’t tell anyone about their argument before Sutton disappeared. Everyone paints a picture of Sutton’s perfection: the popular cheerleader with an entourage of friends, a doting boyfriend, and a limitless future. But Sutton manipulated everyone around her, even stole an heirloom bracelet from Casey. People don’t look for missing Black girls--or half-Black girls--without believing there is an angel to be saved.

When Sutton reappears, Casey knows she should be relieved. Except Sutton isn’t the same. She remembers nothing about while she was gone—or anything from her old life, including how she made Casey miserable. There’s something unsettling about the way she wants to spend time with Casey, the way she hums and watches her goldfish swim for hours.

What happened to Sutton? The more Casey starts uncovering her sister’s secrets, the more questions she has. Did she really know her sister? Why is no one talking about the other girls who have gone missing in their area? And what will it take to uncover the truth? -- Cover image and summary via Goodreads

A Guide to the Dark by Meriam Metoui Henry Holt

You can check out of Room 9, but you can never leave.

The Haunting of Hill House meets Nina LaCour in this paranormal mystery YA about the ghosts we carry with us.

Something is building, simmering just out of reach.

The room is watching. But Mira and Layla don't know this yet. When the two best friends are stranded on their spring break college tour road trip, they find themselves at the Wildwood Motel, located in the middle of nowhere, Indiana. Mira can't shake the feeling that there is something wrong and rotten about their room. Inside, she's haunted by nightmares of her dead brother. When she wakes up, he's still there.

Layla doesn't see him. Or notice anything suspicious about Room 9. The place may be a little run down, but it has a certain charm she can’t wait to capture on camera. If Layla is being honest, she’s too preoccupied with confusing feelings for Mira to see much else. But when they learn eight people died in that same room, they realize there must be a connection between the deaths and the unexplainable things that keep happening inside it. They just have to find the connection before Mira becomes the ninth.

Guardians of Dawn: Zhara by S. Jae-Jones Wednesday Books

Magic flickers. Love flames. Chaos reigns.

Magic is forbidden throughout the Morning Realms. Magicians are called abomination, and blamed for the plague of monsters that razed the land twenty years before.

Jin Zhara already had enough to worry about—appease her stepmother’s cruel whims, looking after her blind younger sister, and keeping her own magical gifts under control—without having to deal with rumors of monsters re-emerging in the marsh. But when a chance encounter with an easily flustered young man named Han brings her into contact with a secret magical liberation organization called the Guardians of Dawn, Zhara realizes there may be more to these rumors than she thought. A mysterious plague is corrupting the magicians of Zanhei and transforming them into monsters, and the Guardians of Dawn believe a demon is responsible.

In order to restore harmony and bring peace to the world, Zhara must discover the elemental warrior within, lest the balance between order and chaos is lost forever.

#the shadow sister #a guide to the dark #guardians of dawn: zhara #book lists #weneeddiversebooks

[tears0fsatan]

▸ ❝ the fall. ❞

★! tw. mentions of blood&burning. just one of my many thoughts about the war and how i think lucifer really feels about it all.

the air was still, yet while cutting through it felt like shards of ice piercing his skin. the silence would've been deafening if it weren't for the howling wind and crackling fire. angels and rebels alike mourning the loss of their loved ones, blood from both sides tainting the holy land of the celestial realm.

samael一 no, lucifer's vision was blurry, he could hardly make out anything amongst the chaos of flames, deceased angels and rebels, flurry of charred feathers flying all over the place in the wind一 flurry of charred feathers? with the last ounce of strength left in his body, he turned his head to observe his surroundings.

his once magnificent plumage of pure white feathers was now tattered, many of his groomed feathers were gone- torched by the fire or ripped out by the enemy, leaving behind naked bloody patches of skin. the feathers that remained were stained with blood, the worst part was that he wasn't sure if the blood belonged to him or some other poor soul.

before his vision went black, he caught a glimpse of his brothers falling after him. they were severely injured, but they were alive, that was all that really mattered.

he felt tears pricking his eyes, and they were not from the cold.

it would've been a disgrace to say a side had won, nothing but death and loss had come about from the war.

it took millennia's for lucifer's wings to restore to their grandeur, though they were nowhere near their former glory. they were an onyx colour now, not to mention they were now half the size of what they once were. the two lower wings were unsalvageable, too scorched to be saved.

in the quiet of his new room, lucifer had burst into tears the first time he laid his eyes on the scars, they were an ugly reminder of his burdens, his burdens that nearly cost him his family's lives.

while lucifer didn't regret becoming a (traitor) demon, he often regretted bringing his beloved family down with him. while he was aware that they had fought in the war of their own accord, he wonders would they have done the same if he wasn't their oldest brother.

centuries had passed since the war, things were different now. angels, demons and humans were coexisting together, integrating into each others societies, lord diavolo's plan had worked. he was glad, really he was. it means he didn't go to war for nothing.

he was grateful in many ways for the war, his brothers were together once more, and most importantly, they were happy. his youngest brothers had seem to forgotten the war for the most part, only remembering the fall and the pain. of course, over the centuries the pain eased, becoming nothing more than a dull ache when the memories resurfaced.

but sometimes lucfier couldn't help but feel angry. on nights where he stared up at devildom's forever night sky, the sound of demons, angels and humans bustling about their daily lives, he's reminded of everything he's sacrificed to be where he was. on those nights, his skin feels like it's been set on fire, the scars especially, much like how they did when he fell.

he doubles over from the pain, teeth gritted in order to silence the sounds of agony from escaping his throat.

he can't bear the sight of them, the memories too painful to visit. during molting season, he ignores the ache of his wings begging for him to pay attention to them. it's his way of punishing himself, for all the misery his recklessness has caused. it's a reminder of how he must keep up his image as the responsible older brother, so he doesn't make another fatal mistake.

he doesn't think he'd be able to survive if history were to repeat itself, he's already lost enough.

© 2022 TEARS0FSATAN. please don’t repost, modify or translate my works anywhere!

#៹ ࣪˖. 🎧 ramblez﹒💭 #obey me #omswd #obey me angst #obey me lucifer #lucifer angst