#also I'd like to note that this is the longest I've ever stuck to one challenge thing so... thanks for that??

[phdmama]

I'd absolutely love some sterek fic recs because I'm trying to broaden the ships I read. I've watched the first 3 seasons of teen wolf but haven't read any fics and don't know where to start. I'm fairly open to reading any content, although I'm not the biggest fan of like the common school/coffee shop etc AUs.

Also I love how you're gotten into blogging hockey recently. Have you read any hockey rpf since getting into nhl? Personally sidgeno and mattdrai have my heart, but like I said I'm looking for new ships to read like sterek.

WOOOO LET'S GOOOO!!

As always, read the tags etc etc. Probably a lot of these will be author recs. I will say Sterek has the potential for an age gap concern but I don't read fic where that's written as a predatory thing, FWIW, but I do read some where Stiles is 17 but where I feel like it's handled at least somewhat gracefully

Gravity's Got Nothing on You by @zosofi is great - I really like all their stuff actually!

@kalpurna's Fascination and @drunktuesdays' bigger, longer and uncut are both *gems* - so funny.

We've Written Volumes (in Blood and Scars and Ink) by @notthequiettype is absolutely brilliant, one of my fav fics of all time, way up on my reread regularly list. They only have one other Sterek but I love that one too (and they write hockey rpf but I haven't really dived in there yet!).

The Moon's Gonna Follow Me Home by @turningterrific is stunning. They're SUCH a good writer, although sadly this is their only Sterek (but they have written some amazing hockey RPF as well!).

Every stumble and each misfire by @everchanginginks is fucking phenomenal. True story, I read this fic and then didn't keep track of it but it stayed in my brain, and I spent literally HOURS combing my AO3 history to find it, and when I did, I promptly downloaded it and created the "Best Ever" collection on my Kindle specifically for this fic.

Everything by @suburbanmotel. They are an incredible writer and even more incredible person and I'm so lucky to call them a friend!

I really love @lunacanislupus-22-blog writing but particular favorites are: Feel it like a fever, burning through the night , Spirit grows when love goes away and I know that you love me, even when I lose my head (and I'm not normally one for amnesia fics because they make me SO ANXIOUS but this one is SO good).

Cornerstone by Vendelin is really good too (mind the tags on this one).

By Any Other Name by @entanglednow is fucking phenomenal (and again with the amnesia fics?!?!) and so so well-written. Check out all their stuff!

I really love @devildoll's writing very much a lot! Particular favorites include: Come with Me and Walk the Longest Mile (and I don't usually gravitate to post-apocalyptic fic even though I love the genre in fiction but this one is fucking brilliant); Stand Fast in Your Enchantments (painful and so good); My Heart Comes Tumbling Down (OH MY HEART) and Love, Like a Sentence of Death.

There's Monsters at Home by @wellhalesbells | calrissian18 is a classic and really good! They've written a ton of really great fics (the Hilary Duff lyrics one is a another personal favorite!)

Not Quite Lost (Not Quite Found) by @alocalband is gorgeous. Just. beautifully written.

stuck in reverse by @crazyassmurdererwall is also really good! Definitely check the tags on this one, as it is Stiles still in HS.

Start Small, Like Oak Trees by smallbirds is really lovely. Everything of theirs that I've read, I've really liked.

Okay, just a couple more I promise!!

The Difficult Kind (series) by whiskey_in_tea is an old one but really really wonderful.

The First Date series by @halffizzbin - the whole thing is delightful but I absolutely adore the final installment!

I will note that many of these authors also have Hockey RPF fic, JUST SAYING (I really am fascinated as to what that pipeline is??). I've read a ton of hockey RPF as well (sidgeno for sure) and I'll check out mattdrai now!!

Anyway, hope this helps as a place to start!!

#sterek fic recs #okay so maybe I went a bit overboard #but I stand by my recs #fic rec of the read

[pingguins]

When Dreams Despair

|| Ch. II || The Regent

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Dream of the Endless x F!Reader

Word Count: 16.2k

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of death and pain.

Notes:

I *know* that I'm uploading this later than I said I would, but to be fair, I thought I'd only have to edit 4k words since this chapter was originally only 4k.

The word count ended up being 16k.

I poured my heart and soul into this one, and it's the longest I've ever written for a single chapter. I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did while writing! As always, please tell me what you think!

Summary:

Y/N has had a very long day.

Morpheus, too.

But what's important is, by the end of it, they're both where they needed to be. Even if it means that Y/N gets a headache or two.

"Alex Burgess is dead."

Johanna’s voice pierced through the phone's speaker, clear as day even in the midst of the bustling inn. 

The New Inn had always been a popular place in town, and yet Y/N rarely saw it become so busy so fast. Customers flooded in quickly; there were a lot of familiar faces, but also a number of new ones.

Their dissonant voices pestered her.

She had attempted to tune them out, but her phone’s sharp ringing had made her jump in her seat, breaking through the mental barrier she set between herself and the loud voices of the strangers around her. 

However, as Johanna delivered the news, she was finally able to deafen the noise, her ears suddenly feeling like it was stuffed with cotton.

The air became thick, and time seemed sluggish as the clock hanging on the wall ticked unnaturally slow. Y/N’s thoughts began to blur and all she could hear was her shallow breathing as her heart began to beat faster. 

Ever since she could remember, a low, quiet humming would appear in the back of her mind at seemingly random times. 

But there were moments like these where the peculiar sound was at its peak, buzzing in her head like bees stuck in their hive. 

The phone began to slip from her hand, making Y/N flinch as she fumbled to get a proper grip before it landed on the table. She was able to catch it mid-air, the adrenaline waking her up from her daze. 

“Do you want me to check it out?”

“Uh, n-no.” Y/N sat straighter, running a hand down her face. “There’s no need for that,” she scrambled. “I wouldn’t want to take you away from your job.”

“This is my job, Y/N.”

“And I’m not your client,” she replied, more stern this time. “Besides, it seems a bit insensitive to investigate the house of the recently deceased.”

"Y/N I—”

"—have to go now, I'm with Amelia," Y/N interrupted before ending the call.

After more than two decades, she was content to leave the dream be, and investigating the Burgesses would be doing the opposite. 

She was finally able to help the caged man, changing the trajectory of the nightmare he was in. It felt foolish of her to ever fear doing so earlier in her life. 

Of course, it was not like she never wanted to, she was simply unable to.

It was her childhood nightmare, haunting her for the longest time, and it would certainly be difficult to face.

The dream was only a story, one that was over because Amelia had asked her to make it so.

The story was over . It was done.

There was nothing more to dwell on.

Amelia had been sitting next to Y/N when Johanna called, and she was left picking at her food since, waiting for their conversation to end. 

She only wanted to see her favourite babysitter again, and after compromising with Maurice to bring her along as she went to work at the Inn, Amelia looked forward to spending time with Y/N.

She was not yet finished with her school assignments, and so she was only allowed to go on the condition that she would finish them there, while being able to talk to Y/N during her breaks.  

Amelia was restless, a small frown on her face, disappointed that what was left of her break was taken over by a phone call. She tapped her fork on her plate, her legs bouncing up and down, sighing. 

Next to her, Y/N smiled pitifully, knowing how much the little girl looked forward to her trip at The New Inn. “Thanks, Amy.” She leaned towards her, giving Amy a genuine grin. 

Y/N propped her elbow up on the table, resting her chin on her hand as she took a sip of her tea, a silent apology twinkling in her eyes, hoping that Amelia would understand. 

Amelia whipped her head towards her, gleaming now that she finally had her attention. She cringed when Y/N ruffled her hair.

“Thank you for helping me save him,” Y/N said proudly, compelled to express her gratitude regardless of her struggles with grasping recent events. 

Y/N was grateful and considered herself indebted to Amelia, if not for helping her free the man, then for changing the course of a long-time nightmare that, until then, had not ceased to loom over her sleeping and waking hours. 

She had chased the man for most of her life in search of the reason for his frequent appearances in her dreams; however, no matter how desperate her longing was for understanding his existence, there were never any answers, because she had always been helpless, only being allowed to see his anguish rather than break the circle and the glass—something she had been wanting to do for  years. 

Amelia had changed that, though. 

But she has yet to understand how.

The little girl squealed, jumping off of her seat to hug her, but not quite reaching due to the height difference of the stool Y/N sat on. "You saved him!" She cheered. "I knew it!"

Y/N stood from her seat, crouching down to Amelia’s level and opening her arms for the welcomed embrace. 

“Is that him?” the redhead asked, pointing at something over Y/N’s shoulder. 

There was a moment of silence. Y/N knew what Amelia was referring to, she felt its presence everywhere like a pair of eyes following her around, especially now that it was at the Inn. 

It was the painting she hung hours ago. Many stopped to view it, most of them taking pictures of the new decor.

And for a moment, one fleeting moment, their irises seemed to twinkle with the stars that covered the night sky, entering a quiet haze of admiration. 

Not for its beauty, but for its muse. 

Y/N cleared her throat, pulling away and offering her hand to Amelia. “Yes, that’s him.”

Amelia gladly took her hand, and they walked until they stopped in front of the painting. She was lifted up into Y/N’s arms, now getting an eye-level view of the man that she had only heard the story of. 

She awed, enthralled by the image, her eyes shining with delight.

Y/N finished the painting the night she returned from her visit to Johanna’s, immersing herself within it until just hours later, she was making her way to the Inn at the brink of dusk, holding the wrapped canvas protectively. 

Though it was barely morning, she had invited her father, wanting him to be the first to see. He had only ever heard of her dreams and it would be the first time he would see it through the eyes of his daughter.   

He had seen her work before, as many had as well. She illustrated hers and others’ books; many of her readers could pick out her art from a mile away. 

When the dreams became unrelenting, however, it stunted Y/N’s work. He could no longer consult her for new decor at the Inn, and he stopped seeing her sketch the little things that sparked her interest. 

Though none ever saw the light of day, if he knew of them, he would be awed at the heaps of half-finished paintings kept within the confines of her room. They only ever gathered dust, covered in spare cloth or blankets. 

For one particular painting, though, the one she carried to the Inn at the brink of daylight, there was no doubt in Y/N’s mind that she wanted her father to see it. 

After all, it was painted for the Inn. It would find its home there—with the approval of her father, of course.  

It would undoubtedly be easy to acquire, as he had always wanted to display one of her paintings in the Inn. He hid behind the excuse that it would be good for business, as Y/N was a household name when it came to children’s books—he would never admit that it was solely so he could show off his daughter. 

When Y/N showed him the painting, his eyes brightened, so much so that she swore it contested the brightest star in the galaxy. 

He was overjoyed to see that his daughter was once again making art, and he took a moment to himself to take in each brush stroke, going over the intricacies and each minute detail.

And upon further observation, it was clear to him that he found it incredibly familiar. There was something about it that reminded him of something— someone.

But he shook it off. Y/N  had simply told him too much of her dream, he knew the details all too well after years of hearing it be told; it could very well be his dream, too. 

For her comfort, though, he would never say that deep within his mind, the part of it that held his memories from the centuries he had lived, something told him to look closer . 

This was about his daughter, he could wait to assess the painting later when she was gone.

“Amelia!”

Y/N was snapped out of her thoughts by Maurice, calling her daughter from the back room. 

“Break’s over, darling, you need to finish your homework.”

Maurice approached them with open arms, gesturing for Y/N to pass Amelia over to her. 

“Thank you for taking care of her as always, Y/N,” Maurice said, carrying her daughter in her arms as she smiled warmly, looking over to the little study corner they had set up for Amelia. "Thank you for giving her a place to study as well."

“But I want to talk to Y/N more!” Amelia whined, crossing her arms as she faced her mother, pouting. She gave her best puppy eyes, but Maurice stood firm, not wanting for her to develop a habit of extending break times. 

Amelia wrapped her arms around her mother, placing her chin on her shoulder in defeat. 

Y/N rubbed a hand up and down Amelia’s back to console her. "If you finish all your homework today, I promise I'll tell you the most fantastic bedtime story when I get the chance, okay?" She offered, feeling a pang in her heart at Amelia’s displeasure. After all, had she not been on the phone with Johanna, they would have gotten more time to talk, which was what Amelia came there for in the first place. 

Begrudgingly, Amelia kept silent, only nodding her head and nuzzling her face in the crook of Maurice’s shoulder. Maurice cooed, rocking her daughter gently as Amelia sniffled.

She gave Y/N an apologetic smile, mouthing a small ‘thank you’ before going back to their table.

Y/N took another glance at her painting, delighted that she no longer feared what it represented—but an inexplicable feeling lingered. 

Since her return from the Dreaming, she had been feeling out of touch. Her mind would wander to places she had only been to in her dreams, causing her to make small mistakes throughout the day. 

Though she no longer worried about nightmares that came during her slumber, it was quite unexpected for her to drift off in the morning, getting stuck in her own daydreams at the most inconvenient times. 

And there was no doubt that others felt the same when viewing the painting. Most would pass by with lingering stares, some would look from afar.

But for whatever reason, even the most distracted person passing by the Inn, if ever the painting would catch their eye, they would enter only to admire it. 

Y/N decided that she would no longer keep parts of him locked up; deep down, she and everyone who took even a single glance at him inside of that painting knew that Lord Morpheus had come back.

And so have their dreams. 

In a place so dark and solitary, the Dream Lord would never be alone; everyone who entered the Inn would know of the torment he was put through, most would understand that it was not his fault—nor was it his decision—to leave them. 

Through one of the windows, Y/N noticed the leaves falling from the nearby trees. Her eyes strained, trying to ascertain why she was suddenly drawn to them. 

Her brows furrowed—the leaves were falling slowly. 

It was quite windy that day; the trees should have been shaking in the breeze instead of the unnatural swaying that Y/N had noticed. The bushes below did not rustle, and instead danced sluggishly back and forth as if someone had taken a video and played it in slow motion. 

She walked closer to the door, raising one of her hands to pinch her arm.

This only happened in her dreams, and though she usually knew when she was not in the waking world, she hoped that this was an exception. 

She looked around, observing the people around the Inn—had they noticed what was going on outside? 

Y/N quickly found that the answer was no, as they were all behaving as normally as they had before she peered through the windows.

The employees were serving meals, some preparing drinks. Amelia was determined to finish her homework, speedily scribbling through the pages of her textbook with Maurice right next to her, ready to help her should she need it. 

No one noticed Y/N's puzzled expression, and she wondered if it was all somehow part of an elaborate, hyper-realistic dream.

Driven to find some answers, she approached the door, cautiously opening it and stepping through to the other side to search for the cause of the disturbance.

Instead of trees and grass, she saw pillars and the tall, familiar set of stairs that lead to a throne; one she knew very well.

The palace was no longer broken, not a single piece of stone out of place. The cracks on the walls that she had come to know in her many visits to the Dreaming had disappeared.

But regardless of its beauty, the light that shone through the windows was not as bright, and the colours that gave the room life—even in its worn-down form—were faded.

It reminded her of a photograph, capturing only the mere image of something but never quite encapsulating the essence and the spirit of its subject.

Though Y/N marveled, captivated by the mended palace she had only hoped to see, it was unsuccessful in deceiving her.

The Dreaming was her second home, and she knew whenever she stepped into its warm embrace.

"Y/N Gadling" A woman spoke. 

Y/N tore her gaze away from the palace, her eyes landing on the woman standing a few feet ahead of her. 

She had brown skin, curly black hair and dark, piercing eyes. She was not malicious, no, Y/N could tell, but the air around her was unsettling, enclosing you in its hold, warning you to tread lightly. 

She was not alone, however. She stood between two other women, one that looked older, and another one—the oldest one—who had wavy, salt and pepper hair.

The Fates eyed her, assessing the girl before them, their curious eyes wielding more power than any human could comprehend. They knew, of course they knew, and it was up to her to raise three important questions—three that would have everlasting effects upon the events that would take place in the near future.

“The Daydream,” the Mother added, keeping the same regal stature as her sister-selves.  

Y/N looked at them carefully; Greek mythology was something she had taken an interest in as a writer, and she had an inkling of who they might be. One would certainly remember The Three, as they held a crucial role in the entire sequence of the universe. 

