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#you go back and you sit at the calliope and you play
lixzey · 5 months
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to the moon and back
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Once upon a time, there was a wizarding family that was powerful and mighty. Nicholas Selwyn was the last of their family, and he and his wife Calliope had yet to have a child—an heir to continue the Selwyn name.
Then a miracle happened: Calliope had finally borne a child. A child born of the Selwyn and Rosier bloodline, the heir for whom they have waited so long. On the summer solstice of 1962, a daughter was born. And she was given the name Y/N, a fitting name for a princess. Families from the Sacred Twenty-Eight came from all around to offer gifts and praise for the little girl.
Among those families were the Blacks. Walburga and Orion Black had two sons. An almost two-year-old Sirius clung to his father's leg, hiding from everyone else. While the almost-one-year-old Regulus was sitting comfortably in his mother's arms. 
“Oh, Calliope, you are glowing!” Walburga Black praised the new mother, balancing her son on her hip. Walburga peered over the little girl that was bundled in a pink swaddle in Calliope's arms. “She's a darling!” 
“Yes, she is.” Calliope agreed with a wide grin. “The sweetest angel I've ever seen.”
Calliope looked up at the tiny hand that was a few inches away from her daughter's face. Six-month-old Regulus had his tiny hand over the newborn's face, seemingly admiring her.
“It looks like Regulus likes Y/N.” Walburga laughed, beaming at her son. Suddenly, Regulus' smacked Y/N square in the face.
“Regulus Arcturus Black, you do not hit women!” Walburga scolded the boy in her arms, who had no idea what was happening. Meanwhile, the little baby in Calliope's arms was screaming her head off, her face red as her cries echoed in the banquet hall.
Calliope soothed her daughter, an amused smile on her lips as she glanced at the little boy who had just hit her child.
"Oh, hush, Walburga. The boy doesn't know any better; he's just a boy.” Calliope chuckled. “I think he just really likes my daughter.”
“Regulus has great taste, then.”
“Maybe one day they'll fall in love.” Calliope mused, a twinkle in her eye as she looked at the little boy who had his eyes locked on her sleeping daughter. Walburga laughed, shaking her head. “We'll see.”
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June 21st, 1968
Selwyn Manor was filled with colourful decorations, bright pink and lavender ribbons, and balloons lining the parlour and hallway. There were beautiful floral arrangements in tall vases, and even pink and purple flowers have been planted in the garden outside.
It was Y/N's sixth birthday, and she was beyond excited. Her mother and father opted not to throw another lavish party, but the house elves insisted on decorating the manor according to their young mistress' desires. Calliope and Nicholas proposed that instead of a party, they would take her on a summer trip to France as a gift for their daughter's birthday.
“Mummy, how do I look?” Y/N asked, twirling around as she modelled the dress in front of her mother. She was wearing a frilly lavender-coloured dress made by Miffy—their house elf—that doted on Y/N far too much.
Calliope beamed proudly at her daughter. “You look enchanting, mon ange.”
The little girl furrowed her eyebrows. “Mon ange? What does that mean, mummy?” 
Her mother chuckled. “It means 'my angel' in French, my love. This summer, I'll be teaching you French, alright?” 
Y/N nodded eagerly, nearly jumping with excitement at the mention of learning another language. “When are we going? When, when?” 
“We'll just wait for your father to finish up at the ministry, my love. After that, we'll go ahead.”
“Okay, okay. Can I go to the garden now, Mummy? I want to play with Miffy.”
Calliope laughed. “Alright, alright. Just don't get messy, okay?”
Y/N nodded before darting out of the room, the little house elf hot on her heels. Calliope shook her head at her daughter amusedly. Her little girl is going to get along quite nicely with the youngest Black son.
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“Both of you shall be on your best behaviour for the whole summer in France; do you understand me?” Walburga reminded her sons, her gaze narrowing at her eldest. “Do you understand me?” 
Sirius tried his best not to roll his eyes at his mother, but he failed miserably. “You've told us that at least ten times this week, Mother.”
Walburga glared at her eldest, letting out an annoyed sigh before turning to her youngest with a smile. “Do you understand, Regulus?” 
The boy nodded, not wanting to get on his mother's bad side, like Sirius always did.
Walburga beamed at her youngest son, patting him on the cheek. “We are to leave eave at six in the evening, after your father gets done with business. You two better be ready to leave before five.” She turned to her eldest, snarling at him before turning and walking away from the young boys.
“Reggie, wanna go play in the garden?” Sirius asked as soon as their mother was out of earshot, a mischievous grin on his face. Sirius was often the troublemaker between the two, always rebelling against their mother's rules. Sirius despised their parents' belief in blood supremacy. It was a load of dung, according to Sirius, who loved watching muggle children play out in the streets in Grimmauld Place.
“But mother said to behave, Sirius.” Regulus hissed at his brother. Regulus hated it when Sirius got in trouble with their mother, usually persuading Sirius to go along with their mother's wishes in order to keep him from getting punished, but his brother was one stubborn git.
“Come on, Reggie,” Sirius urged, wiggling his eyebrows. “It'll be fun! We can pretend to have wands and duel.”
Regulus rolled his eyes at his brother. “If Mother-” 
“You're goody-goody with the elf; ask him to zip his mouth.”
Regulus scowled. “That elf has a name, you know.”
Sirius waved a hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. So, are you coming or not?” Regulus sighed before giving in and following his older brother outside. As soon as the two boys got outside, Sirius looked around in search of a branch they could use as make-believe wands.
“Aha! Here you go, baby brother, a wand.” Sirius grinned, passing a thin branch to him. Regulus eyed the branch in his hand. “Do all wands look like this?” He asked, his nose scrunching in disgust.
“I dunno, s'pose so,” Sirius shrugged. “Bella's wand looks like a wonky twig, though.” Regulus cringed at the mention of their eldest cousin.
“I don't like Bellatrix.” Regulus muttered.
Sirius chuckled. “Who doesn't? Bella's a bit...mad. Glad we're not spending summer with them this year.”
Regulus smiled at the thought of spending the summer away from London. It was going to be their first time in France, and both boys were ecstatic. They have heard so much about the Black estate in France from their uncle Alphard, who spent all of his summers along with his siblings in the estate. Sirius and Regulus could not believe that their mother was once a happy child, much to Alphard's amusement.
“You think Mother and Father will leave us alone in France?” Regulus asked, fiddling with the stick in his hands.
“They do it every day, Reg.” Sirius rolled his eyes at his younger brother. Walburga Black was not the maternal kind; she had no patience for things related to child care. She decidedly left it all to the house-elves to care for her sons.
“Right,” Regulus cleared his throat, “so are we duelling or not?” 
Sirius gripped his wand and waved it around. “Prepare to duel!” He grinned mischievously, aiming the faux wand at his brother. “Jelly legs!” 
Regulus pretended his legs had turned to jelly and stumbled around clumsily. Making Sirius burst out into laughter. Regulus quickly turned and pointed his wand at his brother. “Tickles!”
Sirius twitched his nose and looked around himself, pretending that he could feel the invisible tickles. He aimed his stick at his brother again. “Eat slugs!” 
Regulus fell to his knees, pretending to vomit on the ground with a smirk. The garden was filled with giggles from the two boys as they duelled each other.
“That was fun!” Regulus laughed, trailing behind his brother as they carefully walked back inside the house.
Sirius turned to look at his brother and grinned triumphantly. “Told you.”
“You two look filthy!” Sirius and Regulus turned around, only to see their mother glowering at them.
“What did I tell you?” Walburga seethed at her sons. Regulus hid behind Sirius, who stood defiantly in front of his mother. “We just went out to the garden, Mother.”
“Kreacher! ” Sirius and Regulus flinched as their mother's shrill voice echoed through the house.
There was a loud popping sound, and the elf appeared next to their mother. “Mistress be wanting Kreacher?”
“Take the boys and make them look presentable. After that, pack their trunks for the summer.” Walburga ordered the elf before yanking Sirius by the arm and pushing him to Kreacher. Regulus whimpered, shifting under his mother's gaze, before walking to his brother's side.
“Keep them in line, Kreacher. We leave at six sharp.”
The elf bowed. “Yes Mistress. All shall be done, oh yes, shall be done.”
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“Oh, for Merlin's sake! Hurry up!” Walburga screamed for her children. It was already five forty-five in the evening, fifteen minutes before the Blacks had to leave. She turned to her husband with an annoyed look. “Go get your children.”
Orion let out a loud sigh before turning to walk up the stairs to the boys' room. “Bloody woman, treating me like a dog.” he muttered under his breath.
“What was that!?” 
“Nothing, nothing.” Orion quickly ran up, evading his wife's anger.
“Boys, what's taking so long-” Orion opened the door to his sons' room, expecting them to be slacking, only to see Sirius fixing his brother's hair.
“There you go, Reggie!” Sirius declared proudly, handing his little brother a mirror. “You look good, if I do say so myself.”
Regulus took the mirror and looked at himself. His curls were slightly slicked back, with a few tendrils hanging loose and framing his face perfectly. Regulus grinned, passing back the mirror to his brother. “You should do my hair often, Sirius.”
Orion smiled at the sight of his sons. He never had that kind of bond with his own brother. He opened the door and stepped inside, the smile gone from his lips.
Orion cleared his throat, making both boys jump. “Boys, come on. Your mother's waiting downstairs, and you know she's not fond of waiting.”
“Yes, father.” Sirius turned to Regulus, taking his hand in his. “Come on, Reg, summer awaits!” All three of the Black men descended down the stairs. Walburga scowled at the sight of her oldest son's hair.
“I said to look presentable, Sirius.”
Sirius smirked, running a hand through his black mane. “I am presentable, Mother."
“You little-” Walburga raised her hand to strike her son when her husband cut her off.
“Just get in the fireplace, Sirius, Regulus,” Orion sighed, shaking his head. When they didn't move, he lightly pushed his eldest. “Now!”
Both boys scrambled to the dusty old fireplace, Regulus gripping the ends of his brother's robes. Sirius had a grin plastered on his lips, provoking his mother further.
“Get a handful of floo powder, Sirius,” Orion ordered. Sirius turned to the pot of black powder on the side of the wall, taking a handful of it in his small hands.
“Now you must say this clearly; otherwise, you and your brother would get transported to the wrong place. Black Manor, Dinard, loud and clear, Sirius.” The seven-year-old boy nodded, clearing his throat before loudly speaking.
“Black Manor, Dinard!”
Green flames engulfed the two brothers as they were transported into a beautiful sitting room. The smell of wood and spice immediately invaded their nostrils as soon as the two boys stepped out of the fireplace. Sirius and Regulus were awestrucked. The manor in France was far better than Grimmauld Place.
It was a sight to behold. It had a grandiose feeling, as if it had been lifted straight from the pages of an old French novel.
The walls of the elegant room were a deep forest green, the shade of which had been carefully matched to the hue of the lush gardens outside. In the centre of the room was the focal point, a large emerald green velvet sofa that seemed to invite anyone to sink into its depths. On either side of the sofa were two matching armchairs, upholstered in the same emerald velvet. The cushioning was studded with silver buttons that shone when the sunlight hit them, and the legs were carved from dazzling marble. Behind the sofa, the walls were lined with large, dark wood bookcases and cabinets filled with fine silver trinkets and antique books. An old-style grandfather clock was tucked away in the corner, counting down the minutes with its sombre ticking. Rich tapestries hung from the walls, and Persian rugs covered the floor.
For illumination, several grand candelabras rested on the tables and were held aloft by marble pillars, which were intricately carved with rococo details. Each candelabra was adorned with five burning white candles that cast a soft, golden glow over the room.
A grand piano sat in the corner by the arched window, while a gleaming bronze chandelier hung above it. There were gilded mirrors on the walls with silver frames that gave the room an extra sparkle. There were huge windows around the room, with rich green velvet curtains in a silver pattern parted in the middle to let light in.
A place of true elegance and sophistication. It was as if every detail was chosen with care, from the luxurious green and silver brocade that draped the walls to the gleaming marble floors and the grand mahogany-framed clock overlooking the room.
The flames roared again, revealing their parents. Walburga stepped out and immediately screamed for a house elf.
With a loud pop, a small elf appeared. It looked better than what Kreacher looked like. The elf wore a tea towel around its waist and a huge green ribbon atop its head.
“Mistress be needing Dilly?”
Walburga turned to her sons. “These are my sons, your young masters. They will be spending the whole summer here. I trust that my sons will be taken care of.”
“Dilly will take very good care of her young Masters; yes, she will. Only the best for the heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.”
Walburga nodded curtly before turning her attention to her sons. “You both shall be on your best behaviour for the whole of summer. Do you understand? If word gets out to me that you two show anything less of what I have taught you, there will be consequences.”
Regulus visibly gulped, shifting under his mother's gaze. “Yes, mother.” 
Sirius looked unaffected by their mother's gaze. “Yeah, yeah, behave and all that.”
Suddenly, the fireplaces erupted into green flames once more. Out stepped a little girl with long (y/h/c) hair tied in pigtails and bright (y/e/c) eyes dressed in a frilly lavender-coloured dress. She was clutching a white-stuffed bunny in her arms as she looked around.
“Greetings, little one.” Orion greeted the little girl, who gave him a small, shy smile. Y/N fiddled with her hair as she stood by the fireplace, waiting for her parents. A little while later, the flames erupted again, revealing Nicholas and Calliope Selwyn. Y/N quickly hid behind her mother, clutching the skirt of her robes.
“Walburga, Orion, it's been so long,” Calliope greeted, taking a step closer to the Black matriarch, leaning in for a hug.
Y/N eyed the older woman curiously. She had aristocratic features, high cheekbones, and full lips, making her look regal and elegant as she stood. The little girl tugged on her mother's skirt. “Mummy!” she whispered fiercely, tugging on her mother's skirt harder. Calliope pulled away from the raven-haired witch with a chuckle as she looked down at her daughter.
Regulus looked at Y/N with an unamused look, scrunching his nose in annoyance. “She looks like a spoiled brat.” he whispered to Sirius, who nodded in agreement.
Walburga smiled down at the little girl, which shocked Sirius and Regulus. “You must be Y/N.” 
Y/N raised an eyebrow at the older woman. She looks scary, Y/N thought before promptly hiding behind her mother's back.
Walburga chuckled. “She's a bit shy, I see.”
Calliope laughed. “Oh no, my daughter is anything but shy.” Her gaze then fell onto the two boys huddled in the corner.
“Sirius, Regulus, come forward and introduce yourselves,” Orion instructed. Both boys stepped forward, standing tall and proud.
“Sirius Orion Black, the third at your service.” Sirius grinned proudly before bowing, his long hair falling over his face.
Calliope laughed at the young boy's enthusiasm. “You've gotten bigger since the last time I've seen you, young Sirius.”
“My name's Regulus, Regulus Arcturus Black.” Regulus smirked proudly, bowing like his brother.
“My, my, such well-mannered boys.” Calliope praised.
Walburga beamed proudly. “I taught them well.”
Sirius snorted, making Regulus chuckle. Their mother did not teach them anything because she threatened them if they did not comply with all her rules.
"Y/N, darling, introduce yourself to Mr. and Mrs. Black, my love."
“No.” Y/N huffed behind her mother.
“Come on, darling. Introduce yourself; tell them how you love dressing up.” Nicholas chuckled, nudging his daughter from behind his wife. Y/N reluctantly stepped out, a scowl etched on her lips. “Y/N Artemis Rosier Selwyn.” She introduced herself with a curtsy.
