#and it had a lot of effects on the wider plot

[a-wine-dark-sea]

one moment i wish people talked about more in the raven cycle is when gansey confesses to being greedy when it comes to magic. how he says that all the wonderful, slightly terrifying things he encountered lost their meaning after a while because he was always looking for more

excelsior - onwards and upwards - but what happens when you climb so high you forget everything below you? 

looking back on that moment i think it’s really important because it shows why the ending of trk was so important. if everything had culminated exactly how gansey wanted it to - if wishes were granted and summer never ended - then i think he would have never have understood the value of everything he had already

one of the big developments in gansey’s character is him recognising the privilege he has and i think without the series ending the way it did that would never have happened because one of the greatest privileges he has - and one of the most important in the books - is the relationships he has with his friends and i think that deserved to be highlighted

all of the gangsey are a little bit in love with and willing to die for each other and that’s immensely important to the story. they are people that are all a little lost on their own who are able to feel safe and understood together and that’s one of the core themes of the books 

and in the decision for glendower not to be what they wanted it not only makes gansey appreciate all the other magic he has around him - blue and the women of fox way, ronan the greywaren and cabeswater, adam the magician - but also the beauty of his family - something just as magical and rare and completely fundamental to the story and to gansey

#the raven cycle #trc #gansey #gansey trc #i just have a lot of thoughts ok #the ending was such an interesting choice #and it had a lot of effects on the wider plot #and gansey is such a beautiful character #pats him on the head #i just think hes neat #the raven boys #the raven king #ronan lynch #literature #maggie steifvater

[yumeka-sxf]

Thoughts on Spy x Family CODE: White

My thoughts on CODE: White will likely be different from most people since I knew pretty much the entire plot beforehand. I'm a spoiler fiend when it comes to my hyperfixations like SxF, so I read the novelization of the movie back in January and kept up on all the promotional videos and images that were released. But when it was finally time to see the movie for myself, did that ruin my enjoyment? Not at all. For me, it actually made me enjoy it more because 1) I knew what to expect so I wasn't disappointed, and 2) I found myself looking forward to seeing all the scenes I only read about or saw short clips of.

With that said, yes, I enjoyed the movie so much! If you're a Spy x Family fan, or even just a casual enjoyer of the series, it's a ton of fun. It has all the elements we love about the series: clever humor, sweet family moments, and spy action/drama. And because it's a movie, we get to see all of this with a movie animation budget instead of a TV series budget, which is another plus!

One thing to keep in mind with these original, stand-alone anime films based on series is that they're meant for a more general crowd than just fans of the series. Since theaters attract a wider audience than late-night TV and online manga chapters, movies like this serve as a means to introduce the series to people who may only have a vague idea of what it's about. That's why these movies contain a storyline that can fit mostly anywhere in the series chronology and don't have anything canon-altering.

CODE: White is an interesting mix of plots that, for the most part, blend together well. There's the main plot that continues throughout, which is saving Operation Strix by having Anya learn how to make the meremere for the cooking contest, but then there's the Yor jealousy plot B which is resolved in the first half, but is then replaced by the next "plot B" in the latter half of the movie, which is saving Anya from the military.

A lot of people didn't like the "Yor gets jealous" subplot when it was first revealed before the movie even came out, since it seemed to be a rehash of her being jealous about Fiona. I personally didn't have a problem with this since I don't think it's unreasonable for her to get jealous a second time, especially when she thinks she sees Loid doing something extreme like kissing another woman (as opposed to just talking). But the way it was resolved could have been a bit better in my opinion. The ferris wheel scene in the movie very much mirrored the bar scene from the series, but the reason the latter is so effective is because we get to hear Loid's inner thoughts during it; we know he's going full Twilight-mode and isn't being sincere, and that's why Yor kicks him. But then at the park, he talks to her much more genuinely and they work things out. But in the ferris wheel scene, we don't get to hear his inner thoughts so we don't get any indication as to whether his repeating of the marriage vows, etc, is him being sincere or not. Then she smacks him, they insist they aren't fighting when Anya brings it up, and that's the end of it.

I do like the fact that Anya reads their minds and seems happy with what she "hears" in their heads, but I still think the subplot would have felt more complete if it ended after Yor realized her mistake rather than have Loid do the ambiguous Romeo act again. Or it could have been brought up one more time later in the movie, for example, Yor apologizes for hitting him, he talks to her more sincerely, etc. If you're gonna rehash the bar scene, at least rehash the scene that brought it closure, which is the park bench scene. Again, I'm totally fine with the jealously subplot overall, just thought it could have been wrapped up a bit better.

Other than that, there were just a few little issues I had, like how was Anya able to afford what was probably an expensive liquor? (was she really packing that much dough in her little bag? She went straight from the bedroom out the window so it's not like she "borrowed" any money from Loid). Also seemed weird that she didn't pick up on Yor's infidelity worries until last minute. A few things stretched the line of believability a bit far too, like Loid's ability to make perfect masks so quickly, and Anya just happening to hit her head on the button that conveniently opened all the windows on the bridge. Also something here and there that didn't align with the manga, like Yor not having any reaction to sharing a room with Loid, whereas she has a totally different reaction to this in chapter 94. Maybe a bit more resolution for the fates of the villains too. I guess Luca and Dmitri survived the crash, but what about Snidel? Did Loid actually kill him or just knock him out? And if it's the latter, Snidel seems like the type who would want to get revenge. A quick cameo of what happened to them in the end would have been nice.

Speaking of the villains, normally I wouldn't like the fact that they're pretty one-dimensional and not that interesting, but for a movie like this where most people just want to see the Forgers being themselves in fun and exciting scenarios, taking time away from that to make more developed villains who likely won't be seen again in the franchise, would have not been the best choice, lol.

But even though I had some criticisms of the movie, all of them are minor and not enough to overshadow everything else that was enjoyable about it. Besides all the humor, of which there was plenty, there were so many cute "awww" family moments that perhaps didn't lend anything to the plot, but were still important to establish the characters and their relationships, and thus make us care about what happens to them. Like the scene of Anya, Yor, and Bond playing at the hotel...it could have been skipped without anything seeming out of place, but it reveals so much about the characters without being blatant about it: how Yor wants to please Anya despite being a bit embarrassed at first to take part in her game, and then how Anya's eyes light up with happiness when Yor starts playing with her...for a series like SxF that's character-driven rather than plot-driven, scenes like this are so important and I'm glad the film creators realized this too!

There were also so many cute, subtle scenes as well, like when Loid and Yor smile at each other after chiding Anya, as if they're happy to share this moment of exhausting yet satisfying parenting; when Anya reads Loid's mind after he saves her but doesn't reveal what he's actually thinking yet we can imagine what it is based on her expression; Loid showing feelings of comradery with the restaurant owner because their pasts are so similar; Anya quietly and sadly hugging Bond in the bedroom; and in the ferris wheel after Yor feels so embarrassed about misunderstanding what happened with Loid and the woman but then can't help but smile with motherly love when she sees Anya waving at her...the movie is filled with moments like this that are like little love letters to fans who know the true heart of SxF isn't so much the action and spy drama as it is the family relationships.

