#endless fragments

[woundgallery]

#desire #longing we say because desire is full of endless distances #text #fragments

[torchbearing]

i sometimes think about the context of white lantern kyle and how it's sort of canon the white lantern is seen as a benevolent figure that heals and protects the disadvantaged, a saint of sorts if there is any analogy in alien cultures to that (and boy, do they lay it heavy in imagery), a beacon of life and such, and then on earth he's just Some Guy.

it's uncertain how often exactly he returned to earth during his white lantern stint, but it's incredibly funny to imagine that since as far as i recall he's one of the few lanterns who kept a secret id he remains being Some Guy.

#someone hiring him as a cartoonist and something about him seems off and unsettling. #but he's good at he does and has a strange way of being soothing so most ppl let it slide #like......... the endless supply of uncanny valley the demigod-like status of some lanterns give is just delightful #white lantern #kyle rayner #green lantern #imagine bumping with a fragment of god in the new york subway and you swear you can see him glow and starlight shine in his hair. #(it's canon he kind of ends up w the starlit theme even without the suit too!)

[ohraicodoll]

Interwoven | Chapter 5

Chapters:  5/6 Fandom:  The Sandman (Comics & TV 2022) Rating:  Mature/Explicit Relationships:  Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Original Female Character, Dream/Reader Characters:  Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Original Female Character, Hob Gadling, Original Characters, Matthew the Raven, Lucienne, Calliope, Mervyn Pumpkinhead, Calliope, The Endless, Eve, Delirium, Death, Desire Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, Explicit Sexual Content, Past Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Possessive Behavior, Domestic Abuse, Domestic Violence, Jealousy, Trauma Responses Tags: Character Development, Established Relationships, General complicated feelings, meeting the family, meeting the friends, talk about fantasies, domestic life, fluff, past Relationships, ANGST, OFC: Dahlia, Named Reader, 1st POV

Summary: She had very few people in her life and while he denied it, Dream had so many. People that cared for him, people that warned her. Or in other terms, Dream and Dahlia’s casual relationship is turning not so casual. Chapter Summary: The past and present collide. CHAPTER WARNING: References to Domestic Abuse, Violence, Assault, Graphic Descriptions, Trauma Depictions

4th in the Fragments Series | Read on AO3 Writing Masterlist Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 Previous in Series: Possession Next in Series: The Complications of Family Chapter 5: Calliope and-