“Sirius, Regulus, go ahead and kiss Y/N's hand like a true gentleman.” Walburga urged, pushing Sirius slightly.
Sirius grinned mischievously as he took Y/N's hand and softly placed a kiss on her knuckles. “I am pleased to meet you, my fair maiden.”
“Likewise.” Y/N gave him a small smile.
Regulus rolled his eyes at Y/N. She looked like a girly girl. And he hated those kinds of girls. His cousins Narcissa and Andromeda were like that, and it wasn't fun. The two older girls would always drag him and his brother into whatever they pleased. And it annoyed Regulus more than it annoyed Sirius.
“Go on, Regulus,” Walburga urged her youngest son, who scowled.
“Hello, Y/N. I'm very pleased to meet you,” Regulus said, his tone annoyed.
“Pleased to meet you, Regulus.” Y/N curtsied. Regulus walked back to Sirius, only to be stopped by his mother. “Ah, ah, ah!” She urged her son, pushing him to kiss Y/N's hand.
Y/N raised an eyebrow as Regulus' face contorted in disgust. He looks conceited, and Y/N wanted to punch him in the face just because of it. Regulus reluctantly took her hand, scrunching his nose in disgust before kissing her hand as quickly as he could.
“So happy you could come.” Regulus sneered.
“So happy to be here.” Y/N said with a sickening sweet voice, rolling her eyes at the boy. 
“She's a darling, Calliope. Such a fine young lady!” Walburga complimented the little girl with a smile.
“Yes, she is.” Calliope chuckled, beaming at her daughter.
“But don't let that innocent face fool you. She has the famous Rosier temper.” Nicholas laughed.
“Ah yes, the famous Rosier temper.” Orion agreed. “I do believe we all know what that temper is capable of.”
“Ah, so you've been a victim of it?” Calliope asked with a smirk.
“Cygnus' wife, Druella.” Orion laughed. “Let's just say that I couldn't utter a word for a week.”
All the adults burst out laughing, leaving the children confused. Regulus perked up at the mention of his aunt Druella, whom he liked the most because she gave him the most sweets.
“I remember that! Drue was absolutely furious that you called her fat once when she was pregnant with her first.” Walburga snorted, almost forgetting about her manners.
“Mummy, can I go play?” Y/N asked, interrupting the adults' laughter.
Calliope looked down at her daughter. “Why don't you ask Mrs. Black, mon ange?” 
Y/N scowled, much to her father's amusement. She then reluctantly turned to Walburga, with a pleading look in her big, bright eyes—a look her father knew so well.
“Can I please go and play, Mrs. Black?” Y/N asked, her voice sweet and innocent.
Walburga chuckled. “Yes, my dear. After all, the manor will be your home for the summer. Go ahead and play in the garden with Sirius and Regulus while your parents and I catch up.”
“Thank you!” Y/N grinned before running out to the garden.
Sirius chuckled while Regulus groaned. “What a total bummer.” He couldn't believe he was going to be stuck with her all summer long. Regulus was sure she didn't like anything that he and Sirius liked to do, like quidditch or playing in the dirt. She looked so stuck up, and it made Regulus want to run away from her. He'd rather get chicken pox than be in the same room with her.
Walburga cocked an eyebrow at her sons, telling them to go and follow Y/N. Sirius ran outside to the garden with Regulus hot on his heels. The boys spotted Y/N sitting on the grass as she looked up at the starry sky.
“Whatcha lookin' at?” Sirius asked as he sat beside Y/N. 
“What do you think I'm looking at?” Y/N said sarcastically, not batting an eye at the two boys who were beside her.
“Ouch, venomous.” Sirius grinned, scooting closer to Y/N. “You looking at the stars? Looking for me, huh?”
Y/N rolled her eyes at the older boy beside her. Her eyes then landed on Regulus, who had his lips curled into a scowl, as if it were normal.
“What are you scowling at?” Y/N snapped at Regulus.
“Nothing,” Regulus sneered, turning his gaze away from Y/N. He couldn't stand her; just looking at her made him want to vomit. Y/N rolled her eyes, wanting so badly to just run away and never come back.
“Your brother's a git.” Y/N whispered in Sirius' ear.
“He'll grow on you.” Sirius promised with a smirk.
“Regulus looks conceited.”
Regulus' ears perked up at the mention of his name. He was conceited!? How dare she!?
“What did you say?” Regulus snapped, stepping closer to Y/N.
Y/N smirked. “You heard me.” She then turned back to face the stars.
Regulus huffed, his annoyance towards the girl turning into anger. He walked up to the flower beds and scooped up a handful of mud before walking back to Y/N and Sirius.
“Oi, Y/N!” Regulus yelled. As soon as she turned around, Regulus threw the clump of mud at the younger girl.
“My dress!” Y/N shrieked as mud splattered across her face and dress. She tried to wipe it off, but it was of no use. She glared at Regulus, who was smirking. Y/N balled her hands, clenching them into tight fists before storming up to Regulus and punching him square in the nose. Regulus stumbled back as he clutched his bleeding nose.
“You git!” Y/N screamed angrily as she tried to land a punch again. Regulus then pushed Y/N into a nearby bush. “I hate you! I hate you to the moon and back!” Y/N screamed at him, standing up and running back inside the house.
Sirius and Regulus burst out in a fit of giggles. That girl is certainly a spoiled brat.
“Mummy! Mummy! He threw mud at me!” Y/N shrieked as she approached her mother from the Black's back garden. Her dress was covered in mud, her pigtails were dishevelled, and she had twigs and leaves stuck in her hair. “Mummy! Regulus threw mud at me!” Y/N yelled again, tears forming in her big, bright eyes.
Meanwhile, the boy in question was snickering from behind the large oak door.
“The little spoiled princess got what she deserved.” Regulus grinned triumphantly at his older brother, who was trying his best not to burst out laughing at the sight of little Y/N Selwyn, stomping her foot at her mother and father, demanding that they do something about Regulus' behaviour towards her.
This was not her idea of fun.
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gabessquishytum · 1 month
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Hi Gabe! Hope you're well! This one was inspired by this art
There's a statue in the middle of the woods near the village Morpheus lives in. No one knows from where it came nor for how long it has been there, but everyone knows one thing: sometimes, if you ask and you're lucky enough, it can grant you a wish.
Some people believe the statue grants the wishes based on how worthy you are, some believe it's based on how worthy the wish itself is. Some believe it's pure luck, and some believe it's all a load of bullshit, complete coincidence. Morpheus doesn't know what to believe.
He has seen the statue a few times before, when he was still young - it's a plump man, with thick arms, thighs and chest, a belly that rests confortably on his lap, wavy hair that reaches strong shoulders and frames a face that is so beautiful and serene it has made more than one person cry. The man is sat on a boulder and a single piece of cloth wraps his body in gentle folds, and his position makes it seem like he's offering his hands and a conforting smile to whoever is kneeling before him.
He didn't see the statue for years after he left the village in pursue of a life with Nada - that is, before Nada decided she wanted nothing to do with him. Nor did he see it after Alianora, or Killala, or Thessaly. Even Calliope, the one he believed was his soulmate from the moment they locked eyes, had broken their courting.
Too clingy, they said. Always hovering, always wishing to be close, always offering food and disrupting whatever they were doing, until he himself got lost in his drawings and paintings and they couldn't get a hold of him for days, sometimes weeks. Drawings and paintings in which he poured his love for them, only for them to leave before it was finished - and then Morpheus would throw the canvases and sheets of paper in the fire.
The day after Calliope left, Morpheus came back to the village. He haunted his home for days, and then the grounds when he started feeling too empty. He started going farther and farther from the estate each night, until he happened upon the clearing and the statue. And Morpheus let himself believe, just for a single moment.
He kneled before the statue, placed his hands above the man's, looked into his eyes, and wished for someone who would let him love them, and love him back just as fiercelly.
The next day, Morpheus woke up to a man resting on the settee and smiling at him, a single piece of cloth wraping his golden, furry body in gentle folds.
(is this anything? idk lol Have a good day!)
Hmnnnggg yeH this is something. Still haven't played bg3 btw but I still get very excited when I see Gale art. Esp if he gets to have some tummy.
I absolutely love this. First the idea of Dream kneeling in supplication before the statue and just wishing for someone to love! Someone who will stay! Someone who will understand. He feels a little bit silly but it's actually rather comforting, and he stays a long time with his cheek pressed against the statue's thigh. If nothing else, he's released some pent up emotions.
But the next day his life changes forever. The statue is sitting in his house - except it isn't a statue anymore. Its a real, flesh and blood man. With dimpled cheeks and gentle eyes. Dream can't do anything except stare in complete loss and confusion.
"So sorry to barge in." The man says. "But you did make a wish, didn't you? I heard, and I thought... well, I'm sure I could love you in the way that you're looking for."
Dream sits down heavily, with his mouth still hanging open. He doesn't know what he's supposed to say! This man is too beautiful to be true, he's sure that he must be dreaming. How on earth could a statue come alive, and why would he choose to grant Dream’s wish???
"I'll make some tea. I know it's a lot to take in." The man says kindly. "I'm Hob. In case you were wondering."
And he walks off to put Dream’s kettle on the stove, carelessly allowing his fabric covering to shift over his body as it pleases. Dream gulps, staring at Hob’s soft swaying arse cheeks. If this is a dream, then he never wants to wake up!
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padfootreggie · 1 month
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Romance books
Luke x Valerie
Warnings: smut, oral (f recieving), reader reads smut, teasy Luke, whiny reader, virgin reader, taking away virginity, Luke loves thighs, fingering, p in v, no protection, blood from first time, boob play, slight face sitting at the end
Luke found out about the books I read. Oh gods help me! He will tease me to the underworld about this, I won't look him in the eyes ever again.
I fluster seeing him near Athena's cabin, Luke is my friend. He knows I'm a virgin to please the gods. I walk to my cabin trying to hide from him.
To my surprise he isn't teasing me, he's acting normal? He follows me inside, it's empty in the cabin since everyone out.
I lay on my bed so tired from practice, Luke lays near me. By my thighs, using them as a pillow. I yawn, Luke smirks. Oh no. "So about your books?" I whine "please don't Luke."
He laughs "please don't what? Who knew sweet and virgin Valerie could read such obscene things?" I hide my face in my pillow blushing.
Luke cackles "don't hide from me Val! Tell me: what it's like reading porn?" I whine again hitting him in the head with a pillow.
He's unfortunately, unaffected. He lays on his stomach, still using my legs as pillows. My legs bare since I'm wearing a black skirt, besides my thigh high socks.
"Seriously Val that scared me!! cuffs and muzzles?!" I fluster when he goes between my legs, he puts my legs around his head.
"Lukee stop it, please I don't have time to talk about it." I say in a squeaky voice. He breathes against my covered puffy pussy.
He holds my thighs, massaging them. He says in a deep tone enough to compete with Calliope "I won't tell anyone Val."
Luke lowers his head, resting it against my covered pussy. I can tell he feels how much it's pulsing, he smirks.
He growls "are you wet Valerie? Thinking about your books again huh? Or is it from how close I am to your body? You like seeing me between your plushy thighs?"
I whine "Luke stop it!" He puts his head under my short skirt "gods I love your soft thighs, could lay here forever sweetheart."
He giggles "could see your wet patch baby, I bet your so sweet and tight f'me yea?" He groans quietly "I bet you taste so good Val."
My eyes roll when he licks a long stripe up my purple panties, bumping my throbbing clit. I moan "L-Luke wait!"
He sticks his head out from my skirt, looking annoyed I stopped him from devouring my virginity, ruining my body for the gods above.
"Valerie Kalik, my little virgin. Such a suck up for the gods. Wanna make mommy proud Val? Nice virgin forever..." He says in a voice I've never heard, he sounds so desperate, and so dark.
He grunts going back under "fuck the gods Valerie, your mine and only mine. I will ruin this perfect pussy; take away your perfect body."
I'm honestly scared, he's never talked bad about the gods before. At least not in my presence, has he thought about them like this for a while?
My thoughts get ripped away when he licks around my hole. I moan so loud, hopefully nobody is near the cabin.
He starts eating me out so skillfully, making me surprised I moan and whimper. My back arches, he's so good at this holy fuck.
Luke sucks my clit through my purple panties. He groans "purple is such a pretty color on you baby. Wear it for me now ok?"
I nod feverishly, barely hearing him from how hard he's going on me. He rips my panties off of me, quickly pushing two fingers into my hole.
Curling them so deliciously, my eyes roll back to my skull. He pushes his fingers in and out fast, I'm so close already.
His fingers are drenched in my arousal, he kisses my inner thighs. Biting once and a while, making me yelp.
I moan more squeaky and whiny. So so close to cumming on his long fingers, my fingers could never do what his does.
Now that I've thought about it, I never came before. My hands never felt good enough. I let out breathy whines, I swear I'm seeing stars.
My hips grind against Lukes hand, my eyes cross. He snickers "good girl about to cum?" I nod fast. "Yes y-yes yes L-Luke so close!!"
He moves his fingers faster, and faster. Now sucking on my clit once more, a thin coat of sweat covers my body.
A ring of curses roll as I cum on his fingers. My back arches I let out loud whiny moans.
To my surprise he keeps goings, I'm already overwhelmed from pleasure. I cry out "Luke s-stop!!" He groans "can't stop baby need you to cum one more time around my cock ok?"
He sits up on his knees, he pulls down his pants to reveal his length. Drool drips down my chin, he's so long and thick. How can it fit?!
I whimper seeing a vein on the under side "Luke are you sure it'll fit? It's j-just I've never done this before, you know that! It would hurt so much-"
He kisses me hard, teeth clashing even. Then he pushes in, all the way. I cry out, nails digging into his back. I squeeze my eyes shut, he grunts slowly grinding his body.
My back arches his dick reaching new places I couldn't dream of. I scream when he thrusts into me again, tears fall down my cheeks.
He bites my lips, groaning into my mouth. I hold him in place by his hips. "S-STAY STILL LUKE" he freezes, staring into my eyes.
His blue eyes darken with lust, pupils blown wide. I get used of his size and nod, he slowly moves again. My slick making it easy to push in.
This time he's slower, but I can tell he's trying hard not to go as fast as he wants. Knowing it's my first time.
I feel a liquid down my pussy. Did he come? Did I come?? I look and see some blood. I yelp pushing Luke's hips away. "I'm bleeding!!"
Luke snickers, looking at me like a lost puppy. "Val it's ok! Many girls bleed a little during their first time." I look at him pouty.
"Promise?" I ask in a soft voice, he nods whispering "can we continue?" I let out a breath of relief "yes"
He growls going back in me. He pulls my head up making me face him, I'm almost cross eyed he feels so good. He whimpers, hips stuttery.
He flips us, me on top of him. I bite my lip smiling, he looks so pretty. My skirt looks like a belt, riding up to my waist.
My shirt drenched, heat gets to me making me pull it over my head. Before I can fully take it off Luke takes a breast and starts kneading it.
My body shivers against his, I grind slowly trying to find a nice rhythm. My sore clit rubs against him pubes, I whine bouncing now.
He groans thrusting up, making him hit deep in me. I yelp wrapping my arms around his neck, whining in his ear.
His dick stretching my insides, so thick and long. I cry out, the bed creaking at the poor quality. He groans, dick pulsing.
I whimper, bouncing faster and faster. He huffs my back arching slightly. I suck at his neck feverishly, so close.