And of course, as I mentioned before, the animation of the movie is fantastic! Not just the action scenes, which are great by the way, especially Yor's fight with Type F, but the character expressions as well. Anya's always had the most varied and hilarious faces of all the characters, but the movie goes even harder with her expressions, especially when she has to hold in her stool! Her faces were making me both cringe and laugh at the same time! The animators did such a good job making me feel sorry for her but also laugh at her.

I'm not a fan of potty humor, but I was confident SxF would make it funny, and I was right! The poop god sequence in particular was as equally cringe as it was hilarious!

To conclude, CODE: White is a must-see for anyone who likes or loves Spy x Family. I can't say it's a cinematic masterpiece or anything, but for what it's supposed to be - a fun and enjoyable film for those who like the series, it definitely delivers! Can't wait to see it at least two more times during its showing in the US...and more times in the future!

#spy x family #sxf #spy family #spyxfamily #loid forger #yor forger #anya forger #bond forger #sxf code white #spy x family code white #sxf movie spoilers #sxf movie #sxf spoilers #sxf manga spoilers

[elitadream]

🎆 Sing for Absolution: behind the scenes 🎆

Hello everyone, and welcome to this summary on how the story was visually built! If you happen to come across this post and would like to read (or reread) the collab @drones-of-innocence and I have created together, just click on the title above and it will take you right to it! 🤗

With that said, let's begin! :D

As some of you already know, this was an idea that Drones had for a long time. It was brought up during one of our many conversations a few months ago, in which she briefly described the plot and sent me a condensed version. I- immediately and completely fell in love with the concept, so much so that I couldn't keep still. 😂💘 I practically begged Drones to let me draw a few frames for it, and she happily gave me permission. At first, what I intended to do was make about 3 or 4 thumbnails, like I had done with One Step Closer.

I returned with 22.

And from there, we both decided "Okay. Yeah. Let's make this official. 🙌💯" LOL

What's interesting here is that, as you can see, some frames didn't make it to the final cut! 🤓 And inversely, new frames were eventually added as the collab progressed. Out of all the sketches that were either abandoned or later deemed superfluous, my personal favorite would probably have to be this shot of Kamek. 😈

From the rough thumbnails I had presented, Drones helped me select the best and most eloquent ones, and I also changed a few other things along the way. For example, one panel that was entirely redone was frame 3 (where Mario enters Peach's room), because the initial composition didn't allow for the reader to see the setting very clearly, and I felt that the establishing shot needed to be wider.

Many of the drawings were also ultimately flipped to give the visuals a more coherent direction and better flow, including this one!

I decided pretty early on that the palette should be made of cold hues, seeing as these events happen to take place at night and that a warm overlay wouldn't adequately have conveyed the more ominous and solemn tone of the story in my opinion. 🤔💁‍♀️

Oh! And I almost forgot: using cold colors for the backgrounds and characters was also very convenient because it helped make the magical effects (the fire, the spells, etc- all the bright, warm and/or complementary nuances) really stand out, which resulted in a more interesting and visually striking contrast overall. 😌🎨

As I do with all my illustrations, I started by cleaning the sketches and adding a unifying background filler for all the frames. Then, I selected the colors I wanted to use (a gradient made of a mix of navy blue and purple) and worked on each drawing individually. Even with simple tones, we can observe the sheer difference that shading makes! 👀😉

There's a visual element that appears in the story and which I had borrowed from Drones before, and that would be Peach's healing magic.^^ ✨ I remember I was fascinated by the idea when I first discovered it in Un Fiore Per Te, which had prompted me to ask her if I could feature it in a piece where the Princess is seen using said power while at Mario's bedside in one of my other tangents. 💞

I kept the effect similar on purpose in Sing for Absolution, so that the slight reference would be easier to catch! 😊

And last but not least, there's that cheeky little Fire Flower! 🤭🔥

As mentioned in a previous ask, the flower actually signifies a lot in this case as it somewhat embodies the deeply affectionate bond between Mario and Peach, glowing brighter and closing its eyes in happiness when the two are close. 💖

While admittedly not the first drawing I made in which a Fire Flower appears, the one that actually inspired both Drones and I to include this symbolic power-up in the story was one that I made all the way back in February for Valentine's Day. 🥰 The subtle yet direct reference can be spotted twice in the text, linking this piece to the collab and establishing a bit of a chronology as well. I was very honored that Drones added this small detail, and I very much look forward to working on more ideas with her in the future! 😁🤝

Big thanks once again to all of you dear friends and followers who have commented and given their thoughts on this projects. Drones and I can't thank you guys enough for your interest and enthusiasm!! 😇💗

ALSO ALSO- I have shared here my visual side of the collab's progression, but Drones intends to give her own side of the story's development soon (explaining some of the themes and narrative elements a little more in depth), so make sure to stay tuned and check her blog as well! ^-^ 💫

#Mario #Princess Peach #Mario x Peach #Mareach #concept #story #collab #Sing for Absolution #fanart #fanfic #elitadream #drones-of-innocence #creators on Tumblr

[7-wonders]

A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes

Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x Reader

Summary: Life has never been the kindest to you, and you've come to expect only the worst from it. But when a golden-eyed stranger shows up at your place of work and promises you that all your dreams will come true if you just trust them, how are you to say no? Get ready—a ball in the Dreaming awaits.

(Based on the below ask)

Word count: 14.2k

Notes: A couple of housekeeping notes before we get into it! First, this is very heavily inspired by the "Season of Mists" plot from the comics. In the wider universe for this story, this replaces the events in that comic arc. There are no spoilers for the actual comics, though. The only thing you need to know about SoM is that there's an event that brings basically every important magical being to the Dreaming. This isn't super important, but I wanted you guys to be aware of the thought process behind what I did.

Also, for all my nonbinary and male readers—this fic features a gender neutral reader! I sincerely hope that everybody enjoys this.

As always, likes, comments, and reblogs make my world go round (but especially comments and reblogs), so if you enjoyed, show a gal some love!

Desire of the Endless

Desire of the Endless is facing a problem.

For the first time since…well, they can’t remember, actually, that’s how long it’s been since they felt the need to apologize for anything.

Desire has always prided themself on being completely and unapologetically them. If somebody didn’t like that, or if someone’s feelings got hurt, then too bad. That was their fault for not knowing what they were going to get into when they made Desire’s acquaintance.

However, Desire can also recognize when they’ve taken things too far, which is a very steep bar to hit. Practically everything that Desire does, they can justify it completely. This time, though, they finally can’t justify what they’ve done.

So an apology it is. A simple apology, however, is not going to cut it in this situation. Not that it should! But still, it would be a lot easier to patch things up if all it took was a “sorry.” 

Oh well, Desire would just have to get creative in coming up with the apology to end all apologies. Thankfully, they had their dearest twin to turn to when they needed help with a little brainstorming, which is how Despair ends up lounging on a shiny red settee created from the very fabric of the Threshold.

Said anthropomorphic personification watches as her twin continues to pace, back and forth and back and forth, the heels of their shoes clicking against the floor for maximum effect. They perk up every so often before muttering something and shaking their head, discouraged once more. Despair, apparently having finally had enough, lifts her head from the armrest to give her full attention to her twin.