“His regent,” the Crone called. 

She adjusted her bearing, squaring her shoulders as she held her hands behind her back, holding her head high. “The Fates. I’ve heard of you—stories, mostly.”

The Three smirked, giving each other knowing looks at Y/N’s commanding posture; she no longer looked inferior to them, and held herself with pride rather than the child-like curiosity that lingered in her gaze when she stepped into the faux throne room. 

Y/N knew the falseness of the ground she stood upon, and though she had not entered the Dreaming, any place that looked as such she would stand on with the utmost respect. 

The Fates were, in fact, more powerful than she could ever imagine. However, fake or not, they would fail to look down upon her in her own home.

“It has begun,” The Maiden spoke. 

Y/N’s eyebrows gave the slightest twitch, looking at the other two beings and waiting for their turn to speak.

“Careful where you tread, our dear Daydream,” The Crone said, her voice dark and low, vibrating through the air—though in the form of an ordinary elderly woman, her warning could turn the heads of the most powerful beings.

 "The power you hold does not go unnoticed. Many will seek you now," The Mother continued. Her voice was warmer, but nevertheless vehement. 

The Hecate talked in riddles, most of which hard to decipher; Y/N would have to make the most out of her three questions if she wanted to understand. 

“For me to have received such a visit, I would have to be something other than the person I think myself to be,” Y/N replied, The Three listening intently, seemingly waiting for a slip of the tongue. 

“I know not what I am, but you refer to me as his regent. Who might that be?” Y/N asked, her voice unwavering despite her internal disarray. She kept her mouth shut as an active effort to try and keep the questions at bay.

She held no control over the circumstance The Fates had forced her into. However, as long as she remained cautious of each word she spoke, it would influence the answers she would get. 

Decrypting them would be the challenge, but she could already think of one Johanna Constantine to help her with that. 

Behind her back, Y/N’s hands were balled into fists. Her composure did not falter, but in the back of her mind was a tsunami of questions she would not be ready for in the waking world.

She hid her nerves quite nicely from The Three, and to a great extent, to  herself as well. 

"He is not a person, my dear. He is the monarch of the realm you have sought shelter in for many years," The Maiden responded. 

"He is the ruler of dreams," The Mother continued. "But you have known him to be your dream."

Y/N remembered flashes of the man in the sphere. Were they referring to him? Had she been dreaming of the King of Dreams for a long time? Was it really the Sandman?

The oldest stepped forward. "And the one that came long before you."

Much to Y/N’s displeasure, with only a few words, The Crone had muddled the clues she was piecing together. They spoke of the man she knew from her sleep, surely—at least, from what she could gather, The Three should have been referring to him.

However, she knew not of his past. The Sandman would have existed aeons before herself, and though it should be overt information, The Fates felt it important to let her know in person. 

Why? In what world would their fates be attached to one another? What did his past have to do with her present?

"You call me ‘daydream’, as my father does. What is the significance of this?" Y/N asked, hoping to have asked the right question to gain further knowledge. She fiddled with her fingers behind her back, anxious that she might have wasted one of her chances. 

"There is no more significance, my dear," The Mother replied.

Y/N held her breath.

"There is only power," The Maiden continued.

Y/N’s hands shook, balled tightly behind her back, her nails digging into her palms. Her face began to show disdain, her eyebrows shaping into an obvious frown as their cryptic ways began to frustrate her. 

She only searched for answers, and though she had not expected The Fates to be of much help, it still upset her that they only seemed to aggravate her questions. 

"And there is only you." The Crone added. 

Y/N exhaled, releasing the breath she did not realise she was holding, and relaxed her hands, clasping them together gently—still behind her back—instead of squeezing so tight that she reduced bloodflow. 

"You are an intelligent one, dear. Your words have not been wasted,” The Crone reassured, though she kept her words simple and esoteric.

"Certainly better than her predecessor," The Maiden quipped as the other two repressed their laughter, only allowing their snickers to be heard. Regardless of their quiet amusement, their voices still seemed to echo inside of the palace replica. 

 Y/N smirked, however bemused by their antics. "One does not get a visit from The Three often. It would be a shame to squander the questions I have been gifted."

Though the Hecate had their purpose, it seemed as though they were not one to deny small conversations, and Y/N hoped to take advantage as she was only left with her final question.

"You speak of gifts. Very fitting for one of your kind," The Mother commented.

"When dreams despair, the sleeping shall receive a daydream as a gift from Death,” The Crone spoke, each word purposeful and carefully crafted into a phrase that lingered in the air—one whose meaning was obvious to all but the person it was intended for. 

"And they have.” The Mother looked at her other self, sending a knowing glance, their eyes speaking a million different things that they may never say aloud. 

"But what is a gift, if not wanted?" The youngest asked.

“And what becomes of it when it is not?" The eldest finished.

Y/N lowered her chin slightly, her eyes pointed, stern and peremptory towards The Three. There was a low rumbling that shook the ground below them, one that challenged the pillars that held the palace up proudly. 

A smirk graced their faces, indifferent to the trembling stones and structures that surrounded them. 

Y/N had many questions, and yet she only had one left to ask. 

She inhaled, closing her eyes and lifting her chin, then opened her eyes once more and exhaled, staring at the Hecate with volition that bled into the atmosphere around them. 

The shaking stopped.

It was not her home, and yet the false palace remained obedient under her mere presence.

“What has begun?” She asked, keeping her composure steady and her words clear; she dug her nails into her palm once again.

Light flashed through the windows, thunder roaring all around them. The Three did not waver, but their smirks turned into grins, glancing at the windows for a moment before returning their gaze onto Y/N.

Their eyes darkened as they all held their hands together in front of them, tilting their chin up proudly; The Three’s power grew, the air growing thick as they replied.

“The end,” they yelled, their voices echoing and tonitruous before the entire palace turned to one great flash of light, momentarily blinding Y/N.

She shielded her eyes with her arm, then it was over, when the blinding light had gone, she put her arm back down, finding that the view in front of her was different.

“Excuse me?” 

Y/N flinched, quickly turning around to face whoever had tapped her shoulder. It was a woman, shorter than her, looking curiously as Y/N regained her composure.

She wiped the baffled expression off of her face, replacing it with an apprehensive smile, waiting for the woman to continue speaking. 

“Are you okay? You’ve been standing there a while,” she asked, concerned, before chuckling shyly. “And you’re, uhm, kind of blocking the door.” 

Y/N laughed, nervous, clearing her throat and blinking rapidly, trying to get rid of the haze and the feeling of dust in her eyes. 

“I-I’m fine. It’s just been a weird day. Thank you for asking, though,” she replied, grateful for the kindness the woman had shown. If she was blocking the door, the stranger could have easily pushed her to the side. 

The woman, though, was now preoccupied with something else. She was looking directly into Y/N’s eyes, studying them carefully. Y/N awkwardly shuffled her feet to try and get away from the prying gaze. 

“I…I think there’s something in your eyes, miss…” the woman trailed off, mesmerized by the lights that twinkled within Y/N’s irises. 

Y/N looked at the ground, tearing herself away from her curious stare as she waved her off. “It’s, uhm, I have allergies,” she sniffled, quite forcefully, rubbing her nose and her eyes, the skin appearing red from the irritation. “I’ll be fine.”

Before the woman could voice more of her concerns, Y/N had already given her thanks, walking away briskly while muttering something about allergens being in the drinks. The stranger watched her leave, reluctantly telling her to get help if she gets sicker. 

* * *

Y/N’s knee bounced up and down as she sat alone on a park bench, tightly clutching her phone in her hands. She had long lost track of time, pondering over the strange circumstances that she seemed unable to escape. 

She spent a while trying to decipher what The Fates had said to her, which was surely the hardest to do seeing as she was only given pieces of information she did not know how to connect.

There had been many moments in her life where she was left completely dumbfounded and she thought that maybe, there was nothing left in the universe that could leave her as shocked and confused and afraid.

One of those moments was finding out about her father’s long, long life, and how he would outlive her for—well, forever. She thought that it was as much as her human mind could comprehend, choosing to accept it rather than to question it.

After all, she had seen him get hurt to the point where it was considered fatal, but he would always come out of it just fine. 

She guessed that, maybe, when someone has lived for centuries, they have the tendency to get quite reckless over time, something she had repeatedly scolded her father for. 

Point is, her perception of human reality had long been warped. However, it was never to the extent where a supposedly mythological being found it rather important to transport her to another realm in the middle of the day—in public, no less.

Not to mention leaving her physical body blocking the door to a busy establishment, susceptible to any and all outside forces without a care in the world about the harm it could have brought her. 

She stared at her feet, her hands starting to switch between picking at her phone case or relentlessly tapping the screen with fingernails she had bitten too short that her nailbeds began to sting.

It was a kind of pain that she hoped would wake her up. She was too uncertain of the world, too unsure of whether or not she was stuck in a dream.

After all, she was only human. Mortal? Possibly. But human, of course. 

Y/N flinched as a soccer ball hit her knee and landed by her feet. 

Curious, she picked it up, looking around and scanning the park for the owner. A young boy, no more than seven years old, came into view, jogging towards her.

“Is this yours?” Y/N asked, a warm smile gracing her face as she gestured to the ball in her hand. 

The boy stopped running, standing just a few feet away from her, his eyes going wide and his mouth agape as he called out for his mother, his eyes never leaving Y/N.

Alarmed, Y/N stayed frozen in her seat, resting the ball on her lap as she watched his mother run towards them both. She stammered, trying to explain that she did not mean any harm to her child, but the boy beat her to it.

“She’s the girl from my dream! The one with the rocketship!” he beamed as he excitedly pointed to Y/N. “She’s real! She’s real!”

Of course.

Y/N began tapping her fingers on the ball, feeling her chest constrict as she heard the hum once more, creeping to the surface of her mind like an oncoming storm—the distant thunder growing louder and louder. 

Raymond and the Rocketship.

Raymond Campbell.

“I’m Raymond!” The boy extended a hand for her to shake, then pulled it back. “But you know that already!” he giggled. “You remember, right?” 

How could she forget? 

He was the little boy in her first best-selling story book, the one she sloppily wrote down on her notebook a long time ago in the middle of the night, after yet another adventure-filled dream. 

He was a beloved character brought to life by the words she typed on her laptop, illustrated on the pages of Amelia’s favourite story book—her very first one written by Y/N. 

The book that sat proudly in the middle of Amelia’s bedroom shelf, ready to be reread whenever she pleased.

Raymond seemed to grow apprehensive when she gave him no response, tugging at his mother’s shirt. “She remembers me, right?” he asked, his voice losing its enthusiasm and lowering down to a shaky whimper. 

Blinking away her stupor, she smiled at Raymond, hoping to create a convincing facade. “Of course I remember!”

She looked at Raymond’s mom, who looked at her apologetically and was intending to stop her son from further bothering a stranger at the park.

However, Y/N subtly shook her head to let her know that she was more than willing to play along.

The mother smiled in return, relieved to see how she was kind enough to entertain her son, blissfully unaware of the trepidation clouding Y/N’s brain. 

Y/N offered her hand for Raymond to shake and he happily accepted. “I’m Y/N.” She extended the gesture to his mother as well, who gave her a grateful smile in return, silently thanking her for being kind to her son. 

“I’m Amanda,” the mother replied, placing both her hands on Ray’s shoulders. “I hope he wasn’t being too bothersome.”

“Oh, he could never!” Y/N replied, kneeling down to Raymond's eye level before handing the ball over to him. “Raymond here is a good friend, aren’t you, Ray?”

The little boy nodded, taking the ball with glee, “Do you actually have a spaceship?” he asked, narrowing his eyes from suspicion.

Y/N gasped, splaying her hand over her chest, feigning offence. “Why—of course I do! Who do you take me for? An imposter?” she accused, playfully pouting at Raymond who laughed and began to jump up and down.

“I want to see it!” He turned to his mother, his eyes wide and pleading. “Can we see it, please!”

Y/N exaggerated a huff and pointed towards the sky. “The ship is up there right now, so sadly, I can’t show it to you even if I wanted to.” She smiled apologetically and placed a gentle hand on Raymond’s arm. “I lent it to a good friend of mine. I’m sorry,” she pouted.

Raymond’s shoulders slumped and his jumping seized, bowing his head in discouragement. “Aw! When can I see it, then??” he asked, hopeful.

“Hmm.” Y/N squinted, removing her arm on his shoulder to place a finger on her chin as if she was deep in thought. “Do you follow your bedtime?” She eyed Raymond carefully, who now seemed to be interested in everything around them but her, so she turned to look at Amanda who only laughed in response.

“Him?" Amanda asked. “Never.” She earned a glare from her son, but she only chuckled as she ruffled his hair. “I’m only telling the truth, honey.”

Y/N sighed, giving Raymond a stern look. “That’s not very healthy, is it?”

The little boy shuffled his feet, shaking his head no. 

“Tell you what,” Y/N began. “Whenever we go to bed, we go to a place called The Dreaming. If you follow your bedtime, you’ll get there even faster; you’ll see the rocket there,” she smiled. “When it’s available, of course.”

“But it wouldn’t be real!” he argued, a deep frown on his face as he fidgeted with his fingers. 

“Says who?” She defended. “If it weren’t real, then I wouldn’t be here, would I?” She raised her eyebrow at Raymond as she waved her hands around and gestured to herself. “Right?”

Raymond gasped. “Woah,” he whispered, his eyes glazing over with wonderment and curiosity when he saw the stars that seemed to twinkle within the depths of her eyes.

Only for a moment, though. They disappeared as soon as he saw them.

Thinking that he had only been reacting to her, Y/N simply laughed and stood up, placing both of her hands on her hips. “Your dreams are just as real as you, me, and your mom, right now. Never forget that.”

She clapped her hands once and sighed. “Anyway, unfortunately I do need to be somewhere, I have to prepare for that rocketship’s landing when my friend gets back. Is that okay, Ray?” 

“As long as you promise that I can see it again next time?” He asked, holding out his pinky finger. “Pinky promise?”

Y/N held her hand out, hooking her pinky around his without a second thought. “Promise.”

Before Raymond could respond, he was called by his dad standing several feet away, gesturing for him to come over. He let her finger go, smiling widely and waving goodbye, running to his dad. “Bye Y/N! Remember your promise!”

She laughed, waving back. “I will!”

Y/N turned towards Raymond’s mother, who had her hands clasped in front of her. She wore a thick white coat, her hair was blonde and she had thin-rimmed glasses on. “Thank you,” Amanda said, smiling gratefully. 

She waved her off. “It’s no problem, he seems like a good kid.”

“Still, it was kind of you to play along like that.” The mother laughed. “He genuinely thinks you look like someone from his dream. Lucky coincidence, don’t you think? It made him really happy.”

Y/N cleared her throat, smiling as she tried to hide her nerves. “Yeah, it is. I go here a lot, though, so if you’ve been here before, maybe he’s seen me around and his brain just imagined someone who looks like me?”

Though it was not a lie—she did often visit the park—Y/N could not help but feel a pang of guilt for having lied to Amanda. 

Raymond could very well never see that rocket ship again, and his mother would have to explain that the kind lady he thought was the same one in his dream was only being nice, playing along to make him happy. 

Y/N, however, would have to keep the truth to herself, having no choice but to hide it from Amanda. After all, how could one describe The Dreaming? How could she ever explain it to her without seeming quite delusional?

Her dreams, no matter how frequent, could never truly be called her own. Some were, but she would eventually venture outside of its barriers, unknowingly travelling from one person’s sleeping mind to the next, accompanying them in their own little adventures, helping them grow and even defeat their own nightmares—nightmares she had come to know and love, sometimes seeing them around the Dreaming, too, if they ever decided to come visit. 

They were only characters to her, though. She would write them down  in some of her books, never knowing that those were indeed the physical forms of nightmares that she had come across and even befriended. 

One simply becomes accustomed to their own creativity…most of the time. In Y/N’s case, however, a major component of accepting her “vivid imagination” was an unimaginable amount of denial.

She had to turn away from the truth in favor of lying to herself that her mind was merely creating vivid fantasies.