He can tell by how I squeeze him, and my twitches. I scream a moan squirting all over his hips and dick.
Cum drips down into the mattress, he groans cumming after me. He pulls me up by my hips, sitting me on his shoulders.
"Sit still ok? Just rude my face like how you just did my cock baby." My eyes widen at his command. "But I-I'll suffocate you!"
He sneers "I'll die a happy man, now hurry up or I can just pound your ass right now." I whine slowly moving up.
It's gonna be a long time till he stops.
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geminijade · 1 month
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Calamity, Catastrophe and Calliope Chapter Seven
A/N: 🚫MINORS ARE STRICTLY FORBODEN🚫sexting (if you squint). Bossy Bucky. Self pleasure. Some parental and relationship angst. BDSM/Punishment in the form of spanking. Bucky is the aftercare king. All mistakes are solely my own. I hope that you enjoy this and happy reading 📚
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Y/N POV:
Sunlight slips through the curtains and into my bedroom. I roll over and bury my face in my pillows. I notice that my muscles ache and I wince and remember...
I smile lazily to myself and stretch, I embrace the discomfort. Most mornings I wake up with a pounding headache and hazy memories of the night before. My memories of last night with Bucky are crystal clear. I spend the next 20 minutes reliving them in my mind until I'm writhing against my sheets and I find myself wishing that he was here to give me some relief. I'm throbbing for him and I could get myself there but I'd rather he did it for me. I turn and reach for my phone sitting on my bedside table. I type out a quick text for Bucky and press send.
Y/N: I can't stop thinking about last night. Thank you.... for everything.
A few seconds pass before he responds to me.
Captain Kink: Are you sore?
I worry my lower lip in between my teeth as I reply.
Y/N: in all of the best ways. I can't wait for you to make me sore again. I'm wet just thinking about you.
I roll over onto my back and I slide my hand underneath the thin sheet that's covering me and into my panties, hoping that he gets the hint. I see the three dots as he's typing out his message and they disappear just as soon as they popped up. The phone rings and I answer it. "Bucky..."
"You're not allowed to touch yourself without me present."
A flare of defiance shoots through me. I can't help it. I pout as I say, "That's not fair."
"That's not up to you. I decide and you listen. I'm telling you that you better not touch my perfect pretty pussy. Unless you want me to punish you, which I'm more than willing to do. I'm not sure if you are ready for that."
I whisper "fuck" under my breath and I grip my phone tighter. I don't know how he can turn my defiance into desire that I have no control over. I slowly slide my fingers back up to lie flat over my belly, but not before I tease myself a little bit. I don't know why I did that because every minute between now and when I can be with Bucky again seems so far away.
"I need you. Relieve Clarence early. I'm begging you. Please."
I hear him exhale quietly and his silence only emboldens me. There could be a chance that I can salvage the situation.
"I need you inside me, Bucky. I've never felt like that before and I'm going crazy without you. You can sneak in and I'll play like I'm sick and we can spend the day in bed. Just you and me."
"Y/N, I need you to listen to me." I hold my breath and wait for his command.
"We're going to hang up, you're going to get out of bed, shower and get dressed and get ready for your day. You are not allowed to put on any underwear. I want you to feel every gust of air, every inch of your clothing, every moment of skin on skin."
"What happens if I get wet? Bucky, I'm so fucking wet for you right now, this is going to be torture."
"I suggest that you dress accordingly," he answers tightly.
"Can I see you?" I sound pathetic. Whining and begging him. Fuck, what's wrong with me? I have no idea how Bucky has me under his complete control. I look up at the ceiling, praying that he might choose to surprise me. Giving me something to look forward to.
"You'll get to see me exactly at 5 pm, like any other day. And when I get there, I want easy access to your pussy because I really want to fuck you."
"Oh, God," I breathe quietly and tighten my grip around my phone so that I don't touch myself. "I'll know if you cum without me, Y/N. I'll know the instant that I look into your eyes because you've been lying to me since I've known you."
That miniscule bit of truth on top of our phone sex sobers me for a moment. I feel guilty and then I want to defend myself. I've been living in hell for years. He'll never understand me.
But he is right. I've lied to him since the beginning. I've made his life unnecessarily difficult and I've put his job at risk now more than ever. Choosing to be with Bucky is decidedly dangerous, but inevitable because nobody has ever made me feel like this before. I am desperate for another intimate opportunity with him, knowing that he wants to be with me makes me feel completely calm.
"I'll wait for you, I promise." As soon as I say that my inner rebel in me has other plans completely.
Bucky's POV:
As soon as I step out of the gym my apartment comes into view and I decide to walk the five blocks so that I can cool down and catch my breath after my workout. I don't remember the last time I felt this way. I catch myself struggling with my guilt over Y/N, I need her more than my next breath. She consumes my thoughts and my every waking moment, so much so that I haven't had a good night's sleep in weeks.
Last night something changed. The sex was fucking fantastic, no doubts whatsoever. Thoughts of Y/N flood my thoughts. Memories of the way that our bodies came together, her submitting to me, it's like a puzzle piece that I didn't know that I was missing. I spent the last half hour trying to make sense of what I'm feeling.
Whatever it is has me buzzing with excitement and I'm not giving up that feeling for anyone or anything. I'm completely addicted to Y/N's body. I feel like I'm a junkie and she's my drug of choice. I've never felt this satisfied on every level before. I don't want it to end. But it doesn't really matter because ultimately everything eventually ends. It's inevitable.
I take my earbuds out and open the door to my building, not willing to consider ending whatever this is between us when she makes me feel like I'm dancing on cloud fucking nine. Her phone call this morning got me so hard, and I couldn't stop looking at the clock. I'm all for the benefits of delayed gratification and everything that comes with it and I thoroughly plan on enjoying them.
I'm about to jump in the shower and start getting ready for work when my work phone rings. Only Clarence has that number. My heart starts beating out of my chest. If something happened to Y/N....
"Clarence, is everything okay with Y/N?!"
I hear him laugh on the other end and I instantaneously feel relieved. "Yes, everything with Y/N is fine. She's up to her usual tricks, I'm afraid."
I instantly feel anger. "What's happening?"
I swear to God if she's hanging out with Kali again or Samuel somehow got her alone, I'll kill him. And give her the punishment that she deserves. She's going to have to get used to it at some point.
"We're actually en route to you as we speak. After her breakfast meeting with her mother she's asked to move into her apartment early. She thought it wise since as she's put it and I quote "she's being forced to stay in DC for the foreseeable future." End quote.
That sounds about right for Y/N. She's a determined girl and that makes me smile.
"And what did Mommy Dearest have to say for herself?"
I hear Clarence guffaw quietly on the other end, but silence quickly replaces it. Which tells me that it was a more than likely intense interaction.
"We can discuss it in depth when we arrive. The apartment has already been decorated so that she could stay starting tonight. The building has been scoped and she'll have around the clock protection posted outside. I just wanted to let you know."
"Thank you."
We end the call and I start pacing back and forth, I'm not sure how I feel but my cock thinks that this is a good thing. Having Y/N a few floors away from me every night is just as equally dangerous as fucking her in the White House. I think that this might even be more risky because I'll have other agents in my building, Clarence included. Y/N promised me that she'd submit, but I still don't trust her enough to make good decisions when she's made it a habit of entertaining every impulse.
I stop pacing and enter my bathroom, I strip off my sweaty grey t shirt and black gym shorts and step under the steaming hot water. I shower quickly because within a matter of minutes Y/N will be in my building and when she finally arrives, I'm going to need a whole new game plan.
Y/N POV:
I arrive at my new apartment and it's crawling with suits. As per usual, they're checking every door and window. Hell, they're even checking the vents. Each access point is being throughly checked for my safety. Clarence is especially tense, probably because I sprung this on him out of the blue. Despite all of the chaos going on all around us he seems to be sharing some of my enthusiasm about the move. After he witnessed my negotiations with my mother this morning has earned me some empathy.
Agents come and go, making reports and keeping people posted as I attempt to unpack. I should be thinking about the typical things like decorating and rearranging things around so that it feels more like home. It's bigger than my apartment in NYC but all I can think about is Bucky and our next rendezvous. We made plans but being in a new place together is precarious. But I'm determined to see him tonight, even if he's annoyed about me moving earlier than expected.
I feel him before I see him enter my apartment, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and as I turn around our eyes lock. He's less than pleased with me. His eyes are as cold as granite.
I clear my throat and walk past him towards the living room. "Okay, everyone needs to leave. You've been over this place with a fine toothed comb. I need to be alone. Now."
Slowly and single file, the agents make their way out of my building. Clarence is talking quietly with Bucky and his expression softens slightly. Clarence is the last one to leave and then we're finally alone together. I carefully approach him because something about his demeanor keeps me from reaching out to touch him.
"I've missed you." The relief and yearning for him evident in my voice.
"What in the hell do you think that you're doing?" He hasn't raised his voice, but his words are clipped and terse enough that I know that I'm in trouble.
I shrug, trying to act casually. "No sense in delaying the inevitable."
"And you didn't feel like I needed to know that?" I can sense the tension radiating off of him, I resist the urge to help him relieve some of the tension. Maybe I can coax him to be more forgiving. Or maybe....
"I forgot about it until after we talked, I remember you saying that you wanted to have easy access to me so here I am. I listened to you." I smile coyly at him because I'm pretty sure that's not what he had in mind.
"Do your parents approve of your new plan?" My smile fades and I do my best to ignore the stab of pain. "It's an inconvenience, just like everything else in my life. It was a means to an end, getting me out of my parents day to day life. Her exact words were that she won't have to worry about me being a respectful First Daughter anymore, so." I shrug as nonchalantly as possible. "Here I am. I think that they're planning on forgetting that I even exist."
Pain quickly replaces lust. With pain comes loneliness. I'm constantly surrounded by people but feel completely alone. I close my eyes because with Bucky I don't feel that way. I think that's what made me decide to move early. Not my desire to be with him again as he pounds into me, I'm desperate for him on all levels. The desire to feel wanted completely by someone else, by someone who cares. The way that he took me away from the situation with Samuel the other night tells me that he does.
I open my eyes when I feel his fingertips gently feather across my face and he's looking at me with warmth in his eyes.
"Watching her be cruel to you while I'm forced to do nothing has been one of the most difficult thing that I have ever had to do. She makes protecting you impossible because of who she is."
I cover his hand with mine. "I always feel safe with you. But I need more." I can't ignore the way that he's making me feel, the electricity sparking between us. I've never felt that way with anyone else. Ever. "You saved me, Bucky."
I hear his unsteady breathing as his suit jacket strains at his shoulders. He releases the breath he was holding and his hand falls away. I look down, have I done too much? I moved into his apartment building and now I basically confessed my feelings for him. I sound weak and stupid. I'm pretty sure that this is not what he was expecting when he asked for my obedience.
I shake my head to clear it and I swallow the lump in my throat. I thought that tonight we could be together. I wasn't expecting to tell him how I really feel about him.
"Did you do as I asked you to?"
"What?"
I look at him again, only to quickly look down as he traces his fingers up my bare thigh.
"Did you think about me today?" He slides his hand under the fabric of my dress.
"You're the only thing that I think about," I confess quietly, trying not to move as he finally reaches where I need him the most.
"Did I make you wet?"
"Always. I -" I stumble over my words that want to break free.
"You what? I want to hear everything, Y/N." He silently stares at me until I spill the truth.
"I need you all the time.... I ache for you so much so that it terrifies me. I spend part of my day thinking of us together, how you'd fuck me."
His hand traveled slowly and finally I felt his fingers graze my naked pussy. I jump from the slight contact, I'm wound so tightly I'm surprised that I didn't cum instantaneously.
"You should have told me your plans before you made the move." I nod in agreement with him but I was desperate. "Are you going to punish me?"
His voice is low and lethal. "Do you want me to punish you?" I begin to shake my head, but I stop myself. Am I being honest with myself?
"I honestly don't know. You have this way of turning pain into pleasure. You make me want to try new things, but they scare me sometimes." He tilts his head, but he remains unreadable.
"I think that now is a good time to try some of those new things that scare you. Go into your bedroom and put your hands on the bed. I want to see your ass in the air, pull your dress above your hips. Understood?"
I feel myself nodding in agreement but I'm frozen in place. He looks at me and arches his eyebrow. "Now."
Without saying a word I do as he asks, my heart jumping. I clear off my new bed, my hands shaking as I move my suitcases to the floor. I position myself in front of my bed and hike my dress up as I bend over.
My pussy is throbbing and somehow it's worse than before. Maybe because I can feel the cool air like a soft kiss on my wet, sensitive skin. Maybe because I don't know what he's planning on doing....
My hands are sweaty and they slip against my blanket. I keep my legs spread wide and my ass perched. I close my eyes and take a deep breath as I hear his quiet steps as he enters my room.
He stops and the absolute silence has me shaking again. I feel him move behind me, and I hear the floor creak as he crouches down behind me and I feel his breath on the back of my thighs. I fist the blanket and try to stifle a whimper.
He shushes me softly, even though I haven't made a sound. "If I touch you, you'll cum, won't you?" Hell yes, I will. "I've been waiting for you for hours."
He clears his throat and I feel his palms graze the back of my thighs up to my ass, spreading me apart, causing a brief stinging sensation. I flinch and he shushes me again.
"I'm just looking, sweetheart. I almost forgot how perfect you are. Almost." He barely touches my pussy with his tongue. "Going to cum right here, fill you up until you're dripping."
I whimper and push my hips up, hoping that it's going to get me closer to him. Just a few more licks as I hear him tsk as he stands up behind me.
Smack!
His big hand comes down hard on my ass cheek causing me to cry out, it didn't hurt so much as it startled me. "If you need to use your safe word, use it. Or you could always scream into your pillow. Can't have our neighbors thinking that I'm murdering you."
"Okay," I shakily reply.
His hand comes down again, harder than the first time. I bite my bottom lip as he falls into rhythm. Quick slaps as he rotates between smacking my ass and my thighs with a stinging force. I grab a pillow and muffle my cries into it when he starts his rotation again, my skin feels tender.
"Yes!" I scream into the pillow as his hand makes contact again. I whimper and brace myself for more punishment, but they never come. I feel his lips everywhere, his warm breath ghosting across the burning skin.
"So beautiful. My perfect, good girl. I'm going to fuck you now."
I hear him slide his zipper down the track and it almost brings tears to my eyes. I'm wet and ready for him as he plunges his cock into me with one fierce shove as our moans intertwine in the air. His dress pants are rough against my tender skin, adding a level of awareness to the discomfort as he pounds his way toward our pleasure.
The overwhelming sensation has my mind reeling. I like it when I didn't think that I would. I relish in the feeling because absolutely nothing feels as good as he does with his cock claiming me over and over again.
My whole body moves with each thrust of his hips. His strength and the way that he fills me up like no one before him has me climbing towards my climax. I'm wrapped around him like a vise and I'm so close. The only thing stopping me from coming is that everything would cease and it feels too fucking good for it to end yet.
I can sense Bucky's rhythm faltering as he grips my hips firmly. He shudders and I know that he's close. "Bucky," I cry out his name because he's causing me to lose control.
"Fuck, you feel amazing."
Thrust.
"Cum for me, baby."
Thrust.
"Gonna fill you up."
I fall apart as he fucks into me wildly, my name falling from his lips. I scream into my pillow, lost to all my senses, lost in the incredible sensation of our bodies coming together. I remember one word that he kept repeating.
Mine.