As I often did when faced with having to have a hard conversation, I pushed it under the rug and moved on, content to let the unease stay under the surface. Fear and uncertainty won out and it wouldn’t change anything, bringing it all up. Going back to the Waking World was surprisingly difficult but life called. I had work and bills and it’s not like there was cellphone service in the Dreaming so I had to make sure Anissa or Hob weren’t blowing up my phone or freaking out that I’d disappeared. Morpheus eventually fixed that issue through…magic? I wasn’t sure, but he was able to contact people with glowing orbs so it wasn’t too much of a stretch. The orb system wouldn’t quite work for Anissa unless I wanted to spill the news of who he was or give her a heart attack so we went with making my phone reachable in the Dreaming. But life went on. Morpheus didn’t open up about his sisters though I knew something was bothering him and I didn’t bring up Alianora. It was easier to face the insecurity eating me away than the potential argument that would ensue. He was on edge, simultaneously aloof and more protective and I wasn’t sure how to approach him. The holiday months came and passed, one after the other, and time marched ever on. When most people gathered with their families, I stayed in the Dreaming with Morpheus or we’d go to Hob’s flat above the New Inn. Two family-less mortals and an Endless who didn’t seem to care for his. Dream didn’t particularly care if it was a certain holiday, I think using it as an excuse to get away and be with us. Celebrating mostly involved listening to the immortal talk, us bickering, and too much drinking, but for once the holidays didn’t feel as lonely as previous years. Anissa tried to drag me to her family gathering but I declined, not quite feeling like being an outsider and watching what I had lost. It turns out the Dreaming did seem to celebrate certain holidays, or at least some areas of it did. Abel was the main facilitator, going around and decorating furiously and getting the staff involved. Lucienne even wrote out holiday cards for the Dreaming residents. Most of them visited the Houses of Mystery and Secrets for Christmas and ice skating, the large lake nearby frozen over and the area covered in snow. Watching Merv and his Guano Gang of bats try to help hang up lights and decorate trees was particularly entertaining and even if Morpheus didn’t fully participate in all the activity, choosing to work instead, he’d joined for parts of it and stood at my side or watched Lucienne attempt to teach me to ice skate. I knew that even if he seemed disinterested, there was no way the weather in the realm magically became a winter wonderland without his help. It was a small thing, but I noticed it. And as the new year came and went, as I spent time where I could in the Dreaming and Morpheus became a more solid presence in my life, this thing between us felt like an expanding bubble. It was getting harder to ignore, harder to swallow and say we were nothing because we didn’t feel like nothing. We felt like too much. The Dreaming was feeling like home. He was feeling like home. I’d gone from being hollow and going from one empty relationship to another, desperately seeking some sort of affection after Aiden, empty and craving something to make the world less gray. Now life was magic and stories and immortals and people who genuinely cared for me. Anissa, though not his biggest fan, stopped ribbing me about Morpheus and seemed to accept him in a passive aggressive way. Though she didn’t stop giving him shit when the few times she was around him. Hob was quickly becoming a close friend and confidant, someone that understood having a secret and being tied to magic. He’d seen and experienced so much but was still full of light and kindness. Lucienne and Matthew and all of the Dreaming accepted me and seemed happy enough for me to be around. And Dream, he cared. Cared so much that it felt like I would be swallowed whole by the endless stars and sky that burned in his eyes. He hated me being away, I could tell. Each time I left the Dreaming, he seemed to cling tighter and when he would leave, he’d linger longer. I knew he was aware of the bubble growing as well, this building thing between us and I wasn’t sure how he felt. Morpheus was simultaneously desperate to have me at his side and mysteriously distant at times, doing work that he wouldn’t share or expand upon when asked. It felt like he was hiding something and I wasn’t sure how to feel. Complicated. Attached. Mine and his. Words I’d used to describe us seemed too simple now. They didn’t fit. But different words, words that lingered on my tongue when I smiled at him wide with utter abandon or felt his lips on my skin in worship, felt too big. Like I would choke on them if they left my lips. Like he’d vanish if he attempted to utter them. Thus, we stayed in limbo, too big and too small, but knowing something would change soon for better or for worse. A car crash waiting to happen. I chewed my lip as I left my office building, the air outside warmer in the evening now. Spring had come slowly but a few tendrils of Winter still clung, the slight bite in the morning hanging in the air by lunch and now gone entirely by evening. The day had been slow, boring, and I’d spent a dumb amount of time at work arguing about an old collection of fairy tales over text with Hob in between his lectures. I had no doubt it would continue when he came over for dinner with Dream, who would no doubt settle it between us, but I was determined to be right. I had even called the local bookshop I frequented close to my apartment to see if they carried the book I was thinking of. He was stubborn but so was I. Anissa was out on vacation for a week, leaving the office stuffy and boring so I was eager to leave as soon as the clock turned. I sighed and checked my phone before entering into the small bookshop down the street, the bell ringing overhead. I had a bit of time before both immortals came over. Hob was going to be doing the cooking so he had plans to come over earlier to start, Morpheus showing up whenever he deemed he could get away. He didn’t eat with us but usually drank wine while we did, choosing to enjoy the company instead. We’d learned better after making him try the food once, overly excited to see him change his mind and only getting a bland reaction in return. Unless it was on my skin, he wasn’t a fan of human foods. There weren't a lot of people inside, most customers already headed home for the night rather than stopping in to shop. I twiddled with the black stone on my necklace and went to the isle where the book would likely be, skimming over the titles and slightly smiling at myself while thinking of the two men that simultaneously annoyed me and kept me on my toes in different ways. But I was determined to be able to throw this book in Hob’s face if only to see his reaction. I chewed my lip and then made a small noise of satisfaction as the title fell under my fingertips, the book obviously second hand and well loved but the golden foil of the words holding up. I flipped through the pages anxiously, grinning when it found the one I knew had been in this collection. He had been so determined to say it wasn’t included, it was going to be so satisfying to prove him wrong. “I take it you found what you were looking for?” a soft feminine voice spoke behind me and I jumped, hugging the book to my chest and knocking into the shelf. I winced as my elbow connected to the wood and some of the books jostled together. The woman standing behind me was beautiful, dark hair falling around her shoulders and some pinned back in intricate braids. Her brown eyes were warm as she looked on with a slight smile, a white sundress falling to her feet. There was a grace and light that emanated from her, ease and comfort surrounding her like a well loved blanket. I smiled, laughing nervously, and clung to the book in my hands. “Uh, yeah, I was hoping they had this copy. I was needing it for a friend,” I replied, tongue explaining without even thinking. She smiled and nodded, hands clasped in front of her and looking at the title I held, “That is an old one, but a beautiful collection.” I wasn’t sure why I was nervous. Words tumbled from my lips unbidden and I couldn’t help smiling, a little bashful, “I read it a long time ago when I was trying to get a story sorted out, but I think I just ended up devouring the stories instead. I love old folk tales.” In truth, I’d read it all over and over again until Aiden had tossed it in the trash. I had become distracted from him and like most things I loved, he got rid of it. Her brown eyes lit up and a tinge of amusement danced along her lips, “Oh you’re a writer?” I chewed on my lip, shrugging, “Sort of. Nothing published or really finished, more like I write in my past time.” My past time which had been dwindling over the past year, now relegated to when I would spend time in the library with Lucienne or the few times I was alone at home, “I work at the book publisher a few blocks away! It was the closest I could get to working with stories outside of writing and reading them.” That amusement on her face grew but there was a hint of bitterness at its edge. I wasn’t sure why I was telling her this, almost as if it were unbidden. One of my hands went to fiddle with the black stone necklace, the obsidian cool under my fingers. I watched her eyes follow the movement and fixate, her brow furrowing. “A writer and a lover of stories,” she sighed almost sadly even while slightly smiling, warm brown eyes flickering up to meet mine once more, “I could see why Oneiros would take an interest in you.” The name clanged through me, harsh and sharp, severing the connection between us. Almost as if the temperature had dropped, it was instantly colder and I could feel the slight tingling of Dream’s power emanating from the stone necklace. Oneiros, another of Morpheus’ names. My fingers tightened around the book. I was on guard immediately and shut myself off, face becoming stony, “It was nice talking to you but I have somewhere I need to be.” Before she could reply, I took the book and almost walked out of the store, stopping briefly to remember where I was. The cashier didn’t comment on the fact I was shaking, quickly ringing me up and completing my purchase, and then I was pushing the door open to leave the small bookshop with the book shoved into my bag. I was alert, flight or fight running through me. Normal people didn’t know about Morpheus. She couldn’t be human, could be any manner of thing. And I wasn’t about to stick around to find out if she meant to hurt me, maybe even use me against him. Morpheus’ paranoia was rubbing off on me. Dream’s necklace was clutched in my fingers and I wondered if he could feel the sharp tick in my anxiety, glancing up to see if I could spot Matthew anywhere. I wasn’t sure exactly how his connection to the jewel worked, only that it would lead him to me in case of emergencies. Another of his precautions. The door chimed behind me and footsteps raced before a gentle hand grabbed my arm. I whirled and backed up, breaking contact and instantly defensive. The woman held her hands up, face apologetic and beseeching, “I mean you no harm! I did not wish to frighten you at all, I had simply wished to speak with you.” Her voice was gentle, pleading, and there was a calming effect to it that I tried to shake off. It could be natural but could also be magic. I didn’t relax, eyes wide. Even in the brightness of the dying sun with other people around, I was fully on my guard, “You mentioned Dream, you know him.” She let out a huff, half a laugh and half a sigh, while slightly lowering her hands, “Yes, I do know him. I would have said rather well, but I’m afraid not quite so much anymore. My name is Calliope. Do you know who I am?” The world tilted. My breath caught and eyes widened, heart thumping rapidly in my chest. Did I know who she was? Yes, I did. Her name had rattled in my brain for an entire night while I sat in Morpheus’ empty chambers, waiting for him. Wondering what he was doing, running off to his ex-wife, leaving me without even a word. His former lover and wife. The mother of his child. A muse, a goddess. It all fit now that I was looking at her with fresh eyes. She was beautiful, a hint of etherealness underneath her rich tanned skin, with an elegant face and regal-ness. Even in more modern clothing, it fit her and didn’t hide the classic look of her. The calming nature of her made sense. I could only whisper out a reply, eyes quickly cataloging everything about her all the while finding myself lacking, “Yes, I know of you.” Morpheus had loved her once, loved her long enough to marry her and then father a child with her. We had never broached the topic again after our last blow out concerning her, when he’d disappeared to help her, so I wasn’t sure how they had fallen apart, how their marriage had crumbled. I knew it had to deal with their son but that was a dangerous topic and I never brought it up again. But looking at her, I could see why he had been with her. There was tenderness, compassion alongside her beauty, but confidence and a hint of defiance in her eyes. A muse and the Prince of Stories. It was fitting. More fitting than a human and King of Dreams. Her lips pressed together and she tried to smile at me but it was a bit sad and sympathetic, “This is a bit of a mess, is it not? I am sorry. I had heard of you- of both of you and…was curious as to who had attracted his attention. I truly only wished to talk.” She was pleading, hands open as if to show she truly meant no harm. I chewed on my lip, feeling small and awkward in front of her, as I processed her words. She had heard of us which meant word had spread beyond the Dreaming and the Endless. Otherworldly beings turned out to be huge gossips and I was finding myself at the center of that. I knew that would upset Morpheus, either because people were intruding on his personal business or because it meant people knew he was with a human. I wasn’t sure and didn’t know if I wanted to find out which. In all honesty, I didn’t know what to do or how to feel. This woman did nothing to me beyond spark jealousy and insecurity but that wasn’t her fault. I knew she had been in trouble, imprisoned against her will for years until Morpheus had at last saved her. Sympathy and jealousy warred until all that was less was awkwardness. “I’m Dahlia. I…don’t really know what to say to you. This isn’t exactly a normal occurrence for me,” I mumbled and almost hugged myself if only to feel some semblance of grounding. “Meeting a former lover of Dream’s?” Calliope offered with a slight smile. I shrugged, “More like meeting a goddess but that too.” We both sort of laughed under our breaths, the tension easing a bit. Sighing, I looked up at her from under my lashes and chewed on my already raw lip, “He didn’t tell me exactly what you went through but…I’m sorry, either way. I’m glad he helped free you.” A shadow passed behind her eyes and she briefly looked down, swallowing visibly, before offering a solemn smile, “It is unnecessary but thank you. I did not believe he would come, that he would help. But he has changed. I can see that now.” “How so?” I asked. I kept hearing over and over that he had changed, but this was the only version of him I ever knew. Everything I’d been told so far had been so different from the man I’d come to be with. She looked me over then looked around us, people walking past on their way home along the sidewalks, “May I walk with you?” In the back of my mind, I reminded myself Hob and Dream would both be at my apartment soon so maybe heading that way wasn’t a bad idea. I could only hope he wasn’t near and didn’t see Calliope. If he was mad at Delirium and Death for being around me, I wasn’t sure how he’d react to his ex wife talking to me. I nodded and she stepped forward, falling into step at my side as we started to walk down the street. “He is no longer the man I once married,” the goddess began, eyes distant, “When he pursues you, he is fire and overwhelming. Almost suffocating with how much he loves, but once that fades, once it all settles, he could be so cold, so strict. It’s a miracle we stayed together as long as we did. Now there is almost a…gentleness to him. Oneiros is not as hard as he used to be. Maybe not as cruel.” Cruel. This wasn’t the first time I had heard that description of him. It’d been said about Alianora. He was fire, bright and burning and all consuming. While I’d been told in the past he would hardly touch anyone, didn’t seem to like it himself and wouldn’t permit it, he almost seemed desperate for contact now. He was always touching me in some form or fashion, even if it was only a simple brush against my side. I couldn’t see this Morpheus she was describing, but then again she was speaking of love. We weren’t like that. Either way, this was probably my only chance to learn more about their relationship. I was learning a lot about Dream’s previous lovers, most likely learning more than I should, and a part of me said that sometimes knowing too much would only hurt. Another part though couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help the comparisons or learning how he may one day leave or hurt me, learning the differences. Maybe it was the broken, leftover parts of my previous relationship that made me want to prepare for the worst instead of enjoying what I had. Like I was bracing for impact. But I couldn’t stop it. Fear had a hold of me and said to prepare because he would leave one day like he did with all the rest. Each step felt like it weighed a ton, but I kept walking, glancing at her from the side of my eyes, “But you did stay together for quite a while. I’m sorry if this is intrusive. He just never talks about…anything.” Calliope smiled, almost knowing, letting me guide the direction we walked, “No, he doesn’t. Sharing parts of himself was never something he did. But it’s fine, I understand wanting to know and I don’t mind.” She took a deep breath, breathing in the cooling air of dusk, “We did once love each other, but I wished to keep my life even while we were together. It made each meeting more special in my mind and I did not wish to live in the Dreaming. I lived in the Waking world with my sisters and he stayed in his realm. But once the passion faded, I think the distance became a wedge.” “Oneiros traps himself in his rules and routines and work, desperately clinging to them while also desperate to break from them. I think in the beginning I was a distraction from that work, a distraction from the Dreaming. I tried to be considerate of his responsibilities, was obedient and caring as a good wife is, but it was not enough. I think he became bored of it all, of our domestic life. He slowly stopped visiting and I had to go to him if I wished to see him.” “Wait, weren’t you Queen? Of the Dreaming?” I asked tentatively. I wasn’t sure if that was even a thing, but the fact she stayed outside of the Dream even while married was odd to me. I couldn’t imagine not being a part of the realm while with him. The place was magic and I knew Morpheus loved sharing it. But I wasn’t a goddess and I was sure she had things to do besides being his wife. Calliope shook her head and lifted her head, taking in the dying sun, “No, I was merely his consort. I had my own responsibilities as a muse and let him handle the Dreaming but back then he was less willing to share. Whether it was the realm or himself. It was his burden to bear and only his. Maybe it was partially my fault for not becoming more a part of his life, the distance, not pushing. It wasn’t our way back then to push, even as his wife. I was there to help and serve him.” The thought rankled me, bitter in my mouth. I knew how that was. More a maid and less a partner, there to help and be a decoration. I didn’t see her as being obedient but times change. Even the person I was a few years ago was so different from who I was now. She looked at me as if she knew the comment had annoyed me and smiled. The streets were clearing out as dusk fully settled in. We were walking slowly, taking our time while still headed for my home. One by one, street lamps turned on and we savored the low lights and warmth of the breeze. Sighing, the muse fiddled with her fingers, brown hair cascading over her shoulders, “I had thought perhaps a baby could repair the strain. It was my wifely duty but I wanted something that was both of ours. And for a time, it did. He was a wonderful father, but the distance only grew until it became a chasm.” “I-” the words stuck in my throat, choking, but I pushed on, “He doesn’t talk about your child and I’d prefer if when he does tell me about him, it’s on his terms. If that’s okay?” Calliope paused and the sadness was apparent even in the dim lighting. There was pain there, bright and sparkling as if whatever had happened was fresh. I wasn’t sure exactly what it was. If their son had died or something worse had happened. Morpheus didn’t speak of him at all and I could see in her face that whatever had befallen the boy, it hadn’t been good. I didn’t want to learn second-hand. It was too big, too important. I’d wait for him to tell it when he was ready, if he’d ever be ready. And so she nodded, “Of course. It is…difficult for both of us. But it should be something he tells you himself.” We were getting closer to the area of my apartment, but I wasn’t feeling as anxious anymore. Her presence was nice, reassuring even if an air of sadness hung around her, “I must not quite be what you expected. I’m so very human.” She smiled, eyes brightening, “You say that as if it’s a bad thing. Being human is wonderful, but yes I am a bit surprised. I wasn’t expecting him to be with a mortal given-” The muse seemed to cut herself off, looking unsure and hesitant. I raised a brow, confusion coloring my eyes, and she ducked her face away before shaking off the look, “Given who he is. But he has changed so much, even if he doesn’t believe so. Even if I didn’t believe he could. Have you met his family yet?” The change in topic was obvious. There was something there she had wanted to say but stopped herself. It kicked up my anxiety but I didn’t know her well enough to push and let it slide, going along with it, “I met Delirium and Death very briefly, but that’s been it. It was more accidental so nothing formal, but they were nice.” She smiled tightly at the older Endless’ name, nodding, “I was never very close to them. They kept their distance for the most part but were a part of my son’s life. They are…strange. For a long time I blamed them, and maybe Oneiros as well, for the things that went wrong. Their involvement in our lives and the way they acted. Even their help can hurt. But it is their nature to be as they are and they can never truly change from their function. I would keep that in mind for the future.” The warning was clear and my brow furrowed, not sure exactly what had happened with her and the family. I knew some things about how they were. Desire and Dream seemed to butt heads the most, bad blood flowing between them, Despair usually getting dragged into it being Desire’s twin. Death was his favorite and who he was closest to. Delirium was spoken less of as well as Destiny and then Destruction…he had only been mentioned once and bitterness had coated his name. I wasn’t sure what had been done, but they were a dysfunctional bunch. But weren’t all families?