“This is our first time here, actually,” Amanda responded, keeping an eye on Raymond, who was joyfully playing soccer with his father. Her expression held fondness for the two, cherishing their happy faces as they relished in their game. 

“Oh, I guess it is quite the coincidence, then,” Y/N chuckled, internally cursing herself for her presumption. “Anyway, I really do have to go, miss.” She held out her hand once more. “It was nice meeting you!”

Amanda held her hand in both of hers, smiling warmly. “Likewise, Y/N. You were so lovely with Ray.”

They said their goodbyes, and once again, Y/N was alone, walking aimlessly away from the park. She rubbed her eyes once, annoyed by the dust she could feel in her eyes.

There was no moment of rest for her—the park only made her all the more confused. It took her a mere moment to decide that she needed help, as she would never be able to settle these strange affairs on her own.

While meeting Raymond had not gone as badly as she would have expected, it was not supposed to happen in the first place. Not when he was only supposed to be a fictional character.

She groaned in irritation, swiftly unlocking her phone to dial Johanna’s number while trying to blink the itchiness in her eyes away.

The phone rang, and Y/N picked at the fabric of her shirt, grinding her teeth as she silently cursed Johanna for failing to answer the phone immediately.

She rubbed the back of her neck, her chest tightening as she swallowed the lump that began to form in her throat.

“Hello?”

“Jo!” She shouted. “I spoke with The Three—as in, The  Three. The Hecate, The Kindly Ones—

“Wait, wait, hold on—”

“No! Jo, I saw The Fates—” She gulped, lowering her voice down to a whisper. “And I saw Raymond.”

“Who’s Raymond?”

“Raymond and the Rocketship.”

Y/N kept walking, her eyes to the floor and distracted by her thoughts. 

“Come over. Let’s talk about it over some tea, yeah? Make sure to keep your eyes open for anything strange; call me if you're in any sort of danger. Got it?”

Y/N nodded to herself, thanking Johanna before she gladly took the offer and hung up, looking forward to a warm drink to calm her slightly shaking hands. 

Johanna had never been the most sociable, let alone hospitable, keeping her distance from most to avoid having them in the way, for better or for worse. 

And Y/N had known to be cautious, especially around people who provoked the supernatural. Her father had enough stories, and he was intent that she learned from them.

However, she somehow managed to remain friends with the demon hunter, visiting from time to time just to check in or talk at least once a month, even if only through a phone call.

It never went unnoticed by the occultist, developing a soft spot for Y/N as time went on. 

Johanna Constantine had never been the best at friendship—or any kind of relationship, really—but if there was anything she could assist Y/N with, it was surely the kind that involved otherworldly affairs. 

Y/N pocketed her phone, eyes scanning the crowd of people in the streets. It was a nice reminder from Johanna; assuming that her day would continue the way it had been going, there was a high probability that she may encounter something else—or someone else—as unexpected as her last four—two?—visitors. 

Ironically for her, the day was nice—the sun wasn’t too hot and the wind blew just enough for the temperature to be comfortable. The streets were bustling with people, some hurried off to work, some were ready to head on home, and some were simply taking a stroll out to take advantage of the weather.

“I want some chips.”

Y/N jumped, anxiously looking around her with a hand up to the side of her head. The voice sounded as though it was right against her ear, loud and high-pitched like the voice of a child. 

She spotted a little girl, dressed in a bright pink coat and dark jeans, holding her mother’s hand as she jumped up with glee, pointing to a bag of chips displayed on the top shelf of a shop window. 

“Mum look! Can I have some?” The little girl asked.

Y/N frowned. The girl had the same voice as the one she just heard, only this time, she could actually see who was speaking. 

“Please let her say yes.”

“Shit,” Y/N cursed, flinching as she covered both of her ears out of instinct when she heard another voice. The volume had not been the problem, but it was the proximity. Was there actually a person talking to her? She would have felt their breath against her skin from how close it sounded. 

“I wonder what I’ll get for my birthday.”

Y/N turned around, her eyes rapidly scanning the people that passed by. She chewed the inside of her cheek and focused on her breathing, closing her eyes for a few seconds, waiting to hear more voices. 

But there were none, and she exhaled in relief, letting go of her ears as she gathered herself before continuing her walk to Johanna’s house.

“Fuck, the deadline’s tomorrow.”

“One more day, just one more day.”

“Why isn’t he here yet?”

“Would they like this? No, probably not.”

Y/N’s head began to spin and her eyes began to water. The voices were getting louder, overlapping as they increased in numbers. She stopped walking, holding her head in her hands, crouching down and groaning in pain. 

Though she was outside, she could feel walls beginning to close around her, the air stale and unmoving.

Y/N searched the crowd, desperate to find who the voices belonged to, but there was no one. Most were not talking, minding their own business as they passed by. Some conversed with others; however, she could no longer make out what the voices were saying, there were too many, and they were all equally as loud.

She wiped the tears that fell down her face, balling her hands into fists as she stood up, ignoring the nausea and reaching for her phone to call Johanna.

That was, until she bumped into someone; she fell backwards and dropped her phone on the ground, hearing a small shatter. She cursed, immediately looking for her phone without checking to see who she had run into.

“Are you alright, miss?”

Y/N whipped her head around, looking up to see a woman who offered a helping hand. When she did not respond, only stared, the woman crouched down and retrieved her phone, examining it before returning it to her.

“The screen’s a little cracked, but other than that, I think it’s okay.”  

Apprehensively, she took the phone from the woman’s hand, checking to see the damage. There was a big crack from the top corner of the screen all the way to the bottom with small lines branching off of it. Fortunately for her, only the screen protector had been broken, and it would work as normal—she could still call Johanna. 

“How about you?” The woman asked, standing up and offering her hand once more. “Are you okay?”

Y/N took her hand this time, holding it tightly before pulling herself up; she found her footing and dusted herself off. She opened her mouth to say her thanks, but it was then that she noticed the silence. 

The voices had gone, and so did the pain. 

She could feel the air moving again and inhaled deeply, relishing in the relief her lungs felt as the heaviness in her chest vanished. 

Patient as ever, the stranger only observed her with a kind smile, one that Y/N awkwardly returned as she let go of her hand. 

The woman wore an all-black attire, her black, curly hair complementing her dark skin. She wore a tank top with thin straps and a necklace that Y/N recognized as an ankh . 

“I’m quite alright, thank you,” she lied, then clenched her jaw tightly, her eyes looking everywhere as if waiting for something else to happen—mainly, for the voices to return.

Though she felt calmer, her brain still ran a hundred miles per hour, wondering what had even caused her to stop hearing voices in her head. Was it the woman? Will she turn out to be another strange encounter for her to tell Johanna? Or was it something else?

Her body was stiff, shoulders tense and breathing still shallow. She cleared her throat, about to excuse herself—

“You don’t look alright.” Death, though many think of her as an entity to be feared, gently placed a hand on Y/N’s shoulder, hoping to ease some of the tension. It was rather blunt to say that to someone who, in her eyes, certainly was not alright, but she managed to say so without a hint of condescension.

Humans were strange; she understood their need to hide true feelings, especially to a stranger—but she was not really a stranger, was she?

Death was a familiar concept to everyone who ever lived, and thus, every one knew who was waiting at the end of their Earthly lives. At one point or another, a human will encounter Death, whether it is their time or the loss of a loved one—she will always be there, and she always has.

But she was not only Death—she was also Life. She only sought to help a human in need,  to ease their life’s stressors if only for a little bit. 

However, it would be wrong of her to deny that the woman she faced piqued her interest from the moment she bumped into her. 

Although she did it quite often, she had not meant to be visible to anyone. She was merely fulfilling her purpose, when she ran into a woman who was not even supposed to see her.

Of course she meant to ask, maybe she was not human—but as she learned during her interminable existence, especially while on Earth, there was a time and a place.

“It’s been…an eventful day,” Y/N sighed, her voice wavering. The tension on her shoulders eased and she was able to breathe deeply again.

“It happens to the best of us, don’t worry about it,” Death sympathised, her eyes warm and understanding, looking at Y/N without a hint of judgement.

The woman’s expression faltered for a moment, then turned into confusion. “Pardon me for asking—but you aren’t dead, are you?”

Y/N froze, her eyes widened and flickered to the ankh. “No, I’m not dead,” she answered, gulping. “Pardon me for asking, but are you ?”

A part of her felt ridiculous for asking such a question, but assuming her day would go on as it had been for the past few hours, it would not be an impossible concept. 

She almost wished that the woman would say yes—maybe it would convince her that she had finally gone mad, because if so, she could find some semblance of sanity. It would be easier to accept that she was merely insane than to force her mind into believing things such as other realms and the existence of The Fates.

The dark-haired woman squinted her eyes as if deep in thought, before going back to her normal, kind smile. “No, I’m just joking with you,” she laughed, positioning herself beside Y/N and looping her arm around hers, giving her a moment to pull away if she wanted.

Instead, Y/N seemed to relax at her touch.

“Walk with me?” Death asked, and Y/N cleared her throat in response before nodding silently, looking straight ahead, refusing to look at the woman beside her.

Death was a very perceptive being—she considered it a requirement as her job was to accompany people to the Sunless Lands. She was curious to know more about the clearly anxious woman who she—quite impossibly—ran into. 

However, similarly to when she would show herself to the recently deceased, precautions had to be taken. 

She would not want to distress anyone who had just passed, but especially not someone who was still alive. Whatever Death would tell her, she would carry with her for the rest of her life until they meet again at the end of it.

“So, where are you off to?” 

“A friend’s” Y/N answered stiffly. Still busying herself with watching her surroundings, and she made sure to cover as much area as she could. As Johanna had told her, she was to keep an eye out for any possible danger—who was she to ignore the expert?

Death hummed, seeing that Y/N’s attention was being given to everything else but their conversation. “You can talk to me.” She shrugged, waiting for Y/N to look her way. “I’m a complete stranger to you. You won’t lose anything.”

The Endless wanted to know more about her, curious as to how she could perceive beings such as herself, when humans are not inherently capable of doing so. 

Y/N chuckled, looking at the floor as they continued to walk aimlessly. “I don’t think you have much time for that.”

The stranger had been kind to her so far, and there was truly no harm in telling her about the day she had, but there was always a chance she would be labelled as a liar, or completely out of her wits. 

It was certainly the least of her worries, though.

Death nodded, “You’re right, I do have somewhere to be.” She thought for a moment, wanting to say the right words to make use of the little time she had to get sufficient information. “Tell me the important bits, then. The most ridiculous part of your day.” She grinned; although she hoped to get some answers, she was also genuinely interested in her well-being.

She might not be able to offer any solutions to her problems, but she could always lend a hand here and there in the form of comfort and reassurance. Death had learned that sometimes, all you need is the right person at the right time, ready to listen and accompany you, if only for a little while. 

Y/N chewed her bottom lip, thinking of how she could possibly recapitulate her recent experiences without sounding completely insane. Though she thought it unlikely for her to get ridiculed—since the stranger had been understanding so far—she did not want to bother the poor woman with her bizarre and unbelievable stories.

“Well…” She trailed off. “I met three women today—technically three—and they told me some rather peculiar things. They had been incredibly cryptic, and I’m still trying to figure out what they meant.”

She paused for a moment, picking at her fingernails as she pondered over what she would say next. “Then I met this little boy—he said he saw me in his dream. When he described it, I remember having the same one. He was in it, too. And then I began to hear voices in my head—but they stopped when you came. My dad’s immortal, too, but I don’t know if that has anything to do with today. Maybe. I wouldn’t be surprised if it did,” she rambled, nervously laughing at the end. She tore her gaze away from the pavement and to the stranger beside her, trying to gauge her reaction.

She considered telling her about the man but quickly decided against it. He has not been a part of her day—not completely—but he has always been the most peculiar part of her life. 

It would take a while to explain, and she did not want to take more of the woman’s time, nor did she want to take her kindness for granted.

Death looked away for a moment, a frown growing on her face. There was something deeply familiar with her stories, and she was disappointed to have only obtained more questions instead of answers. 

She had a purpose to fulfill and people to attend to, she knew that the answers she sought would have to wait. If the girl beside her was something more than human, their paths would surely cross again. 

Her eldest brother had a plan, as he did for most, and she would not interfere. She would not expose her true nature, not when she felt it was the wrong time.

Maybe she could pay him a visit next, though she was certain that she would not get very far if she were to question him. 

“Humans are so strange,” Death spoke, unlinking their arms, stopping their pace beneath the shade of a nearby tree. “You will go through some of the strangest things and carry it with such strength and elegance.”

“Humans?” Y/N asked. “You refer to humans as if you aren’t one yourself,” she chuckled. There was something so otherworldly about the strange woman, she stared at her with such kind eyes—an attribute she could not recall seeing on anyone else except for one.

Whenever she looked into her eyes, it brought her back to when she looked into the man’s eyes. 

Hers were welcoming, holding unconditional warmth for all those she would encounter, while his were filled with sorrow.

They were vastly different, yet they both gave the same feeling of something ethereal and incomprehensible.

The closest person she knew who had similar eyes was her father, but his were distinct. Unlike the other two, she could describe what she saw in the depth of her father’s irises. 

They were old—the eyes of a man who had lived longer than he should have. His eyes were wise and full of memories she would never truly know, and he may never truly speak of.

Death gently took one of Y/N’s hands and held it in both of her own. “Whatever had happened to you, I’m sure it means something. My brother isn’t so careless, and neither are The Three.” She glanced at someone behind Y/N, seeing the soul she was to visit next, and concluded that her time with Y/N was up.

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed, looking over her shoulder to see what the woman was looking at.

“I wish you the best in your adventures, Y/N—hopefully we bump into each other again soon.”

Alarmed by the sudden farewell, Y/N turned her head back to the woman, but she was no longer there. 

Her hand remained extended, as if someone was still holding it, but there was nothing there. The woman had disappeared, and her heart sank, ready to hear the voices once more.

But her mind stayed quiet as she looked around, trying to find where the kind stranger had gone off to.

She brought her hand back down, and a part of her sought a reason to panic. She was certain that she had been with someone, their arms were even looped together as they were walking.

There was no unease, though, and she continued to stroll through the familiar streets of her town as if it was a normal day. 

And thankfully, she was not very far from Johanna’s house. 

Y/N’s hand—the one that the strange woman held—opened and closed at her side. She fidgeted with her fingers, rubbing it on her pants or holding her hands together, trying to get rid of the tingly feeling. 

Eventually, the sensation crawled up her wrist, to her elbow, and then to her shoulder until she was subtly scratching her entire arm. 

Her eyes were distant, and her mind was clouded and blurry. Due to this, her arm was merely a nuisance to her instead of being a source of concern, nor did she notice that the sensation started after the woman held her hand.

In her haze, Y/N also failed to recall her name leaving Death’s lips before she vanished. She held an empty expression, not having felt so in tune yet so out of touch with reality. 

She missed most of the glances that went her way, the people taking a second look just to see her eyes again as they sparkled under the sun, conspicuous even in the daylight. The children that would nudge their companions, pointing at her reflection as she passed by store windows, went unnoticed as well.

On every reflective surface, she appeared the same; she wore a dark coat, one that billowed unnaturally in the wind, moving in a slow but elegant dance as she walked by. Whenever her coat would move a certain way, one could catch a glimpse of the galaxy it held within the inner layer of the fabric. Everything about her attire was black, her feet clad in the same Doc Marten boots she wore in her dreams.

Yet those were only in her reflections; she did not own a single piece of that outfit.

Eventually, the weird static she could feel on her arm dissipated.

Unbeknownst to her, there were small, almost unnoticeable white lines that developed on her fingers, crawling up her palm like cracks on damaged pavement.

The light was bright, but exposed only enough for them to show a subtle glow, much like the sand in Amelia’s room.

Y/N’s grasp on reality seemed to have been warped, as if she was swimming in deep waters. The atmosphere felt thick but not suffocating, her vision tinted by some form of film that made her incapable of fully grasping the realm she walked on. She could feel the wind along her skin and every wisp of hair that touched her forehead, moving ever so gently in the soft breeze; she could hear every breath she took and how the oxygen entered her lungs like taking your first few breaths after you have just gotten out of the water. 