I came so hard when he said that. I'm crying out in my head that I want to be his. I whimper when he slips out of me. He groans and spreads my ass cheeks apart and I know that he's watching his release drip out of me. I can feel it, warm and slick as it trails down my inner thigh. I know that he loves to make me his, I plan on giving him many more opportunities.
"Can you get on the bed? I'm going to get a cloth to clean you up." He whispered quietly towards me, patting my ass gently.
I crawl up the length of the bed and I wait patiently until he comes back with a cloth and he cleans away the evidence of our dalliance. When he indicates that he's done, he sits down next to me, his massive frame sinking the mattress and he takes the lotion from my bedside table and begins to rub it into my sore skin.
I look over my shoulder at him. He's fully dressed and put together as he was an hour ago.
"Why are you still dressed?" I mumble against my bed, closing my eyes against the soothing sensation of his fingers kneading and massaging me.
Because despite the fact that we just screwed our brains out I'm still on the clock." I make a sound of displeasure. "I don't like sharing you with your job."
"This job is the only reason why I'm allowed within a hundred feet of you. We both should be thankful for it. If anyone finds out...."
I open my eyes and I can see the worry in his. "I promised you that I wouldn't tell anyone."
"I believe you. But now that you're here, in my building, we need to discuss some ground rules. Get dressed. We need to talk," he says before leaving the room. I frown because I don't like rules and because he's no longer in the room with me I follow him.
@sarahbellesaurus @dishearteningly-yours @harryxmarvel @3ratcha08 @learisa @dozcan123 @makanirock05 @anotherfan18 @disagreeableparrot @sambuckybesite @selenestar78 @cieraboobear @thethinksithought @lovehotch87 @abbyyourlocalmilf @baektominaj @thetallscorpiobee @ddddawson @starsofcloud @ordelixx @stevihj @holylulusworld @tess-love @hawkeyes-queen @iwaizumiismybae @dunningz @impossiblecreatorathletelov-blog @tupelomiss @rebelbossheart @kandis-mom @sebastians-love
55 notes · View notes
softest-punk · 10 months
Note
Ooooh, in men of good fortune, may we see Dream in a few years time just scrolling in the street happily clad in the latest fashion, when he runs into Calliope~but before it can get awkward Hob rocks up with baby Eleanor on his arms, while Robyn very seriously sheperds Orpheus back from where they were window shopping, and Hob is like~oh, who' this, my love? At which Dream is-no one of consequence my dear, let's go, Eleanor is missing her nap, and Hob is ofc, if you say ots no one then its no one, would you like to stop at the confectionary on our way home dearest, and they just leave Calliope in the dust.
Love that you're out for blood, can absolutely picture this scenario.
I think I'd like Hob to get an introduction though.
It's Orpheus's first season out, so he's 16 (and gangly and awkward like Dream was and Hob's heart threatens to burst every time he looks at him because he knows he's basically looking at baby Dream). Robyn is 12 and obsessed with his older brother who is perfect and his best friend. Eleanor was an absolutely thrilling recent surprise, just six months old and cannot be pried out of Hob's arms except to be fed and even then he hovers and if he could possibly feed her himself, he would.
Dream stops dead in the street as they're walking back to the carriage to head home for lunch. A very attractive alpha has also stopped dead in front of them. Dream nods the tiniest nod and says "Calliope" and this is enough to flip Hob's bitch switch. He smiles with all his teeth and makes a show of re-balancing Eleanor so he can offer his hand. Lovely to meet you, Dream's told me so much about you, he explains as he wraps his now-free hand around Dream's waist and kisses his temple and nuzzles and scents him in broad daylight in the middle of the street. People stare. Hob, who never did learn to be much of a gentleman, does not care. Dream, who is very happy to be publicly adored (wait for chapter 7 re: Dream's exhibitionism kink), snuggles closer and makes happy sounds.
Calliope exchanges small talk through gritted teeth and at some point accepts an invitation to tea later in the week by accident. Dream is extremely excited to sit in Hob's lap in front of her and drink his chocolate and catch her up on how happy he's been and how accomplished his children are. Has Orpheus play for her. Has Robyn read poetry he wrote in three languages. Has Hob feel him up a bit. Ends the evening absolutely glowing with smugness & Hob eats him out for like three hours once they retire.
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delta-pavonis · 8 months
Note
🥁 + 9
Because it's brilliant and I need more of these two. (And to give me more picture ideas to spam you with 😁)
Aw, "shoulder kisses."
Read it below the cut or on AO3. You will probably need to brush your teeth after this it is so fluffy.
"Come. " Kiss. "To." Kiss. "Bed." Kiss.
The last one lingers on Hob's bare shoulder, lips parting to allow teeth to nip at the taut curve of skin. Hob turns his head and catches Dream's lips with his own for a moment. "No." He cannot help but smile at his lover's pout. "I am determined to get through this song first."
Hob had picked up a recorder in the city’s market just before they left so that he has something new to work on to distract himself from his swirling thoughts. He has spent the vast majority of his time since they left the capital of Helespis with said instrument.
"What is with this sudden single-minded need to broaden your musical horizons? And why the rush?" Dream kneels next to him since there is no room on the stool set outside their vardo. One pale hand squeezes Hob's knee. "This seems so sudden and I... is something wrong?"
"I..." He sighs, looking down at Dream. "It has just been hard for me. Since Calliope joined the caravan."
Upon exiting the Southern Wastes Dream's clan headed for the capital of the small marshland nation of Helespis. It was in said capital that they met up with Calliope: she needed transport into Temenos. And wouldn't you know, that is exactly where they are headed. Of course Dream let her travel with them. Of course Dream did not refuse to provide safe passage to his ex-wife.
Saying Calliope is beautiful is such an understatement as to be embarrassing to they who utter it. Of course Dream would have been with someone like that, someone who is the elegance of a poem given human form. Someone who can dance and sing and play the mandolin. Of course Dream is pulled into her orbit, smiling at her with that sweet little curl of lips Hob had been sure was only for him.
Dream’s expression darkens as he considers Hob’s words. “Did she say something to you? Do something? I would not have her treating my lover poorly.”
Hob deflates a little, his smile fond as warmth blooms in his chest and he lays his hand over Dream’s on his knee. “No. Nothing like that. It is just…”
That first night Hob had watched them from the farthest edge of their camp, in the shadow of the kitchen wagon, and sighed. Like a lovelorn fool. He felt such a fool.
"My brother is with you for a reason," Epithumia emerged from the kitchen with a glass of wine and nudged Hob with their elbow. "He is divorced from her for a reason. Do not sit and stew in your jealousy – it is going to leave unsightly lines on your face."
Hob chuckled softly. For all their apparent grievances with Hob and with their brother, 'Mia still wants said sibling to be happy and is thrilled that Hob makes him happy. "So are you saying that you won't help me put frogs in her bunk?"
'Mia smirked, all red-waxed lips and kohl-lined eyes that shone golden when they caught the distant firelight. "Oh, now, I wouldn't go that far."
"See? I knew you'd have my back when push came to shove."
They have become closer over their weeks in the same clan, so it was not a surprise when 'Mia wound their arms around Hob's waist and rested their chin on his shoulder, body draped across his back. "I could help you make Morpheus jealous?" They splayed a hand across Hob's belly.
Hob rolled his eyes. "That might be the stupidest idea I have ever heard." He would never do that to Dream. Ever. Even if their relationship did come to an end. "Besides, I know that I am not your type. I won't kneel for you."
"Pity." They purred into his ear. "You would be very pretty with my cock in your mouth."
"I always look pretty with a cock in my mouth. That has little to do with yours in particular." Hob shrugged off 'Mia's embrace. "Now scram so I can mope here in peace."
'Mia just sipped at their wine. Hob swore he could hear the gears turning in that pretty head of theirs. “What is your problem here? Specifically.”
Hob sighed again, then motioned to the pair talking by the fire. “Look at him with her. Look at him smiling at her. Like that. Laughing with her like that.” ‘Mia did as he bid, looked out to their sibling and former sister-in-law. As if on command Calliope laughed heartily at something Dream had said, throwing her head back, while Dream smiled that exact soft little smile at her and Hob felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin. “Like. That.”
“Mmm,” ‘Mia hummed, took another sip of wine, and then finally turned to leave. “You should ask my brother what they are talking about.” They nudged Hob one more time before disappearing into the darkness.
“It is just what?” Dream brings Hob’s hand to his lips. “Please tell me why you are spending so much time alone working on this when you have never done such before. I…” He presses another kiss to Hob’s knuckles. “I miss you.”
Ah, fuck. Hob is such a sucker for this man. But instead of answering directly he tilts sideways. “The night after Calliope joined us, after dinner, around the fire… you were sitting alone with her and talking. What were you talking about?”
Hob’s eyes widen as Dream flushes a deep red that runs rapidly from cheeks to collarbones. “Oh. We…” He actually swallows audibly, which Hob arches an eyebrow at, and when he speaks it is a whisper. “Why do you ask?”
Now something really is amiss. Hob has never seen Dream blush like this. “Because you looked… so happy with her. And the way you smiled at her, laughed with her, I thought… it felt…”
Hob is interrupted when Dream breaks into giggles, his blue eyes blazing to life like hot flames. “Oh Hob. My Hob.” He puts his other hand on Hob’s neck, pulling their faces closer. “She asked me why I seemed so happy, noted that she hadn’t seen such happiness on me since the day we married.” Dream leans closer still, face still flushed but grin wide and open. “So I told her about the man that I have fallen in love with.”
Every last wisp of air leaves Hob’s lungs all at once. “That you have…”
Dream’s smile is blindingly bright when their noses brush, but his voice is breathless, “I love you, Hob.”
Hob pretty much falls off the stool and onto the ground in front of Dream, grasping at his shoulders as he succumbs to his own fit of giggles. Love. His Dream just told him that he loves him.
They don’t even make it into the vardo, Dream trying to use one of the large spoked wheels as leverage as he climbs onto Hob’s lap.
Epithumia’s voice rings out over the chirping of night-crickets, “In the name of Jabin’s blessed fucking bollocks… Find four walls. Now.”
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that-ari-blogger · 4 months
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Chekhov's Gattling Gun, Part 1
Like a boat, lost at sea With no sails, not a breeze. I am drifting, cold waters No stars to be seen
Life isn't simple. You can't measure every moment in history on a scale of a to b. Life is like a collage, made from disparate materials stuck together, some organised, some more wild. But all of them collaborating into the great picture that is a single human being and their lived experience. This is true for everyone around you, and since no artwork is identical, no person can ever live the same way as anyone else.
Stories work in a similar fashion, with different threads getting tangled and twisted until, with one final pull, the full might of the tapestry is revealed, and the audience can marvel at the beauty, or reminisce about how they watched it come together.
Stray Gods: The Role Playing Musical is a fantastically complex and moving story, and two of the final songs, Adrift Reprise and The Trial serve as a climax in momentum, plot, and theme. These are the moments when the tapestry is revealed.
Let me explain.
SPOILERS AHEAD
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Adrift Reprise needs to be understood in the context of its namesake, the first song in the musical, and in the context of, well, it's context. This sits just before the climax of the musical, just before everything comes to a head, and we get this quiet before the storm. And this is also the moment after our conversation with Freddie (you know the one). So, you bet I'm going to talk about that.
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Let me start with the imagery, the stage. This is a bit of a meta metaphor, this is a game, literally a story, and the imagery references that. But what I find interesting is the reason why.
Grace has spent the entire musical detached from reality, directionless, unable to pin down. There's a reason you can make any choice for her and it won't feel out of character. She's a blank slate, emotionally and motivationally. The only thing that can get her to do something is a threat of death.
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And then we get here, Grace sits upon a stage. But now she has purpose. Now she has something to look forwards to after the trial. This is a Grace that is making up her mind. So, the story acknowledges it's superficiality at the start, when Grace is the most detached, and now, when she is feeling the most real.
This also serves to contrast her with an earlier version of herself. I keep saying that this is a story about change, and here we are presented with how much Grace has changed over the course of the musical.
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And despite you not actually getting to choose anything in this song, you feel like this is the culmination of all of your choices up to this point.
Specifically, I am talking about the choice whether or not to bring Freddie back from the dead. I did, on my first playthrough, so I was met with this very quiet version of the song as Grace and I both reflected on what we had just done. There is a noticeable air of uncertainty, and the resolution isn't "I did the right thing", but "I did what I did, now I have to deal with that".
However, there is another path you can take to get to this song.
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If you let Freddie go, you get backup music. And you get shown a different change between now and the beginning. Slightly.
I actually think Grace has changed more as a mortal than as a muse. If that makes sense. As a mortal, she owns up to her decisions, and resolves herself. She is alone for now, but she knows she has people to rely on. But as a muse, I think she has definitely changed, although not quite as much. Grace still feels alone, and still has to be brought from that by Calliope. I think that if Freddie stays dead, Grace regresses to the point she began the story in, and has to be given that final boost externally.
The change is different between the two, I simply prefer the former option because I, personally, find it more interesting.
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"In your heart, we remain You do not sail in vain"
All preferences aside, however, this is a cool line. All of the people that Grace has changed have changed her in return. There's another musical with a similar sentiment in it.
I've heard it said That people come into our lives for a reason Bringing something we must learn And we are led To those who help us most to grow If we let them And we help them in return
This is from Wicked, and stay tuned for some analysis of that in the future. But for now, it is the meaning that is important. We grow the most if we accept the help, and we give it back when it's needed. Humans are a communal species, we stay static if left to our own devices, or we spiral.
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The question then becomes this: What do you want to do now? How do you want to do this?
If you bring back Freddie, you need to keep her alive through the trial, and if you don't, well now you have to live on in her name. Either way, you need to make a decision.
There is no inertia in the ocean.
(There is a Part 2 going up at the same time as this that will discuss The Trial)
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avelera · 1 year
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A few thoughts on writerly endurance, word count, how to increase it and why you might want to
So over the last few months I've had, bar none, the highest word count I've ever produced as a writer over the course of (*checks watch*) 23 years of writing, on and off. This was after a pretty long dry spell brought on, most likely, from stress from current events and playing way too much Sims 4.
No one is more shocked by this than me. Mostly the word count lately has been me just trying to outrun the Doubts that set in if I pause for too long. Let's hope I can stay ahead, because I feel like garbage when I haven't written in a long time. Mostly, I just thank Calliope every day where I've got something to write and the urge doesn't leave me.
But this crazy-ass word count has led to a few people commenting on it so I want to give some scattered, not exactly linear tips on how to reach a longer word count and why you might want to do so as a writer.
1 ) Learning to write more is, in my mind, a matter of endurance with an almost 1-to-1 correlation with the sort of training one would do to become a long distance runner. No one is born with the ability. It takes practice. Expecting to be able to do it without practice is as ridiculous as expecting to be able to sit down at the piano if you've never played it before and bang out a tune. Be gentle with yourself.
2 ) The incentive to learning to increase your word count is to learn how to cut and edit more viciously. Which sounds odd. And I actually don't recommend deleting what you write, I recommend a discard document even for phrases as small as half a sentence, because you never know when you got it right the first time and if you (like me) do track word count as an accomplishment, it's good to see how much work you actually did at the end of the day.
3 ) But really, you need* (*if you so choose) to learn how to write 100 words easily, and then 1,000 words, and then 10,000 words because at some point, you might realize your story has gone off track and hit a wall and the only way to fix it is to go back 50 words, or 500 words, or 5,000 words and if you nearly killed yourself to write that much, you might be reluctant to remove it (to your discard doc), even if failing to do so will mean the whole story dies. The less effort it takes to write a lot, the more likely (if you're like me) that you'll be able remove the things that need to be removed without getting too possessive of them because they were so hard to write in the first place.