I wasn’t sure. It’d been so long since I had one. The sky was dark as we came closer to the apartment, the air cool on my skin. I was probably late and even if Hob knew where the spare key was, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was blowing up my phone. But it was in my bag, tucked away while we walked. Sighing, I looked at Calliope at my side and the way the light illuminated her features. The insecurity was at an all time high, and had increased since learning of her because standing next to the goddess I couldn’t help but feel lesser. I opened my mouth and asked softly, “Do you still-” “Lia?” The name is a stab, sharp and quick, and my body almost jerked as the sound reached me. I whirled around quickly, looking at the dark street behind me and seeing nothing. Lia, no one called me that. No one was allowed to call me that, not in the years since I’d gotten free. My breathing was quick and shallow as I combed through the area with my eyes, Calliope’s  questioning voice muffled under the high pitched whirring in my head. I couldn’t see anything but knew I had heard it. Maybe it was a stranger talking to another, the name bouncing to hit me unintentionally. A hallucination. My therapist had once said that could happen. Swallowing hard, I turned back to Calliope and could see the concern bright on her face, “Are you okay-” The question had just finished when a hand gripped my arm and I was jerked back roughly, another going around my waist and pulling. My brain went into a scrambled panic, her fearful eyes burned into it as I was dragged back and back into the darkness. I could only register her yelling my name, the painful grip of my arm and the sound of my shoes scraping against concrete as I was pulled roughly into a side alley not far from where we stood. The hands shifted and then I was pushed backward, my back hitting brick and head roughly bouncing off the wall with a sharp crack. Pain flared, hot and bright, and white flashed over my vision for a second. It all was happening so fast and I couldn’t get my bearings, couldn’t breathe or process. But then he was there, standing before me like a nightmare made real. Aiden. He was pressed up close, arms barricading me to the wall, but I could still see him clearly. This wasn’t a dream or nightmare or memory. No, those were images frozen in time from years past. He’d changed. His hair was longer, a mess of stringy dark hair falling around his ears and he had a thick coating of hair along his jaw. Dark circles lined his green eyes, puffy and worn, the skin of his face chapped and like leather. While he had been thin with a bit of muscle, now he was bigger, more filled out but strong. His shirt was ragged and torn along the collar, stains along the fabric. No, this was him in flesh. Older and rougher and so angry as he pressed down against me. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see clearly, eyes locked onto his and the darkness there, “Aiden?” Calliope was calling my name from a distance but I couldn’t process it, could only see the hatred and malice in my ex’s face, “Do you know how long it took me to find you, Lia? Did you really think you could ruin my life and leave like you did?” His voice cut through me like an echo through time. So familiar, stripping the years of my freedom down and away from me. Tangible, he was tangible and in front of me and his presence hurt so much more than the nightmare of him had. Fear pulsed through my body like ice sliding along my bones. “I didn’t- I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stuttered, pain still radiating from the back of my skull, “Let me go.” I was twenty four again, standing in that dirty apartment and begging him not to hurt me. I was twenty, clinging to him and pleading to stop being angry. I was seventeen and alone, thinking he was the only person I had left even as he screamed in my face. This wasn’t a nightmare I could pull myself out of or Morpheus could save me from. He was here, standing before me, and I was stupid to think I’d ever be free. “You didn’t tell anyone about what happened, right?,” Aiden mocked and hissed in my face, spit raining onto me, “You fucking liar. Someone sure as hell reported it. I got arrested for attempted murder because they said I stabbed you and even if you didn’t show up, they had evidence connecting me to some other bullshit. Five years, Lia. They locked me up for five years because of you.” A small part of my brain said five years wasn’t enough. Morpheus had been locked away for over a century for doing nothing wrong. Aiden got off easy. But I was shaking, trying to make myself small and sink into the bricks at my back and he was so close and his breath stank of alcohol and rancid meat and I wanted to disappear, “I didn’t, I swear -” “Shut the fuck up,” he yelled into my face and tears unwittingly slid down my cheeks, my body seizing in fear. The urge to beg, to apologize, to try and coax him down was there inside like an old cat crawling from the darkness and I pushed it away. That wasn’t me but I wasn’t even sure who I was. “You left and suddenly I got put away and you think that’s what? A coincidence? And you think you can simply move on and have a happy little life?” The words were mocking and my nails scraped against the brick as I tried to keep myself from sinking into a ball. There was some strength left in me, some part of who I was now after leaving that reared its head forward and forced myself to plant my feet in the ground. I tried to get me to breathe, to swallow the fear and set it aside, to remember all I had accomplished while pushing out the words, “I left because you were hurting me. I didn’t report anything.” His face twisted in anger but he didn’t have the chance to do anything. With a sharp cry Calliope shoved into him, trying to force him off me. Her shoulder rammed into his and he stumbled back a few steps from the effort. But he was so much bigger than us, stronger now. She managed to put distance between us, pushing and clawing while screaming for me to run. There was no time though and he grabbed her shoulder and easily tossed her across the alley, body skittering over the disgusting floor. I watched her roll across the ground, that beautiful white dress now covered in dirt and felt bile in my throat. He had most likely forgotten about her or hadn’t cared if she was there, but she wasn’t nearly as scared as I was. Her face twisted in fury even from the floor, brown eyes dark with anger, as she shouted at him, “Leave her be!” Aiden smirked and advanced on her, all menace and cruelty in his eyes, “She’s mine, I can do what I want.” I could see it then, in his steps as he walked closer to the goddess, that he’d hurt her. There was no hitting him and getting away with it. There was always punishment but Calliope had already been through so much. She’d been caged and tormented and then thought to seek me out, not out of jealousy but some sort of common thread. I couldn’t let more happen to her, couldn’t let her be dragged into my mess. My head screamed at me but I launched myself forward at Aiden. There was no plan, no reason, only one thought pulsed through my head and that was to get his attention off Calliope. He could direct his anger at me, I could take it. I’d taken it before for years and years, knew the brutality of it. But she didn’t deserve to be hurt, especially not because of me. I tried to leap onto his back, arms wrapping around his neck and nails sinking in. It was a clumsy attempt but I managed, putting all my strength into pulling him backwards. Back and back and away from her, scratching and clawing and trying to bring him down. I think I screamed at Calliope to run, to leave, but couldn’t remember doing so. Skin tore under my nails and Aiden hissed. He growled and tried to grip my wrists, stumbling and turning as I dangled from his back. In one quick move he rammed us both against the wall, my breath leaving me in a single exhale as my back impacted with all his weight against me. My lungs were on fire, desperately trying to refill as all the air left me and I dropped to the ground hard and wheezed. I wasn’t a fighter, had never been strong, but I had tried. He kneeled and then his hands were on my neck, squeezing and squeezing while I kicked and flailed. The darkness encased us, the lamps not reaching where we were in the alley and hiding him thoroughly. I would die by his hand in the end, like I had always believed. For so long I thought he couldn’t do worse but he’d always proved me wrong. This was always going to be end game. Maybe there really was no escape. My hands clawed at his wrists while pain blossomed from my throat, air unable to choke through his grip. I kicked and bucked but he was so heavy on me, unmovable. One of my fingers had hooked into my necklace and it tangled in my fingers while I scratched at Aiden’s arms. I couldn’t leave like this, on a dirty alley floor so close to home while Dream and Hob waited for me. Would Dream know when I died? Would Death come to me first or would she tell her brother? Would I even get to say goodbye? Tears leaked down my cheeks while my lungs burned. Stars and colors danced in my vision and in the haze…I thought I could see a door. Almost like in the Dreaming, it stood in the middle of the alley, plain but luring. Waiting. It was fuzzy along the edges, flickering slightly with the pain and colors, but it was there. I gasped whatever little air I had, whispering out a single word like a plea. “Morpheus.” The word was strained, broken, lost in Calliope’s cries as she tried to get up and to me. But it left my lips, painted my tongue. My dreamlord. The door vanished as darkness began to creep in. Then there was lightning along my skin. It crackled and split the air even while the darkness pulsed and writhed like a living thing. The hands were gone from my throat, air rushing back in as the body above me was jerked away. Aiden was thrown brutally to the ground a few feet away and his body audibly bounced off the floor from the force of the impact. I gasped in the air desperately and touched the tender skin of my throat, coughing through the burn.

Hands -different hands, fingers long and thin, touched the skin of my neck and I blinked up into Dream’s starlit eyes as he softly urged me to breathe. His power coasted along my skin, gentle and soothing, and I knew he was holding it back from me. He was angry, furious, but kept that away from me. He cupped a hand against my check, forehead pressed to mine, and slowly helped me sit up, his skin cool against my heated skin. It was like trying to swallow nails, my throat painful and raw. I was crying, clinging to him, as he righted me against the wall. “You- you’re….here,” I stuttered out with a wince, the words dragging from my lips like sharp edged glass. “I am,” Dream whispered, sorrow and pain and rage lining his voice. He brushed the hair back from my face, from my neck, and seemed to be inspecting the damage. His rage grew. Aiden shifted not far from us, orienting himself on the ground, clumsily trying to sit up. Like an angry storm cloud made of nightmares and power, Morpheus stood and moved before him with a look so furious I couldn’t believe the man was alive. There was no solid edge to him, his cloak merging and shifting with the shadows around his, eyes pure black and stars red. His skin glowed in the darkness and he was purely Dream of the Endless, Ruler of the Nightmare Realms in that moment. Aiden groaned and blinked, trying to scramble to his feet in front of the dreamlord. The impact had hurt but he wasn’t fragile, could no doubt take the blow. But I could see the fear in his eyes, creasing in his brow as he took in the being before him. The Nightmare King slowly advanced and the air was thick with his power building, each step a warning bell. He was fear made flesh, darkness and the things hiding under your bed made real. And his eyes were solely on Aiden now, fingers clenching at his side. Calliope’s voice rang out, closer now, slightly pained, “Oneiros, stop! You cannot kill him!” His head quirked ever so slightly as he registered her voice, making him pause. The shadows slid along the ground and twisted in the air like a cat’s tail angrily flicking in distaste. Aiden took the opportunity to get to his feet, eyes glued to the Endless being in front, but some semblance of self coming back. He was evaluating the situation, taking in the distance to the end of the alley, to me, to Morpheus. I wheezed and attempted to climb to my feet, stumbling forward, knees pressed into the dirty concrete. I was so weak. I couldn’t do anything. Dream started to advance again and stopped almost like he was fighting with himself. Calliope was close now and the dim light reflected off her white gown enough that I could make out her form. She was taking him in, taking in the rage and Aiden before him, and yelled out, “He is not a threat to your realm, you cannot take his life! You cannot break the rule!” Aiden’s confidence was building at the words, his eyes swiveling to find mine briefly. Even when faced with something like the Dream King he still thought he had a chance and could win out in the end. I could see it, the confidence growing in his stance. “There are worse things than Death,” Morpheus growled and looked back at the goddess. The move was a mistake maybe. I could see it in Aiden’s stance like a memory. I could always read his body language, had committed it to memory to know when he’d strike, when he was buying time, when he was lingering in the hopes to draw out the anticipation. Maybe he’d run. Morpheus wouldn’t abandon me to chase after him, wouldn’t leave me. In the few seconds I had my eyes flicked to the ground and I could almost feel time pause. Not far from my scraped knees within grabbing distance were a stray plank of wood and a chipped, broken brick. Even in the scramble of the moment Delirium’s words echoed back clearly. “Oh we can ask if bricks or planks would be better!” It couldn’t be a coincidence. It had been a small offhand comment in her ramblings, but what were the odds? Yet everything clicked into place as I watched the turn of Morpheus’ head, the shifting in Aiden’s feet, the slight lifting of his lips into a smirk. He’d get away and would forever haunt me, would continue to lurk in the darkness. Escaping hadn’t been enough to be free of him. The world was an echo chamber. Silent. We were frozen in place as if time had fallen still and then in a blink everything was moving so fast. And like watching a movie, disassociated from the action, I watched as I picked up the brick and threw myself forward. I swung, it connected. Aiden’s head jerked and I could hear a crunch. I watched separately from my body almost as momentum carried me forward and I was stumbling, but not fully down. The man was bleeding, disoriented, and I swung again though the blow had less power. I swung again and again and a body hit the ground. I wasn’t sure if it was his or mine but then the brick was wrenched away and arms wrapped around me even as I kicked and screamed and cried. I was a wild animal, howling and snarling and pleading to let me finish it. It wasn’t happening to me, it was happening to her. The broken girl who thought she had survived her abuser. I watched as the dreamlord solidified and wrapped the shadows around her, muffling her sobs as he set her down on the floor against the wall. Tears and blood poured down her face and her neck was ringed in purple and red, breath coming out in gasping pants. Hyperventilating. Calliope was rushing over, crawling along the ground under she was at the broken girl’s side calmly urging the girl to breathe. She was having a panic attack and couldn’t be soothed. I was having a panic attack? I thought I could feel my lungs constrict and air try to push in and out but it was all muffled and numb. I was in my body and not, feeling everything and feeling nothing. Existing but watching from the outside. It couldn’t be me, couldn’t be me crumpled on the ground like a broken doll. But even so, she looked like me, had Morpheus’ attention as he combed back her hair and whispered that he was there and it was okay and I needed to breathe. In the distance, I thought I heard a raven’s cry. I could hear their words like they were in my ear. Dream hissed angrily at the goddess, “What are you doing here with her?” and I tried to force my hands to move, to grasp onto him and get his attention. I didn’t want him to be angry at her, I couldn't allow it.