“Your despair is too much for even me to bear, Desire. Please, what is it that troubles you?”

“Our brother troubles me, and not in the way that he normally does.” Desire takes a seat next to their sister. “I find that I…regret the way that I have treated him over the past couple of centuries. I went too far.”

“Was it the ‘helping to trap him in a magician’s basement for a hundred and sixteen years’ or the ‘impregnating a sleeping woman in an attempt to make him spill family blood by killing the new Vortex’ that went too far?” Despair asks dryly.

Desire bares their teeth in a teasing warning, but Despair merely shrugs as if daring their twin to do it and rip her throat out. Desire sighs, knowing that they won’t be able to rattle her, they’ve never been able to accomplish that, and continues. “Regardless, I realize now that I went too far, and I want to make amends with him. Apologize to him.”

“And how are you planning to do that? I doubt a simple ‘I’m sorry’ will patch things up between you two.”

“I realize that too, which is why I seek to give him something to prove just how sorry I am. That’s where you come in, my dearest Despair. I’ve been brainstorming for days, but I have absolutely no idea what to give him as an apology.”

“Hmm.” After a moment, she nods. “I see your problem. Dream’s never exactly been easy to give a gift to.”

Despair begins to think, absentmindedly digging her fish hook into the skin of her face before dragging it down and repeating the process. Desire has always found themself morbidly fascinated by this compulsion that their twin has, unable to look away from the jagged skin that hangs open and the black ichor that drips sluggishly from the wounds.

The hook comes to rest on Despair’s lap, a sign that she’s finished thinking. “Most of your transgressions against our brother have involved you seeking to destroy the two things that control him most. His realm, and his loves. His realm is his duty, his function, his responsibility; he must have control over that, for it’s who he is.”

“Yes, Dream is nothing if not a stickler for his silly little rules,” Desire agrees.

“True, but you’re forgetting that second piece of the puzzle I mentioned. What has Dream always wanted more than anything?”

What was the one thing that Dream wanted, needed, desired, more than anything? The answer, though Despair already said it, hits Desire in the face. “Love,” they gasp. 

Love! A mere step away from, and more often than not, intertwined with, Desire’s very function. 

“But I cannot make somebody love him. Desire him, yes. That’s easy. Though the two are similar, love is something that even I cannot meddle in.”

“I’m not saying that you make somebody love him, nor that you even use your function to acquire this gift.”

Desire’s brows raise from the intrigue of what’s just been said. “Then what?”

“We both know that you’re extremely talented when it comes to meddling in others’ affairs. Instead of using it to harm this time, use it to help. Find Dream’s true love, and make it so that they come together. I believe mortals today call it a ‘meet-cute’?”

At first glance, it seems difficult, if not impossible. While the idea of true love is not rare (at least, to higher beings that know such a thing exists–mortals are still attempting to figure that out for themselves), true love among the Endless is, as of yet, still undiscovered. What if Dream doesn’t have a true love? Even if he does, how is Desire to find out such info—

Their train of thought screeches to a stop as they remember the function of their other brother. Of course! Destiny surely has it in his stupid Book whether or not Dream has some poor soul destined for him. And if he doesn’t, and the rest of his life is meant to be a string of shorter, passionate loves, then it would still be written down. Desire can bring him that happiness sooner as a show of good faith, a way to prove that they’re truly ready and willing to make amends. It’s growth, baby, and Desire’s entering a new era.

So yes, the task does seem difficult. But if there’s one thing Desire loves, it’s getting to play matchmaker. Getting to play matchmaker while meddling in the life of their favorite/least favorite sibling? Even better.

Slowly, a Cheshire Cat grin spreads across their face, and they press a kiss to Despair’s cheek, who begrudgingly accepts the affection. “You, my sister, are a genius.”

“I know.”

After seeing their twin back to their realm, Desire begins their second favorite hobby of scheming as they try to figure out how they’re going to trick Destiny into giving them a peek at his Book. Tough, considering the Book is literally chained to Destiny, but Desire has never been one to back away from a challenge.

Their chance at trickery comes sooner than expected, a mere two weeks later at the first family dinner held since Dream was deposed. None of the six remaining Endless are particularly thrilled to be in the Garden of Forking Ways, and it shows in the guarded way that they hold themselves as they stand around the room and wait to be summoned to the seven-sided table that sits in the middle of it. 

Well, all except for the youngest are guarded. Delirium sits upside down in her chair, creating multicolored butterflies that fly out of the palms of her cupped hands and lazily around the room.

As the shades that serve Destiny move in and out of the room with various platters of food and drink, said Endless finally motions for his siblings to sit down along with him. Even then, they remain in an awkward silence. This family dinner is such a sudden event that none of them are entirely sure if there’s a reason behind it, leaving all feeling a little wary.

Destiny, being the eldest and the host of tonight’s festivities, is the first to speak. Naturally, it answers what none had been brave enough to ask. “I suppose you must be wondering why I called you all here.”

“Yes,” Dream says, even though it’s an obvious question. Of course they’re all wondering why they’re here. 

“The Book has determined that we must meet.”

“Obviously,” Despair sighs. “But why? What are we meant to do while we’re here?”

“Rainbow butterflies!” Delirium throws her hands up into the air, releasing a swarm of rainbow butterflies. “Has everybody been watching the butterflies that I’ve been making? They’re pretty.”

Everybody simply watches the youngest sister, none saying anything. Finally, Destiny shakes his head. “No matter why we’re meant to be here. It clarified much that, previously, made little to no sense. Something important will happen. Something that sparks a chain of events, causing much change and upheaval.”

“And what is that occasion?” Death asks.

“This meeting. That is all.”

“Explain this further, my brother,” Dream prompts. “What must happen?”

“No. I have told you all I tell you. I have brought you all to this place. The rest is up to the five of you. Drink the wines. Eat of the fruit of my garden. Talk. It has been centuries since we were all together. We must have much to discuss.”

Desire sees their opening and takes it. “Mm, I bet we do. Why don’t we start with…Dream!”

Dream looks across the table at his sibling suspiciously. “Me?”

“Yes, you. Tell me...” 

Desire is tempted to say something about his scorned lovers, but since they’re trying to work on making amends and not taking things too far, they refrain. One of the most difficult things they’ve ever had to do, truly.

“Killed any more of your unruly dreams or nightmares lately?”

What? They can still try to get a rise out of Dream in ways that won’t cut so deep. By the way his nose flares as he sits up straighter at the table, they know they’ve accomplished this mission.

“It needed to be done, and I will not take criticism from you on the choices I make regarding my realm,” Dream spits.

“Okay!” Death, ever the peacemaker, attempts to cut the tension. “Why don’t we talk about a different subject. Anything exciting happening for you, Dream?”

“Yes, actually.” Dream sits up in his seat a little straighter. “There is to be a ball in the Dreaming on the next full moon, to celebrate the return of my realm to its full strength. You are, of course, all invited.” 

Ah, so Dream is to show the other monarchs and higher beings, gods and goddesses and deities, that his power has returned and that he is not to be trifled with. Desire can appreciate a good power play, and this is really all that the ball will be. A chance for the Dreaming to pull out all the stops, serve their finest food and drink, offer the most raucous and extravagant party so that every realm in existence will know that the King of Dreams and Nightmares has returned and is more powerful than they will ever be. 