Before she knew it, she was knocking on Johanna’s door, waiting to be let in. Johanna’s muffled voice could be heard, rushed, yelling for Y/N to give her a moment.     

* * *

“Hey.” Johanna poked her head out of the door, slightly out of breath. “Sorry, change of plans. I’m kind of in the middle of something, so if you could just give me a moment—”

Her eyes grew wide but she caught herself, forcing her composure to return. Her eyes narrowed, studying the obvious difference in the way Y/N held herself.

It was the eyes again, though, that had caught her attention.

Because Y/N’s eyes had actually changed. Johanna was seeing her friend stand in front of her with glowing eyes that contained the depth of space instead of seeing it in her reflection. 

“Nevermind,” Johanna mumbled. “Get inside, but don’t go near the living room. You’ll know why when you see it.” She decided that for the sake of them both, because of Y/N’s strange demeanor, she would bring her into the safety of her home.

It might not be as safe as the average household, especially with what her living room contained, but it was better than leaving Y/N exposed outside.

But whether or not she was in danger or was the danger, Johanna was yet to decide. 

Y/N nodded silently before walking into the house, offering Johanna only a slight smile before frowning.

She had been to her house before, she was accustomed to all of the strange objects littered around it, but as she entered, there was an immediate shift in the air—one that felt familiar and strange at the same time.

Usually, the artifacts that Johanna would take home had an effect on the general feeling of the house. Sometimes there was a dark cloud looming around the rooms or—as most people would be—she would become anxious when in the presence of something demonic and supernatural.

Out of respect, Y/N generally never asked about the artifacts and she was normally none the wiser about the happenings inside of the Constantine household. 

If it involved Johanna’s work, she left the subject alone, knowing that it was much preferred by the occultist to be that way. 

The Constantines had their fair share of tragic stories. Getting involved with any of them was a risk on its own, and Y/N did not want to be in the way of Johanna in fear that it might result in calamity.

Johanna Constantine has suffered great loss. Y/N was not interested in being one of them.

Not only for her sake, but largely for Johanna’s. 

Cautiously, Y/N walked into the house, keeping herself alert for any unusual creatures or objects. There was an itch at the back of her mind that called to her, but she could not quite get a hold of the thought.

Something was inside of Johanna’s home, something she knew of but could not quite recall.

But as she reached the living room, her eyes immediately landed on a very familiar binding circle drawn onto the floor. 

It was smaller, less intricate than the one she saw in her dreams, and the symbols were different

What interested her the most, though, was the humanoid shadow trapped inside of the circle.

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, feeling her grip on reality loosen. She inhaled deeply, hoping to regain some semblance of control when her mind seemingly drifted away from—

“It’s a demon,” Johanna mumbled. She was behind Y/N, careful to keep a close eye. There was a supposed demon in their midst, and yet she had a gut feeling that her starry-eyed friend might be more powerful than the creature she had in her living room. 

Johanna cleared her throat, shifting her feet as she looked at the shadow. “I think it’s a demon, anyway,” she admitted. “I’m actually not sure. I caught it wandering about my house. I tried sending it back to Hell but it wouldn’t work.”

Upon Y/N’s entrance, the unknown being warped into a more solid, humanoid form. Their skin was made up of grey and black nebulae patterns that seemed to absorb light, their eyes now dimming into a dark maroon than the previous bright red. They had no hair, but instead, a faint, smokey grey hue resembling flames emitted from the top of their head. 

The creature put their hand up to the invisible barrier, making it ripple in waves that spread throughout the unseeable dome, the light that bent around it being the only indication it even existed. 

“I am no demon,” they grumbled. The words echoed around the room, unnaturally low yet still present—the floor and the walls seemed to vibrate with every intonation. 

Y/N walked closer, and Johanna took one instinctive step towards her, prepared to pull her away if anything were to happen. 

“You belong in the Dreaming…” Y/N spoke, unsure of her words, but choosing the next ones carefully. “A nightmare.”

The creature’s eyes widened and Y/N gently placed her hand over theirs through the barrier, creating a black shadow that surrounded their hands, emitting off of their nearly-touching palms as dark wisps of smoke. 

“I’ve seen your kind before in the realm of dreams. Is that not where you reside?”  She questioned gently, keeping in mind the possibility that they may be one of the residents that went rogue when their world started to crumble. 

No harm would come to the creature, and though she sounded sure of herself, an inkling of desperation could be heard from the resolution in her voice and the persistence in her stare, almost as if purposely showing her dismay.

“You know of us—you wear his clothing,” the being responded, glancing at the windows then back to Y/N. “Your image wears his clothing.” There was wonderment in their voice, but they were not there to study her—the creature was there for the same reason Y/N was.

They wanted answers, too, but Y/N could not give them what she was also still seeking.

She dropped her hand, the wisps of shadow disappearing. “Go back home, Nightmare,” she ordered, noting how the creature’s expression seemed to drop at the mention of their lost home. “One such as you mustn't wander the waking world so carelessly.”

There was a part of her that wondered if she had gone too far. She did not know their whole story, and it was not an easy feat to see your once prosperous world decaying.

However, she also knew that their loyalties should have been to the Kingdom—the Dreaming—instead of losing trust in their monarch.

Lucienne stayed, and it was all Y/N needed to know that there was still hope.  The librarian’s determination to see their Lord return was enough for Y/N to decide that there was no abandoning the Dreaming—not until Lucienne’s belief lasts. 

“I could say the same for you.” The creature had tilted their chin up, as if to challenge the woman in front of them. “Do you not possess powers in which only our Lord wields?” They paused, looking over Y/N’s shoulder to gaze at Johanna.

“There have been stories about a regent,” they spoke, tearing their eyes away from the occultist’s narrowed ones and back to the woman in front. “If I may ask, am I right to assume that I have found the regent in question?”

“I’m not anyone’s regent,” Y/N answered. “Go back to the Dreaming. I know not who you speak of—I barely know your realm’s true nature, and I do not wish it to interfere with the waking world’s inhabitants.” 

Putting her foot forward, Y/N broke the circle, feeling Johanna’s tight grip on her elbow. “We’re safe, Jo,” Y/N reassured, but the hold on her arm had not changed. 

The creature stepped over the lines, free to do anything they desired in the waking world. They turned to the window, staring into the eyes of Y/N’s reflection. “You will find that the waking world is not your only realm, my lady.” 

With on more words left to say, the Nightmare turned itself into a cloud of black smoke, floating high into the air before completely disappearing. 

Johanna roughly pulled Y/N back to face her. “What the fuck was that?” she glared. “Why did you let it out? You don’t know what it’s going to—”

Y/N shook her head, calmly pushing Johanna’s hand away and holding it in hers. “They won’t do anything, I know that much. They came here for me, and if they do what I told them to do, they’ll just go back to the Dreaming.”

Pulling her hand away, Johanna ran it through her hair while her other hand rested on her hip. “And you know that how?”

“That was a Nightmare, Jo, not a demon. That’s why you couldn’t send them to Hell.”

Y/N told no lie when she mentioned her previous knowledge of the Nightmare. There were many like the one they had just encountered—she was familiar with their kind and knew that most of them were not malicious. 

They had their duties, something they lost when their monarch vanished. Now they simply wandered wherever they wanted and acted how they chose to, but it did not necessarily change them into creatures of malevolence.

“Is that why you’ve been acting weird since last night?” Johanna questioned, both of her hands now on  her hips, her eyes boring into Y/N’s. “So the Dreaming exists? You’re sure of that now?” 

Y/N shook her head, breathing deeply and trying to digest Johanna’s words. Whatever had clouded her mind was starting to wear off, and though she was not completely herself, she was starting to feel the panic rise up in her chest when she remembered why she came there in the first place. 

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “That’s why I’m here. You’re the only one I can think of who can help.” She gave Johanna a tight-lipped smile, wanting to make the tension vanish, hoping to see the usual level-headedness from her friend. 

Johanna stayed silent to take a few deep breaths, regaining as much of her composure she was capable of. She could remember all of her other so-called adventures and encounters with the supernatural—but none were as strange as this.

If everything Y/N said over the phone were true, she was faced with someone who acted as a magnet for the things she was paid to get rid of. Johanna felt helpless; deep within her mind, something told her that this was not something she could help with.

She was only human, one with many limitations—she feared that this may be one of them. 

“Sit.” She pointed to the sofa. “I’ll make tea; then you better explain what’s been going on with you,” she sighed, walking towards the kitchen to prepare their cups. 

Instead of sitting down, though, Y/N browsed through Johanna’s collection of books that she obtained through the years. They were all strewn around the house, so inevitably, she decided to do a bit of cleaning up while she was at it.

She knew better than to clean excessively, though. As she had tried once before, but Johanna simply liked the chaos of her messy home. 

Y/N flipped some books around, making sure that the titles were visible. Sometimes she would wipe the dust off the covers—she even tried to alphabetize them before she had gotten a stern look from Johanna.

“Do you have any books on the Fates?” 

Holding two cups, Johanna went to sit on the couch, placing their tea on the coffee table as she waited for Y/N to join her, which she was very happy to.

Y/N took a sip of her tea. “I think they were the ones who talked to me earlier.”

“I have books, but tell me what happened first.”

Clearing her throat, Y/N tapped her short nails on the cup. “They were cryptic. I haven’t made sense of it all just yet, but I was hoping you could help.”

“Did you ask them why they were there?”

“No,” Y/N scoffed. “I couldn’t be that direct. I’ve read about them, Jo. I wasn’t planning on wasting my questions.”

“Just making sure,” Johanna responded, taking a sip of her own drink. “Tell me what they said. I can’t promise anything, though. They obviously sought you out—what’s so important about you that the Three-in-One came for a visit?”

Y/N mulled over their conversation; it was practically impossible to explain just how dreadful it was. While she succeeded in remaining level-headed during her time with The Fates, her mind had not been clear, especially with the events that transpired before and after.

“They kept calling me ‘Daydream’” was the only response Y/N could muster, deciding that she would take it one topic at a time when it became too difficult for her to try and tell the story as a whole.

“Like your nickname?”

“Yes,” Y/N nodded. “The other one called me ‘his regent’. That has to mean something, right? The nightmare called me the same name, and my father had been referring to me as ‘Daydream’ for most of my childhood.”

“ His regent. Any ideas on who you’re a supposed ‘regent’ of?” This was certainly a curious case for Johanna, especially because it was happening to a friend. Her mind was reeling with questions—ones that she was unsure she would ever get answered, but she had to try anyway. 

“The ruler of dreams, apparently.”

Johanna choked on her tea, covering her mouth as she tried to keep her coughs at bay. “The Sandman,” she stifled, clearing her throat. “You mentioned him last night.”

If this case was certainly related to the Endless,  Johanna Constantine was mystified; it was obvious to Y/N that she had finally caught the attention of the occultist. 

Not that Johanna had not already been paying attention, but she seemed to take the situation more seriously now that an all-powerful being could possibly be involved. 

Y/N L/N, a friend she made by chance, could be the Regent of an Endless. She was drinking tea with a ruler of an entire realm.

“Oh…” Y/N trailed off, her eyebrows furrowing in deep thought. “I guess I did, didn’t I?” 

She had not noticed the slight gap in her memory. She could remember Amelia and how she told her the story, but after that—after she had woken up from her latest dream—the events were indistinct.

Whenever she did try to remember, she did not feel as if it were her own memories. They felt almost stolen, like peering into another’s mind; watching from their point of view and waiting for them to make their next move.

There was a buzz inside of her mind—silent, barely there, but its effects were ever so present. Her ears would become muted and clogged, her senses detaching themselves from reality.

It was definitely her, there was no doubting it. Had she been possessed, it would feel a little more aggressive than that—at least that’s what she thought, she had never actually been possessed before.

She concluded that maybe she had been distracted that night, and more questions appeared in her mind, fueled by the need to remember .

Ironically, though, these instances were not uncommon for her, as she could recall several moments where she often felt that she had lost some of her memories. However, that night at Johanna’s was the worst of it. 

Y/N wanted to be able to look back and say that her actions were her own, and that whatever had been hiding inside of her brain for the past thirty years would finally come to surface.

Her dreams, her father, her abilities—they had all been normal to her.

Sure, she could eventually come to admit that, like her father, she was no ordinary human. 

But what then? What could she be? Had she been anything else other than normal, her father would have told her a long time ago. He was no liar, and he has said before that it would not do them any good if he hid his true identity from his own daughter.

To be fair, though, he only said that once she noticed how no matter the wounds or illnesses he faced, he never seemed to mind the fatality.

The dangers that came with being something other than human—other than a human mortal —were immeasurable, and he decided to come clean.

Eventually.

Johanna waited patiently, giving Y/N time to think. She could remember how dissociated she looked that night, and it would not surprise her if she was having trouble remembering.

Her eyes had been distant, and her mind was obviously elsewhere. It was tough to get through to her; Johanna figured that Y/N might have only needed the company—of course, until later on when she noticed the difference in her entire demeanor and the very distinct reflection in the window. 

Y/N cleared her throat, keeping her eyes away from Johanna’s as she took another sip of her drink. “He’s only a story. Nothing more.” She shook her head, holding the cup down on her lap, keeping her focus on the tinted liquid inside. 

“And so are the Fates, and every other creature I’ve encountered,” Johanna contested, tilting her head to try and get into Y/N’s eyesight, hoping to have her attention. “They’re all stories, we just don’t know which ones are true.”

Johanna was being kind, having rid her words of any snark or sarcastic undertones; something Y/N silently appreciated. Her friend spoke softly, making conversation instead of arguing with her about the facts. 

Of course she knew that they all began with stories. Some might have been invented by some aspiring writer—a story that some mistook for real events.

There were other stories, though, that came from long-forgotten origins that were yet to be disproved or even discovered.

Deciding that she was not prepared to answer Johanna, she continued with her retelling of the Fates’ visit, praying to catch Johanna’s attention enough to ignore that she had changed the subject.

“They said that the end has begun, and left after that,” she mumbled, gulping down the rest of her tea.

The demon hunter scoffed, putting her drink down on the coffee table and crossed her arms. “The end as in…what? The apocalypse?”

“If it were the end of the world, why would they tell me that?”

Johanna clicked her tongue. “So they're talking about your end, then?” 

“Maybe,” she answered honestly. There was no point in lying, but she was tempted. 

Johanna had never been considered the nicest person, and most people she got into a relationship with would leave her. That was, if Johanna had not already beaten them to it.

Y/N did not want the same fate to befall their friendship. 

“Maybe you’re like your dad,” Johanna shrugged. “It could run in the family, you know?” she joked, laughing despite the harsh truth that lay behind her words. 

Both of them knew her father had had children before her, and a number of them faced an untimely death.

Regardless, Y/N snickered along with her, entertaining the possibility that maybe the blood of an immortal could be passed down—her half siblings may have just simply been unlucky enough not to receive it. 

“One thing stuck with me, though.” Y/N paused, chewing on her lip as she tried to recall the exact words that were said to her. “ When  dreams despair, the sleeping shall receive a daydream as a gift from Death.”

“What the fuck does that mean? Do they mean that you’re the gift? The daydream?”

“If I am, why?” Y/N asked. “And I'm supposed to do something?”

There was silence for a few moments as Johanna picked at her nails. “If you want to live, probably,” she mumbled. 

“All jokes aside,” Johanna continued, holding her hands together to stop herself from fidgeting. “If you’re just like the rest of us, the Fates would not have had a reason to talk to you. I think it means that it involves other people, not just you. Powerful beings like them always have a reason, and they would not have had one if you were normal.”

She leaned back against the sofa, swinging her arms over the backrest. “You’ve always been weird, Y/N. Admit it—”

“I’m not—”

“You are!” Johanna insisted, putting her arm back to her side and leaning forward. “The sooner you admit that, the faster we can get to dealing with it.”

Y/N shook her head, to which Johanna groaned in annoyance. “Maybe we don’t. Maybe it’ll all go away tomorrow. This is probably just…a mistake. Or a hallucination.” 