Sobs poured from my lips, hindering the air trying to get in, and with a scratchy voice I attempted to beg him not to be angry. I watched myself do it and felt it too. She had tried to save me. Perhaps had saved me if I had been alone. None of it was her fault. “I promise, we were only speaking. I did not know this would happen,” Calliope tried to explain, her hand clenching mine tightly to ground me, “Is your sister coming?” He turned from her and focused solely on me, black pits having slid back to human icy blue. He didn’t answer. The tight fist in my chest was starting to ease, whether it be time or the soothing touch of Morpheus’ fingers in my hair or Calliope gripping my hand. Breathing became easier if not still painful and I slid back into my own skin. Everything hurt and my brain felt like jello, sloshing around my skull. I think there was blood soaking the back of my head. I tightened my fingers around Calliope and she forced a soft smile at me, “You are okay. He won’t hurt you any longer. You are safe.” She turned to the Endless at her side, both of them hovering over me and smiled sadly, “Take care of her, Oneiros. She needs you now.” His lips turned down and he nodded, but he didn’t meet her gaze. The anger aimed at her lessened, disappearing from the furrow of his brow. The muse moved to stand up but I gripped her hand, swallowing through my pain and tears, “Calliope.” She froze, eyes soft, and I continued, “Thank you.” I don’t remember her reply. The world shifted and turned, darkness blanketing me. I felt like a gravity sinkhole, weightless while also being too heavy. I think I passed out but at the same time, I remembered bits and pieces of what was happening around me. Arms lifting me up, tucking me close, as we climbed a set of stairs. The chest against my cheek emanated warm power, my necklace echoing it back. Hob’s panicked voice as fingers poked at a painful spot on my head. Him shushing and consoling, “darling” and “sweetheart” whispered into my ear and coated in pain and heartbreak. Water, cool and shocking, running through my hair as calloused fingers tried to untangle the matted blood. Morpheus’ own hands brushing the water or tears from my cheeks as he did so. I was held between them, cradled almost. Dream and Hob’s voices going back and forth, tense but resolute. Words like “done it before” and “take care of it” and “for her” stuck in my head before the door shut with a loud bang. Lips pressed against my forehead. The immortal man urging me to focus on him and stay awake, arms wrapped around my small frame and holding me to his chest as he sprawled us out on the couch. Morpheus wasn’t there, his absence noticeable. He talked and talked, voice wavering underneath the false cheer. Hob was gone and I was wrapped in shadows, warm and protective while long fingers skimmed over the bruises on my neck. I think we were on the bed, my cheek pressed against Dream’s chest and his cloak spilling around us like ink. Or blood. Any attempts at holding a normal form in the Waking were gone and I was wrapped in the King of Dream’s arms. His lips were against my temple and I could feel how he wished to hold me tight but was afraid it would hurt me. Could feel him holding back but was unable to stop touching, assuring both of us that we were safe and whole. In the twilight, he whispered that I was okay. That he was sorry for not being there sooner. His words were soft promises in the shadows of the room, pledges, and he told me how important I was, how he would never leave me, and that no one would ever touch me again. I’m not sure if he knew I was conscious, if the words were for my ears or for himself. But they lingered in the air nonetheless. Then I fell into darkness.

#dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless x oc #dream of the endless x ofc #dream of the endless x fem!reader #morpheus x reader #morpheus x fem!reader #morpheus x oc #dream of the endless #morpheus #sandman fanfic #the sandman fanfic #sandman fic #the sandman fic #Series: Fragments #fic: Interwoven #OFC: Dahlia

[running-in-the-dark]

can't sleep can't sleep can't sleeeeep

it's 7:30 in the morning and I'm so tired but my brain is just. not

#thinking thinking thinking #just like random fragments. nothing bad. nothing that should keep me from sleeping #but it's just an endless loop of half finished sentences that then make me think of something else and so on #should've just kept painting but i was at a good point & didn't wanna ruin it #it feels like there's ants in my head #ugh. need to just think about his face I guess. that usually works. #damn it's really so unfair that some people can actually see stuff in their mind. I wanna look at his face not just think about #it with words 😭 #really not fair. #annd now I'm thinking about that. that does not help #bc that always makes me feel super sad. #it sucks that you can be bad at sleeping :') #personal

[waterlinkedgirl]

While I'm glad Mikazuki is back I am NOT happy about the cast because with Tsuru Sui and Ookanehira ig there it's very clear we're going to have a Mikazuki-centric musical, maybe even the very last of those. And they decided not to have Kogitsunemaru there. I'm gutted. Bare heart stomped by muddied boots. This sucks.

#like yes Kitazono is in koihana which runs at the same time but considering Kuroba I feel there's like no way that was scheduled before this #was everything up to Kotobuki and including Kogi's endless night and mirage meaningless? #was every feeling you gave me nothing but a regret you couldn't take back to you? #I suppose this counts as vent rambling #anyway um. I'm going to post my secret santa fic here in the foreseeable future. If Toumyu tramples onto its story the least I can do is to #cradle its fragments.

[magnoliamyrrh]

okay enough of the rants im logging off last thing ill say is that identity politics is largely a disease 👍 its point with the extremism its been taken to in part due to cia postmodernism being to wreck class conciousness though the wokeificstion of fragmentory policies and identity👍 bipartisan politics also serve to divide the country (all countries) incresingly so that people cant come together👍 having the worlds most stupid useless fragmentory identity politics discussions doesnt help it keeps us from coming together and focusing on real shit 👍wars pit the resources and labour of the working class against each other for the benefit of the rich 👍"im iranian youre american, you and i have more in common with each other than our governments with us, and our governments are more similar etc etc."👍 if racism stopped and if sexism stopped and if classism between the working classes (which, everyone has forgotten what the term "working class" means, its not abt economic bracket, low, middle, and higher class can all b working class yes including the doctor whose making a lot of money bc it is the exhange of labour for wages) stopped the working class could stand united not divided aginst the system 👍differences in race, class, and sex have Always been used to pit the working classes against each other, and to give people a sense of "well at least were better than Those people" (opressed middle class disdain for lower class, opressed mens disdain for women (at least they have power over someone!), opressed peoples disdain for other opressed peoples)

i may bitch and complain about kinds of people on here bc its a way for me to get my frustrations out, but ultimately i do think it is vitally important to have hope and to try to bring unity between people. ultimately i think it is unity which is the only way this planet, species, and every other species on this planet may see a better futute. ultimately, more than anything, i think despite everything we, for everyones sake, have to understand the deep interconnected nature of everything, have to truly understand that one cannot be free without all, and have to try to build bridges.... it is very easy both as both members of the opressive and opressed class (and yes most ppl occupy both in some way) to fall into disdain, fear, and wants of separatism. ive done it plenty myself and at times i still do. trying to "be better" is absolutely exhausting. but. i do truly believe that we have to try. i do not believe hatred is forever. not classism not racism not sexism not abelism not anything. it is not a curse people are doomed to from birth. people can change, we all can. we at least have to try

#this is part of the reason tho why ppl #tell me i shouldnt become a speaker or activist or someone who engages w ppl to change their minds and im like......... #i dont know if i have the temper for it #i stand by it. but im better at writing when i have time and space to calm my nervee #bc i really dO have a temper and im fed up with bullshit and i can be agressive #and ultimately i dont think thats the best way to change ppls minds #.......... lol one of tbe reasons why i look up to malcolm x so much #he wasnt perfevt by any means (ehm the sexism?) but. BuT still. a very complex very smart very real man who Saw very well #and something ive always respected is his amazing ability to keep his cool in dicussions and debates with people saying god awful shit #his cool his vibe his ability to educate and keep his tone strong and down #*ppl tell me i should #also. this is obviously not to say that there arent differences in class ethnicity religion gender etc etc etc and in how one experiences #the world bc. there Obviously are #also. global location imperial core imperial semi-periphery and periphery countries etc etc as well as each countries more localized power ! #and position #just that ultimately trying to find unity and reach for similarities and understandings and sympathy where there isnt that is more productiv #e #than endless identifying politics fragmentation and opression olympics and also. everyone hating each other 🤷‍♀️

[duckapus]

Trouble at the Eggdog Corral

When dead memes, particularly most of the Eggdogs, start going missing, SMG3 recruits the rest of the crew to help him investigate. They eventually discover that the missing dead memes were captured by a half dozen small anti-memes and taken to a ranch where the Eggdogs apparently live, which has a giant, burnt, broken, ominously glowing computer mouse stuck in the roof. The hologram trio explain that this is debris from when SMG1&2 blew up the God Box, and similar occurrences have been reported in other universes as well. Thankfully the Anti-memes aren't all that strong with such a small piece of the God Box fueling them, so outside of the usual shenanigans the problem's not too hard to deal with, but it does cause some worry that this might not be the last time that particular adventure comes back to haunt them...

#smg4 #episode idea #haltmann meme guardians au #smg3 #eggdog #the god box #mostly just a setup episode #thankfully it's normally not too hard to get rid of god box fragments #especially since their real world analogues are long gone by this point so they're just weird broken metaphysical code stuff #the trick is actually finding where they've landed #3 has to be getting his endless supply of good puppers from SOMEwhere

[indexcard]

i know it's trendy rn but planters and candles shaped like tits and ass are literally so repulsive to me. not in a prudish way i just think they are utterly devoid of aesthetic value

#blah blah blah #it just feels like neoclassicism lite #greco-roman statues were not INTENDED to look like that. they exist as a fragments #but by engaging with fragments in such a surface-level way there's no commentary being made #just aesthetic reproduction & as we know over-production diminishes the original statement if there even was one #and it feels almost crass to think that in these truncated torsos too we should be aiming for broad representation of diverse bodies #when they are literally so detached from humanity and meaning #it's like making up a problem to solve #torso-shaped candles should include fat people too!!! #or how abt we just treated real fat people with dignity and respect #recognising that the torso candle is not a signifier of anything other than the commodification of bodies really #and well the vacuity of the endless millennial pink monstera terrazzo aesthetic

[beatcroc]

I just wanna say thank you for reblogging all the stuff spreading awareness of recent antisemitism that you have recently. You are the only person I follow who isn't jewish who I've seen do so at all (Unless I'm mistaken and you are jewish too). I know not everyone is aware of every single bad thing happening in the world at any moment, and don't think people HAVE to reboot about negative events or whatever, but how much you seem to care really warms my heart and reassures me we aren't alone (Unless, once again, I am mistaken and you are jewish)

👍but nah i'm not jewish, just pissed off

#doing the talking for this one IN the tags bc i would really rather be answering this privately lol #feels so weirdly like. performative. to say it out in the open but whatver #i just have so much. anger. abt this shit #every time i turn around and learn about some random history/culture event or fixture its like #'oh yeah and originally this got started to shit on jewish ppl' and its just like how is this so deeply fucking ingrained in everything #and like i'm black so. without trying to compare the two too directly for obvious reasons #i do in some ways understand the thing with the whole system being slanted against you like that #AGAIN not comparing 1:1 because the history of jews being scapegoated for everything ever and always getting the shit end of the stick #is like leagues apart and beyond stuff thats gone down w/ blacks' histories #but i get the infuriation and the sting of people just. not fucking caring or even NOTICING The Issues #to be clear i am unbelievably sheltered and ignorant about like every culture ever+ usually unmotivated to search things out on my own #so endless thanks to my jewish friends/mutuals for just bein themselves and passively keeping me like. informed. #abt basics for not being antisemitic and how to respect jewish culture #cause god knows im not gonna hear it out in everyday society or whatever #yeag. and anyway i also have personal beef #from being raised christian and having to get away from [gestures broadly at the whole of christian teachings] #and im like. you killed people for this? to do things this badly? you stomped out their culture and practices to bring THIS into the world? #literally fuck off and die nothing you taught me is even a fraction as... idk. rewarding? as the fragments ive seen of jewish culture #rewarding or like. hopeful or meaningful maybe. its hard to put an exact word to it but to speak it more directly- #i am Wildly Misanthropic but whenever i learn stuff about jewish culture im like. #you know if these sorts of ideals were more widespread i probably wouldn't hate humanity so much. #[i also feel this way abt native americans but thats a whole ass other thing.] #[similarly seeing people whose ideals i also value being consistently treated like shit tends to just fuel the misanthropy soooooo...] #its like these are the people who actually know how to live and this is what the greater populace thinks of them? lmao ok #[to be clear i live in the usa so you can imagine the kind of culture im Actually exposed to lolllll] #at any rate reblogging a post on social media really feels a negligble gesture but im glad it's appreciated nonetheless

[sapphiresands-moved]

Sevren is pretty chill for someone who is basically an eldritch being

#; ooc #fragment of the endless snake god of time - but chill

[recycledcactus]

your uquiz hit me with a steel chair and told me things about myself my closest friends wouldn't know. what sort of wizard are you. thank you. how did you know this.

assuming you mean this uquiz

you just made my ego skyrocket, but in all seriousness i'm glad!! (i think?)