4 ) Now, the one reason to not just increase word count for the sake of word count is that short pieces actually, pound for pound, tend to get more attention because they represent less of a commitment for an audience. Long fics might have more comments, but if you broke down word count-to-feedback ratio, most one shots do a lot better. So don't negatively compare a short fic to a long fic just because it has more comments. Short fics and one shots can be very rewarding. But, as said in point 3, learning to write a lot means you can be more precise with removing extra stuff. For me, at least, writing something short is harder and takes a lot longer than writing something long. Even this post would probably be more successful if I could boil it down to a few bullet points, but that would take 10x more time and energy for me than just writing my thoughts out linearly without boiling them down to the most salient points.
5 ) For me, learning to write a lot had a lot to do with learning to trust my initial instincts. I've heard runners say the hardest part of learning to run was learning to stop stopping themselves. They said their own bodies held them back until they trained themselves to work with their bodies. I think writing is similar.
We have our internal editor, many people have heard of that, the voice that tries to edit a piece before it's done. That's worth noting if you haven't heard of it: don't try to edit while you're writing. Editing is for when your story or at least your chapter draft is done. Because you can't really see what needs to be fixed until you have the whole picture before you. It's like trying to color in the lines before you've actually drawn the lines of a picture.
But also consider this: you're not going to learn to write better than you already have in the .5 seconds while you're thinking about what to say next. Go with your first instincts. You've been reading, watching, and otherwise consuming stories for most of your life. You've been writing for some significant period of it too. You know everything you need to know, that you can possibly know to write the story in front of you right now. That's not going to change if you agonize over that next sentence for hours or weeks. You're not going to get better in that time without actually writing. And if you do, most likely you'll want to write something else because your interests and skills will have shifted and the story in front of you will die in that time. The best way to get better? Write and finish the story in front of you. There really is no comparison.
So the best thing you can do is write the next line that first appears in your head. Don't doubt yourself. Your brain knows what it's doing. Trust yourself. You know what comes next. And maybe you'll get to the end and realize it wasn't the right line. Well, then you can edit and fix it. And you'll have a much clearer idea of how to do that, of what needs to change at the end than you'll ever have in the moment. In the moment you need to stop fighting your own body and brain. Trust yourself. You know how to tell a story. You know what the next line will be if you just listen and don't edit it before it exists.
6 ) It's going to take practice. But writing 50 kind a crappy 100 word drabbles in under 15 minutes is going to teach you a lot more than staring at the blank document of your magnum opus novel that you haven't written a word for. Particularly, writing that many drabbles is going to help you with point 5: trusting yourself to know what the next sentences will be.
7 ) Don't bite off more than you can chew. If writing 100 words exhausts you, don't plot out a 100,000 word story. You're not there yet. You're training for a 5k and that's a marathon. You need to build to it and you need to be gentle with yourself about the fact that 100,000 words is a serious amount of effort and it would be as absurd to expect of yourself as expecting someone working up to a 5k to run a marathon without training first. Doesn't mean you shouldn't run every day though, or run when you can.
8 ) Random note but: stop checking your word count while you're writing. Check the word count when the section is done. I've stopped checking word count unless I'm looking to see how close I am to having a chapter's worth of content ready to post, I don't check it mid-scene anymore, only when I feel I've got something to share. I think it helps with both avoiding discouragement and feeling like you're "done" before you've actually finished anything and then resting on your laurels.
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darklinsblog · 1 year
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Sweet Distraction | Chapter I
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Summary: Morpheus finds himself at the lowest point in his life, with his son’s passing and Calliope’s departure, the man finds himself looking for a sweet distraction.
Pairing: Dark Morpheus x Human! Reader
Warnings: Smut
Chapter List
The year was 1589, Morpheus had just left Hob Gadling, and he was happy for the man who still had very much excitement to live. But his own personal life, was deteriorating. His son had died and months later his wife Calliope left him, blaming him for the death of their child.
Being honest with himself, he blamed himself as well. The king had hoped for Hob to be a good distraction, and he was for as long as he reunited with him but when he left the pub, the void in his chest would come back.
He started walking with no direction, he simply wanted to keep his mind busy from thinking of his own sorrow and misery, he walked pass a few drunks, and he watched as a man was dragged into a building by a voluminous woman.
A sense of curiosity filled him, he followed the pair, when looking around the room he was greeted by the sight of crowds of people fornicating shamelessly.
Weirdly enough, he stood there watching, until someone poked his shoulder. The tall man turned around finding a stocky and muddy man staring up at him sinisterly.
“Would you like one for yourself? I have just the right girl for you” Morpheus’ eyes shimmered with indescribable emotion, he wanted to decline the promiscuous offer, he should’ve just left, but he stayed.
At the lack of response the man grinned widely. “OI, Y/N GET YOUR ASS HERE” the man roared, the crowd seemed to disperse, allowing a girl to come forward, she had her arms crossed behind her back, looking straight at the floor as she walked, stopping right in front of Morpheus, next to the beefy man.
She was unusually clean for the brothel, she was tiny in comparison to the Endless, he completely shadowed her, he placed his fingers in her chin, forcing her to look up at him, her big bright eyes shined with fear but she was gorgeous even then.
“She is a virgin, my lord” the man peeped, Morpheus looked at the filthy man, then back at you.
Perhaps you were the sweet distraction he needed, the remedy to dull his suffering. It was the most immoral decision he could ever make, but he was at such a low point in his life, he didn’t care. You were immaculate, untouched and he could mold you to his liking, like a new toy, fresh out of the box for him to play with.
“How much?” He asked quietly.
“Two gold coins, my lord”
He paid the price without a second thought, there was no turning back now. You were his property.
Your new master took your hand and dragged you out of your old home. The Lord of Dreams brought you back to the Dreaming, Lucienne was waiting for the king at the veil, as always. But she was taken back by the unknown girl, who was avoiding all kinds of eye contact, she was barely visible as she stood behind the king.
“Lucienne, I do not want to be bothered today, do not summon me unless it’s an emergency. Is that clear?” The librarian frowned confused, but nodded.
“Of course, my lord”
With that he guided you into the palace into his bedroom, while you simply followed him like a lost pup, in many ways, that’s what you were.
He closed the door behind you and his pupils dilated with lust as he looked at you again.
“Sit on the bed” he commanded and you complied, he grabbed your neck softly, having you look at him with those big eyes of yours. “Let’s make things clear. You are my possession, you will be at my disposal, you will not ask me questions or talk unless I allow it” your heart was beating loudly in your chest, scared of the man that was now your owner, scared of what your life here would be like.
“Say you’ve understood” he growled, pressing down on your neck a little tighter, making you gasp.
“Y-yes” you stammered softly, at your response he let you go, but his eyes never left yours.
“Undress yourself for me” you had no other option but to comply, but this time, you were confident enough to stare back at him as you did. You slowly removed your garments, one by one until you were naked in his bed. He inspected your figure, taking in the sight of you, while your cheeks burned with embarrassment.
You looked so fragile, confused but something about all of this was incredibly alluring to him, he let himself be guided by desire as he kissed you hungrily. You reciprocated his actions shyly, as if you felt overpowered by him, Morpheus felt a rush of excitement when he understood he was standing from a place of power, he was the one making the shots here, not you.
He pressed you down to the bed, his weight falling on you, he was shamelessly touching your body, ripping out of you your first ever sounds of pleasure, he could tell by the way you shivered in a mixture of shame and pleasure, discovering the new sensation.
Adrenaline was cursing through his veins, he loved to be the first one to provoke this feeling on you, to make you his. To truly possess you.
You helped him get undressed, goosebumps rose on your skin at the feeling of his skin against yours, his cock rose your lady parts, making your walls clench in anticipation. He sneaked his hand down, between your bodies, introducing two of his slim fingers inside your clit, your walls adjusted to the intrusion tightly, causing him to groan in your ear.
Your legs tensed as Morpheus pumped his fingers inside you, you pulled his hair as you moaned louder and louder by the second. He fastened his pace, your sounds of pleasure made his member go hard grazing your belly.
The temperature started to rise in your whole body, a knot was forming in your stomach growing tighter and tighter. Your legs trembled uncontrollably and as you came undone Morpheus held you.
Your clit was pulsing even after your orgasm, Morpheus spread your legs apart, eager to be inside you, he could not wait a minute longer. He positioned himself at your entrance, your walls clenching due to the overstimulation.
The Lord of Dreams sank into you so deeply you could feel him in your stomach, you well full of him, so full that you had the sensation that before this you were hollow, like he was the part of yourself you were missing.
His hands were placed at your butt, wrapping your legs around his waist, pushing impossibly deeper inside you, he was thrusting into you with such force, the room was only filled with the sloppy sounds of his flesh crashing into yours. His monstrous pace driving you insane.
Your bodies were sweating and your toes were curling, he was keeping you in place so roughly you were certain his hands would be marked on your body for days.
Sooner than he expected you were coming undone again, but Morpheus kept going chasing after his own release, you could only use his shoulders as support, and at last his seed filled you, you gasped at the strange sensation of his fluids.
The Endless sighed in delight, relaxing and laying down on his bed next to you, he was breathing deeply while you looked at the ceiling, processing what just happened.
Morpheus was breathing deeply beside you and you could feel his hot fluids running down your leg, your whole body was aching. This was beyond strange to you, you looked at him for a second or two.
Had you really lost your virginity to this man? Or was this some sort of bizarre invention of yours? Then the reality of it all suddenly hitting you like a brick. You were this man’s fuck toy for as long as he wished.
After having recovered, the tall man got dressed, you sat up straight, covering your body as you watch him walk around the room. At the feeling of your eyes following him he looked at you.
“Clean yourself if you please, I will come back later” he said.
“What’s your name?” You asked before he left, he froze, if you were staying with him, that was practically the only thing you needed to know.
“Morpheus” he spoke softly “You better use it when I return” that was thing he said before leaving you.
You stood up, inspecting the bed that had a mixture of your fluids and a few droplets of blood as a result of your hymen breaking. At last, you decided to follow Morpheus’ suggestion and hoped in the shower, so you could change your clothes and wait for your master to come back.
After all, this was your new life.
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cthulhusstepmom · 3 months
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What Is and What Could Be
Down in the bayou it’s never silent. The air is filled with the shrill calls of a million marsh birds, underscored by the harmonies of cicadas, crickets, and whining mosquitos. With a tempo set by croaking bullfrogs and sluggishly churning water, urged along by hooting owls and supported by the bass tones of bellowing gators. The song of the swamp is a busy tune, not unlike the brassy jazz played by those that live there. And if you know how to listen just right, it can tell you no shortage of things. 
In a warm and humid tavern a group of adventurers sits around a table, glancing furtively this way and that, squirming slightly under the judgemental stare of the more naturalized citizens. Things don’t often change in the bayou, it’s a wild place, untamed. Civilization has tried to reach within before and without fail it’s been pushed back with prejudice, those that do live here are proud of it and somewhat by design they tend to be a rather insular folk. By and large this means they don’t take kindly to most strangers. Particularly strangers that show up asking questions .
And this crew had been asking plenty, beyond the glaring offense of very clearly not being from around this neck of the woods. 
They rolled into town a few days ago, talking like Galticans or similar enough to them, and by the look in their eyes: running from who knows what. They found rooms at one of the nicer inns, kept to themselves and tipped decent enough(it takes more than that to ingratiate yourselves to the folk of Agwé) before they started asking things. Innocuous at first. They wanted to know about the circus going on just out of town, who the mayor was(useless question) and who was really in charge(that one earned them some begrudging respect). Then they dug deeper, asked about other people. Powerful people. People who are none too fond of having their business nosed about. 
However, if there’s one thing the people of Agwé like more than being stalwartly unhelpful to those they dislike, it’s watching someone else be stalwartly unhelpful and commentating on it over Sunday brunch and mimosas. 
“I’ll tell you what, you go on over to that carnival a ways outta town and I reckon you’ll find who you’re looking for.” A greasy tabaxi offers between wiping tables, battered tail flicking back and forth with a hard to determine emotion. “I wouldn’t dawdle if I were you, it won’t be in town much longer.” The Tabaxi returns to his business with a glinting smile and a few gold pieces that were well worth the trouble. If city slickers wanna go poking beehives it’s not his business to stop them, especially if he’s compensated for handing them the stick. 
The carnival itself is in full swing when they arrive, flashing lights and smells both sweet and savory assaulting their senses from the get go. The operation is staffed by a motley crew of goblinoids, bullywugs, humans, kobolds, and anything else one could reasonably imagine; in the corner of her vision, the half elven leader of the group of adventurers even catches sight of what look to be a few pixies working the crowd though the tide of patrons sways and they’re obscured before she can be fully certain. 
Games line the thoroughfare all of which, from the looks of a surreptitious investigation, appear to be thoroughly if subtly rigged. Arching above the sea of people is an impressive ferris wheel, bedazzled with twinkling magical lights as it turns and turns. Near it, a calliope booms a cheery tune over the sounds of hawking carnival workers, screaming children, and laughing patrons. A map near the entrance advertises a hall of mirrors, a freak show, and hourly performances in the red and white striped big top including a magic show, fire dancing, beast taming, and a spectacle led by the carnival owner at noon and midnight. Perusing through the carnival, wandering and wondering just how they’re meant to find anyone here let alone the one man they seek, the party save one(a dragonborn with a hand harp strapped to his side) seems oblivious to an odd quirk of this particular carnival. There doesn’t seem to be any clowns.
Their hotheaded gnome companion is easily egged into a game of strength(taunted all the while by a colorful lizardfolk wearing the symbol of the carnival), black eyes glitter with excitement as their minotaur begs to go to the big top to see the beasts in the next show as the small pseudodragon on his shoulder makes similar pleading motions, a disinterested rabbitfolk quickly snatches her hands away from a passing purse under the stern reprimand of an androgynous human with subtly glowing eyes. They come to the conclusion that they should split, agreeing that they will meet at the big top in an hour for the Spectacular, all concluding that should be their best chance to get an audience with who they seek. 
As they go their separate ways(one pair to the big top, one pair to the freak show, one making her way down the alley of carnival games and the last picking his way towards the concessions) the party is pulled into the atmosphere of merriment and none of them perceive the very distinct feeling of predatory eyes locked on their every move.
The party never gets a chance to reconvene at the big top. 
Instead, throughout the hour each one meets a disparate misfortune. The half elven woman drops to her knees at the edge of the thoroughfare, clutching her head in pain as the hand reaching for a holy symbol falls limp.
Behind her, the human spins about in panic, muttering a few infernal words before a hand is clamped over their mouth and ether slowly calms their struggling limbs. 
At a dart game, the dragonborn reaches to claim his prize and suddenly finds himself somewhere else entirely with only a moment to scream before his mind is enveloped in darkness and he falls to the ground fast asleep. 
In the large circus tent, the harengon thief is escorted away from her thoroughly distracted friend by a mysterious tabaxi claiming to be security, receiving a sharp blow to the temple as they walk towards a ‘holding cell’. 
Within the hall of mirrors, a black and orange hand reaches forth and yanks the furs worn by the gnome; sending her careening through the glass-turned-portal. 
Last to go is the minotaur. Enamored by the performance, he couldn’t pass up a chance to speak with the beastmaster of the carnival: an old goblin with an easy smile and a worn wooden ocarina. The only moment of warning he had was a deep hoot behind him before the world went dark.