“Oh, how fun!” Death claps her hands together. “I remember when those used to be a regular occurrence in the Dreaming. Your dreams and nightmares do know how to throw a proper party.”

“I like parties,” Delirium chirps, hands chasing after the butterflies. “I’m gonna wear a princess dress!”

The rest of the dinner is fairly boring, compared to other family dinners in the past. Talk of Dream’s visit to Hell and the potential concerns there, minor gods ceasing to exist in the memories of mortals and thus returning to nothing, the problems that the Endless face in their daily lives as they continue their functions: it’s too normal for Desire’s liking, but they’re truly trying their hardest to not cause any major spats. Plus, they need to remain in Destiny’s good graces if they wish to have a chance at momentarily separating him from his Book.

When the dinner finally ends–Death is the first to excuse herself, with an earthquake calling for her to return to her function–the siblings begin to trickle out slowly, one after the other. Desire motions for Despair to go on without them, and while she would normally cause a fuss at having to leave without her beloved twin, she knows that they have an ulterior motive tonight and nods before disappearing back through her portrait.

When Delirium finally tumbles her way into her realm, it’s just Desire and Destiny left remaining in the Garden of Forking Ways. Desire sidles up to their older brother, who sighs wearily and looks with his unseeing eyes at his sibling.

“Desire, shouldn’t you be back at the Threshold by now?”

“Brother Destiny,” Desire coos, trying to seem as laid back as they usually are. “Doesn’t that book of yours ever get too heavy to carry?”

“You’re not going to fool me,” he says. Desire grits their teeth and curses under their breath. “For reasons beyond my understanding, however, the Book dictates that I do this.”

“Do what?”

It’s obvious that he doesn’t want to, but Destiny holds his Book out towards Desire. They can’t believe their luck, and quickly snatch the book from their brother before he can say that the Book said something different and take it back. Their nails–red, of course–run along the plain brown cover before they flip the Book open.

There, laid out as plain as can be, is the answer to Desire’s query. Dream does have a true love, much to Desire’s utter delight, and said true love is a human. A human! If the Universe didn’t want Desire righting their wrongs, then they wouldn’t make Dream’s other half the same species of being as the one whom Desire first meddled with all those years ago.

“Did you find what you were seeking?” Destiny asks, making Desire remember that they’re not alone. When they look up from the Book, they notice their brother’s hands twitching as he fights to snatch back his most precious belongings.

“Yes, I did.” Desire hands the Book back, and Destiny cradles it as if it’s been missing for months and not like he was inches away from it the entire time. “Thank you very much, brother mine. I believe I’ll be going now.”

After all, they have a lot to do between now and the full moon.

You

You’re attempting to sneak a couple of quick bites from your shift meal when the door chimes to signal that it’s been opened, and you sigh before setting down the french fry you were so looking forward to enjoying. Though you want to be disappointed, you know better than that.

Life has taught you better than to enjoy things so that you can find yourself inevitably disappointed by them.

Maybe that’s a little pessimistic for one just entering adulthood. Still, when you’re kicked out and left to fend for yourself in your teen years while your peers are only worrying about homework and if their boyfriend will still be their boyfriend by the time the school formal rolls around, cynicism feels a little warranted. 

You’ve worked anywhere from two to four jobs at a time just to have enough money for a place to live. While you’re now down to only two jobs, which you enjoy, for the most part, it still means that you’re far more stressed and tired than you would wish to be. You’ve made peace with the fact that you’ll seemingly always have to fight to enjoy any quality of life…well, you’ve mostly made peace with it. There are times, like now, where you’re exhausted and hungry and you just want to scream and rage at the cards life has dealt you.

Instead, you just put a smile on your face and get ready for your next customer. When you make your way to the end of the restaurant’s bar where the newcomer has seated themself, they’re already watching you expectantly. Their eyes, golden and piercing, make your skin crawl in the way that it does when it feels like someone knows more about you than you’ve cared to divulge.

“Well, hello,” they greet.

The newest bar patron grins at you with dark purple-painted lips. They’re stunning, and also insanely overdressed (seriously, a fur coat?) for a casual bar. You’d think that they were just coming from a party if it weren’t for the fact that it’s 7 p.m. on a Wednesday. Going to one, then? Mid-week parties are rare, but they seem like a person who just naturally gets invited to every and any party.

“Hi there, how are you?” you greet, cringing at the worn-out sound of your customer service voice after almost 12 hours of using it.

“Oh, just swell.”

“Great! What can I get for you?”

“Hmm, gin and tonic?”

You nod, hands already reaching for the required ingredients. Though it took forever to really get the hang of bartending, it’s kind of like riding a bike; once you learn, you can’t forget. “I’m on it.”

Your patron gratefully takes the glass that you slide across the bar to them, taking a long sip before letting out a satisfied noise. “My, you do know how to make a good drink.”

“Hah, thank you. Can I get you anything else?”

“No, but I’d love it if you could spare a moment to chat.”

“Um–” You scan the bar in a quick check of your other customers, of which there are few now that the dinner rush is over. Just a couple of regulars, so you really have no excuse to say no. “Yeah, sure. Just for a moment, though.”

It’s not uncommon that people want to talk with you. Whether because of your job, that you’re a captive audience, or the fact that you’re providing them with a steady stream of alcohol, customers love spilling their guts to their bartenders. This customer, however, gives you hesitance. They just look like they’re up to no good, like they’re hoping to use you for something that you don’t want to be a part of.

Regardless, you put away the bottles you were using and turn your full attention to the customer, who’s savoring their drink in much smaller sips than they did previously. Although you’re a great multitasker, people think that you’re not fully listening when you’re doing other tasks. And though you try to get your busy work done during your shift so you can get out of here the second you’re scheduled to clock out, you also know how to maximize your tip potentials. You win some, you lose some, you suppose.

When they finally do speak, you’re not expecting them to say, “You look like someone who wants more out of life.”

It’s an odd way to start a conversation, but you’ll bite. Not the first philosophical patron you’ve had. “I mean, who doesn’t? I feel like life is just constantly seeking…more. More money, more knowledge, more connection.”

“A very interesting way of considering the meaning of life. But you, specifically. You have not had a very easy go of things, have you?”

You narrow your eyes. “What are you getting at?”

“You wish for adventure. For a purpose bigger than that which you’ve been led to believe you’re destined for. For something great.”

Swallowing harshly, your pulse thunders in your ears as you grip the wood of the bar, suddenly feeling extremely disconcerted. It could just be a generalization, one that most people would relate to were they called out on it, but it seems like the customer knows you, knows your innermost desires, just from looking at you. Finally, you slowly nod. Their grin somehow seems to grow even bigger.

“Mm, I thought so. Take this.” From within the sleeve of their coat, the stranger produces a business card. “It will help make all your…dreams come true.”

Hesitantly, you take the piece of paper from them. When you look down at it, expecting to see the usual business card information like a name and a phone number, you’re surprised to see that it’s completely blank. Even when you flip it over, the blank back greets you.