#anon #asks #humans are just endless fragments of each other #by taking a piece of ones self and broadening it #it becomes quite relatable to others

[sonic-adventure-3]

it’s insane how well sonic characters lend themselves to being in silly comics. i have so many ideas oscillating in my head that i’ve genuinely had to start writing them all down

#dude the second i get over how hard it is to make comics it’s over for yall #they’re so much fun to think of and imagine #endless daydream material #but comics are so hard to draw!!! #i get rlly paralyzed when thinking about how to format them that i can’t even put pen to paper #and then i forget to think really hard about what i want it to look like. really visualize it #<- thats a step i’ve never heard anyone talk about or had thought to do b4 but when i made that star fragment thing it was revolutionary #i’m actually terrible at like. thinking through my hands or on paper? i can’t draw as a stand in for thinking or speaking #so thumbnailing has been rlly hard for me cause i can’t think or instinct that stuff out on the fly #i need to visualize in extreme detail about things that are already within my drawing capabilities to even start drawing comicky things #which is pretty labourious and i’m distractable so it’s hard to sit down and do even if i know how to succeed #+ it’s not how i’d ideally like to do things. i know i absolutely need to settle for plausible and real instead of ideal #but not being a perfectionist is hard :/ #anyway i’m imagining things that are sooooooo funny and cool and epic and i’m really normal about it #rambles

[ohraicodoll]

Possession | Chapter 1

Chapters:  1/5 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: In which Morpheus has a temper, jealousy is a problem, and past relationships never stay in the past. 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 1:  Being Clever Never Got Me Very Far

( General warnings for this chapter: sexual content, toxic relationships, mentions of abuse)