“Y/N,” Johanna sighed. “Hell exists, demons exist. Cursed objects, runes, witchcraft—they’re real. There is more than one realm. The Fates, they—”

“No.” Y/N stood up, moving to collect her things. It was ironic—she had asked Johanna for help without ever thinking that she might not be ready for it.

“Y/N look at yourself!” Johanna snapped, grabbing her by the shoulders before she turned Y/N around, holding her in place so she stood right in front of the window. 

Finally, Y/N came face to face with herself, the one she only saw in the waters of the Dreaming. Someone who had been following her for a long time—the figure in the glass, in every mirror she faced. 

It had always been there, but she had been too blind to see it, choosing to see her human form instead of the reflection she was always meant to have. 

She could see herself— really see herself. The same white eyes she saw in the water, the dark clothing, how her cheeks looked more sunken.

“ This.” Johanna tapped on the window, making a loud thud as her hand hit the glass. “Isn’t normal! And you have to stop pretending like it is!” She walked in front of Y/N, looking intently at her eyes. 

Y/N stared blankly into the window, her eyes trained on the figure in the glass.

“Gods, demons, devils, Fates—they all exist, Y/N. We both know that. Your father is immortal for heaven’s sake!” Johanna’s eyes sparkled with unshed tears, her voice composed, yet it gave the slightest quiver before ending in a low whisper. “Listen to me unless you want to end up like Astra.”

Y/N tore her gaze away from the window and to Johanna, her trance broken by the mention of the late girl’s name. 

“The Fates warned you, the end has begun,” Johanna reiterated, her hands falling back down to her sides. “Whatever the hell that means.” She turned around for a moment, wiping her eyes and facing Y/N once more, stoic as ever. 

“Okay,” Y/N mumbled weakly, unsure of what she had just agreed to. She looked over Johanna’s shoulder, her strange reflection looking back at her. 

And slowly, she stalked towards the window, her arms outstretched as she attempted to reach out, not quite sure of her next actions. The closer she got, the lesser her grasp on reality.

The air became thick, and with it, her reflection glitched, changing to the one she had always known and then changing back to the version she saw in the Dreaming. 

Eventually, it started to look like broken glass. Some fragments of her figure looked human, some looking otherworldly.

"I could say the same for you. Do you not possess powers in which only our Lord wields?" she recalled what the Nightmare said. 

Maybe there was some truth to that, and maybe all that was left to do was finally accept it. 

She stepped closer, and her fingers brushed against the glass.

The window cracked, the deafening sound echoing across the room, making both of them flinch. It webbed outwards, the cracks becoming bigger and bigger the longer her touch remained on the glass.

Slow shattering could be heard, the crunching getting louder as the damage grew.

Y/N stepped away, her fingers no longer touching the window. 

“Y/N, your hand,” Johanna pointed out, looking at her with uncertainty. The one that made contact with the window was cracked as well, similar to the glass pane. 

The damage started with her fingers, the cracks webbing higher and higher as white light emitted from underneath her skin. She stared at it in horror, watching it grow brighter to blinding degrees.

That was when Y/N realized that it burned , feeling the unbearable heat brought upon by the light that seeped from her skin, her shock subsiding the more she looked at the sight before her. 

The light beseeched for escape, pushing against her and testing the limits of her human body to see when it would break. She screamed, falling to her knees as she grasped her arms tightly, as if trying to close the cracks that were beginning to climb up from her hand.

“Y/N, I need you to tell me what’s going on,” Johanna spoke with urgency, hoping that her voice could be heard through Y/N’s cries of pain.

Wind began to howl inside of the living room, circulating Y/N as the pain became more unbearable. 

Johanna was unfazed, knowing that the strange disturbance could only be coming from one person. She put her arm up to shield her eyes, her hair billowing as she slowly walked closer to the girl hunched over on the floor. 

The house shook; books fell from their places, their pages ripped apart and scattered by the violent winds. Gadgets, documents, trinkets and more began to crash onto the floor, the smaller fragments carried in the air as they flew away.

“Y/N! You need to tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it, okay?” She yelled, hoping to get Y/N's attention without adding to her distress. 

When she failed to get an answer, she knelt on to the floor, close enough to Y/N but never enough to touch. The wind was most dangerous near her, and though Johanna tried, it would not be possible to cross such a threshold without being swept away.

She tried to reach out, hoping to touch Y/N’s arm to pull her away from the storm—but it was scorching, like fire crawling up her hand, prickling and irritating her skin.

If she got closer, the light would incinerate her.

There had to be a reason, though, right? The recent events proved that Y/N was not an average human, she was something else. Something they had yet to figure out. 

Johanna’s mind was going into overdrive, fumbling through her brain for a solution, attempting to connect the dots. 

The light was only getting brighter, the cracks on Y/N’s skin wider by the second, and the room—though wrecked by a whirlwind—was increasingly getting hotter.

The dreams, her father, the Fates —Johanna’s eyes widened as she recalled the creature that trespassed her home only minutes ago. “Y/N look at me— listen to me!” she yelled, desperate trying to get her attention. 

It was far-fetched, even by her standards, because of the lack of evidence she could rely on. There was no proof or promise of accuracy, but it was her only theory.

Johanna Constantine did not want to lose another friend. 

“The nightmare said that this isn’t your only world.” Her voice held steady, never taking her eyes off of Y/N. 

This time, she got a response. Y/N forced herself to look at Johanna, tears falling down her face and brimming the edges of her eyes, choking out a sob as she held her arm tighter against her chest.

The wind grew stronger and she curled into herself, the cracks and the glow radiating from them reaching her neck and jaw.

Horrified, Johanna continued, feeling her own tears threatening to fall. “They said that the end has begun, but it’s only begun—this isn’t the end, not yet— not fucking yet.” Hoping that her loud, albeit wavering voice, could be heard through all the chaos, she continued. “Follow them, follow the nightmare. Go to your world—wherever that is!”

Y/N screamed louder as the cracks crawled higher, reaching the side of her head as Johanna shielded her eyes from the now blinding light that emitted from them.

For a moment, Johanna felt the light cover the entirety of her living room; there was a force like an explosion and she was thrown to the nearest wall before painfully hitting the ground with a thud and a groan. 

As fast as she could, Johanna got to her feet, her eyes trailing to where Y/N once was, only to find that there was nothing but an empty space, her destroyed living room being the only proof that everything had even happened.

She would wait for Y/N to return—if she was still alive to do so. Johanna hoped she was right, and that Y/N was safe. 

Until then, she would avoid going by the Inn for a little while. She knew that Y/N’s father deserved to be informed that he might have just lost his daughter—but then again, when had she ever been good at those conversations?

If she ever had to deliver such news, she would have someone else do it. It would be a kindness to both him and herself.

Neither of them would have to face the woman who could not save his daughter. 

“Shit,” she muttered. “You better come back soon, you arse.”

* * *

“Before we go, my Lord—I feel there is something you should know.” 

Turning back to face Lucienne, Morpheus awaited the news. His realm, in his absence, had decayed and collapsed. There was nothing Lucienne could say that would make matters worse.

They were just about to leave the ruins of the palace, concluding that if the Dreaming was to return to its previous self, they would have to pay Cain, Abel, and Gregory a visit.

“There was a child—one who frequented the palace long after you had gone.” 

Morpheus’ eyes narrowed, standing straighter if it were even possible. The Heart of the Dreaming was not easily accessible to humans; a child, no matter their ability to lucid dream, should not have been able to come into his Kingdom unwelcomed. 

Unless of course the child was a Vortex, in which case he would have a bigger problem on his hands. 

Lucienne cleared her throat before continuing. “The last I saw of her, she had already grown up. And in the years she spent here almost every night, she…” Lucienne paused, not knowing the right words to say. “...helped sustain the realm. She—”

“That is not possible,” Morpheus interrupted. 

What had given this child the right to enter his realm, roam its lands and interact with its inhabitants, taking advantage of his absence to welcome herself in the heart of the Dreaming?

But most importantly, what had given her the ability to sustain it? Clearly Lucienne would not feel the need to inform him if this had only been a lost human, finding themselves in a place in which they had not intended to be.

“But it is, my Lord,” the librarian responded, walking a few steps closer to Morpheus, but still remaining a good distance away. “I had not seen her in more than a decade, but shortly before your return, she came back with powers I had not seen since your capture. She was able to mend the throne room in mere seconds.”

“You mean to tell me that this… trespasser was capable of altering my realm?” 

Lucienne bowed her head. Lord Morpheus was clearly angered, but she did not wish for Y/N to be the subject of his wrath, not when she had only ever been a gift to the Dreaming and its inhabitants. 

“Yes, my Lord,” she gulped. “But her actions held no malice—”

“She had no authority to do such things. I must find her when I am in possession of my tools. A creature with such disrespect for the Kingdom in which she does not belong must be punished.”

Instinctively, Lucienne took one more step toward Morpheus, one word escaping her lips before she could stop herself. “No.”

The King of Dreams was taken aback. He had not known his librarian to have such audacity, and it rendered him momentarily speechless.

“No?”

“With all due respect, Dream Lord, she was never a creature of harm. She was human. One who held much love for the Dreaming.” The librarian tilted her chin up, willing herself to stand her ground against Morpheus.

Her last interaction with Y/N did not go very well, but it did not take away all she had done for their realm. 

Y/N, to much of the Dreaming’s inhabitants, represented hope that they had not seen in decades. 

“Your siblings may not have come to your aid, but she did, regardless of her ignorance about who you are. She wore your clothing, she resembled your power. I believe you must go to her, but I implore you not to punish her for simply caring about our home.”

Lucienne’s description of the girl sparked a memory in Morpheus’ mind, his anger being wiped off his almost-expressionless face, replaced with one of curiosity and recognition. 

In the years of his capture, he had only seen one woman who wore the same clothing as he—one who held the cosmos in her eyes.

The woman who was the sole reason for his escape.

He must find her.

“And what is this human’s name, Lucienne?”

“Y/N.”

***

There was only silence. 

Darkness enveloped Y/N’s being as she floated aimlessly somewhere void of any life or matter. There was no burning, and there was no light. Only quiet and eerie solitude 

She was conscious, but she could not move, she could not scream, and she could not breathe. Y/N could only think, and in the blackness, she was unsure whether or not she could even see. Was she blind? Or were her eyes simply closed?

Fresh air entered her lungs and she inhaled deeply, not able to control her breathing as she finally felt herself get thrust into existence. She coughed, choking on the oxygen reviving her body.

She opened her eyes, realizing that she was lying on her back. Still clutching her hand to her chest, she sat up, beginning to hyperventilate as she assessed where she landed herself in this time.

Judging by the sky, she was no longer in Johanna’s residence.

She had spent quite a while in the void between realms, having floated in nothingness for hours before she arrived at the destination she was meant for. It had absorbed the light that escaped her, healing the cracks that took over half of her body.

Around her, Y/N could see the very familiar plane of the Dreaming. She sat on the wooden pier, the fog no longer as thick as the last time she visited. 

“Ma’am?” a voice called, and the figure of Lucienne cautiously approached her from several feet away.

Y/N’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears. Her body was wracked with silent sobs, hiccuping frequently as she tried to swallow her cries, her breathing getting worse as her now-healed hand became pale with how tightly she gripped her arm. 

Lucienne had just seen the Dream Lord leave to begin his search for his tools, and she was on her way to get him a raven despite his disapproval, when she heard a thump near the edge of the pier. 

Aside from Morpheus, there was only one who dressed so similarly. 

It was apparent to Lucienne that Y/N had come back, but by the looks of it, her usual enthusiasm upon arriving was no longer present. 

“Ma’am?” Lucienne asked once more, softer, as she kneeled beside Y/N and placed a firm but gentle hand on her shoulder. 

As Y/N looked into Lucienne’s eyes, she began to understand what the librarian was so afraid of when they last met; she remembered her reflection in Johanna’s window.

How did she look as she sat there, weeping from the pain and uncertainty of who or what she might be? Was she still the same Y/N that belonged to the human realm? Or has she embodied her form in the glass?

She brought her knees up to her chest, curling into herself as she tried to even her breathing, unable to respond to Lucienne. 

A part of her hoped that Lucienne did not fear her anymore, but another part wanted to tell her to stay away. 

Y/N saw how the light burnt Johanna, how it caused her pain, and it was the kind of hurt she wanted away from the Dreaming. 

“What happened, ma’am? Are you okay?”

When Y/N kept quiet, Lucienne gingerly moved her hand to hold the one Y/N was keeping tightly against her chest. There was a look of sincere kindness on her face as she patiently waited for her to speak. 

Y/N had not known it then, but Lucienne would have waited days if it meant letting her talk when she was ready. 

She choked back a sob. Y/N, though she never knew Lucienne to be cruel, expected her to run from her considering their last encounter. Then, she was considered a threat. 

And now, Y/N believed she still was. 

Lucienne softly squeezed her hand. “You are in the Dreaming, ma’am. You know nothing will harm you here.”

Not then, at least. Lucienne did not know what would become of her once the Dream Lord came back, but until then, she spoke true. 

And if Morpheus wished to punish her, he would have to answer to the rest of the Dreaming’s inhabitants. 

Y/N only seemed to cry louder, and just when Lucienne was ready to sit with her for however long she needed, Y/N wrapped her arms around the librarian, embracing her with as much strength as she could muster. 

Hesitantly at first, Lucienne reciprocated,

As Y/N attempted to utter her next words, Lucienne wrapped her arms a little tighter around the weeping girl.

It seemed that it was all she needed to be able to admit what she could not for the longest time. 

“I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

It was then that Lucienne realized that though Y/N was all grown, despite all the years that had passed, Y/N was truly just a human unfortunate enough to have been given powers she was never made to understand. 

This version of her, the one who had exerted such control over a realm not her own, was still as innocent as the little girl who wandered the halls of the palace years ago.

Notes:

Aaaaand we're done for this chapter! What did you guys think? I would love to know.

Like last time, I'll *try* to upload again in two weeks. But of course, if the word count ends up being 16k again, it's going to take longer.

#When Dreams Despair #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman netflix #lord morpheus #morpheus x reader angst #morpheus x reader fluff #sandman netflix #the sandman #the sandman fanfic #the sandman imagine #dream of the endless imagine #morpheus x you #sandman x reader #dream of the endless x you #morpheus fanfiction #morpheus imagine #dream x reader #morpheus x reader

[slavicviking]

20 questions for fic writers

thank you for the tag @oh-stars!! 💚

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

25, but one of them is an art piece i made for a holiday exchange ^^

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

181,334 but if i were to count my longest fic to date (which is in full only on ffnet) it would be around 250,000, I think

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Right now Stranger Things, though years ago I was all about httyd.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Inner Struggles - not kudos but the highest number of favs I'ver ever gotten (like i checked just now out of curiosity and it's 3 away from a 1000 what)

A Blip On Your Radar

stuck with you (I want to be)

The Idea

Long Odds

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I used to and I'm sad I don't anymore but I keep feeling too overwhelmed(?). It's hard to explain. But I would like to let my readers know that I read each and every comment and they make my day, truly! I wish I could write up each of you a huge thank-you note and give you a big ol' hug.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

On Time, definitely

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Hmm, I don't usually do the happy ever after's but I think it would have to be the yet unpublished ending of Grey Matter I guess you'll have to wait and see >:)

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not really, no, and I am so very thankful for that.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

No, not my cup of tea, personally.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Nope. I do imagine them in my head sometimes and that's where they remain.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Does being low-key accused of plagirizing my own work count?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! A few times and I love y'all for it!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

I don't think I have one, tbh. It's ever-changing. Such is the burden of a multifandom multishipper.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Ooh, tough question. I feel really stuck with the subtle art (of non-existing) but I really, really want to finish it.

Also my never-published steddie amnesia fic

16. What are your writing strengths?

Hmm. Dialogue? Characterization maybe? (I hope I'm not making a fool of myself by saying this)

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Detailed descriptions and action.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I'd say, if there's a need, I'd rather do it in italics than try to google translate my way out of this. No shade to anyone of course, it's more amusing than anything, but I've seen so many non-real sounding sentences in Polish in fics (i'm looking at you, teen wolf fandom)

19. First fandom you wrote for?

HTTYD, my beloved

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Inner Struggles holds a special place in my heart as to how happy I felt writing it. But from the newer stuff, I think A Blip On Your Radar would be my favorite - it's silly, it's short and i had a blast writing it.