“But there’s nothing on—” Your sentence trails off when you look back up, the nameless customer long gone. In their place sits the empty glass, stained with their dark lipstick, of course, and a ten-dollar bill. Other than that, an intoxicating perfume is the only sign that they were even here in the first place.

An indeterminate amount of time passes as you try to figure out what just happened, with the only thing snapping you out of your stupor being the calling of your name. Tate, this evening’s line cook, stares at you expectantly.

“You okay?” she asks. “I’ve called your name three times now, but you’ve just been standing there like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Um.” 

Are you okay? Spooked, yes, but there’s nothing that you can really do about that now. 

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Good.” Tate nods, still not looking too convinced. “Table seven’s looking like they’re ready for the check.”

“I’m on it.” 

And you are. Like the good, dutiful worker you’ve always been, you push down any of your actual emotions and thoughts and put on your service face, smiling and ready to accept anything thrown your way.

By the time your shift is over at 11, the encounter with the nameless customer is long forgotten. All that you can think when you finally make it home is about going to bed and sleeping until you have to be up for your other job tomorrow morning. 

Just unlocking the door and stepping into your tiny apartment has your shoulders releasing the tension that had been built up in them all day. Yeah, your apartment is tiny and probably not the best in terms of quality. But it’s yours, and it’s home, and that’s what matters to you. You’ve made the very best of it, and for now, nobody can take that away.

It takes almost all of the remaining energy you have to strip off your work clothes and do some semblance of your nighttime routine, and you mentally thank Tate for insisting you eat something while on the clock. You don’t think you could stay awake long enough to actually eat something right now. When you fall into bed and pull the covers up around you, your only thought is that you hope that you have the type of deep sleep that doesn’t produce any dreams or nightmares. Lord knows you need it.

The hopes that you had are promptly crushed when you open your eyes to find yourself standing on a bridge that leads to a large palace. It’s the oddest place you’ve ever seen, an amalgamation of palaces from all sorts of cultures. Domes and spires and turrets make up the outside architecture, and though it sounds like an eyesore, it’s actually quite beautiful. Strains of music spill out from the open doors, and guests in a variety of finery make their way inside to join what appears to be a party. 

You should be wondering why you’re here, as well as how you’re currently having the most vivid dream you’ve ever had, but all questions seem to be answered by the logic of it being a dream. Of course weird things are going to happen; it’s a dream. Maybe tomorrow, you’ll wake up and think about just how strange the dream actually was. But right now, you’re just going to go with the flow, even if that flow is, apparently, a royal ball.

“Hello, mortal,” a voice as sickly-sweet as honey croons next to you. When you look to your right, you find your golden-eyed customer from earlier in the day standing next to you. This still doesn’t concern you, and if you took the time to be concerned, you’d still just chalk it up to the nature of dreams.

“It’s you!” you exclaim.

They hold their hands out and wave them in an effortless jazz hands. “Yes, it’s me.” 

They’re somehow dressed even more elegantly than they were at the restaurant, wearing a silver corset tucked into a pair of wide-legged, black trousers. Their heeled boots add a couple of inches to their already-tall figure, and you have to look up in order to properly look them in the eye.

“I was beginning to get a little concerned that you weren’t going to take my offer.”

“Uh, sorry? I just got off of work a little bit ago.” 

They wave a hand dismissively. “What, didn’t tell your boss that you had better things to do?”

“You weren’t exactly forthcoming with the details,” you mutter. Your former customer begins to take long, purposeful strides towards the crowds waiting to get into the palace, and you hurry to catch up. “Wait, where are we?”

“This is the Dreaming and you, my dear, are about to attend a ball.”

“What, like in Bridgerton?”

They scoff, obviously offended by your reference. “Please, this is miles better than anything Bridgerton could even hope to come close to. But yes, I suppose so.”

Panic floods you, but not for the reason you’d think. “But I’m not even dressed for a ball!”

They raise a perfectly-sculpted eyebrow at you. “You’re not?”

When you look down at yourself, you find that you are, in fact, dressed for a ball.

An entire galaxy has come down from the heavens in order to settle itself on the champagne-colored fabric of the most fancy clothes you’ve ever worn. The golden stars, all different sizes, shimmer with each twist of your body that you make in order to properly catalog your outfit. The best part of this ensemble, by far, has to be the cape that you’re wearing that’s held on your shoulders by three delicate chains clasped together across your chest.

“Oh my god,” is all you can say, finding it difficult to tear your eyes away from the complete transformation your wardrobe has undergone.

“Close, but not quite,” they say cheekily. “Though, I do enjoy being worshiped.”

You meet their liquid gold stare. “Why are you helping me? Why am I here?”

“Now that’s a long story. Let’s just say that I owe somebody an apology, and you’re a part of said apology.”

There are so many more questions bouncing around in your mind, but they turn on their heel before you can ask any of them, forcing you to keep up with them as they walk to the entrance of the palace. 

“Hello, Wyvern.”

The dragon (a dragon! You’re staring at a dragon!) bows his head at the greeting. “Desire.”

“Is that your name?” They ignore your question.

“You are, as always, welcome in my Lord’s domain.” The wyvern looks at you. “Your guest, however, needs an invitation to enter.”

“Go on, present your invitation,” Your companion prompts.

You furrow your eyebrows. “My invitation?”

Oh! The paper that they had given you back at the bar. But wait, where had you put that stupid paper? You have to think for a second before remembering, and any relief you had felt is washed away by the panic returning in full-force when you remember where it is. Looking at your mysterious benefactor with wide eyes, you grimace as you try to figure out how to explain this to them.

“I left it in the pocket of my work jeans.”

They sigh as if you’re a minor nuisance, which, maybe you are. “Check your pockets, dear one.”

Slipping your hands into your pockets, you’re already preparing an “I told you so” speech. After all, how could that business card have magically moved from one set of pockets to another? When your fingers brush against something very paper-like, you almost can’t believe it. Your mind has already worked out the whole “dream logic” issue, but teleportation seems to be too much even for that.

When your hand emerges holding the paper, your friend smiles smugly at you and nods their head in the direction of the large, mythical animals. “Now present your invitation.”

You hold the paper up towards what had previously been referred to as a wyvern. Even though there’s nothing written on it, he studies it for a moment before nodding. “I bid you welcome on behalf of my Lord. Enjoy the festivities.”

“Uh, thanks!” you say, manners winning out among the insanity of the evening.

The crowd parts for your friend as guests bow their heads politely, which makes you think that there’s a lot that you don’t know about this person who inserted themself into the middle of your life. What did I get myself into?, you wonder as you hurry behind them and into the ballroom.

You haven’t exactly seen very many ballrooms in your life before now, but even if you had, this one would be your favorite. It reminds you of pictures you’ve seen of Russia’s Imperial Palace during the reigns of the tsars, all cathedral ceilings and marble columns. One of the walls is just a line of windows that looks out over a picturesque valley, and breathtaking artwork from some of history’s most exalted artists looms overhead. The guests of this ball, all opulently dressed, mingle below, with many already dancing to the music that comes from an unseen orchestra.