Balancing the waking world and the Dreaming remained a challenge and one that Lord Morpheus wasn’t making any easier. Despite his admonishments about the negative impacts of Dream Walking on my everyday life, he had effectively shoved that under the rug now that he had me to himself every night. It was hard to focus on keeping up mundane things like a job and bills and friendships when at night you could travel anywhere and see anything plus had an immortal being driving you nuts in the best possible way. The vibrant colors of the waking world, revitalized by meeting Dream, had started to gray again and I was having to force myself to keep to normal sleeping hours and not waste the day away. The laundry was piling up, dishes needed to be done, and I needed to do something with myself. As much as I wished he would, I rarely saw Morpheus outside of dreams as he was still working on rebuilding his realm and attending to his duties. Occasionally, he would meet me at the café he’d surprised me at so long ago, both when I thought he was going to kill me and after our first time together. I had to get over my awkwardness at being the only one to eat, but he drank coffee and would tell me about the lives of the people that walked passed. He knew their dreams just by looking at them and in turn, knew their lives. My mind wandered to Lucienne’s library, to my small book kept there and its blank pages. Maybe that was part of his fascination with me, that he didn’t know my life. Everything was nice. It wasn’t healthy to be around each other 24/7 afterall and he had a job to do, same as me. Just on vastly different scales. Besides, he had no obligation to see me. We were casual lovers, or fuck buddies as I had deemed us crudely once, something he took offense to but didn’t necessarily argue against. He craved affection even if he didn’t say so with words. My need to be around him was just the newness of it, that constant pull to be next to him and touch him. It was a mutually beneficial relationship that lacked any sort of commitment. Dream of the Endless had seen all there was, had existed longer than most of the stars. It was hard not to be enraptured by that. So I forced myself to be good with what I got. It would fade and I would be able to be more productive, balance things better. I had begun to write again or attempt to, with Lucienne’s encouragement that my work was good. I had a lot of mental and emotional blocks when it came to writing, ones I didn’t want to get into yet, and I was grateful to have support both in the waking world and the Dreaming. More effort was put into my job at the book publisher, taking on more responsibilities in the hope that when I did have something decent I could show them. I even let Anissa, my coworker, take me to after work drinks though I suspect it was mostly an attempt to get me to spill the details on Morpheus or to get me to date one of our coworkers. She had been the one to encourage having some “fun” after my breakup and I was very bad at hiding that I had, in fact, followed that advice. Just not in the way she suspected. Things were okay. They were fine. But it was only a matter of time before our own hang ups would begin to surface. My life, my history, was unknown to him and I was a bit grateful. I’m not sure how I would feel if he knew everything about me and I knew hardly anything from him. It also meant he couldn’t see all the baggage there. We both had it. He had said he had had past relationships, obviously from being eons old, had told me about Killala that first talk while comparing cheating exes. Had bonded over mutual pain and disrespect. But beyond that, the details of our lives remained blank to each other. Stories and nothing more. I should have noticed when I saw maintenance go in and out of my neighbor Janine’s apartment that she had moved out. She had downright started avoiding me at all costs after I caught her in my bed with my then boyfriend, Thomas. The same boyfriend whose dream I then went into and broke one of the rules, smashing everything to bits and causing Morpheus to find me for the first time. I guess I should have thanked her for the introduction if she wasn’t a miserable hag. I’d seen her dreams, seen the countless escapades she had all the while knowing they were attached and she didn’t care. If she had wanted Thomas, she could have him. But now, I was mostly relieved that she was finally gone and I could walk through the hallway of my complex with ease. Coming home after work, my neck ached from stress and I towed off my shoes at the door, dropping my bag to the ground in a heap. Taking on more responsibilities at work meant my brain was mush by the time I made the walk home and it was a lesson in focus to not just daydream the day away. I had the whole weekend ahead though which meant I didn’t have to set an alarm and could stay in the Dreaming however long I wanted. It sounded divine after the stressful week I had. I was finally getting the hang of Dream Walking after a few more actual lessons from Morpheus, though he still loved to distract me. I was even getting better at doing it without using doors, even if my aim wasn’t always accurate and I had to bounce around a few times. If the dreamlord wasn’t with me, I still liked to imagine them because it was easier on my brain. Tonight I was going to explore more of the Dreaming beyond just Morpheus’ chambers and he could come along or mope on his own. A knock sounded at the door just as I was about to change out of my work dress, causing me to pause. No one ever came to visit. The number of friends I had could be counted on one hand, I had no family, and no one I knew made unexpected social calls. Frowning, I padded quietly over to the door and stood on my toes to look through the peephole at whoever was knocking. Maybe maintenance got the wrong door or something. You gotta be fucking kidding me. Thomas stood there, brown hair disheveled and button up shirt wrinkled. Even through the tiny window, he looked pathetic and I was almost certain it was on purpose. He liked to be prim and proper, even outside of work, unless he wanted something. The man had hardly ever had anything bad happen to him so he liked to play at being a victim whenever he could. It was mind boggling now, two months later, that I had stayed with him for over a year. “Then why did you stay with him?” Morpheus’ words bounced back in my head. Because he wasn’t the worst. Because he was interested in me. Because I was dumb and lonely and he made the world colorful at least for a bit. But even looking back now, that color paled in comparison to anything I felt now. I had blocked him from everything after waking up from his dream, the image of the King of Dreams sitting in the corner of an imagined bar after I had smashed everything to bits still fresh. Thomas had tried to reach out, though not very hard, but I ignored him and even when he showed up to my workplace, reception had shooed him away. It wouldn’t have surprised me if his attention had then turned to Janine and now that she was gone, most likely kicking him to the curb, here he was. I chewed on my lip, debating what I should do. Knocks reverberated through the door again, louder this time and I winced. “Dahlia, please, I know you’re in there,” his muffled voice shouted through the wood. I groaned inwardly. Fuck, if Matthew had been keeping an eye on him or me still then he at least could had warned me Thomas was coming. He knocked again and I knew my neighbors were going to get curious if he kept it up. “Dahl, please. Just hear me out!” Thomas shouted, a pathetic edge to his voice. I wanted to slam my head into the door, bemoaning my luck. Bracing myself, I sighed and unlocked the door, opening it only partly and blocking the view into the apartment. “What?” I bit out with pressed lips and annoyance painting my face. The guy looked worse closer up, shirt a mess and eyes a little bloodshot. He also reeked of booze which sent my body on high alert instantly. Anxiety and fear, old and familiar, sank into my bones. “Please,” he repeated, taking a step towards the door, “Can I come inside so we can talk?” “No,” I crossed my arms and leaned against the door jam, teeth clenched. My patience with him was thin and after time apart, my backbone had strengthened again. I had put up with a lot, hadn’t screamed or raged in his face when I had caught him naked in my bed. He was lucky that all I did was smash his dream, which I’m sure he had no recollection of. “Dahl-” “I’m sorry, you don’t get to ask for anything from me,” the growl that left my throat cut him off, eyes slightly wide at the tone, “You can say what you want to say here or I can shut the door in your face and you can leave.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed. He had never dealt with this side of me. Most arguments between us I had let slide, not feeling up to putting in the effort and letting him get his way. It was always easier than to fight, a lesson I had learned a long time ago. But it had fueled his ego and he thought me to be small and docile. That part I was willing to claim was my fault, but now- now I had teeth and I wasn’t afraid to bare them. “I’m sorry,” Thomas started, “What I did was selfish and awful and I am an asshole.” “A few months late, but so far not arguing against that,” I commented, glaring. “I miss you, Dahl,” he pressed on and stepped even closer, only a foot away now, “Please, I want us to work-” “No you don’t,” I cut him off. The indignation was plain on my face as I sneered at him, “You made your choice, Thomas. There is no working it out. You fucked another person in my home and are barely putting in the effort to apologize now? You’re not sorry, you just want me to be your safety net because you thought I was a pushover.” That barely concealed anger was in his eyes and he shoved a hand through his shaggy hair, “That’s not true. I love you-” “Oh get the fuck out of here with that bullshit,” I scoffed, finally fed up with wasting my time and hearing the crap pouring out of his mouth, I moved to shut the door. But his foot shot out, blocking the way, and before I could process it he had pushed into the apartment and shut the door behind him. The movement had been fast, calculated, and I cursed myself for even opening the door and not just calling security to kick him out. Even though he smelled of alcohol, his motor functions were still sharp and I should have made sure my guard stayed up. I knew better. Now my heart was hammering and I stepped back, putting space between us as he blocked the door. My mind tried to run through a dozen different scenarios, strategies, paths to either get him out or get away. There was pepper spray in my bag, I could run for it or the bedroom and lock myself in, under the couch was a baseball bat I kept just in case. He was drunk and could never take no for an answer and I should have been more aware. Thomas raised his hands like he was calming a riled horse, placating but voice desperate, “I only want to talk, you won’t let me talk! Please, you need to hear me out.” “I don’t have to do anything, Thomas,” my voice was steady but firm, one foot sliding behind me so I could pivot for the bedroom if I needed to, “You are going to get the fuck out of my apartment. Now.” “Stop, Dahlia, I want you back!” Though he was pleading, his hands clenched and unclenched and annoyance vibrated through him at my continual refusal, “I’m not leaving until you listen.” His eyes were wild and I knew he was on that edge of being reasonable or doing something we both may regret. Men like him didn’t consider consequences because they had never experienced them and that made him dangerous. I felt the slight breeze first before the ripple of power swelled over my skin, blanketing it and wrapping me in its first embrace while blazing through the room in hot fury. I didn’t have to turn to look behind me to know Morpheus was standing there, anger coming off him in waves and presence darkening the doorway. My breath caught in my throat. I had only ever felt his actual anger once, in the nightmare where we finally confronted each other. It had been all encompassing, those black eyes piercing right into my soul and stars bright enough it could burn me away. I watched hesitantly as a bit of fear entered Thomas’ eyes at last and though I knew I shouldn’t, I felt satisfaction at seeing it there. The Dream King entered the room from the bedroom where he definitely had not been a few minutes ago and stepped quietly next to me, hand brushing mine and long black coat grazing my legs from his proximity. Too close to be casual, definitely not after leaving my bedroom, and a clear outward sign of who he was to me. Thomas tried to hold his ground and kept his chin raised but I could see the tension there as he looked back and forth between us and took him in. The brown haired man didn’t stack up, could never compare. Morpheus was a storm at my side, voice quiet but powerful, “You will leave, Thomas McNara. Now.” I resisted the urge to look up at him, could easily feel the building anger he was holding back the longer my ex didn’t do as he commanded. He was dangerous, a volcano ready to devastate, and it was all targeted at one person. But Thomas was never the smartest and was too dumb to know when to back down. Brown eyes swiveling back to me, he scoffed and scrunched up his face incredulously, “Are you serious, Dahl? This is who you got with-” The one step forward the dreamlord took was enough to cut him off, the air growing thin in the room as Dream advanced and snarled, “Keep silent. You have ignored every word she has spoken, disrespected her, and entered her home uninvited. You are pitiful.” Morpheus glared down at him, blue eyes dark as he looked down his nose at the human whose bravado was crumpling by the second. Energy crackled and in that moment, even in the waking world, he looked every bit the ancient, powerful being that he was. Thomas could see it then, that he had drawn the attention of something that was far greater than he could ever imagine and had its ire. “I have seen your dreams, Thomas McNara,” the Lord of Dreams hissed and took another step towards him, “You treat women as toys and want what you cannot have. I assure you, she is not yours to possess and never will be again. Leave now and count yourself lucky I am being merciful for her sake for I could do far, far worse . ” Thomas’ brown eyes almost flicked to mine but he kept himself from looking at me, face pale with fear and sweat sliding down his temple. One step, then two, and he backed away to the apartment door and left, fumbling along the way and tripping out the door into the hallway. The door shut with a loud bang that echoed through the space. The tension didn’t immediately leave now that we were alone. Dream was a bow string pulled too tight, threatening to unleash at any moment. I swallowed hard and reminded my brain that the rage was in my defense and not directed at me. I didn’t have anything to fear from him, but I had never dealt with this kind of anger easily. I blinked and it was someone else standing in his stead, fists clenched tight and eyes drilling holes into my skin as if he could skin me alive with just a look. I blinked again and the image melted away, leaving just the King of Dreams standing with his back to me with his coat so black it looked like the abyss. Taking a few deep breaths, I grounded myself and focused on what was happening now, trying to forget the brief flash of memory. With a few steps, Dream’s coat was within reach and I gently trailed my fingers down his shoulder and arm until cool skin met mine. He didn’t react at first, hands hanging at his side, but I slowly intertwined one hand with his and gave it a squeeze as I rested my cheek against his shoulder blades. In a breath, the tension slowly seeped from him and I hugged him fully from behind, able to breathe easier as his power pulled back into him and the air cleared. “Are you okay?” I asked into his coat, hand in his and the other wrapped tightly around his waist from behind. He was so thin, but lean muscles tensed along his back and under my cheek. He was always the one to wrap himself around me, so the change in stance was new and one I enjoyed. A dark chuckle left him and I could feel the reverberations through his back, “Am I not supposed to ask you that instead?” I hugged him tighter and felt comforted when his free hand caressed my arm gently and he sank into the touch, “I’m okay, I’m safe, nothing happened. I haven’t ever seen him that…crazed, but he was just drunk. Even if you didn’t show up, I could have gotten him out. But thank you for coming to defend my honor, your highness.” I made my tone as light as possible, joking in the hopes he would come down from his anger if he saw that I wasn’t freaking out. I could practically hear the thoughts churning in his mind, replaying the situation over and over again, but at last, he relaxed. Keeping my hand in his, he turned to face me and pressed a kiss to the back of my hand. I could see it now, the remnants of whatever Thomas had seen and feared. Though his eyes were still blue, the endless night sky peaked there, fathomless and encompassing and terrifying. His skin had paled to that marble tone he had in the Dreaming, lips pressed in a thin line. He looked like a god, glorious and terrible. My heart raced as I took him in and I found it hard to swallow, knowing that this otherworldly creature held interest in me, had come to make sure I was safe. “She is not yours to possess.” The words echoed through me as I stared at him, a complicated feeling bouncing around. He noticed brow furrowing and a hand coming to rest on my cheek, elegant pianist fingers brushing my bangs from my eyes, “I can recognize when something is troubling you. What is it?” I chewed on my bottom lip, trying to think. Our relationship was…strange. Seeing an anthropomorphic personification came with zero rules unlike every other relationship I’d been in. There was no talking about what we were, boundaries, commitments. Exclusivity. We’d simply gone along with it, letting attraction and desire lead us, but feelings were avoided. Feelings were going to remain avoided, but him coming and stepping in. That had been something. I realized it then that it wasn’t fully rage he had been feeling or that had caused him to bare his teeth at Thomas. It was possessiveness. “You said-” I swallowed, trying not to choke on the words, “you said I wasn’t his to have.” Those blue eyes of his had settled, becoming more human-like, but I could see the flash of want and apprehension there, “Was I wrong?” Despite my trepidation, heat pooled low in my belly at the tone, “I don’t know, you tell me.” He stepped closer, chest pressed against mine and hand trailing down from my cheek to lightly wrap around my neck. My heart beat loudly in my ears and my body was tingling, sensitive to each touch of his skin on mine and shooting lightning down my nerve endings. Possessiveness had always been a double edged sword for me. Too much was toxic, restricting, frightening. Had destroyed me one suspicious look at a time and caused so much pain. But on the other hand, I wanted to be Dream’s. Wanted to know that I had been deemed worthy enough of the Lord of Dreams’ attention and not only that, that he wanted me all to himself. His head lowered, nose skimming along mine and breath mingling there, “While you are your own person, little dreamer, and are free to do as you wish, I will warn you- I do not share.” The words were low and dark and trailed along my skin like the edge of a feather, making me swallow a moan. “I give you this choice now, Dahlia Morrowland, ” Morpheus continued, my name whispered along my lips as he tilted my chin up to meet his eyes under lowered lids, baring the long expanse of my neck, “If you wish to have other lovers, we can end this game now. You are welcome in the Dreaming, in my palace, and I will not fault you. I will not deny you my presence… but if you wish for us to continue, I am afraid I will not be able to help myself. You will be mine and mine alone.” I shivered at the dark promise, breath catching in a way I’m sure he knew. My skin felt tight and hot and all I could focus on was the simple loose wrap of his fingers on my neck like he was branding me. His words rattled through me, setting flame the parts of me I wished for him to touch. I managed to swallow and meet his gaze, the heady want there reflected in my own, “I’m not ending this. And just so you know, I don’t share either. You are mine, dreamlord, if you wish to be.” He smirked, the slightest tilt of his lips, at the declaration before tightening his grip on my neck and pulling me to him, lips crushing. It was his own answer, his own agreement. Yes, yes, he did wish for that. My hand left his and wrapped around his neck as I stood on my toes to reach him, tongue delving into his mouth and moaning into him. His own caressed mine, sucking and teasing while completely devouring me. Dream in the waking world was different than in the Dreaming. He was tangible, real, made of true flesh, tasting of honey and mint, and smelling of early morning rain. And for the first time, he was in my apartment. He was mine. Mine. And I was his and it felt like too much and not enough all at once. The Dream King trailed his hands to my thighs and in a quick move, lifted me, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried my weight easily. The hard press of his arousal was against me and I gasped into his mouth as he pushed me against the wall, back jolting at the contact. He deepened the kiss, ravenous and impatient. It was a frenzy of teeth and lips, his mouth leaving mine to kiss his way down my neck as his lips sucked at the pulse there. His teeth bit gently and I moaned, heat shooting through me sharp and sudden. The skin would be dark and apparent tomorrow, I knew that, but something deep and primal was pleased at the mark. Let them see. My fingers ran through his hair, dark and soft, and lightly grazed my long nails along his scalp until he moaned against me to my satisfaction. I had learned that he loved the feel of nails scratching, the sharpness against his skin, and his head was extra sensitive. He rocked against me and I hissed at the feel of him against me, separated my layers of clothing. I unwrapped my legs from his waist and braced myself, hands going to his jeans to get them unbuttoned and off of him. His own hands went to the hem of my dress, squeezing my exposed thighs and finding my drenched underwear. I moaned loudly as he cupped my sex, savoring the arousal wetting the fabric there. Running fingers up and down the thin covering, I gasped and twitched at how sensitive I was already. I was trembling, fingers shaking as I finally got his pants free and pulled the zipper down. We were getting impatient, the real world limitations meaning he couldn’t just magic our clothes away. With a quick jerk, he ripped the panties off easily, dropping the scrap of fabric to the floor as I lowered his jeans and freed his pulsing erection from them. “Excuse you. I liked those,” I growled at him. My hand wrapped around his cock, pleased with the way he jerked into my hand and hissed out a moan under his breath. His skin was the texture of velvet, soft to the touch but hard in my hand, and I savored each delicious stroke and ragged breath that left Morpheus’ mouth. My mind could only focus on the feeling of him and the words mine, mine mine over again. “You can easily acquire more later, though wearing none around me would be preferred,” the dreamlord gritted out, fingers in my hair and clenching my thigh tightly as I moved my hand over him steadily. I smirked, watching his eyes close against my ministrations, thumb rubbing the tip of his erection and sliding the precum there over him, “You going to buy me some with your fake money?” My palm squeezed him and a moan slid from his mouth, raw and wanting. He turned his head and his lips met mine in a frantic rush, tongue warring and fighting for dominance. Impatient, Dream pulled my hand off of him and gripped my thigh, lifting it around his waist and sheathing into me in one fast thrust. There was no foreplay, no slow build. The move was quick and hard, an edge of pain tingeing it at the feeling of him, large and buried to his base suddenly filling me. I was tight around him, each glorious inch filling me completely. The pain faded quickly though it only served to amplify the pleasure, as he pressed me firmly against the wall and fucked me hard. The angle was delectable, hitting the perfect spot inside me every time, and I couldn’t  stop the cries that poured from my lips as he pulled out almost fully then rammed back in. I could only hang on. He still wore his coat and shirt, both of us not even fully unclothed, and my nails dug into the fabric. Feeling the friction of his clothes against my sensitive skin heightened the pleasure while my own skirt was pushed up around my waist. He grunted with each desperate thrust, lips against my throat as he bit and sucked and tasted my skin. The brink of my orgasm was coming fast as I drowned in the rapture and ecstasy, body pulsing and clenching around him. He went harder, faster, pouring all his want and possessiveness into me. Each hard thrust branded my skin with the word mine , each kiss claiming, and each mark on my body a sign that I was with the King of Dreams and would be his alone. It should have scared me, having this type of attention from someone like him. It had scared me with lesser men. I had bucked and thrashed against the possessiveness before, had feared it, but with him I drank it down. Because even as he claimed me, he willingly let me claim him as well, offered himself up to me as equals. And so I wrapped my arms tight around him, rode the waves of my orgasm as it crashed into me and ripped his name from my mouth. Stars exploded behind my eyes, nebulas swarming, and I felt like I was floating in a storm I had no control of. He followed soon, giving a final hard thrust before releasing into me with a groan. His lips still lingered on my skin and sweat clung to both of us, the straps of my dress askew and his collar half upturned from my grabbing. We both looked completely and thoroughly fucked and at that thought, I couldn’t help but laugh. The reaction caused my body to clench around him and he grunted into my skin. Dream’s fingers soothed the skin of my thigh before helping me to lower it from his waist, both of us unable to keep from letting out a small groan as the movement shifted our sensitive bodies. It pleased me that I wasn’t the only one with a worn out body. His gaze met mine with a raised brow, skin now a warmer shade and eyes settled. I just grinned at him, wide and unrestrained, tongue between my teeth, “Hi.” With a quirk of his lips light-heartedly and something like affection gentling his face, he replied softly, “Hello.” I gave him a tender kiss, lips dragging against his and savoring their taste, before pulling back, “I guess we can cross off having sex for the first time in the waking world off the list. Along with wall sex. Very efficient work, your highness, good job.” Caught between amusement and confusion, furrowed his brow quizzically, “A list, little dreamer?” Giving a half-hearted shrug, I smiled up at him, “Less a list, more like ideas.” Morpheus’ eyes darkened and I could almost feel him hardening inside me. I knew then that I was doomed. Because there was nothing the Lord of Dreams liked more than a challenge and he was more than willing to make sure we thoroughly explored all those ideas of mine along with a few of his. The evening was spent in my apartment as he claimed me over and over again, worshiping every part of me and leaving no part of me unmarked. And I did the same in turn. I didn’t know what it meant fully as we didn’t discuss feelings or what being with each other meant, but I was okay with what I did know and what I was given. That would be something to think about later.