No-pressure tags! @sunflowerharrington, @oiveyzmir, @imfinereallyy, @patchworkgargoyle, @thefreakandthehair, @strangersteddierthings

#my writing #thank you for the tag! #oh-stars #fandom

[sharkneto]

Okay, here's a question: writing. One thing I really admire about your writing is how you keep up a really good word count but still make your stories easy to read with a good flow. And you somehow end up with like, 20k? The longest thing I've ever written is maybe 10k, and it's hard to read because I stuffed so many metaphors and figurative language into it. I guess it's a delicate balance of having enough metaphors and/or figurative language while also balancing out with dialouge (but when i get in a fig. language flow, it's difficult to stop).

(and, how do you start and stop? I usually start from a line of dialouge or just choose something from my notes, but typically I don't have the greatest writing prompts, and Pinterest only gives me romantic-based ones.) (Either way, I end my stuff really abruptly because I a) get tired of writing it, b) cant find a way to finish it, or c) the ending feels finite).

TL;DR: How do you keep a consistent writing flow without it getting hard to read? And how do you end stories and fic smoothly?

(I'll be back with a tua related question probably)

Hmmm writing. A lot of that comes down to style. I write pretty straightforward. I don't use very flowery language, I don't use that many metaphors or similes. I like to be efficient with my words, for the most part. That's just preference - I like how that flows, it has a cadence to it in my head that I find easy to write and read. But there's nothing wrong with flowery language or leaning more heavily on figurative language. You say it flows when you're doing it, so just let it flow. If you're feeling bogged down by it, take the pressure off. Write the basics of whatever you're trying to say and move on. You can always come back and add to it, amp up the word choice or descriptors. Or the opposite, trim it back. Writing is just all a big experiment and you throw words on a page to see what sticks. Don't be afraid to rewrite if it's not reading how you want it(but don't delete the original bit! A hybrid of the different rewrites might be what you're looking for).

For word count, I don't worry about it. A thing will be as long as it needs to be. I don't sit down and go "this will be 20k" and then write 20k. I'm never right, anyway, when I come in with an estimate, so I don't bother. Knowing myself and with how much I've written now, I do know I trend towards 5-7k for what I like for chapter lengths, but I don't hold myself to that. Sometimes they're shorter, sometimes they're longer. For the most part, if words are flowing then words are flowing and I don't worry about it. If you're finding yourself getting stuck at a certain length, unsure what to write next, I'd suggest just taking a step back from it. If you're psyching yourself out about the length, that's going to make words harder. Take a walk, roll the scene/plot around in your head and figure out what bit's got you stuck. Work on other things and come back to it later. The cool thing about fanfic is there is no deadline and at the end of the day, it's just for you. No bit of writing is wasted because you had fun doing it and it's practice so you'll be that much better on the next project, even if you never finish that initial one. Except for JT, my first... three? fics probably won't ever be finished. That's fine. I look at them fondly sometimes but they did their job, bit me with the writing bug, and it's more effort than it's worth to edit them up and finish them. I've moved on. That's fine.

Starting and stopping. I have said this before, but I'm a chaotic writer. I do not outline. I do not have notes. I write non-chronologically. I start where I have words, I stop when I'm out of words. I know there's lots of tips out there about stopping on dialogue? mid sentence? idk, but stopping x way so it's easier to pick back up again. I just throw words wherever I have words.

I don't write from prompts. I have specific things and ideas I like to write, which is why my official request policy is "you can always ask and I'll probably say no but I'll be really nice about it". Every once in a while, someone will align with me and it will spark something; take that as a challenge if you want, I do like knowing what ideas people are thinking about even if I'm not going to write them. But I tend to stay away from prompt lists or fills - I personally don't find them helpful and I get enough inspiration wandering around my everyday life. That's what works for me. Everyone is different.

Last bit - endings. I tend to write slice-of-life, which takes a lot of pressure off of ending because when the moment is over, you just end the fic. Boom. Done. For things with actual plot - Sometimes Age, HIT, Searching for Good Times - I wish I had more coherent advice. In figuring out how long of legs a longer fic has, I do usually figure out where it's running to. Sometimes it's self-evident or where I started in thinking about the idea - Five had to confront Delores, the Hargreeves need to get out of Number's timeline, Five aged himself up and will age himself back down. If it's angsty, I want to end on a lighter moment, usually between siblings for a talk or a hug, because that's satisfying for everyone. I like to end on a "looking forward" note - Five thinking about his next year in Rusty Cog, Five thinking about how he's going to fix things in Sometimes Age, Allison thinking about how they're going to be there for Five in Searching for Good Times. I think it ends things on a nice note, final but not slammed shut. Idk if any of that is helpful.

I think the TL:DR of all this is practice. You figure out what works for you, what you like, how you like to do it. I've read A Lot, I've been writing obsessively for two years and making stories in my head for over a decade before that. Just keep at it and you'll figure it out :)

#this got long but hopefully its thorough and not just a ramble of me talking about myself lol #something at least tangentially helpful to what you asked #ficblogging #entertain shark on his train trip #long post

[stevethehairington]

8, 16 and 17! :D

ty for the ask!! 💕💕

8. What kind of document do you use to you write? Microsoft Word? Google Docs? Straight in the AO3 text box?

google docs! that is where my final final version of a fic gets written, but i also do a lot of writing in my notes app on my phone and i also do a lot of handwriting with paper and pen too lol. those two always end up getting retyped into the google doc, but yeah, sometimes when i'm feeling particularly stuck it helps to switch up my scenery, so going from staring at my doc on my laptop to typing on my phone or handwriting something actually makes a world of difference for me and can really help refresh my mind.

16. How long is your longest fic?

ooh! my longest fic, let me know your future plans, is 59,042 words long! it is a stucky fic that i wrote for the stucky au big bang back in 2019! finishing that fic was probably the most fulfilled i have ever felt with a fic, because like multichaps are fucking hard and this one was on a deadline too! it just felt very very good to be able to finish it and look at how big it was and go wow!! i did that!! but yeah i had the best time writing that one and working with the artist that picked my fic too, it was just so fun!!

17. Are there any writers and/of stories that you consider an influence?

oh of course!!! there are so so many!! honestly, i think every single fic i read influences me in some sort of way! like i will always come out of a fic a different person than i was when i started it. i've picked up so many new stylistic tricks to try out, or words and phrases that i'd either never heard before or instantly fell in love with, or a hc/characteristic/interpretation of a character or scene or anything that i hadn't thought about before but now adopt into my own view of said character/scene, or the way a certain feeling or emotion or mood was drawn out or infused into a scene and how i can do something like that too. like i am always learning from the fics i read, and the writers that are behind those fics. i think there's something so beautiful about how we are all always learning from the fics we read!!

that sort of feels a bit like a nonanswer sglfsdf bc i didn't give any specific names or stories or anything but i truly do mean it!

for the fanfic writer ask game!

#asks #pizzaqueen #mack writes

[survey--s]

669.

Do you have any plans for tomorrow? Just work but it's a pretty busy day. I have twelve dogs to get through - luckily the storm should be over by now as we're currently on a Tornado warning lol.

What's the longest movie you've ever seen? The extended edition of The Return of the King. It's a little over 4 hours long. <-- same.

What movies did you watch a lot as a kid? Disney films mostly, plus Land Before Time.

How many rooms are in your home? Five.

Do you ever experience imposter syndrome? Yeah, constantly lol.

What was the last place you rode to in a car? Mike drove me to Monty and back a few weeks ago when we wanted to try out his new car.

Do you have a PayPal account? If so, how often do you use it? Yeah, I use it most weeks as I pay for most things via PayPal for the customer protection.

Are you cold right now? Nope. The heating's been on and I'm also wearing a huge cosy hoody and sitting under a blanket lol.

How old will you be at your next birthday? 35.

Before this one, when was the last time you took a survey? About ten minutes ago.

Can you skip rope? Yes, though I haven't done for years now.

Have you ever participated in a charity fundraising event? Yeah.

What is your hair like at the moment? It's damp from my shower and up in a messy bun.

Do you like cucumber? Yeah, as long as it's not too soggy.

What do you like and dislike about your job? (or your last job) I love that I work for myself and get to set my own boundaries and hours. The worst thing is definitely having to be out in all weathers and dealing with the general public.

Have you ever had a dream job? If so, did you give up on it, and why? Or do you happen to have that dream job? Yeah, it's pretty much what I do now. I love it.

What's the last sitcom you watched? Uh, probably Friends.

What car did your parents or guardian drive when you were growing up? When I was really little they had a VW Scirocco and I think a Golf? My mum stuck with Golf/Polo for years and my dad then upgraded to...I think a Ford? But I could be wrong. They now have an Audi.

Do you have milk in your fridge right now? What kind? Yeah, full fat and Oatly Barista.

Are you left or right handed? Right-handed.

If you have your ears pierced, how old were you when you got them done? Yeah, I've had them done since I was twelve.

Do you have any other piercings? Yeah, I have three in each earlobe in total, two in my right cartilage, my belly button and my nose at the moment. I used to have my helix, tragus and left cartilage pierced too.

What was the last thing you wrote down in the notes app on your phone? Probably someone's lock box code for work.

Have you ever been on a winery tour? Yeah, in Australia.

When was the last time you were hungover? Probably the day after our wedding lol.

Do you still have Facebook? If so, how often do you check it? Yeah, everyone I know uses Facebook. I use it everyday.

Are you wearing your favourite colour today? One of them, yeah.

Would you ever want to visit South Korea? It's not on my list but I'd definitely go if I had the chance.

How many times in your life have you been in love? Twice.

Do you like your name? Sure.

#survey #surveys

[nyartuwu]

Day 5!!

@dracofelin

#septempurr #bengals are great i love em I'm pretty sure they were my fave breed at one point!! #also I'd like to note that this is the longest I've ever stuck to one challenge thing so... thanks for that??

[holsten-from-hasa]

I posted 19,513 times in 2021

88 posts created (0%)

19425 posts reblogged (100%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 220.7 posts.

I added 283 tags in 2021

#last life spoilers - 176 posts

#liveblogging mcc - 31 posts

#3rd life spoilers - 25 posts

#hermitcraft - 12 posts

#fave - 11 posts

#candy man curse - 7 posts

#empires smp - 6 posts

#yeah - 5 posts

#my ocs - 5 posts

#oh my god - 5 posts

Longest Tag: 103 characters

#time is an illusion and it reminds you what hapened this week even if it feels like a month ago already

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

You know what? Fuck you. -unzombies your cleo-

44 notes • Posted 2021-08-23 20:38:16 GMT

#4

hey what's the deal with empiresonas if you dont mind me asking? I'd like to maybe join the community in some capacity but I dont know how to do that

Empiresonas Discord Server was a server originally started as a place to discuss and develop ocs in the empires world. As it stands, it's become more of a general empires discord after just under two weeks.

It's a friendly place overall, though we do have over 100 members. And we do have some of the most cursed discussions I've ever seen. But there's also a lot of cool headcanons, aus, and worldbuilding ideas around and people pretty much always around to discuss them. We also have roleplay sections for roleplaying the empires ocs themselves.

We also have a rather incredible amount of server lore given we're nto even a week old. Scott Smajor joining for at least a day, everyone being forcibly turned cyan for Slut Smajor Saturday (originally as a way to give Scott the Scott Smajor role sneakily but now happens weekly), the "interesting mob vote" as it was called in one stream with Fwhip, Gem, and Sausage. We also have a fishfucker pride flag, our own (possibly still a work in progress) cards against humanity deck made by @zlixlriffs, and a thread thats been running nearly two weeks where most messages are just 'whorenoth'.

In summary, it's a fun and friendly place but can be chaotic and cursed as hell. We're also constantly on the watch for containment breaches in streams, at this point. If you'd like to join, I'll leave an invite link below:

https://discord.gg/xejdMcb6CY

56 notes • Posted 2021-09-05 07:36:11 GMT

#3

Hello hermitblr, me and @coppertip-canary were discussing inhuman hermits and they had a really cool headcanon for Xisuma's powers.

Basically: Xisuma has a type of shapeshifting where he can mimic things, such as mobs while keeping his humanoid shape. This takes a lot of energy and isn't immediately reversible and it takes longer to revert with more drastic changes. He could also mimic another player, but then be stuck looking like them for who knows how long.

So I raised the idea: what if X pushed his powers a bit too far, further than he usually would, and became an actual axolotl. And we bounced ideas back and forth for a while.

And given he's working with Evil X, that raises the oppurtunity for the newest capitalist on the server to have to carry him around in a bucket, a bit like X does with Mini Me. Yeah he'd grumble a lot and claim he hates doing it, but given his recent interaction with a strider and the fact he cared enough to do part of a video when X was ill, he probably wouldn't mind too much.

Other fun things:

- X still has to do admin duties, but has to do it as an axolotl. Evil X has to hold him up to the admin panels because he lost his helmet when he became an axolotl. Tiny axolotl slapping buttons trying to get things to work while occasionally dipping back into a bucket.

- The joys of the other hermits finding out and carrying X's bucket around with them, despite his annoyed axolotl sounds. They have absolutely terrified him half to death several times, at least one of them managing to drop the bucket once.

- The hermits accidentally manage to switch X with another axolotl from their aquariums. They don't realise until much later, when X manages to undo the changes. Can't decide if a hermit coming home to doom guy desperately tapping the glass going 'please let me out' or <Xisuma drowned.> appearing in chat is the funniest way for the others to find out.

- They fed him tropical fish, and he never stopped eating it. He refuses to tell the others that, but they've all seen him sneakily munching on one in a corner. They all get him tropical fish as gifts occasionally. He says he doesn't eat them but if you ask him where the fish went he changes the subject.

58 notes • Posted 2021-08-13 18:32:32 GMT

#2

Whorenoth

71 notes • Posted 2021-08-24 13:38:43 GMT

#1

xisuma: we're naming our horsie ray, like the sunglasses. ray-bans me: oh no. ray-bans summer sale.

160 notes • Posted 2021-07-25 17:35:57 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #oh this is. actually mildly cursed #how the fuck is whorenoth number 2 #also yeah i reblog like a madman #good day

[peanutxparker]

A (very long) list of all of my favorite AJJ lyrics because why not

Candy Cigarettes and Cap Guns (2005)

“Well my great grand-dad he died of cancer, from smoking too many cigarettes. But I must confess that he did quite profess to being the coolest motherfucker I ever met.”

“And cocaine is essentially vegan and they don't give a fuck anyway.”

“And I can't help but miss him even though he hit me everyday.”

“So fuck white people! (fuck white people!)”

“Heaven is a special place in hell where you can watch the people you hate get hurt.”

“You find me quite charming and I find it quite alarming ‘cause I'm gonna take your life. You find me quite charming and I find it quite alarming and I'm sad you won't be my wife.”

“What makes you think you can be so pretty? And what makes you think you can be so great? And what makes you think you can be so intelligent? And what makes you think you can be so far away?”

“What makes you think you can be so wonderful? And what makes you think you can be so keen? And what makes me think I can be so hurtful? And what makes me think I can be so mean?”

“Sometimes I feel like a cigarette, I'm wrapped in paper and I'm suffocating to death.”

“I don't want to be a cigarette anymore. I'll go to hell in my self death all day and night, so please just put me out.”

People Who Can Eat People Are The Luckiest People In The World (2007)

“Rejoice despite the fact this world will hurt you. Rejoice despite the fact this world will kill you. Rejoice despite the fact this world will tear you to shreds. Rejoice because you’re trying your best”

“I'm afraid to leave the house. I'm as timid as a mouse. I'm afraid if I go out I'll outwear my welcome. I'm not a courageous man. I don't have any big lasting plans. I'm too cowardly to take a stand, I want to keep my nose clean. And it's sad to know that we're not alone in this and it's sad to know that there's no honest way out. In this life we lead, we could conquer everything if we could just get the brave to get out of bed in the morning.”