At the top of a long set of stairs sits a stone throne, currently unoccupied. The ruler of this land must be really lonely, you think. Why else would they purposely place themselves so far away from everyone else, if not to feel the sharp sting of being alone?

The pièce de résistance of this entire room, however, has to be the ceiling. You’re not sure whether it’s magic or if the ballroom doesn’t even have a ceiling and instead looks straight up at the most striking view of the sky you’ve ever seen. You can’t tear your eyes away from the swirling galaxy that’s more beautiful than any NASA telescope picture could even begin to capture, and you’re sure that your jaw is hanging open and making you look like an idiot.

You’re so caught up in the wonder that sits directly over your head that you don’t notice when your new friend spots someone or something that they want to go check out. Apparently deciding that it’s a good idea to at least give you a little courtesy warning, they sidle up behind you.

“Have fun,” they whisper into your ear. 

When you turn around, they’re nowhere to be seen, which means you now have to fend for yourself in an unfamiliar situation. Not ideal, but you should be fine. After all, this is just a dream, right?

Since you were given the advice to “have fun,” you decide to try and actually do so. People watching is always fun, made even more so when everyone is dressed up in all manner of finery. As you study the crowd a bit more, you realize that “people watching” is the wrong term to use, because the vast majority of the guests here aren’t human people.

There are beings clothed in white robes with huge wings on their backs that surely must be angels. Some guests wear traditional regalia from Greek, Roman, Japanese, and other historic empires. The most unsettling are the ones that look human, beautiful, even, until you’re able to take an extended look at their faces and realize that the beastly masks they’re wearing, the horns and the snouts and any other combination of monstrous features, aren’t masks at all. Rather, those are their faces, heavily decorated with makeup, but terrifying just the same.

There’s a little girl in an oversized party dress and clown makeup clapping her hands as a gargoyle tries blowing up a balloon, and a literal void with faces in it speaks to a tall, imposing figure with golden curls and black wings. You’re pretty sure one of the guests is even a human-sized cat woman. Not Catwoman, like the supervillain, but a cat woman. You try not to stare, but it’s impossible, and your eyes keep finding your way back to her as you continue to walk around the outskirts of the ballroom.

Even though you’re completely and utterly normal, it’s impossible for anybody attending tonight’s festivities to not feel the sheer power that each and every being here seems to possess. It’s beginning to make you feel self-conscious: if you can sense the magic that all of the guests have, then surely they can tell that you’re not like them. Everywhere you turn, it seems like you’re meeting somebody else’s eyes as they judge you and how out of place you are.

Your chest grows tight as your skin pricks with heat, the room suddenly beginning to be far too crowded for your liking. There must be a way for you to get outside. You need air, or else you’re worried that you’re going to pass out in front of all these partygoers—after a moment of frantically scanning the room, you see the main hallway that you and your strange new friend had entered through. Knowing for a fact that this path will lead you outside, you set out with a determination to make it through the crowd.

This task, however, is much more difficult than you had previously thought it would be. Apparently, the room being so crowded wasn’t just a part of your panicked imagination; there are far more guests here now, and it’s almost impossible to move through all of them. The music, which just minutes ago seemed whimsical and charming, now sounds sinister in your ears as somebody grabs you and begins to dance with your unwilling form.

Like a doll, you’re spun from one person to the next, all of them ignoring your helpless pleas as you beg them to stop. Instead, much to your chagrin, they all seem to take joy in your panic as they laugh and leave you with no choice but to obey their whims. You’re dizzy and breathless, and at this point you can’t tell if it’s from the dancing or the anxiety.

The next set of hands that grab you are much gentler than all the preceding pairs, and they bring you to a stop instead of sweeping you into another dance. Finally, finally, it seems that somebody has taken pity on you, the poor human that’s become nothing more than a glorified plaything. When your vision finally rights itself, you note that your savior’s even managed to pull you out of the maelstrom of people that had so easily claimed you. You go to thank this person, only to have what little breath you’ve regained stolen from you when you look up.

The man standing before you is a classic study in contrast. His chalk-white skin stands out strikingly against his robes and his hair, both as black as pitch. The only difference in shade comes from the flames that you can see licking up the bottom of his robes like they’re meant to be there. Though, in this dream world, it makes total sense that flames would be a good accessory.

He’s objectively one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen, but his features are sharper than that of a normal human’s, from the stately slope of his nose to his high cheekbones that are completely devoid of the flush that normally hides behind skin. The biggest giveaway that he’s not like you are his eyes: black pools in which stars twinkle and sparkle. They should be frightening; after all, nobody should have eyes that look like that. Instead, you just find yourself enraptured as you try not to lose yourself in them.

“I do not know you.” The bluntness with which he makes this statement is so jarring (not even beginning to mention that he has the deepest, smoothest voice you’ve ever heard) that it pulls you out of your daydreaming about his eyes, and you glare up at him.

“Okay? I don’t know you either.”

He seems to realize that he came off like a major jackass, and quickly backpedals. “Apologies, I did not mean to make it sound so accusatory. I simply find myself…curious. I believed that I knew everybody here.”

“Well that makes one of us, because I think I only know one person here.”

“Who?” he asks curiously.

You look around the room to see if you can find your mysterious friend, but they’re nowhere to be seen. “I can’t find them, it’s too crowded in here. You already know that though, considering you just saved me from being crushed or forced to dance until I collapse from exhaustion. Thank you for that, by the way.”

“Of course. After all, I could not let one unfamiliar with those here be forced to mingle with Cluracan of the Faerie.”

He nods his head in the direction of a tall, willow-thin man with golden blond hair and pointed ears. If his pompous attitude wasn’t visible even from a distance, then his outfit, a coat and breeches with the same coloring as that of a peacock, would surely clue you in.

“By the looks of it, that would have been a fate worse than death,” you remark solemnly.

The man laughs. It’s a harsh bark of a laugh, one that sounds like it comes from someone who both doesn’t know how to laugh and has never heard a laugh before. People in your general vicinity look your way in alarm and discomfort, but you can only watch with a delighted, albeit confused, grin on your face.

“What’s so funny about that?”

“If you were to meet Death, you would find that she is actually quite pleasant. It is…enjoyable…to spend time with her.”

“Sounds like you’ve spent a lot of time with her.”

“I have.” 

His eyes grow soft and distant as he thinks of Death, and it’s obvious that he’s quite fond of her. He shakes his head slightly, pulling himself back to the present. 

“You did not look as though you were enjoying yourself, even before you were forced to dance.”

“So you were watching me?”

He suddenly feels the need to fastidiously study the galaxy ceiling, but you can see how his cheeks flush with embarrassment. To your surprise, it’s not the normal pinkish shade. Instead, it’s a light purple that spreads under his skin.

“You were!” you tease triumphantly.

“As I said, I believed that I knew everyone here. I was curious when I saw that wasn’t the case.” He looks back at you, those starry eyes twinkling. “You have not answered my question.”

It takes you a second to remember what his question was in the first place. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, everything here is so wonderful and fantastical! I guess I’m just not much of a party person. Never have been.”

“I must confess, I also find I am not too fond of these parties.”

“So then what are you doing here?”

“Currently? I am attempting to avoid Queen Titania of the Faerie.” 