#Dream x ofc #Dream x fem!reader #Dream x Reader #Morpheus X Ofc #Morpheus x fem!reader #Morpheus x Reader #Dream of the Endless x OFC #Dream of the Endless x reaer #Dream of the Endless fem!reader #The Sandman fic #The Sandman fanfiction #The Sandman fanfic #sandman fic #sandman fanfiction #sandman fanfic #Dream of the Endless #Sandman #The Sandman #series: fragments #fic: possession

[sinvulkt]

Sanctum Sanctorum by englishable ( @englishable )

A timeline breaks and splits. Choices and actions fracture off into infinite possibilities. In one particular lifetime, at one particular moment, a man loses the woman he loves and then loses the whole world in his futile effort to get her back: and in the sacred timeline, meanwhile, Christine Palmer hears about it.

She's gotten accustomed to hearing weird, unbelievable things, having Doctor Strange as a friend - and having him back in her life again, after five years of everyone telling her he was dead - but this newest weird thing is different, and maybe her own past with Stephen Strange has a future as well. Finished, 35k words.

*** ** * ** ***

Part 2 - The Riddle

“There’s a man in a prison,” she begins. “It’s got four walls and a locked door.”

“As opposed to six walls and two locked doors, like any normal prison cell.”

“As opposed to anything — how does the man get free?”

Stephen squints. “Does he have his sling-ring?”

She rolls her eyes. “No. Let’s say he’s lost it.”

“Ah, so he’s an idiot — that’ll make escaping harder.” He grins; the beard lends it a certain touch of guile. “What’s the door made from?”

“Iron,” Christine says. “And the walls are made from rock.”

“As is the floor, I’m guessing.”

“You’d be guessing correctly.”

“He should look in his pockets for something to pick the lock with, then — or something he can alchemize the carbon from. Did you know gunpowder only has three ingredients?”

“No such luck, wizard. They took his old clothes from him before they put him in prison.”

“How many Saturday morning cartoons has he watched? He can go out through the window on one of those bedsheet ropes.”

“There’s no windows in the cell, either. Or bedsheets.”

“I’m fairly certain that’s against the Geneva Convention. Was Grandma Palmer a war criminal, by any chance?”

“No sling-rings, no lock picks, no windows, no bedsheets, no magic — and this was Grandma Reisert’s riddle, not Grandma Palmer. She’s the one who kept asking me why you don’t go by ‘Stevie.’” She shoves him lightly in the chest. “Try again, smart-ass.”

“Oh, I don’t know — the man lays his hands on the stones and commands that they be made into bread.”

“Does he?” [...]  “But then the stones would answer back that a man doesn’t live by bread alone, wouldn’t they?”

[...]. “Does the prison have a ceiling?”

She smiles. 

“It doesn’t,” she says, “and the man realizes he’s got wings.”

“Kind of a hard detail to miss, wouldn’t you say?”

“Not really. People do it all the time.”

[...]“That’s true,” he says, in a voice that sounds somewhat thicker than before. “There’s your answer, then — the prison has no ceiling and the guy’s got wings. Simple enough.”

“In a way. The hardest part is probably just getting him to look past the locked door.”

“But does he, eventually?”

Christine puts her hands onto the Cloak’s collar. 

Thanks for choosing him, she would like to tell it, in spite of the fact that it has neither the ears nor the temporal lobe to hear her with. Thanks for protecting him. Thanks for catching him when he falls, which I know he probably does a lot. 

“He does,” she says, “so he flies.”

#I love this riddle so much #fly poeple fly #there is nothing more beautiful than an endless sky #also Part 3 is What If!Dr Strange angst !! 🎶 #so all in all the serie is great #marvel fic rec #marvel fic #stephen strange #doctor strange #dr strange #doctor stephen strange #fic recs #fic rec #fanfic snippet #snippet #fragments of imagination #marvel snippet #marvel fanfic #marvel #mcu #what if #marvel what if #what if strange #palmstrange #christine palmer

[mitjalovse]

How can we actually call the albums in the vein of Supernatural? I once proposed a phrase hyper-mainstreamization, though that one needs some more work. However, I do think an umbrella term would be comeback, since most of these platters do achieve something like that. The Who's Endless Wire, for example, introduced the band again as the group also achieved one of their greatest placement on the charts, though the latter fact doesn't sound that special given the current situation about the sales, yet I digress. Moving on – while I don't have a problem with the disc I mentioned, I do believe the Who were better before. However, no one really assumed they could've reached the peaks of their stardom. You see, the LP is an above average one for someone of their stature, they still care.

#the who #endless wire #fragments #roger daltrey #pete townshend #john 'rabbit' bundrick #simon townshend #pino palladino #peter huntington #lawrence ball #billy nichols #bob pridden #00's music #rock

[redskyvenus]

NOBODY’S BUSINESS ⟡ CHOSO KAMO

content warnings: 18+ nsfw, non-curse AU, slight angst, bestfriend!choso x fem reader, cheating (reader gets cheated on/cheats back), choso is pussydrunk, consensual recording, creampie, fingering, multiple orgasms, oral sex (f receiving), pet names, praise, smut, squirting, toxic relationship, unprotected sex┊wc: 3k

notes: this is loosely based off of a very nsfw dream i had about choso a few months ago, oops┊tags: @manjibunny @rookie98writes @jabamin @satoruhour @kizoken @marimogf @screampied

masterlist

Never in a million years did you anticipate reading the nauseating words that adorned your screen.

It felt like pure agony, as if your heart had been shattered into a million fragments. The shock overwhelmed you, finding out through a mutual friend that your boyfriend got caught having sex with another girl at a party. Buried alive inside a nightmare, you were spiraling — as if the very foundation of the perfect world you lived in had crumbled beneath your feet.

Your relationship with Naoya had only begun four months ago. Initially seeming idyllic, until you slowly started to see a darker side of him. There were early warning signs when you first got together, but you brushed it off, viewing your relationship through rose-coloured glasses.

He had always taken you for granted, never buying you flowers or getting you any gifts for your monthly anniversaries. Making empty promises and getting your hopes up were his specialties, but you were blinded by his looks. Failing to see he was only using you for his own selfish desires.

Much like a ravenous crow, he always found himself looking for the next shiny, pretty girl he could get his hands on to manipulate and discard once boredom set in. A never ending hunt for a new prized possession — a twisted cycle that left behind a trail of endless heartache he showed no intention of breaking.

Blaming yourself for not seeing through his façade sooner, you were already trapped in his iron grip when it was too late.

He had an extremely flirtatious nature you hated, only worsening while talking to girls you couldn’t stand. It was like a sick power trip to him, letting his eyes wander a little too long on whoever piqued his interest, not even caring in the slightest that you were standing right next to him. But he knew you would never dare to leave, well aware of your devotion to him.

To Naoya you were just a mere object; his possession, devoid of thoughts and feelings. The polar opposite of how your best friend Choso treated you right from the beginning of your friendship. He regarded you as delicate and fragile — not wanting to cause you any harm, always being extremely protective of you.

His envy of Choso's genuine love for you only fueled his toxic possessiveness. Naoya didn’t truly care about you, he just didn’t want anyone to get close and steal you away from him. You hated how the fake affection he showed made you desperately cling on to the good parts of a relationship that was slowly falling apart. His love was like a drug, and you were addicted.

You could fix him. It was just a mistake, he didn’t want to lose you — he loved you.

With trembling fingers, you desperately scrolled through your contacts to call the one person who could mend your soul.

“C’mon…” Anxiously pacing around the living room, your body violently trembled as you attempted to suppress the intense nausea. “Answer the fucking phone, Choso…”

The phone rang a few times, each passing second feeling like an eternity, before a deep, honeyed voice finally filled your ears. A sigh of relief washed over you in the midst of your hellish heartache.

“Hello?”

Breathless and shaken up, you cried into the microphone. “Oh, thank god. You’re still awake.”

“What’s going on? Are you o-” Before he could finish his sentence, your soft, melancholic voice cut him off.

“Can you come over… like right now? I’m at Naoya’s house.”

“Of course. Give me ten minutes and I’ll be there.”

“Need you right now,” you sniffled, tears staining your screen.

“‘m coming. Just stay where you are; everything will be okay.” His calm aura always knew how to soothe you, even in the midst of utter despair. You clung to him, hoping that his presence would be a balm for the searing pain in your chest.

After ending the call, a mix of emotions swirled within you —anger, betrayal, and a longing for solace.

Rushing to the bathroom, you tried emptying your stomach but to no avail, tears streaming down instead. Kneeled on the tiled floor, your cries were interrupted by the loud ringing of the doorbell, prompting you to stand up. Shaky legs moved towards the entrance.