Some indeterminate time later the human is wrenched from unconsciousness by a familiar, if perpetually jarring, voice shouting within their mind. In swift order they endeavor to wake the others, attempting to take stock of the situation. Their surroundings are dark, what little light is present struggles to illuminate anything through heavy curtains drawn over wide windows. Beneath them is an opulent rug, the color of which is hard to discern in the low light, and under that are tight wooden floorboards that match the walls of this space. What they can see of the walls anyway; most of the space is taken by lavish hangings and shelves of kick knacks, the one closest to them holds a beat up silver cigarette case, a small wooden figure of a two headed vulture, a clockwork dragonfly, a crocheted doily, a hip flask, and a vial that looks to house a small lily pad floating in water amongst a few other things. The air is thick with the scent of quality tobacco and warm food and the ambience it creates might even be homey and welcoming in the right circumstances. Though now, tied securely to chairs with no idea how they got there, it seems rather daunting. 
Spatially, the room is quite large. Wide enough for six chairs with displeased adventurers to be lined up side by side with a foot or so of walking room on one side. It’s longer than it is wide, maybe twice over though it’s hard to tell; the windows are positioned opposite each other in the very center of each wall, what light that escapes the curtains quickly stifles in almost absolute darkness before it reveals any sign of a far wall, at least to disadvantaged human eyes. What does catch their gaze and take their breath away are a pair of glowing dull magenta dots in the darkness. No, that’s not quite right. Not dots. Eyes . 
From the gasps coming from their left and right, some of the human’s more visually attuned party members have also perceived the eyes, and most likely the creature attached to them, whatever horrific beast it may be. 
Soon after they discover their predicament, the air is filled with the muffled noises of the carnivalé outside and underneath the muted cacophony the occasional grunt over a chorus of heavy breathing(the Thing on the other end of the room doesn’t move a single muscle, doesn’t even seem to breathe), a sliver of light falls upon the interior of the wagon. 
Creaaaaaaak. 
A door on the far side of the wagon opens. 
It takes a moment for the adventurers to get their bearing in the new light, when they do they first notice the creature connected to those dully shining eyes. 
A large bugbear stands against the far wall. He stands tall, the tips of his bat-like ears almost brushing the ceiling, limbs corded with lithe muscle, and a severe bearing that hints at confidence and ferocity. Running over his arms and up under his sleeves are large spots devoid of any of the dense brown fur that covers the rest of him, a closer look reveals thick rings of angry scar tissue, long healed but clearly agonizing once.
As the bugbear moves away from the opening door he reveals these new variables to their unfortunate situation. 
Stepping into the room with twin, thudding, clanks , a large fire genasi drags a pair of thick chains across the floor attached to weathered manacles that cover his forearms. The genasi is broad, with muscles that speak of hard labor and sheer physical power. His face is creased with deep laugh lines though the only smile on his lips at the moment is a malicious smirk as he reaches behind him to hold the door open. 
Lastly, a lizardfolk gentleman strolls through the door. He moves with the assured ease of a man who holds all the cards. Wearing a sharp purple suit, hand gripping the amethyst skull atop an ornate cane, the lizardfolk takes his time setting his top hat on a stand in the corner, breezing under the watchful eyes of the bugbear without a care for the sharp claws hovering near his snout. When he finally seats himself in a commanding armchair set front and center of the room, he casually fishes in his suit coat before withdrawing a sleek black cigarette holder and a cigarette from a mother of pearl case. It’s hardly in his hand for more than a second before the genasi at his shoulder provides a light at the tip of his finger before leaning with crossed arms on the back of the chair. As his back makes contact with the leather, a spidery hand covered in fur proffers a crystal tumbler of dark alcohol. 
After a long, weighted silence and a luxurious draw from the cigarette, he speaks. 
“What a do friends …”
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So I had a lot of time to think at work today and I may fell down a Dreamling hole (and ran into some tables and shelves while thinking about this). So here we go:
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I thought about Morpheus and physical touch. To me he seems like someone who rarely engages in physical contact on his own, and when he does it's rather violent (see Desire).
Like he tolerates the touch of Lucienne or Death, but he doesn't touch them or anyone on his own terms.
Jessamy is a different level of touch and he's fine with her snuggling on to him because she has the privileg to do so.
On the other hand I think Hob is a rather touchy person, or someone who would casually touch friends or literally anyone because that's just how he is.
Like he'd hug his friends or buddys (a manly hug of course) or just casually touches their arm or something
So when they finally meet again, they both struggle at first because they still don't know on wich terms they are but the longer they talk, the more comfy they get again with one another. (You can see it in their last scene together how relaxed Dream is around him)
And then they keep talking, okay mostly Hob is the one talking and Dream just listens and sort of rests his hands on the table and then the unspeakable happens: Hob, lost in enthusiastic talking, casually grabs Dreams hand because he's excited about something he's telling. And Dream flinches upon his touch, pulling aways his hand like its burning because how dare he touch me??  And how dare his heart to race like this?
And Hob being Hob stops his talking and asks if Dream is alright. Well Dream being the stubborn bastard he is tells him yes and that he shall continue with his talking.
So Hob brushes it of as Dream being Dream and keeps talking and they have a nice rest of the night.
When Dream goes back to his realm afterwards, he thinks back to Hob and him touching his hand as if it was nothing. It seemed strange to him, like he has seen it so many times before, wether with Death or anyone else. Touching just seems normal to humans (and other beings for that matter). But with Hob it felt different. Different from Lucienne's or his sisters touch, even different from Jessamy. He remembers feeling something kinda like it a very long time ago with Calliope, but brushes it off as coincidence.
Tho there is something in his mind or maybe in his heart, that makes him go to the libary and search for books about feelings. Specific feelings.
After some research he vows to try something, next time he's meeting up with Hob. He doesn't know how he'll do it, Death and Lucienne make it look so easy but he's too stubborn to ask them for help. (Tbh they would tease him like nothing else if he asked)
Next time he's walking into the New Inn, his mind is set on his experiment. He sits down with his friend and apologizes for his behavior at their last meeting. Hob just smiles and tells him not to worry, even tho there is a little sting in his heart upon remembering it.
But that is quickly forgotten and they just talk like old times. Dream waits patiently for Hob to be lost in his story again and when he finally seems distracted enough (and Dream has gathered enough courage) he rests his hand upon Hob's.
And yes his heart is racing again and it feels like there's electricity running through his veins but he doesn't flinch back from the feeling. Neither does Hob who didn't even realise Dream is touching him and still tells his story about god knows what.
He only realises that something is very different when he subconsciously started playing with Dreams hand as he got to a less exciting part. Now he's the one who almost pulls back his hand but it just feels right like this and so he lets it happen because he just feels that it took Dream a lot of courage to actively engage in physical contact with someone else.
So now they hold hands and are just in the moment and Dream already has plans for his next attempt to physical contact.
Maybe he needs to ask Death or Lucienne for help with this one, but how hard can it be to hug someone?
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writing-for-life · 6 months
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“Oblivion Is Not An Option”—A Musical Meta About Death’s “A Kind Word And A Friendly Face”
Send me asks about everything Sandman-related!
As some of you already know, my past life as a musician gives me a deep love for, and interest in, film music.
I already wrote a meta about the musical themes of Morpheus and Johanna Constantine, which you can find here.
In the spirit of actually creating the content we’d like to see, and also inspired by Sandtember Week 2023 prompt (Death) - The end of something, I’d like to talk about the musical leitmotif of Death today. And by the way, if you’d like me to cover any of the other Sandman musical themes: My ask box is always open (also for non-music related Sandman stuff. I’ve been sitting with this story for 30 years now, and I love to nerd out about it). I can’t promise how quickly I will be able to turn around these things since they need a bit of work and thought, but I definitely will get back to you.
First of all, let me start by saying that there are only four characters with a leitmotif (not every Sandman character has one) that doesn’t mirror, or even contain, Dream’s theme in some way:
Ethel Cripps
Hob Gadling
The Corinthian (video is time-stamped, which doesn’t always work on mobile. In that case, scroll to 0:55)
Death
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Or
Johanna’s and Calliope’s motifs are interesting in this context. I won’t go into Johanna’s again here, you can read about it via the link.
Calliope’s motif sounds different from Dream’s at first listen, so we might be tempted to put her in above group. But on closer listen, Calliope’s theme, like Johanna’s, references Dream’s (at the very end, it starts at 1:26). One step further: It is actually his motif (somewhat) in reverse. Which is really heartbreaking if you think of it, because it mirrors both their connection and deep affinity, but also a pull into different directions. However, I might write more about this another time, since this one is obviously about Death.
Affective Tonality—Musical Keys Make Us Feel
“A Kind Word and a Friendly Face” is set in the key of a minor. In affective tonality, a minor is the key of softness and tenderness of character (if this is something that interests you, have a look at Schubart’s or Charpentier’s works on the matter), but also of sadness and melancholy (Charpentier calls it “plaintive”). It’s more difficult to make an affective tonality assessment for Dream, since his leitmotif changes key several times throughout the series, depending on whom he interacts with (it also changes slightly overall, depending on context). For this purpose, the main theme (“The Kingdom of Dreams”) would probably be the best to use for comparison. It is set in B major, about which Schubart writes, “(it is) strongly coloured, announcing wild passions, (...) despair and every burden of the heart lies in its sphere”, while Charpentier calls it “solitary and melancholic”. I think you couldn’t give a more accurate description of character of these two via tonality if you tried.
Sound Effects That Hint At Deeper Meaning
Another aspect of Death’s theme I’d like to draw your attention to is the use of what we call backmasking. I recommend you listen to the beginning of “A Kind Word and a Friendly Face” at above video link with your headphones on. You will hear a faint sound effect in the background that is actually achieved by playing sounds in reverse. I was fairly sure it was her own leitmotif, but just to make sure I’m not telling you rubbish, I actually sent it through my sound processor, and it’s eerie how Death’s motif sounds almost the same played normally and in reverse (only that the background “noise” becomes the melody when you play it backwards). I think this is a wonderful, skilled musical hint at the interwoven nature of life and death: The moment you are born, you are essentially on a journey to die. But “oblivion is not an option”—there is a reversing of time in using this effect, an ethereal quality that is also mirrored in other aspects of the tune, e.g. in using flageolet in the string section. You create this effect by not fully pressing your finger down on the string, hence creating harmonics of the fundamental (the “original note”, so to speak). One could almost say it’s the sound of the cosmos: There is a long tradition, going back to Ancient Greece, to connect the relationships between musical notes and harmonic ratios to the universe (and ultimately life). All life is regarded as iterations of what could be called “cosmic music”. This isn’t really as woo as it might sound, but it would lead much too far in a meta like this. If you’re interested, you can make a start here:
Or a bit more in depth…
Melody Lines And Cadences Are Seldom Chosen At Random
Last but not least, I’d like to draw attention to the actual melody line. Despite being set in a minor key (which tends to evoke sadness in many listeners of western music), we have a hook largely based around an ascending pattern: 1-2-(m)3-1-(7)-1-1 (you can hear this right at the beginning of the video in linked above).
Compare this to Dream, who is mostly based around descending patterns: 1-(7)-(6)-(5)-(4) (I already explained this a bit more in-depth in the meta about Johanna).
As you can see, it’s not just the choice of key, it’s also the directionality. One lifts regularly and is inherently hopeful, the other descends quite frequently. However, people perceive music very differently, so this is rather food for thought than exact science.
I’d like to end this post with an interrupted cadence, just like Death’s motif:
When a piece of music ends, we want to hear a resolution. Usually, this means that we go back to the tonic (I) in some way, either via a perfect (V—I) or plagal (IV—I) cadence. It just sounds like a song is “done” or finished. In Death’s case, this would mean returning to the chord of a minor. However, we finish in F major, which leaves us hanging on the VI. It’s what’s called an interrupted cadence: There is no resolution, no end. And perhaps, that’s what Death hints at when she tells Harry now he’ll find out (video is time-stamped at around 1:28)…
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gabessquishytum · 2 months
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the ask about Orpheus running away from Dream and Calliope: OBVIOUSLY they’re both like “clearly the problem with our relationship is we need a third person! Hob will fix everything for us! Sexily!” And Hob is like “sure :)) yeah I’ll be your dom :))))” and Dream and Calliope high five and then Hob ties them up and, once again, orders them to talk. They’re both like “wat” and Hob is like “you’re both idiots, fucking me isn’t how you fix your relationship, you just want an easy solution. Also if I’m joining this mess it’s not going to be as your therapist jfc”
Dream and Calliope feel properly chastised, and do their best to actually discuss their problems while Hob makes himself tea.
Hob will eventually dom them in a more fun way, and the three of them figure out how to all have a healthy relationship together. It’s just a lot of Hob squirting them both with a spray bottle when they start to argue at first.
(Orpheus and Robyn are also given spray bottles. It definitely gives Dream and Calliope some perspective on how ridiculous they’re being when their son has to spray them in the face to feel comfortable not running away when they fight.)
-🦇
Alsksjfhshah poor Hob. If only he wasn't so desperately attracted to wet cat people.
I like the idea of Dream and Calliope 1) waking up to the fact that their marriage troubles are hurting their son and trying to fix it because of that but also 2) using Hob as motivation to fix their relationship. Every time they feel like giving up, one of them will remind the other "if we quit now, then we don't get dommed by Hob!" and they go right back to working on therapy stuff/communication/intimacy issues.
After a couple of months Hob sits down with Dream and Calliope again while Orpheus and Robyn play on the swing set. Dream and Calliope basically give a presentation about how they've been trying really hard on their marriage and actually have made progress, but they still want Hob to enter the relationship. Not to fix anything, just because they like him.
And hey, emotional maturity is sexy. Hob agrees to give it a go, as long as the kids are top priority. Dream and Calliope totally high five under the table.
Yes, the spray bottle may be implemented during the first scene the Hob has planned for them. Bad little bratty kittens need to be punished somehow.
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zoeysdamn · 2 years
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There shall be night - Part.1 Morpheus x priestess! reader
Religious themes (Ancient Greece)
The Morpheus x reader doesn’t start right away, I’m not good at making things happening quickly lmao
Also, English isn’t my first language, I apologize deeply for the possible grammar mistakes!
Enjoy ♥
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There used to be a time where gods were worshipped by mortals, way more than the modern times ever could. Those times were the era of temples and devoted beings, of prophecies and offerings. Some gods took pride in having so many signs of devotions in the followers and temples dedicated to their names. Some simply never answered the prayers, remaining silent and absent to their devotees’ words. And some of them had peculiar worshippers, who would gladly serve them through their own duties. Even though ageless, the young Dream of the Endless knew that his priestesses belonged to the last kind of worshipers. Back then in Ancient Greece, even before he married Calliope, he discovered his first devotees. 
The first one was already a middle-aged woman when he first met her in the Dreaming. Back then, lucid dreamers were still a relatively new phenomenon in his realm. When he saw the woman consciously wandering through his realm and interact with other dreamers, he said,
“Who are you, dreamer?”
“A simple woman” she said 
“How come you interact with other’s dreams?” asked the Dream Lord, perplexed by such action.
“So they can go through their sleep as it was intended, my Lord”
Narrowing his eyes and still unsure of her intentions, he asked her “Are you here to try to change the course of those people’s dreams, woman?”
“That is not in my power, my Lord” she said humbly. “I am but making sure they carry on their sleep, for they need this place as much as the feeling of the earth beneath their feets when they have woken up.” 