He nods his head in the direction of a woman with blue-tinged skin and some of the most frighteningly dainty features you’ve ever seen, almost like those of a china doll. She’s frocked in a midnight blue gown with puffy sleeves, and as she moves through the room in an apparent search for your companion, a whole entourage follows obediently behind her.

“She’s not as good of a time as Death, I’m guessing?” you ask.

A smirk is the only answer that you get from him, apparently deciding to be enough of a gentleman that he won’t outright insult anybody.

It feels like a lightbulb goes off over your head as you think over what he said. “Wait, Queen Titania, like the character from Midsummer Night’s Dream?”

He looks immensely pleased at the connection that you’ve made. “The very same.”

“Huh. I wonder how Shakespeare met her.”

This seems to make him ponder something, and after a moment, he speaks again. “Where were you trying to go? Before you became an unwilling dance partner, that is.”

Oh yeah. You’ve so thoroughly enjoyed talking to this man that you almost forgot that you were on the brink of panic just a few minutes ago. “I was trying to find a way outside so that I could get some air.”

He nods. “Come, then. We shall get you some air, myself a reprieve from hiding, and I will tell you the story of how Shakespeare came to develop his cast of characters.”

When he holds his hand out to you, taking it is one of the easiest decisions you’ve ever made.

Keeping to the walls is a much better strategy than what you had tried before, which was to forge your own path through the crowds and hope for the best. You duck through one of the stone awnings near the back of the room, one that’s partially obscured by a heavy curtain. When you’ve successfully made it out, your companion’s relief at not being caught by the Queen of Faerie is palpable, and it makes you giggle.

You walk with him through the gardens for the rest of the evening, enjoying foliage that absolutely doesn’t exist in the real world and the company of one of the most enigmatic creatures you’ve ever spent time with. Yet, as he asks you question after question about the most mundane of subjects in your daily life, listening with rapt, awed attention as you answer each and every one, you feel like you’re the one that’s mystical and worshiped across all cultures.

(Though he hasn’t said it outright, you get the feeling that he’s some type of deity, which is simultaneously frightening and fascinating)

The flowers continually pull your attention away from the conversation at hand, not that your companion seems to mind too much. He dutifully fills the air with facts about each of the plants that you stop at, which is why it’s such a surprise when you’re suddenly surrounded by silence.

Looking up from a variant of daisy that shimmers as it goes down a gradient of white to red, and back again, you notice that he’s watching you. You smile at him, waiting for him to launch into the tale of how this flower came to be in this garden, and when he still doesn’t move, you grow a little concerned.

“What is it? Are you okay?” you ask. He seems to finally rouse himself from whatever daze he had gotten himself into.

“Yes, I…” He trails off, continuing to stare, before he shakes his head a couple of times and looks back at the party. This time, when he speaks, his voice is somehow softer than before. “I believe I promised you a story, yes?”

When he finally does get around to telling you the promised story, it’s so much better than anything you could have imagined. The man is a truly gifted storyteller. You can practically see the scene as he develops it, of a man in a darkened pub being offered the tantalizing gift of inspiration for works that would live on well past his death. Did Shakespeare worry that he was making a deal with some sort of demon, or was the prospect of everlasting fame more powerful than any fear or trepidation he may have felt?

“Is it a true story?” you ask, when he finishes with the first performance of Midsummer Night’s Dream which was, surprisingly, performed for an audience that included the actual Queen Titania. Apparently, she was thrilled by her portrayal, and gave the play a glowing review.

A coy tilt of the head is the only answer that you get, leaving the true interpretation of the story up to you, the listener. Though you want to say that it’s fake–after all, Shakespeare making a pact with an immortal creature that then helped him to come up with plays that would forever change the course of humanity just sounds ludicrous–another part of you, the part that has spent this impossible night surrounded by Fae and gods and all other manner of fantastical creature, knows that this is, in fact, true.

“Are you the one that gave him inspiration?”

“Perhaps,” is all that he says.

“You’re frustratingly vague, you know that?”

This makes him smile, and he looks down to simultaneously rein his emotions back in (he does that a lot, you notice) and to pull something from the sleeve of his robe. 

“Am I?” he asks.

His pale hand comes up to present you with one of the color-changing daisies you were looking at earlier. Your breath catches in your throat when he tucks the flower behind your ear, and when his hand lingers against your cheek, you think you’ll never establish a normal breathing rhythm ever again.

“And what would you do, were a stranger to come up to you and offer you anything you ever wanted?”

“Well, I–I guess it depends.”

“On what?”

At this point, you can barely do more than whisper. “On who the stranger is.”

Though you try not to, you can’t help yourself from looking down at his plush, pink lips. You dart your eyes back up to his face, worried about being caught, only to see that he’s done the same.

He leans in even closer, nodding his head slightly towards you. “May I…?”

You nod softly, worried that any sudden movements will ruin the perfect little bubble that you seem to have found yourself in. Are you really about to kiss this powerful being, the most beautiful man you’ve ever laid eyes on? When he brushes his nose against yours, you know the answer is that yes, yes you are about to kiss him. Just as your lips meet his, a harsh alarm jerks you out of his arms and back to consciousness.

Rolling over in your familiar bed, in your familiar apartment, you hit the screen of your phone harshly until the alarm finally turns off. Laying on your back, you stare up at the ceiling and replay every moment of the dream you just had while it’s still fresh in your mind.

You let out a disbelieving sigh at just how wonderful of a dream you had. The giddy smile is impossible to remove from your face, and you run your hands over your flaming cheeks as you giggle.

What a dream. A royal ball, mythical creatures, a gorgeous outfit, and the most captivating man you’ve ever imagined. You already know that you’ll be thinking about your dream man, and the kiss you almost shared, for days to come.

A second alarm, the one that warns that you really need to get out of bed and get ready if you don’t want to be late, begins to sound from your phone.

“Fine,” you mutter to the inanimate object, sitting up and pulling it off of the charger. “You win. I’m up.”

As you get out of bed, you don’t notice the daisy petals that you leave behind on your pillow.

You go about your day feeling like you’re on cloud 9, unable to stop thinking about last night. Not that you want to stop thinking about any moment of your dream. By the time you’re back at the bar for yet another evening shift (only two more days until you have an actual day off!), somebody finally decides to ask what the hell happened to you.

“What the hell happened to you?” Reese, tonight’s hostess for the restaurant side of the establishment, asks. “You’re walking around like a Disney princess or something.”

You shrug. “Just…had a really, really wonderful dream last night.”

“Like a sex dream? I’ve had a few of those that I’d call ‘really, really wonderful’.” Tate pipes up through the kitchen window, meaning you have no choice but to reach through and shove him.

“Fuck off!”

He laughs and jumps back to avoid your ire. “So it was a sex dream!”

“No! It was just really sweet and romantic, y’know?”

“I get it,” Reese says.

You gesture to her gratefully. “Thank you.”

“Who was the lead? Mine’s usually Harry Styles.”

Though you both sigh a little wistfully, you shake your head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this man before last night.”

“Isn’t it, like, a thing that you can’t dream of people whose faces you’ve never seen?” Tate asks.

“With a face like his, I definitely would have remembered seeing him while I was awake.”