“And I give a thank-you to my father for not raising me, and I give a finger to my step-father for beating me, and I give props to myself for achieving, and god damn I’m glad that I survived, and god damn I’m surprised that I survived.”

“So I looked into your eyes and I saw the reflection of a coward you and I both hate very much and then I grabbed the knife and I let the blood out of your throat and I smashed those tiny mirrors inside of your skull.”

“If I don’t go to hell when I die I might go to heaven, might go to heaven. But probably not.”

“Just happy times and half assed rhymes and mimes because mimes are dears, but most of all I want no more tears.”

“No more racism. No more discrimination. No more fat dumb fucks keeping people out of our nation.”

“We’re all one big band across this land and we should sing in tune. Let us grow the balls to break the walls, we’ve got to do it soon.”

“And I hope our candles flicker and die so that our hearts don’t burn to the ground.”

“First we were babies, we're birthing and dying. Then we were children, we're playing and crying. And then we're teenagers and smoking and fucking. But now we're all grown up and we're sadly sighing.”

“And your manic depression, it comes and it goes. Your parasympathetic nervous system reacts and you're in fight or flight mode.”

“How's the world so small when the world is so large? And what made the world? Could I please speak to who's in charge? Everything is real but it's also just as fake. From your daughter's birthday party to your grandmother's wake.”

“I've tried to know which words to sing so many times. I tried to know which chord to play and I tried to make it rhyme. And I tried to find the key that all good songs are in. And I tried to find that notes to make that great, resounding din.”

“There's someone in your head waiting to fucking strangle you.”

“I've got essays, I've got finals due. I have got lots and lots of problems.”

“Welcome to this world, have as much fun as you would like while helping others have as much fun as you're having. Be kind to those you love and be kind to those you don't but for God's sake you gotta be kind.”

Can’t Maintain (2009)

“I wanna pick up the pieces and plant them in the ground. When a tree grows there I want to chop that tree down. Build it into a boat and float it in a lake. And with dynamite I will explode the thing that makes me make mistakes.”

“Sometimes I get so lonesome I can't breathe. Sometimes I get so scared that I can't speak. Sometimes I get so worried I can't hear my heartbeat. Anyway…”

“I wanna tear out my heart and give it away to a person more deserving one day. If all I see is the worst in everything that's all I'm gonna get, that's all I'm gonna get, that's all I'm gonna get.”

“And people freak me out. People make me scared. People make me so damn self-aware.”

“I get bronchitis twice a year at least. My lungs aren't the way they should be. And I smoke more than a mother fuckin chimney. I declare war on my body.”

“You will cough up crows that peck my eyes and I will do nothing but go blind.”

“We could live there together or I'll live alone, less happy but I'll live... unfortunately.”

“And no one will know how I truly feel ‘cause I can no longer differentiate between what is fake and what is real. I don't know how I feel.”

“And I will always appreciate bad days like this because they grant me a point of reference in regards to my happiness.”

“If the bridge that I was driving over collapsed while I was driving over it that may not be such a bad thing. I would finally meet my maker, I could meet the great creator, and I'd punch him for teaching me how to sing.”

“Don't know if I believe in god but sometimes I pray because the way I was raised keeps me afraid.”

“I hope I can forgive me for having the nerve to exist. I hope someone can help me make some sense of this.”

“Sense and sensibility and peaceful productivity, a pretty girl with broken wings is all that I desire. But there's so much hostility in all the things surrounding me. The awful glow of enmity is trying to stop my shine. So I try to look inwardly at all the things inside of me but sodomy and buggery keep bubbling to the top.”

“I met you once over the phone, you sounded sad and you seemed alone. You left me but I never left you. I never had the chance to.”

“If you spend all your heart on something that has died you are not alive and that can't be your life.”

Knife Man (2011)

“There's no one to blame. People are just fucking mean.”

“So if I see a penny on the ground, I leave it alone or fucking flip it. I'm a straight white male in America. I've got all the luck I need.”

“I've got a pile of broken mirrors and I'm walking under ladders and I'll spill a ton of salt because to me that doesn't matter.”

“You were dead by the time that I had found you. Your blood was spilled on the couch where we had first kissed. So I carried you west to the sea so I could wash you. Your body felt just like a back pack.”

“I hate whiny, fucking songs like this but I can't afford a therapist. Sorry guys, here's a solo.”

“Some days I feel like I'm the weakest and others the strongest. These days are the longest and I've got the weirdest feeling about this and I wanna go away for a while.”

“I wish I had a bullet big enough to fucking kill the sun. I'm sick of songs about the summer.”

“When you have no one, you are no one. Like I said, I used to work at the people pound. All these no ones clumped together, just like a human lost and found. If they left them all be someones there wouldn't be enough to go around. It's better for us all us if there are no ones. And I knew a lot of no ones round that time. They used to all be someones until something took their life and all their someones disappeared while they're stuck there waiting in a line. And for them now, no one seems to have the time.”

“They say ambition is an enemy of weakness and greatness is an enemy of fame.When I pick up my guitar and I try to write a song, I think of what my mentor used to say… “Who fucking gives a rat's ass Steve, just write a love song. Cus they'll keep your belly full and your wallet lined. Don't bother these nice people with your sad sack songs. If you ask me I think they're just a waste of time.””

“Inspiration is the best friend of my sorrow and sorrow is the best friend of my drink. Well I want to look myself in the eye tomorrow but I'm too worried of what other folk's will think.”

“And the troubles in my heart need to get let out. And the troubles in my heart need to escape. And I never liked writing poetry and I never liked doing pottery and God knows that I never learned to paint. So every now and then, I'll sing sad songs. Cus it keeps my spirit light and my conscience clean. And if you don't care to hear I don't mind if you go out for some air. Cus I'm happy that you're happier than me.”

“So I wish I had a cigarette for every time a perfect stranger asked me for a cigarette but I wonder what a cigarette will really do to help that person out. I wish to God I had some spare change for every time a perfect stranger asked me for some spare change but there's not enough spare change in the world to make such an empty gesture count.”

“You can hope it gets better and you can follow your dreams but hope is for presidents and dreams are for people who are sleeping.”

“You don't have it any better and you don't have it any worse. You're an irreplaceable human soul with your own understanding of what it means to suffer and that’s a huge bummer.”

“I'm afraid of the way I live my life. I'm afraid of the way I don't. I'm afraid of the things that I want to do but I won't. I'm afraid of God. I'm afraid to believe and I'm afraid of all the loved ones that I've made leave. I'm afraid that my dog doesn't love me anymore. I'm afraid of the social laziness that let Kitty Genovese die. And I'm afraid of the mob mentality that makes otherwise normal people go blind. I'm afraid of the way that the world works and I'm afraid of the words in my notebooks. I'm afraid that you all know that I am a pervert.”

“It's harder to be yourself than it is to be anybody else. I wish I were a little less of a coward but the big red bird that lives under the city doesn't give a damn about me and it dies every night. So I bought a knife. I am a knife.”

Rompilation (2012)

“I used to be a spiderman, I used to be a cowboy from hell, but not anymore. Now I'm just a clam and I live inside this shell inside this shell I am. God damn I hate my brain.”

“I'll dip my brain in medicine so that you can stand to be with me.”

“Give me your tired, give me your tired, give me your poor. When our government acts like this, I wonder what World War II was for and the rest of the country hates us more and more. Lady Liberty is not a whore.”

“This is not a protest, it's a tortoise slowly pushing through a race. I hope the tortoise keeps its patience while the hare continues to pepper-spray its face.”

“There is no enemy, there's only people that also love their families and they're scared that they won't have enough long after they are deceased. But how much money do they need? Love turns into fear, and fear turns into greed. There is no enemy, there's only dummies that also love their families.”

“And this is not a phase, it's just a matter of time, with diligence and peacefulness, you will reach them and you will change their minds. If you stay there long enough, they'll start to see you.”

“And when you pushed my face in shit how could that have made you feel like a man or like a monster. It's your fault that I can't tell the difference.”

“In the evening I try songwriting. I'm self loathing, but I love singing. I'll try escaping these evil feelings but they keep coming, they keep coming…”

“So the baby's gonna have a daddy, that's wonderful news. He won't be the greatest parent but neither will you! Gotta get out while you can, otherwise you're screwed. Your legs are broken and your eyes are black and blue.”

“And smoking is like hiring a hitman for five dollars a day, and as cool as that is, I don't wanna keep dying this way.”

Christmas Island (2014)

“Shoot him again ‘cause I can see his soul dancing.”

“If you give it to me I’ll give it back much harder. If you treat me like a son, then I’ll treat you like a daughter. Everyone has a future, everyone has a soul, everyone has a heart, they have a mind, they have control.”

“The Coffin Dancer dances like he has something the prove because he does. He sleeps a couple hours in the morning, hates the morning when he wakes up.”

“The Coffin Dancer dances like he wants to make a friend, but he does not.”

“Getting naked and playing with guns. There's a gerbil in the microwave, a baseball bat in everyone. Sharing kisses and building a bomb. We'll set it off like Microsoft in '94.”

“McDonald's PlayPlace before the Xbox, cake frosting, sweet talking, bedroom wall, covered in knives, touching God, burning shit. We'll make a wish and take a trip to Future Town like our daddy did.”

“Have you ever wanted to be, have you ever wanted to see someone better in the mirror? Have you ever wanted to go, have you ever wanted to know somewhere greener, somewhere cleaner. I bet you got something beautiful in mind.”

“I can’t handle astounding works of beauty. I think I like my pretty pretty ugly but the beautiful soul I witnessed in that movie was an entirely different kind of overwhelming. It was a dog that won’t stop barking. Like a cut that never stops bleeding. Arizona sunsets in the early evening. Or a grown man inconsolably weeping.”

“I am the Kool-Aid stains on the mouth of a kid whose name is most likely Cody. He had a juice box for breakfast and he carries a stick that he most likely found in the alley. Cody doesn't have friends and his parents hate each other and he wants to find a better way to love his family and after school he hangs out in the abandoned house behind the Arby's.”

The Bible 2 (2016)

“Oh, I love you cause I love you cause I can.”

“On your last night at Saint Mary's you were way too intoxicated to breathe. So I used your ribs as ladders and I climbed up on your chest and I jumped up and down just like a trampoline.”

“Confused and rude. Such a special kind of way to be cruel.”

“If I were one of the things, I'd be american garbage. The most beautiful thing. The most beautiful american garbage you have ever seen.”

“No more shame, no more fear, no more dread.”

“And if you don't want to feel the feeling, no one should ever make you feel the feeling.”

“I thought I saw you before I knew who you were.”

“I just wanted to rage but all I got was tired”

“I showed him all the books that I was raised on. Your Madeleine L'Engle(s) and D'Aulaires' Mythologies.”

“And his eyes became a beacon, an LCD projector, broadcasting all my memories in a clear and vivid picture. His tongue became a staircase, his uvula - The knocker of an ornate wooden door that lead me straight into my future. His throat became a hallway with a thousand baby pictures and I became forgiveness, I transformed into the closure that I lost when I learned about the tragedy of all of us. I lost it when I learned about the tragedy of all of us.”

Good Luck Everybody (2019)

“If you don't give it to them they'll starve to death and that's alright.”

“I've got the normalization blues, this isn't normal, this isn't good.”

“I'm detached and I'm distracted, all keyed up but unproductive, vacillating between being all excited and disgusted and then dozing lackadaisically in this bubble where I've made my mental home. Connection's more important now than it ever was, but I'd rather be alone.”

“And when we talk about the president, we're either pissed off or we're giggling about an atrocity he's committing or some stupid shit he's tweeting. He's a symptom and a weapon of the evil men who really run the show. The ones who melt down human beings into money like a cruel Sorcerer's Stone.”

“This is the golden age of dickotry, probably the last golden age of anything, and the ugliest word in the English language is anthropocene. Good luck, everybody. Good luck.”

“But before that, you'll be a doormat, for every vicious narcissist in the world. Oh how they'll screw you, all up and over, then feed you silence for dessert.”

“I'm sorry that you have to have a body, filled with infection, one hundred scabs singing in unison, eyes and hands, sometimes bullets, uninvited, passing through us.”

“Oh to be awake for such a shitty dream. A bullet in the head of every decent thing.”

“The lake of dead black children that America created is getting fuller than the founding Fathers even wanted. The ghost of great America was underestimated and now it rages like a cold sore on the lip of this dumb nation. Again we've slipped inside a pit of absolute despair. That's where we live.”

“Rewarding our worst cruelty, they destroyed our shared reality, and now they upsell us our dignity like some fucked VIP package.”

“There is no absolute, these days there's no such thing as truth and you don't need to be a dick about it.”

“I'm a burnout and a fool, oblivious to all I do. I move my lips when I read and breathe with my mouth open, wide open. Timid, meek, and cruel, this is the best that I can do. I need to speak my truth, yet here I'm broken wide, wide open. My resentment, big and strong, and all the things that I can't change. They'll buckle me beneath the weight. I will drive myself insane with all the things that I can't change. I hate all the things that I can't change.”

“You're a loudmouth and a tool, and as it turns out I am too, and you don't need to be a dick about it.”

“Because I know that you know what I need more than me and I know that you need me more than that.”

“For all the pussies you grab and the children you lock up in prison, for all the rights you roll back and your constant stream of racism, for all the poison you drip in my ear, for all your ugly American fear. I wrote you this beautiful song called Psychic Warfare.”

“I hate you with all of my heart. I hate you with all of my art.”

“I went back to the desert, little Midwest in me, and now I am colder than I used to be. I live in a fortress the shape of my body, and now there's a coldness, and it's shaped like me. Now I don't suffer any more bullshit gladly. Even though everything's bullshit now, here in 2019 and you can bet it's gonna be a bunch of bullshit too out in sweet 2020 or whenever this album's released.”

#ajj band #ajj #andrew jackson jihad

[the-fandom-fuckup]

I posted 903 times in 2021

23 posts created (3%)

880 posts reblogged (97%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 38.3 posts.

I added 1,504 tags in 2021

#non fandom - 479 posts

#beautiful art - 332 posts

#bnha - 276 posts

#bakugou katsuki - 91 posts

#artistic reference - 80 posts

#aizawa shouta - 65 posts

#todoroki enji - 50 posts

#cats - 47 posts

#kirishima eijirou - 45 posts

#yamada hizashi - 39 posts

Longest Tag: 133 characters

#but on the other i'm still going ouchie bc he doesn't wanna be distant in this time but reaching out could put them in so much danger

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Me, getting myself stuck in a pit of another rarepair/ot3? You know it

Only wips for now tho bc I’m allergic to finishing my pieces lmao

21 notes • Posted 2021-04-05 11:49:40 GMT

#4

Tiny spoilers for chapter 317

Can I just say, the shift from "Leave me alone Dad, god" to "Pick up the phone Dad" is smth that made me smile a bit, but also hurt bc situational owies

Like it's probably been weeks? Months? Since Shouto last heard from his dad, and he's used to being pestered at least a little bit in that time, right?