A long silence hung in the air. The King of the Dreaming took a long look of this woman, already a long way through her lifetime, considering the era ; her kind eyes and strands of grey hair, the shawl on her shoulders and her hands humbly tucked together before her, reminded him somehow of the Hekate. Nothing made him believe she could be lying, although he still didn’t really understand why she wanted to make sure the dreamers stayed the planned time in his realm. 
“Why are you helping those dreamers, woman? Do you have any interest in doing so?”  asked Dream. 
“None but helping you through your duties, Oneroi” she answered calmly with a bow of her head. “Dreaming is a powerful thing that we humans may not always understand. I merely wish to help those who seek answers for this part of their lives. For I believe this realm is no less real than the grounds we’re walking on day by day” 
Dream inhaled deeply, quite impressed by the clarity of this mere mortal’s mind. For he knew every single creation of his has a purpose for dreamers, it was rare that someone else shared his opinion. 
“Very well” he stated slowly “If you wish to serve the Dreaming, then you shall. Help the dreamers, in your world or mine, woman.”
“I am at your service, my Lord”, bowed the woman in response. 
And thus, the first Priestess of Morpheus was created.
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When she was a little girl, (Y/N) had heard her grandmother's story countless times. Her grandma may have been close to a hundred years old, she would always take time for her precious granddaughter if she asked for the story one more time. They would sit together on the temple’s stairs, the old priestess and the young child, talking for hours until the sun went down. 
“Grandma, what's Dreaming like?” asked (Y/N) while playing with the hem of her white robes. 
“It is a place where all became possible, my child” respond the eldery woman “You can feel everything and more if you open yourself to the land of Dreams”
“Is that why you go there so often? To feel things?” frowned the child, not entirely sure of what it meant. 
“No child, I already feel plenty of things in the Waking World. But the experiences in the Dreaming helps me to see things differently here, for we all have a lot to learn from our dreams” 
“Even…from our nightmares?” (Y/N) asked in a small voice. 
Her grandmother looked at her fondly and cradled her grandchild in her arms “Yes, even from our nightmares. That is why there is no use to deny ourselves from dreaming. Wonderful things can comes from it, however the Dream Lord has shaped it for us”
(Y/N) hummed pensively in response, like she slowly understood what her grandmother said. She knew that her grandmother was this old thanks to the Dream Lord’s doing. Her own mother once told her that some sand gave her a longer life, in reward for her duties. (Y/N) didn’t understand it yet, but it was alright: her mother and grandmother often spoke in mysterious terms to her, but she knew that it would make sense one day. All the other priestesses say so, too. 
“Did you have another dream, my child?” asked her grandmother as the setting sun rained his golden light on the temple.
“Hmmm” hummed the little girl. “I dreamt that Poeinos, the fisherman’s son, would find a rabbit behind Athena’s statue near the place. Argis’ nephews were there, too.”
“And what of it?” 
(Y/N) stayed silent a few seconds before answering “It happened this morning, just like in my dream”. 
Sensing the uneasiness of the young girl, the old priestess ran a soothing hand in her hair.
“Does it frighten you, my child?”
The young (Y/N) shrugged a bit “I don’t know. A little, maybe”
“You are gifted with a precious skill, young one. For premonitory dreams are quite rare, even among us priestesses”
“Will I make a good priestess, grandma?” she asked, looking up at her parents. 
The old woman looked at her fondly. She gazed at her granddaughter, remembering her smiles, the small frown of her eyebrows when she tried so hard to understand things, her willingness to always help those who visited the temple and seeked other priestesses’ help, and the devotion she already unconsciously helds for the Dreaming world. She was thankful and happy to have lived long enough to see her granddaughter grow, already becoming a better priestess than she ever was. 
“You will be, my child. That you will be”
(Y/N) smiled brightly at the older woman, and squeezed her into a tight hug. Before them, the sun was dying on the horizon, colouring the sky with red and orange hues. High on the celestial vault, dark shades of blue were already spreading ready to envelop the Waking world into the familiar embrace cherished by the two women on the stairs. 
“There shall be night” said the old priestess in a calm voice. 
(Y/N) nodded, already used to the Dream Lord’s followers' usual saying.
“There shall be night” she repeated.
[Part.2]
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A/N: I literally haven’t write anything since 2019 lmao I have 0 clue of what I’m doing rn *sobs*
This was supposed to be a simple reader insert and now boom, I’m already writing part 3, plz help me
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kitsaystransrights · 3 months
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Okay I’m starting a new series on here called “I just finished this game” where I gush about a game I just finished.
Anyway, if you’re a fan of musicals, visual novels, or Greek mythology, you NEED to play Stray Gods.
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If you haven’t heard of it before, Stray Gods is a visual novel with branching story routes, but it has the twist of also being a musical! Many of the game’s major choices take place in the songs themselves, and the songs will actually changed based on your decisions! Each song has numerous different permutations based on around 3-5 choices in each one. I recommend checking out Challenging a Queen, one of the early game songs that’s relatively light on spoilers, to see how some of the choices really add some spice to the game and weave through the songs.
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The game’s story just follows Grace, a 20-something girl who witnesses the death of Calliope, the Last Muse, and to make matters worse, she has inherited her powers and role. The Chorus, leaders of the remaining Greek gods (known as Idols), give Grace one week to prove her innocence before she is executed, and the line of Calliope is gone forever.
Accompanying her on this journey are a variety of gods, monsters, and her mortal (strictly platonic… strictly) roommate, Freddie. The cast of Stray Gods is easily its best aspect, full of lovable and complex characters, leaving you laughing a lot, sobbing sometimes, and sometimes not knowing who to trust. And when it’s backed up by a fantastic voice cast, and nearly every character getting their own song if not multiple, I’d be astounded if you managed to get through the game without getting attached to SOMEONE lol.
(For the record, my favorite characters are Freddie, Persephone, and Aphrodite hehe)
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And of course, what’s a musical without its music? The soundtrack of Stray Gods is absolutely incredible, even beyond the incredible amount of work and dedication it took to integrate so many variations of all the songs in the game. Lots of variety with the genre, sometimes even changing in the middle of a song! If I haaad to pick a few favorites, I suppose it’d be The Ritual, Look Into Me, and If Only. I’m a sucker for the emotional songs, but Look Into Me is suuuuuch a banger, it feels so threatening and I LOVE it.
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OKAY now I’m gonna gush about my favorite parts of the story and get all spoilery so if you don’t want to be spoiled, DON’T KEEP READING! Go play the game yourself! Iirc it’s on all current platforms. Enjoy :)
So HOLY SHIT APHRODITE’S SONG HIT ME LIKE A BRICK??? I love the moral dilemma her whole cycle of rebirth puts you in, deciding whether to honor her wishes and let her die again or to convince her to find peace in life rather than trying to forget. I tried SO HARD to save her without forcing her and she ended up passing on anyways.
Persephone’s character is also SOOOO well done here, the reinterpretation of her story where she kills Hades is a fantastic direction to take her character. She ended up being my main investigative partner for the game and I did NOT regret it. I almost ended up romancing her, and I definitely will on my next playthrough, but I didn’t this time because of…
Freddie!!! Freddie absolutely rules and is my favorite character in the whole game. Mortal Greek mythology nerd who is super gay and wears a cool hat, how could I NOT love her??? My heart was completely torn to shreds when she died, and even though I knew she had to be able to come back somehow because you could romance her, the fury it raised in me made me blaze through the last four hours of the game and finish it in one sitting XD.
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And JEEZ the way they let you bring her back is so well done. It’s not outright good or bad, it’s complex! Freddie and Grace are both traumatized by her death and resurrection, and the fact that you went against Freddie’s wishes and passed the line of Calliope onto her just makes it even more interesting from a storytelling perspective. It’s part of what makes If Only one of my favorite songs in the game. And of course, I’m a sucker for stories of unrequited love like Freddie’s is for Grace and now I’m gonna feel so guilty romancing anyone else 😭. Freddie is so relatable istg.
Anyways uuuuuh that’s all I have to say, maybe I’ll do a full review on my YouTube? Thanks for checking this post out tho! Okay bye :)
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ohraicodoll · 1 year
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Possession | Chapter 3
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Chapters:  3/5 Fandom:  The Sandman (Comics & TV 2022) Rating:  Mature Relationships:  Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Original Female Character, Dream/Reader Characters:  Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Original Female Character, Matthew the Raven, Lucienne, Calliope, Mervyn Pumpkinhead Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, Explicit Sexual Content, Past Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Possessive Behavior, Domestic Violence, Jealousy, Trauma Responses Tags: Complicated Relationships, General complicated feelings, Dream is an IDIOT, they both have baggage, Past Relationships, Angst, OFC: Dahlia,1st POV
Summary: Lines are crossed.
3rd in the Fragments Series  | Read on AO3 Writing Masterlist Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 Previous in Series: Touch Starved Next in Series: Interwoven Chapter Warning: Trauma response, domestic abuse, emotional abuse, angst,  toxic behavior, abuse, violence CHAPTER 3:  How to Draw the Line Between Wrath and Mercy
Work the next day was a struggle. I felt drained, physically and emotionally. Waking up to an empty room always left a bittersweet taste in my mouth but after the night before I had felt even worse. The coldness of Morpheus’ voice haunted me throughout the day, mixing and churning with echoes of voices from my past. It was like being trapped in my own waking nightmare, something I hadn’t dealt with in a long time. The passing thought of “I should probably go back to therapy” rattled around but explaining that you were kinda seeing an anthropomorphic being in your dreams was a hard sale and definitely would have gotten me sent for a psych eval. I hated feeling like this. Sad and small and depressed, not quite knowing what to do. I had been so upset the night before, the news a shock to my system, but now I wasn’t sure what to do. He said I mattered, that I wasn’t exactly in the wrong for questioning but at the same time that didn’t mean he was going to start sharing. We were both blank books to each other and neither were eager to reveal the hidden contents. Anissa passed by my desk for a third time and I could feel her eyes on me, watching as I slowly typed in another report on the new release that had launched a few weeks ago. I knew she could see the bags under my eyes and the way my clothes were just slightly in disarray. After she circled back around for another drive-by, I stopped and stared straight at her. “What?” I dryly commented, raising an eyebrow at her. Her red brow lifted and she played off nonchalance, shrugging, “Nothing! Just seeing what you were up to?” “Mmhmm,” I narrowed my eyes at her, “Working, like you should be. Just spit it out, Nissa.” She whistled under her breath and leaned against the wall of my cubicle, “Someone sure is grouchy today, Miss Dahlia. I would say I’m sensing man troubles, but someone keeps insisting she’s not actually seeing someone.” “Because I’m not,” I grumbled. Last night made that clear…ish. Anissa clapped her hands, grin on her face, “Well good! Then you have no reason not to come out for drinks after work tonight!” I wanted to groan and say I wasn’t interested immediately. I wasn’t really interested in socializing and my stomach was already in knots since Morpheus had said he would make it up to me tonight. I was anxious, angry, hurt, not completely over what had happened and how I had so easily slipped back into my old trauma reactions. But I still wanted to see him, wanted that easy comfort we seemed to have around each other. I wanted him to like me. The small, indigent part of me reared its head up again. Why shouldn’t I? I had my own life in the Waking world, my own friends and goals and things I wanted to accomplish. It wasn’t all about him, waiting around to go to the Dreaming. At the end of the day, I didn’t get to stay there and had to come back to this life. It’s not like he had made the same effort to visit me that often outside of his own realm. It was dumb and petty but true. I could sit at home alone, moping and waiting to go to sleep, or I could go out for a bit, relax, and hang out with Anissa. She was a good friend if a bit of an airhead and a little self-focused, but I knew she cared. She’d been the first one to reach out when I got the job and been there through a lot of ups and downs. Why shouldn’t I go out with her? So even though my inner hermit wanted to scream no, I sighed and forced a smile, “Fine, I will go. But! I don’t want to stay out too long, I’m tired and want to get to sleep.” Because I had a date with the King of Dreams. She clapped excitedly, a grin spreading on her face, “Yes! Honestly, Dahl, you need a drink and I think it would be good for you to get out of that sad little apartment of yours.” I rolled my eyes and went back to my report, “Thanks, now go away.” Her laughter trailed after her as she walked away. I fought to keep the anxious need to cancel at bay, to find Anissa and say nevermind all the rest of the day. Bravery and frustration had fueled me to say yes but now as I waited for the day to end, I was regretting it. I wanted to go home and mope. But the clock continued and as the work day ended, Anissa swung by so we could walk out together and head to our usual bar down the road. Friday would mean after work happy hour and a crowd but it was a nice place and usually only inhabited by the older working crowd and not a bunch of drunk college kids. I pulled my cardigan close to me over my work dress, staving off the Autumn chill during the walk. “Alright, so spill the deets. What’s been going on with you?” Anissa said as soon as we sat down inside at a tall table in the back corner. Chatter surrounded us and the lights were warm and inviting as the jukebox played an older tune. “And don’t say nothing, you’re an awful liar!” she cut me off as I opened my mouth. I sighed, “It’s…just me getting stuck in my head. I’m just feeling a little insecure at the moment.” A waitress came by and took our drink orders and I defaulted to my usual cranberry vodka since I didn’t plan on drinking much and beer tasted awful to me. My friend narrowed her eyes at me, lips pursed, “This is about that guy you started hooking up with after Thomas, isn’t it?” I cringed at the term ‘hooking up’ but couldn’t exactly deny it. That is what me and Morpheus were doing, it just sounded odd in relation to Dream of the Endless, Lord of the Dreaming and King of the Nightmare Realms. “No-” “Dahl.” “Okay, yes-” I relented, groaning, “But it’s not a big deal. We’re not dating, it’s only something casual. I just…got confused about where we stood. It’s all taken care of though, things are fine.” She frowned, thanking the waitress as she dropped off the drinks and taking a healthy sip of her own, “You know when I said there’s no harm in having a little fun after a breakup…you usually don’t keep the fun around for long. Like then it becomes less fun and more messy. Feelings get involved, shit gets complicated, lines get blurred-” “Okay, I get it-” I cut her off, “I know. I know! It wasn’t like I intended for all this…it just happened.” Her face softened to sympathy and I knew she was thinking I was a sad lonely girl who didn’t know what I was doing. She wasn’t wrong, but I didn’t want other people to know that. She gave me a small, sympathetic smile, “Fun is good but I think you deserve someone that will make you feel comfortable, love you, accept you as you are! I know you’ve had some issues in the past-” “That’s an understatement,” I muttered. “-But! I know you deserve someone that will see it and accept it and be considerate to what you need. You’re having fun for now but maybe when the fun starts to make you sad, it’s time to call it,” Anissa finished. The ice in my glass clinked and I looked away from her to stare at my drink.