Slowly opening the front door, big, beautiful purple eyes met yours—a spark of electricity rushed through your veins. He had never looked this worried before.

”Hey.”

“Hey…” You greeted, looking up at him distraught, but his loving gaze never faltered. ”Thank you, Choso.”

“Of course, anything for you.”

He stepped inside, closing the door. Trying to hold back tears, you jumped into his big, strong arms. Inhaling his familiar scent to regulate your uneven breaths. He softly kissed the top of your head, gentle hands wiping away the mascara stains from your cheeks. “Let’s go get you some water first, and then we’ll talk.”

Choso walked into the kitchen, opening different cabinets to find a drinking glass, filling it with water before handing it to you.

“So, who dared to upset my girl?” You almost choked on the liquid, thinking you must have heard it wrong. Trying your hardest not to burst into tears again as the words of that damned text flooded your memory, you struggled to gather your words.

“I received a text from Yuki about half an hour ago. She told me Naoya cheated on me at Sukuna’s party,” you felt your heart aching again. Choso, in absolute disbelief, furrowed his brows, and his expression morphed from shock into anger. “He didn’t even care that he got caught.”

”What — he did what?” The rage inside of him fired up quickly, “I will beat the shit out of that blonde bitch. What the hell is wrong with him?”

“Don’t call him that.”

He scoffed, “Why not? He doesn’t give a fuck about you, so why would I care about him?”

“I don’t know. But just don’t, please.”

“I’m not letting him get away with it.”

You sighed deeply, leaning against the countertop. “I know, but I love him.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. Choso knew you well enough to understand that you wouldn’t give up on Naoya, even if your relationship was on the verge of sinking like the Titanic.

”You’re honestly insane if you forgive him after pulling shit like this.”

“It was just a mistake, Choso.”

”Yeah, right—he accidentally slipped and fell into another girl’s pussy,”

“Fuck you,” you glanced at him, a hint of genuine anger laced in your voice.

”C’mon… Do you really think he won’t do it again? Be honest with yourself.”

”I don’t know how to break up with him.”

“You do know, you just don’t want to. That’s different.” Trying to mend fractured relationships and giving second chances to people who didn’t deserve your forgiveness. It was your best and worst characteristic simultaneously.

“Kinda sucks that he gets to have you, and I can’t. I could treat you way better — just sayin’,” Choso mumbled nonchalantly.

“What was that?” You raised an eyebrow, looking back up at him surprised. Your words hung in the air, a heavy silence enveloping the kitchen. His admission lingered between you, creating a palpable tension. You shifted uncomfortably, the chaos of emotions swirling within you making it difficult to find the right response.

”I can’t believe I’m actually saying this out loud,“ Choso repeated, his voice a mixture of vulnerability and sincerity. “But I want you — I’ve wanted you since the day I first laid eyes on you. You deserve to be treated like the amazing woman that you are,” he spoke into your ear, before pressing a loving kiss on your right cheek.

His warm breath sent shivers down your spine, and the gentle kiss on your cheek left you confused. “C-Choso… d-don’t say that,” you stuttered.

He knew it was wrong to admit it, but he couldn’t help himself.

“It’s the truth,” he insisted, his gaze unwavering. He gently grabbed your chin, making you look up at him. “Listen to me, I’d let you break my heart, if that means I get to show you for one night what it means to actually be loved.”

The echoes of his confession lingered in the room, intertwining with the complex emotions weaving through your heart. The fragile state of your relationship with Naoya, coupled with his true feelings, left you feeling adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

Choso released his hold on your chin and took a step back. “I didn’t plan on saying any of that out loud. But I needed you to know.”

You closed your eyes, allowing your hazy mind to take over. ”Kiss me,” you breathed out loud, the words escaping before you could fully comprehend their weight.

His eyes widened in surprise, trying to process your words. ”W-What?”

”I said… Kiss me.”

Taken aback by your sudden request, he hesitated for a moment before closing the distance between you. His smoky scent enveloped you in a dizzying cloud.

He leaned in, letting his breath fan over your face before soft lips met yours in a tentative, passionate kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as you embraced it, letting the warmth of Choso’s affection wash over you. The chaos of your emotions slowly subsiding. As the kiss deepened, his hands found a delicate place on your waist, pulling you closer. Your eager fingers got lost in his dark locks, making his hair fall down. The room filled with the rhythmic sound of your shared breaths.

Big hands sneaked under your oversized black shirt, exploring every inch of your soft body. His touches became more sinful, making you further sink into his embrace.

A little whimper escaped you as you felt his wandering hands everywhere. He broke the kiss to bury his face into your neck, planting hot, wet kisses along your jawline. He started to temptingly suck on the skin, your lewd moans growing loader. ”Mmphh, Choso — don’t stop,” he could feel his cock stir in his gray sweats.

Touches becoming more desperate, his muscular body pushed you against the wooden cabinets. The impact making a jar fall to the tiled floor, there was so much dizzying tension between you he thought he might actually faint.

Suddenly he halted his attack on your neck. You squealed as he lifted you up effortlessly, carrying you bridal style to Naoya’s bedroom.

”You have no fucking idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he shamelessly whispered in your ear. Laying you down on the soft pillows that covered the bed, his tall figure loomed over you. Quickly taking off his shirt before he lifted up yours slightly, uncovering your breasts. Choso grazed his lips along your chest, biting the skin before he soothed the bite marks with his tongue.

Trailing down kisses to your stomach, Choso pried your thighs open. He skilfully removed your already soaked pink panties, flinging them across the room. Your heart was beating so fast — never in your entire life did you want someone to touch you this badly. You couldn’t take your eyes off his broad, muscular back that was covered in a sheer layer of sweat.

His hot breath fanned over your cunt for just a few seconds, before he licked a long stripe up your puffy folds. His tongue traveled towards your clit, circling little figure-eights around it. He groaned contently licking and sucking every spot, “Fuck. This pretty pussy tastes so good… Just as I thought.” His praise ripped a lewd whine from your throat.

”Choso, please. Need more,” you whined, arching your back into the mattress.

“Shhh— I know,” he cooed, half-lidded purple eyes peering up at you, “Gotta make you cum first.” His deep, honeyed voice vibrating against your folds made you clench. He covered his digits in your slick, stuffing one finger inside your soaked hole. Hearing your moans grow louder, he quickly added another one.

His tongue and fingers made you feel like you were floating, pleasuring you like it was his last night on this earth. You gasped and trembled, repeating the words keep going like a broken record until the pressure in your lower abdomen almost exploded.

He satisfyingly hummed against your cunt, “Mhm. Cum for me, pretty girl. Give it to me.” Speeding up his tempo, your eyes rolled back in your head, crying out his name as you squirted all over his face.

Choso’s chin now covered in your juices, he smirked at you seductively, “Fuck. Could do this forever.”

Before you were able to blink, he had switched positions, your body now on top of his. Not satisfied yet and growing desperate to feel him, you started riding his abs. The rigidness of his muscles stimulated your sensitive clit again. “Chosoo—need you inside of me.”

“Patience, baby. Would never be able to forgive myself if I only made you cum once tonight.” His strong arms grabbed your hips, moving you back and forth on his abdomen. “So sweet and needy; lookin’ so pretty on top of me.” He pulled one of your hands up, tenderly kissing your fingers while you were riding him, before he placed them back on his chest.

His devotion to you made your brain short circuit, “‘’m close again.” Choso loved seeing your dazed expression as you inched closer to reaching nirvana once more — the moonlight illuminating your glistening body. Your ears were ringing as you came for the second time.

He grinned proudly, “There she is, my good girl.” Your shirt and his stomach now covered in your juices. You panted heavily as your soul returned to your body.

Choso lifted himself up and started kissing your neck again, and you were so eager to let him finally fill you up.

“Need to feel you inside now.”

”Mm? Say that again?”

”Please fuck me, Choso,” you whined. He removed his sweatpants and turned you around so you were positioned on all fours. Slick-covered cunt on display, almost making him cum at the beautiful sight. You wiggled your ass, turning your head to look up at him. His dick was so intimidatingly big, making you panic slightly.

He slowly sank himself inside of you, inch by inch, your walls hugging his cock as if your body was made for him. He grabbed his phone from his sweatpants and opened the camera, “Shit. Need to remember this moment forever, gonna put this as my lockscreen. Can I?”

You giggled, further arching your back for him, “Yeah. Don’t mind.” He pressed the record button and gripped your waist, “Oh baby — you feel so fucking good.” He moaned as he picked up the pace, dragging your walls so nicely, sounds of slapping skin filled up the room.

Mewling and whimpering as he moved the angle of his hips just right — making you see stars, mouth falling agape. “Mmpf. S-so deep,” You panted breathlessly, cunt gushing around him as he pushed you over the edge, coaxing your third orgasm from you. Choso ended the video and threw the phone on the bed. Following soon after, he stuffed you full of his cum before pulling out, staining your black shirt.

Both of your bodies collapsed onto the bed, and he gently kissed you again, “I meant everything I said earlier.” Your mind was too fucked out to respond, only humming in response.

You quickly took off your stained shirt, dropping it to the floor. Choso shook his head and smirked, caging you in his strong arms as you drifted off to sleep in your boyfriend’s bed.

Your boyfriend had arrived home unexpectedly in the middle of the night, drunk and disoriented before falling asleep on the couch. His alarm jolted him awake, prompting to navigate his way to the bathroom for a quick shower.

Opening the door to his bedroom, Naoya grabbed the nearest shirt he could find from his bedroom floor and hastily put it on. His eyes narrowed as he took in the scene before him, the realization of the situation slowly dawning on him. A venomous smirk curved his lips, and the storm in his brown eyes intensified.

His footsteps waking you up from your deep slumber, “What the fuck?” Naoya’s loud voice sliced through the charged silence, laden with accusation. "Is this what you do when I'm not around?" Anger dripped from his words, the air thick with tension.

Choso's expression remained stoic, but his gaze held a glaring intensity. Before you could respond, Naoya's eyes flicked to the tousled sheets of his bed, and the smirk on his face contorting into a sneer. "I see. You didn't waste any time," he spat, the words a volatile mix of rage and betrayal.

As you attempted to form a response, Naoya lunged forward, confronting him. "You think you can just walk into my house and touch my girlfr-"

Choso, unyielding, cut him off with a steely glare. "Maybe you should've thought about that before treating her like shit. She called me because you stuffed your dirty dick inside someone else.”

”I’m sorry, this was a mistake.” You sniffled, directing your gaze towards Naoya.

Choso, with a heavy sigh, gathered his belongings and headed for the door. "I'll give you two some space. Figure it out." His words were laden with a mix of anger and disappointment. “You’re wearing the shirt I fucked your girlfriend in last night, by the way.”

Naoya inspected every inch of his shirt until he saw the white stain, leaving him mortified. ”You need to get the fuck out, before I beat your ass.”

As the door slammed shut, the two of you stood frozen, the reality of the moment sinking in. Naoya's gaze softened, a flicker of realization in his eyes. The storm within him seemed to subside. "I... I messed up. I messed up big time. Please forgive me, I don’t want to lose you."

The conversation that ensued lasted for two hours, his manipulative tendencies resurfacing again — weaving their insidious charm to win you over once more. Trapped within the clutches of his vice-like grip, the toxic cycle persisted, weaving an intricate web around your emotions.

Several weeks later, you were randomly woken up by the chiming sound of your phone. The blinding light hurt your sensitive eyes, and your blood ran cold when you opened the message.

© 𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐬𝐤𝐲𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬 ⟡ do not copy, plagiarize or repost any of my works.┊network: @enchantedforest-network

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