With all the tension in world and the dangers creeping up on everyone I just thought it was super sweet for this to be included. Like the boy's worried for his dad, and it didn't have to be shown here but I'm glad it was. It's a little moment for you to go aw, how sweet☺

Just to get to the end of the chapter n have your heart torn out anyway

24 notes • Posted 2021-06-20 17:32:05 GMT

#3

Kirikacchako? Please

I'm not sure if this is referencing a specific prompt from like.. An older post or not, but I've been on a bit of an au kick lately so I'm gonna use this as a plug for some of the aus/ideas I've had, so I hope that's alright ^-^

(I'd offer a doodle for your troubles but... I don't have any to offer rn gjskfksjfkak)

One of the most recent ideas I've had is Kirichako sirens x hoh/ace pirate Baku, in which Kirichako are a mated pair of sirens that travel the seas together to prey on unsuspecting sailors and Baku is a pirate that spends a bit too much time around the cannons n explosives, resulting in hearing loss over time

Upon meeting Baku for the first time Kiri n Ochako are both fascninated and peeved. Fascinated bc no one's ever looked them in the eyes during their song and resisted them like he has, and peeved bc immediately after staring at them Baku tried killing them with explosives

Like sure, they've met people on the seas that have been resistent to either their song or bodies before, but never someone who was unaffected by both. They didn't know whether to be more interested or insulted honestly

((They go with interested, but tell themselves they're insulted bc it's easier to admit))

N honestly I don't have much here, but they end up following Baku's ship around bc it has some good benefits (provides them with protection from bigger sea creatures, food from all the ships they destroy/people they fuck up), and also they just like bothering Baku until they get a reaction from him

They don't sing to him anymore, but they chitter at him n throw pretty sea trinkets up against the ship/into open cannon flaps for him to find later

The last thing I have for this idea is the courting process probably starts bc Baku tripped on the sea trinkets one too many times while carrying out his duties n gets pissed, so he goes up to the main deck to get their attention before chucking some sparkly, garbage thing back at them hoping to distract them enough to get them to fuck off. But the sirens look at their new gift and go wait... Returned gift?? A courting gift?? Which goes to kickstarts a whole new wave of bullshit lmao, rip Baku's sanity

Another idea I wanna shoehorn these guys into is my EnjiRei/TodoDeku mafia bodyguard au, but I'm not too sure on how to go about it tbh like

One one hand, I could have Kiri in with the Todorokis n Ochako in with All Might's group, and have Baku be the unsuspecting civilian just trying to live his life but has attracted the attention of both gang members, who then treat it as a rivalry of who gets Baku first but end up seeing each other as more than just rival groups when the gangs actually start working together n they get paired to run jobs, and has everyone spiralling into a mess of feelings and highjinks before leveling out to smth manageable

On another hand I could have a similar idea with Kacchako as the rivaling gang members and Kiri as the unsuspecting civilian, or maybe even some other underground member like an underground ring fighter or a runner or whatever, who gets scouted by the groups bc his reputation in the ring gets him a gig as some extra muscle or smth for an outside job

And then on the last hand I could have pre-established Kiribaku as the gang members (in the same gang this time) and Ochako as the civilian making bad deals with shady people for extra cash to try and help her family out of their shitty finacial situation, taking jobs she has no business taking (probably from the rising group that's fucking up everything for everyone else tbh) n catching the boys' attention bc "what's a pretty little thing like you doing in the sleazy part of town? Don'tcha know shit gets dangerous around here?" And they're endeared by her spunk n unwillingness to crumble under pressure so they take her under their wing to show her the ropes but also gives them their kicks bc they get off on corrupting her innocent n naive moral compass, all while being hunted by the other group bc she ditched their jobs n now has to face the consequences or smth, Idk idk

It would help if I had any understanding of how mobs/organised crime shit worked or even watched those kinds of shows/movies lmaofnakfmdjs

I'll finish it off with the modern fantasy au I've been thinking about bc I love it dearly, staring alpha werewolf Baku, alpha dragon Kiri, and bamf witch Ochako

At some point or other Baku gets the entire Bakusquad + Deku, Tetsu, Camie, and Ochako living in his packhouse bc he takes a great deal of pride in caring for his pack members and it's actually really easy for his alpha to categorise people as pack, but you'd have to pull out all his teeth before he admits it

Some of them just decided they lived there now n didn't leave, but both Kiri (+Tetsu) and Ochako were brought in by Baku bc his alpha's love language is acts of service/providing and clearly they both benefitted from the move so "why tf are you making such a big deal about it?? Just pack your shit n get it moved in, you've got a week"

Kirikacchako dance around each other hardcore in this au, to the exasperation of everyone else. The alphas try to play off their urges to provide n scentmark as subtly as possible, and since Ochako isn't aware of the meaning it goes pretty well. But literally everyone else is rolling their eyes n making bets on how long it takes them to get their shit together lmaojdidudj

A scene I have pictured for them (and the first one I came up with for this au) is Ochako going out somewhere and Kiri n Baku both casually scent her before she heads out, thinking they're all slick n shit. But as soon as she leaves Deku levels them with the most deadpan expression he can make n says "that was the least subtle thing I've ever seen in my life", and as Baku snaps n goes "I dunno what you're talking about" Kiri replies with a smug "I wasn't trying to be😏"

And like. Realistically the alphas know Ochako isn't really an omega, but she does share some traditional omega qualities that have their alphas going wild (period cycle=heat cycle, round n squishy but will fight you=strength n size for providing healthy pups + the ability to protect them, etc.) so it's understandable that their alphas would slip up n refer to her as their omega, right? Right??

It also doesn't help that after taking Ochako with them on full moon runs, she's been chatting with some of the betas n omegas there and asking how to better communicate with the boys (to avoid miscommunication, she says). But they've both marked her so much that the betas n omegas think she's their courted omega, so they teach her vocal cues n what they mean coming from an alpha, and teach her how to purr and chirp in response.

They don't think to mention the significance behind some of the cues they teach her bc why would they? Smelling as strongly as she does, there's no way those alphas aren't going to give her their bite n bond with her. Why would they need to explain some of the more provocative noises they teach her? They're just helping her for when her alphas decide it's the right time to mate her, is all

I haven't gotten around to how their tension n dancing breaks, but it does eventually n they do get together n bond and all that good stuff, and eventually they have werewolf/dragon/magic hybrid babies bc I have quirkbabes design in another au n I'm obviously dropping them into every au I possibly can bc I love them n put a lot of work into them (and they're super pretty, so I'm showing them off where ever I can assuming I actually draw smth for this au eventually rip)

And wow, this is getting kinda long n rambly so I'm gonna end it here, but I hope that this was kinda what you were looking for landkwidjdkwbf

If you wanna know more about any of the aus just let me know, I could ramble forever

Or if you have any other kirikacchako ideas you wanna hear about feel free to drop them off, I don't mind!! ^-^

33 notes • Posted 2021-03-08 14:38:57 GMT

#2

A bit of manga spoilers below

So like. I can't be the only one thinking about 2nd's scar right? It's big and jagged and adds to his distinction from Baku features nicely, but I noticed smth while reading and now I have a thought

Like that bad boy stretches across his entire face. It's kinda hard to miss, right?

But when we see him n 3rd recounting their first meeting with the Original it looks like he hasn't gotten the scar yet

Like, if he had it in that first pic we'd be able to see it cross his nose and trail above the eyebrow. And yea, it could be stylistic choices or visual effects (particularly in the second pic) that are the cause for this, but here's where my thought comes in.

What if that scar was caused by his final showdown with AfO, and was the killing blow that ended him? Yea we've seen other characters with nasty looking facial scars, and some of them are pretty big and mean lookin, too.

But this scar just seems like someone was trying to keep him down for good, y'know? A lucky shot right between the eyes, going from jawline to hairline, and thick enough to show it wasn't just a little kitten scratch.

Like could he have possibly gotten it from any fight after meeting the Original? Sure. They said so themselves they lived during the height of AfO's power, during the roughest parts of quirk history. They've no doubt been in a lot of bad situations and the scar could be no more than a nod to that.

But I really like the thought of it being his last wound, his last hit before he was downed for good. He even said himself that winning in this fight meant living on, and losing meant he'd die trying, and I dunno. Maybe I'm just a dramatic bitch, but I really like the thought of him living in this afterlife with a constant reminder that he gave his best in his last fight, but that wasn't quite enough to see him through it.

(That and everyone knows scars are better when they have a loaded history behind them lmao)

41 notes • Posted 2021-04-26 05:31:12 GMT

#1

Ngl when I learnt Heisenberg's first name was Karl I was like hmmm... I dunno. Sounds kinda lame for a powerful, fearful murderous dude :/

But then my brain shot me back like 10+ years out of nowhere with KAAAARRRRL that KILLS PEOPLE

And then I was like y'know what. I take it back, Karl's great

169 notes • Posted 2021-05-12 11:20:48 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #Mostly rbing bc I wanted to see my other five top tags lmao #I'm not surprised that 6/10 are bnha related #I am surprised that my art made it onto my top posts tho ngl #also!! #BnHA spoilers #for a couple posts

[thekillingmoonmoon]

heyyyooo!

how have you been this week? how was cake and roommate!!

there is something so satisfying about a fattened notebook, and the little crinkle each page turn makes. i'm really bad at marking up notebooks. i feel like i don't want to ruin it with whatever i'm wanting to make notes on. unless it's for school or something, then i don't mind.

to completely judge a book by its cover i'm going to have to agree that hamlet is the one i would position cover-out on a bookshelf! i was gifted a set of books that are supposed to be displayed as a colour gradient but... that's not how i arrange books, so the idea is lost and all the brightly coloured spines are scattered among all the other books in my shelf. oop.

ah i made a note for the philodendron and the jp peace lily for when we get flowers in the spring, thank you! let's also hope the are immune to my vampirism, or perhaps i should consider growing garlic XD

ouuuuuuu i've been thinking about the threads in this xmas au since i read it. one, because i was trying to come up with a name for it (best i could do was 'claus and effect' and i've also tried to come up with some slay/sleigh related pun. it's not working), and two, i got mischievously sentimental while i was trying to think up the funny bits. warning, i'm not funny anymore lol. anyway! holidays with bonten.

for koko, i feel like he wraps the presents himself, all neat creases and tidy edges, minimal amounts of wasted paper, and just the right amount of tape to keep it sealed. and they're neatly arranged into their own little piles like trees, because he refuses to put up the real tree. sanzu sends the screenshot of the biscuit-making but omi hears about it (poor guy has heard eeeeeverything about this breakup), takes his advisory role seriously and says it's xmas, ease up on poor koko. so after some consideration, sanzu does. by sneakily taking a candid photo of koko facing the piles of presents and no hint of holidays in the rest of the room, slapping a cool-toned filter on it, and sending that to her with a single text "all he is for christmas is blue." and because she's done well healing past the hurt, and know how the holidays are for him, she sends him a small tin of the almond horns she'd baked. it's a christmas miracle of a truce between the two, if only for a few weeks. yes, sanzu is occasionally sweet. yes, i am playing favourites.

agreed agreed agreed that ran has already bought the best gifts, both quality and sentimental wise. god i'm such a softie for redrose!ran. i can't make any excuses for menace!sanzu when it comes to the haitanis though, so i'll leave him be for this one. for ran and rindou, i could see them also having a christmas miracle of a truce because at the end of the day, they're still brothers who relied and trusted only each other for the longest time. everyone in bonten breathes a small sigh of relief. (i told you, i got stuck in the xmas haze. the holidaze, if you will). i like your idea of the three mikey moods! his one and only warning that he's moving from dorayaki to murder mode in the meeting is him calmly reaching over and stuffing the untouched part into a mouth.

i'd like a happy medium between really effing dry heat and humid heat. it snowed for a bit over the past few days and i'm just... tired and cranky all the time now, haha x_x and not at all the nice snowy scene i described, just a depressing grey.

since you said proper little pizza oven... i'm imagining the one from back to the future, haha. and about the biscuits, i need to know what happened with them!! what kind of flour did she sub? what was the end result? flat and brittle? i'm one of those people who love reading about recipes and collecting them but never make a habit of consistently making any. (though i am pretty good at making a burnt basque cheesecake, even though it's the easiest thing ever but looks like i've spent more time on it than i actually have XD)

lol okay i'm really glad i'm anon because i'm always really shy about sharing music so... to be a little different i'll name my top song for each year i've had it. for 2021 it's blackpink - lovesick girls, for 2020 it's massive attack - paradise circus, for 2019 it's the midnight - shadows (uppermost remix), for 2018 it's the internet - special affair. no judgement pls! 😁💐

helllo hello!

Cake and roommate was delightful, although the driving was not! I got caught in a cloudburst on the way home and the sillies in front of me didn't have ANY lights on? very scary. but I came home in one piece lol.

This week has mostly been procrastination, I'm afraid - but I will complete what needs to be done... eventually...

i also had the phobia of messing up a nice notebook, until I started using the very boring and ugly school notebooks as bullet journals. And now I have no problem breaking in a notebook with my scribbles. I get very frustrated with my handwriting though, but I feel like everyone has that issue.

Ooo - please share your preferred method of organising books! is it height-based? colour-based? alphabetical? chronological? does it at least make sense? (mine does not, in any way)

'Claus and effect' had me cackling, I'm not gonna lie. Like, suffer the consequences of your actions, Bonten boys! Except you, Ran, you're just too fucking happy to be here.

Koko is 100% the present wrapper - the others try to bribe him to wrap their presents (Koko only does it for Mikey, because Mikey just looks so fucking sad when his mess of wrapping paper and tape falls apart) and Koko will 100% unwrap the presents for you, and FOLD the paper for next year! (my gran did this - thanks Great Depression Era parenting - and I've semi adopted this, if only to decrease the volume of rubbish accumulated at the end of unwrapping. I save bows though)

I'm losing it at Sanzu's very sincere attempts of reconciliation (there's still no ways he's going to be of any assistance to the Haitanis though)I think Sanzu's fairly fond of Koko - they've been together since the very start, and I'm sure Koko has cleaned up a fair bit of Sanzu's messes and funds the drug habit, albeit reluctantly. Sanzu also probably has your number because of the amount of times you've had to come collect a tipsy Koko who keeps mumbling sad things about Inupi and Akane and just generally bringing down the Vibe at the Bonten party.

God bless Takeomi. He's listened to so much. just let him retire. He looked over sanzu's message to you and he just had no idea why sanzu was laughing so hard? Koko is blue? he's sad? why is this funny? Haruchiyo, stop laughing. He's also heard every possible theory under the sun regarding what's going on with the Haitanis. Sanzu is so curious, and just assumes that Takeomi's and Mochi's silence on the matter means they want to listen to his theories. sanzu's even more confused when the Haitanis declare a truce for the holidays - like why are you talking to each other now? don't you hate each other? is the war over? Both of the brothers just look at him blankly - Mikey is finishing his plate of food rapidly - maybe we should switch to a party game...

a side note - nether of the Haitanis can wrap a gift. Bless them, they try, but Ran has settled on paying someone to wrap his presents. It's the inside that counts, right? the fact that he didn't actually stick down the tape doesn't matter, and he knows you understand. Rindou has yet to catch on, although he has recently discovered the power of the Gift Bag (why wrestling wrapping paper when you can just pop it into a bag? genius!) Can one of them PLEASE talk to Sanzu and Takeomi about this though? Takeomi wraps things in fucking newspaper and packing tape, and there's no shortage of times when he's gotten distracted and left his lighter or cigarettes (or once, his whole fucking gun) in your present. Sanzu, just, uh, doesn't wrap anything. It gets handed to you as is, maybe still in the plastic bag he bought it in. But he does buy it himself. So that's a win? Kakucho's presents are charmingly self-wrapped. They're not as perfect as Koko, there are a few crinkly bits and he did eventually give up on wrapping that very weirdly shaped gift and put it in a bag. But everything is done with a lot of love and quiet dedication. Mikey's too. He's actually spent hours in multiple malls looking for the perfect gift (none of them were perfect. He had to get Koko to help him order it) his card is also barely legible, but there's so much thought and care put into his gifts that you can't help but cry tears of joy for our saddest little crime boss. Mochi gives you gift cards, or a card giving you him and his credit card for the day, so that you can spend the day doing whatever you like with him, getting precisely what you want (there have been too many occasions when Mochi has bought things the wrong size or colour and he feels so awful about it)

oo, new music for me to look up! I don't judge music tastes, just vibe with what you love - and then like an evil little music raccoon I will steal your recommendations and add them to my collection >_<

alright, enough Bonten Christmas, else you're going to actually make me like Christmas. I'm sorry to hear about your grey snow days - hopefully you get some decent wintery days soon <3

oh lordy the Back to Future pizza oven... that is a food sin..

as for where the biscuit recipe went wrong... I'm honestly too scared to ask - i think she might have used the wrong flour, but I'm not sure what.

!!!! cheesecake!! is it fairly easy to make?? if so, please drop the recipe!

anyway! thank you for stopping by <3 sending love to you and I hope you have a good end to your week xx

mwah!

#killingmoon answers #killingmoon anons #🐰🌙: 💐 anon