It sounded so much simpler in theory, but seeing Dream was addicting. I loved the Dreaming, I loved the way he made me feel and the attention he gave me, the way this being that had seen so much had decided that I was interesting enough to spend time with. But the thought left an acrid taste in my mouth and I felt an echo of my younger self. Sixteen and thrilled that a guy older than me thought I was beautiful, wanted to be around me. I took a large gulp of my drink, the vodka burning my throat and the sweetness of the cranberry coating my mouth. Anissa luckily changed the topic, switching to talking about work and her sister’s wedding that was coming up, throwing out the idea that I should join her for the holidays on a trip. I didn’t have any family and usually stayed home, drowning out the outside world, ignoring the commercials about family get-togethers and Christmas mornings. I let her ramble and take over, doing what she did best as I listened and nodded along. The bar grew more full, the crowd filling the floor and taking over the tables. Every now and then it felt like the space in my back was burning, like someone was staring and I was worried maybe Thomas had shown up, but when I looked around I couldn’t see anything. I chalked it up to my own paranoia, reasoning that he preferred the other bar further down the road. The time passed and I was getting ready to cut Nissa off and head back home so I could get settled and go meet Morpheus. It was getting close to the normal time I’d pass out and go there, something that had become clockwork over the past months. As I was getting ready to flag down the waitress, my friend grinned at someone in the crowd and raised her hand high, waving. I frowned and glanced over, trying to see who she was focused on and my stomach dropped slightly. I looked at Anissa and glared.
“Tell me you didn’t invite Cam?” I growled under my breath, staring her down. She only turned to me and smiled innocently, shrugging. “He must have just shown up!” she feigned nonchalance, grinning as our tall dark haired co-worker saddled up to the table. Cameron had started working in our department a few months back, but only recently had been added to our project group for one of the new releases. He was nice, sweet, lean with a mop of dark brown hair and tanned skin. Sometimes a little awkward, but we’d gotten along easily once we got to work together more. And he had a crush on me…as Anissa liked to mention all the time in her attempt to matchmake. He was a good guy, but I wasn’t really interested. Something I had told her before. Multiple times. “Hey, Cam!” Nissa cheerfully greeted him. He glanced my way with a small smile and I returned him, greeting him as well. He grabbed an empty chair and pulled it up, still in the same dark blue button up shirt he had worn at work. “Hey, Dahlia,” he nodded at me, rubbing the back of his neck. I sent a glance at Anissa, a small glare out the corner of my eyes, “Hey, funny to see you here. Did you only just leave work now?” Cameron shrugged, “Yeah, I had to stay late to finish up a few things since I’ll be out on Monday. That report Kransky wanted done was a nightmare and I knew I’d be getting a thousand emails while I was out if I didn’t finish it now.” Quarterly wrap up was soon and we’d all been stressed, but I didn’t envy him staying so late in the office, “Well I’m glad you got it knocked out the way so you can enjoy your time away from the office. As soon as Quarterly is finished, I’m half tempted to take a mental health day.” Anissa looked between us, abruptly standing up, “I’m gonna go get another drink! Cam, want anything? I’ll buy!” If I could burn her to cinders with my eyes, I would. I stared her down as Cameron looked at her, seeing her wide grin. He ordered a beer and I watched her disappear into the crowd, swallowed out of sight, and leaving me alone with him. The burning on my back intensified and I glanced again into the crowd, not seeing anything. For a moment I thought I saw the familiar shape of Dream’s coat but it was Autumn so everyone wore the same jackets. “Sorry for popping up,” Cameron started, wincing, “I didn’t mean to interrupt your hang out session.” I turned back to him and gave him a smile, “It’s totally fine. Anissa dragged me out here and we’ve only been chit chatting. No biggie.” He braced his elbows on the table, lips turning up in the corner, “Dragged you out, huh? Socializing that bad for you?” Laughing softly, my fingers traced circles in the condensation of my glass, “Not always. I think I’m just a homebody. I’ve never been big on crowds or even drinking, that’s more her scene.” “More of a books and tea kind of gal?” Cameron teased and swayed, bumping his shoulder into mine. I rolled my eyes, bumping his shoulder back, “Yes, I am that stereotype, thank you. I do work in the book industry, after all.” “There is absolutely nothing wrong with that!” he placated and grinned, “A good story can be infinitely better than being in a crowd while a bunch of drunken dudes shout at the TV and your shoes stick to the floor.” “Speaking of good stories,” I raised my brow and leaned in, almost whispering conspiratorially, “You hear about the Richard Madoc shit show? Thank god we’re not having to handle that.” The burning at my back continued and I rubbed at my spine, wondering if a bug had bit me or something that was making my skin hot. Cameron grinned, leaning forward, “I heard they found him with his fingers all cut up and writing in his own blood. Like how does someone even have a breakdown like that?” We talked about gossip and work, the different projects and complained about our bosses. At some point I glanced at my phone, seeing the time. I had meant to leave, meant to head back home. Our usual meeting time had come and gone somehow and a part of me felt guilty. But another part of me didn’t want to leave yet. It was small and petty, but it said fuck it. Like I had thought earlier, this was my life. It didn’t center around the Dream King and even if I wasn’t interested in Cameron, he was a nice guy and we got along well. He was still a good friend to have and I’m sure Morpheus had plenty to keep himself busy with until I would show up. So I stayed. I could be a little late, it was fine. He’d kept me waiting most of the night anyways. Anissa came back at some point, having taken a ridiculously long time getting drinks and brought me another as well. She had her own gossip to share and I ignored her knowing glances when Cameron would tease me, poking my arm or bumping into me. I wasn’t going to let her push me into anything and it was all good fun. “-you should have seen his face!” Cameron laughed, lifting the beer bottle to his lips, “You would think for a writer a few basic questions wouldn’t stump him.” I grinned and laughed, “That’s what I’m saying! I totally think it’s a ghost writer! If you listen to that man talk, he sounds nothing like his books.” “You guys are mean!” Anissa cackled, “Stop! I actually like his books!” Cameron and I looked at each other and busted out laughing again before he raised his brow, “Well when his ghost writer continues then you’ll have even more books to like!” We both laughed at her fake pout, her holding back a smile. Cam patted the table, pushing away, “Alright, I gotta go to the restroom real fast. Dahl, you want another drink on my way back?” I pointedly ignored the fact he had only asked me, rolling my eyes, “Of course you have to pee, that shitty IPA you drink wants to return to its natural form. And no, I’m good, thank you!” He rolled his eyes back, pointing a finger at me, “You lack refined taste! It’s a craft beer, it’s supposed to taste like pee!” I laughed and watched him walk to the back where the restrooms were before turning to Anissa and her shit eating grin. “Yall are so cute,” she cackled. “Stop,” I hissed but with a small smile, “I’m not interested. He’s a good friend, but I am capable of being friends with a guy without dating him.” She groaned and flopped forward, sprawling on the table, “But he’s so sweet and you can tell from a mile away that he likes you! Plus, a cute guy who is into books! Goldmine!” “That’s a pretty low standard, Nissa,” I deadpanned. “Ugh,” the red head threw her hands in the air, “Dahlia Morrowland, I love you. Dearly. But I want you to seriously consider something.” A lump formed in my throat, anxiety kicking off at the sudden serious tone she was taking and the way her lips turned downward, “Cameron is a nice guy who likes you. I know you’re attached to your mystery man, but I think maybe it’s time you consider an actual relationship with someone who isn’t going to lead you around because you deserve that after-” “Okay, Anissa, I understand your concern,” I cut her off, “It’s…complicated, but I’ll think about it.” She patted my arm, eyes full of understanding and sympathy, “That’s all I ask. Now, since Cam lovingly did not ask if I wanted another drink, I’m gonna go grab one. I’ll be right back!” I watched as she slipped out of her chair and made her way to the bar, the crowd having thinned out considerably now. It was close to eleven at night, now far past my usual bedtime, but the alcohol was loosening my nerves and I needed that. Needed the liquid courage to brave facing Dream again and the aftermath of our fight. Anissa’s words swirled in my mind though. Cameron was nice, but… I wasn’t ready for that. I wasn’t ready to end things yet with Morpheus and as he had said, I was his and he was mine. I didn’t want to give him up, didn’t want him to give me up. Sure, things were a bit of a mess and I really didn’t know where we stood with each other even with us claiming the other, but it was worth it still. I drank more of my watered down alcohol, the condensation dripping and sliding down my arm like a cool touch. In the blurred image at the bottom of my glass, I thought I could see two stars gleaming at me and I slammed my drink down, looking around me quickly. He wasn’t there, but out the corner of my eyes were glimpses of pale, alabaster skin and black ink hair. I looked again and there was nothing, but that feeling of burning pinpricks stayed on my back and I realized I knew what it felt like. Eyes watching me. The concentrated focus of magic and power. My heart seized and I struggled to swallow, hoping I was imagining it all or that the alcohol was causing me to be more paranoid. It’s not like I had done anything. I went out for drinks with friends. Sure, I’d picked that over being on time to a date with King of Dreams but it wasn’t like I was bailing completely. He couldn’t possibly be mad about that, right? There was a sudden commotion in the back of the bar, near the restrooms. Cameron came bursting out the door, the wood slamming against the wall and picture frames clattering to the ground. He collapsed onto the ground and started crawling backwards as he stared at the room in horror, panic causing his limbs to move jerkily. His face was drained of color and fear had blown out his pupils, sweat drenching him. The bar went silent in the wake of his frantic, desperate whimpers as he scuttled backwards and attempted to get to his feet. I stood from the table, shocked and worried, headed to him as cold dread settled into my stomach. He spun around, looking everywhere in terror as people tried to help him up and settle him. Anissa came up beside him and asked what was wrong, but he could only spout a jumbled mess of words as fear coated every inch of him, shirt rumpled. As I moved closer, the words, “. ..shadow…nightmare…monster… ” reached me as he sputtered with tears in his eyes. I stopped as he made eye contact with me, eyes widening even more, and he backed away. And I could see it in the eyes, the sheer terror of witnessing something that didn’t make sense but pure instinct driving you. Pushing the arms off him, he ran for the door and left the bar without another word, taking off at a dead sprint. Nightmare. My breath was coming in short, rasps as I stared at the door Cameron had run out of…and the black coat of the Nightmare King following shortly after. He’d been there. He wouldn’t. He had. I was staring but not seeing, the sound in my ear muffled as a high pitch screeching sounded over and over again. I couldn’t feel, couldn’t breathe. The room was a blur as I blinked unstaring at the door, ignoring Anissa grabbing me and asking questions. Morpheus had been there, watching me. Watching Cameron. I do not share. Anger burned white hot through me, burning away reason or logic or excuses. I had the vague recollection of Anissa trying to get my attention, but I couldn’t hear her anymore beyond the rage that flared through me. How dare he? How fucking dare he? I made an excuse that I had to head out and left the bar, not even feeling the chill on my skin from how hot I burned. The walk home was a blur, feet carrying me while my mind churned and churned. Morpheus had done something to Cameron, had scared him, terrified him, made him scared of me. What right did he have? Especially after the night before? My door was before me in a blink and even before I opened it, I knew what would be on the other side. Who would be on the other side. His power itched along my skin, expanding past the walls of the apartment, stinging and dangerous. The apartment was dark except for the moonlight coming through the windows. Morpheus sat on my couch, legs crossed, and drenched in shadow. Twin points of light stared at me from a cloaked dour face, arms crossed. His power was radiating and I knew that even if I could feel it through the door, he was barely keeping it leashed. The Nightmare King sat in the dark of my home as if it were his throne room and I was entering his domain. I slammed the door shut and flicked on the lights, blue eyes meeting mine. “Were you there?” I shouted, my bag thrown to the ground and my finger pointing into the distance. He didn’t shift, didn’t blink, only continued to stare at me with a face so pale it looked like moonlight and eyes that glittered dangerously.
My breath was coming out in heavy pants, drink turning sour in my stomach, “Did you do that?!” The Endless’ chin raised, high and mighty, lips pressed together tightly as he growled, “The mortal should count himself lucky for I could have been far more terrible.” I huffed out the air from my lungs in anger, disbelief flooding me as I placed my hands on my hips and stared down at the carpeted floor. Hearing it out loud, hearing him all but confirm his involvement, made it all sink in so much worse, “Cameron did nothing wrong, he didn’t deserve whatever you did!” “So you would defend him?” Morpheus asked with a curled lip. He stood from the couch, tall and dark in the warm light of my very human apartment. His coat bordered on solid and smoke, the edges hazy as he struggled to keep his mortal appearance. “I would defend a coworker and friend who didn’t deserve to have the Nightmare King sicced on him for simply being around me!” I yelled and stepped closer. Dream’s eyes were a swirling miasma of stars and chaos, almost black with anger as he towered over me, “Did nothing wrong? The mortal was clearly interested in you, kept touching you-” I shook my head, not believing what I was hearing, “Because he flirted with me, you punished him? Are you kidding me? Do you not see how that is such bullshit?” My blood was racing and fingers clenched into tight fists. Morpheus stepped closer, only a foot away so I had to crane my neck to meet his gaze, “You did not deter him and I warned you. I do not share. You were told that, told that I would not be able to control myself.” “Oh so you gave yourself an excuse ahead of time, wonderful,” I hissed at him sarcastically, “I’m so sorry, your majesty, I guess that makes it all better! I was being friendly. He’s just a friend. What, I can’t be around another man now without you freaking the fuck out on him but you can go see your ex-wife and I can’t say shit?” “That was different,” he argued. “It’s not!” I screamed and wanted to throw something out of frustration, “Fucks sake, for an immortal you seem like every other guy and their double standards. You left and didn’t tell me at all almost all night, but I’m just supposed to trust that it meant nothing?! Trust goes both ways, Morpheus! If you want me to trust you then you have to trust me.” “The mortal-” “Stop! This isn’t even about him really!” I pushed him back slightly, trying to get space, keep him from lording over me and talk down like I was a disagreeable child, “You know me! It doesn’t matter what he does, you should have trusted that I wouldn’t do anything! I would never have betrayed you like that, but you didn’t even give me a chance.” He snarled, “I did give you a chance. I watched you and not once did you dissuade his advances.” “Yes, you watched me which was a violation on its own,” my throat was thick with emotion, eyes stinging with anger and exhaustion and disbelief, “I have a life, Morpheus. I don’t get to stay in the Dreaming. I have to go to work, make money, interact with people on a daily basis. He’s my coworker, I work with him. If he asked me, I would have said I’m not interested but I was being friendly without making it awkward which is what humans do! So are you going to try and forbid me from being around other men?” The lights flickered and the air in the room was so oppressive it was hard to breathe, anger painting his face. I could see that red star in the shadowed half of his face, the way his jaw was sharp in rage.
He stepped closer and grabbed my chin tightly in his hand, forcing our eyes to meet, “I could. The difference between us is that I am a monarch with my own responsibilities that you cannot possibly fathom, not an indignant child to be berated. I will do as I wish as I see fit and the human deserved punishment for touching that which is mine. You did not come to me so I found you there with him. You have only yourself to blame for his fear.” “This is your fault!” “I did it because of you.” The memory seized me, hard and shocking. A different hand gripping my face in a bruising hold, spit and the hot smell of alcohol on my cheeks, hands scrambling for a hold as my balance was off kilter- My hand stung as it connected with his face hard, barely even shifting him as tears streamed down my cheeks. He didn’t react, didn’t move, fingers still on my chin. I pushed him, shoved, desperate and panicked like a wild animal until he let go and only the ache of his fingers on my face was left. “Get out,” I half sobbed, barely holding myself together, “Get the fuck out!” Anger still painted his face but it lessened as his eyes lightened and watched as I tried to keep from breaking down completely in front of him. His cheek was slowly turning red in the low light. My knees shook and I sank to the ground, hands digging into the carpet as I trembled and sobbed my throat raw. No sound except for my heaving breaths filled the room as I struggled not to hyperventilate, tears coming hot and fast. I wasn’t sure when he disappeared from in front of me, the air lightening a bit at one point, but I was too lost to even fully notice. I curled into a huddled ball on the floor, sobbing and wondering how it had all gone wrong.
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