“Fuck,” Reese grumbles when the door opens and a family walks in. “Can’t people be a little kinder and realize that we’re gossiping here?”

“Apparently not.” 

Everybody shares in a “we hate our customer service job” groan before breaking to do their respective tasks. Reese slaps on a big smile and asks “how many are joining you guys this evening?” Tate flips a couple of burgers on the grill, and you turn to check on your regulars that are enjoying a couple of after-work beers.

Sometimes, it really sucks that you can’t just daydream about whatever you want because you’re forced to work in order to survive. But as the night wears on and your plastic tip cup housed beneath the bar continues to grow more stuffed with bills thanks to very generous tippers tonight, you see the importance of not living in your head.

That is, until someone’s standing across from you at the bar and you smile at them in preparation to take their order, only to almost drop the glass you’re cleaning when you lay eyes on your dream man from last night.

He’s traded the long robes for a simple black peacoat, a black shirt, and black jeans, but he still manages to look regal in them. The wardrobe isn’t the main difference, though. That would be his eyes. Where last night they were black pools of stars, tonight, they’re a bright blue. Just as stunning, but in a completely different way.

The only thing about him that’s the same is his hair. The black strands are still just as wild and untamed as they were at the ball, and it makes your heart flutter to see. You have to hold yourself back from reaching across the bar to try and smooth them out a bit, but really, you just want to feel how soft his hair must surely be.

He’s smiling at you, that same shy smile that graced his lips while he was talking to you about plants. You realize that you need to say something, anything, but all you manage to come up with is, “Hi.”

“Hello.” His voice still sounds like what you imagine melted dark chocolate must sound like if it could talk, and your cheeks grow hot from it.

“It’s you. You’re real!” You wince at the stupidity of that statement. Obviously he’s real, he’s standing right in front of you!

He looks very amused by this, and you don’t blame him. “Did you think I was not?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “I mean, it was just a dream.”

“It is never ‘just a dream’.”

You come around from the other side of the bar so that you can actually be standing across from him without anything impeding you. 

“I believe we forgot to properly make each other’s acquaintance last night.”

It’s only when he says that that you realize that he’s right. You don’t even know his name, and he doesn’t know yours. A glaring oversight on both of your parts, but one that he looks ready to correct. 

He gently takes one of your hands in one of his, bending just slightly at the waist as he brings your hand up to kiss the back of it.

“I am Morpheus, Dream of the Endless. You may call me by either name, dearheart, for either shall sound sweet coming from your lips.”

You entrust him with your name, and he grins so radiantly that you feel as though you’ve been standing in front of the sun. He repeats it back to you, and you could swear that you’ve never heard your name sound so beautiful before now. You’d give anything to hear him say it again and again. Hell, if the last word you ever heard on this Earth was this man–Dream! Morpheus!–saying your name, you’d die happy.

Even though you’re totally sure that this isn’t a dream (you know, you pinched your leg to make sure), part of you is still worried that either he or you will disappear again. Who’s to say that you’ll be able to find each other a second time? Just in case your fears come true, you decide to act before you can remember why you don’t act before thinking.

Dream’s still holding onto one of your hands, and you use it to pull him closer to you, close enough that your noses are almost touching as he bends his head just slightly to look at you. His eyebrows are raised as he waits for you to make your next move. Said next move consists of you wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a long-awaited kiss.

If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it at all. One hand rests on your waist while the other goes to your chin so that he can tilt your head the way that he likes–you’re certainly not going to stop him from doing that. 

The restaurant patrons all start cheering, and you can hear Tate and Reese wolf-whistling. It’s embarrassing, but you’re too wrapped up in Dream right now to fully care. Maybe after you separate. For now, since both of your arms are over Dream’s shoulders, it makes it easy for you to flip your coworkers off without having to interrupt your kiss. 

Later, you’ll have to see if you can track down your strange, golden-eyed friend and thank them for giving a blank business card to a stranger who worked at a bar. After all, they were right. That card has made all your dreams come true.

Dream of the Endless

Dream of the Endless is not at all thrilled to be playing host to beings from almost every realm that the Dreaming has even the most tentative of alliances with. He received his reputation as a recluse for a reason, and it’s certainly not because he loves being social.

But tonight is not for him, no. It’s for the Dreaming. He had been gone for far too long, even if it was against his will. Not only had the Dreaming crumbled physically, but its standing as one of the most powerful realms in existence had crumbled too. Now that he was back and his kingdom restored to its former glory, if not more powerful than it was before his departure, he intended to remind each and every naysayer just why the Dreaming commanded their respect.

Of course, right as he’s thinking that the night is shaping up to be quite successful, he sees a guest that he most certainly did not invite. He knows this for certain, because he knows everybody and their dreams just by looking at them. Even if he didn’t, when one is alive for as long as the Endless have been, one gets to know most everybody that’s of a higher rank or class of the various realms.

You, with golden stars swimming across your body, are entirely unfamiliar to him. Even more unsettling is the fact that he doesn’t just intuitively know his name, which means there are other forces at play here. And on this night, where the Dreaming is meant to be at its best, he will not allow his enemies any opportunity to take that away from him.

It’s obvious in your demeanor that you’re uncomfortable amongst the crowds, and Dream is not the only one to notice it. When the eyes of the Trickster God, Loki Skywalker, land on you, Dream can almost see the plan formulating in the Norseman’s head. He takes a couple of quick steps, and before you can even blink, he’s swept you unwillingly into a dance.

You’re immediately begging for him to let you go, your fists pounding against his arms as you attempt to free yourself from his embrace. Loki does finally acquiesce to your demands, but simply spins you into another’s arms. Those in the general vicinity all seem to be in on this little joke, all of them laughing and taking their turn to have your resistant self in their embrace.

Suddenly, you don’t look like a threat. You’re simply a person, scared and out of your element, a pawn in the games of beings much more powerful than you. Dream may not know your true intentions, but he can’t continue to let this happen under his purview. With a single thought, he’s across the ballroom and pulling you into his own arms and away from those hoping to be next in line for a dance.

You stumble over your own feet, your body still propelled forward by the inertia of the other dancers that came before Dream. Blinking furiously to try and clear your vision, you’re finally able to look up at him without getting dizzy. 

Dream watches you try to figure out something, anything to say, and in return he studies you as well. It’s still impossible for him to divine any sort of information about you, but he can’t sense any other being’s magic on you that would be blocking his access. Apparently, you’re simply an anomaly, and that’s not including figuring out how you got past the gatekeepers in the first place.

“I do not know you,” he finally settles on saying. Apparently, by the way that you glare at him, it comes out much harsher than he had planned.

“Okay? I don’t know you either.”

He has to apologize, obviously. “Apologies, I did not mean to make it sound so accusatory. I simply find myself…curious. I believed that I knew everybody here.”

“Well that makes one of us, because I think I only know one person here.”

“Who?” he asks, wondering if this is the person that is blocking his access to you.

Though you look around the room, you don’t seem to find whoever it is. “I can’t find them, it’s too crowded in here. You already know that though, considering you just saved me from being crushed or forced to dance until I collapse from exhaustion. Thank you for that, by the way.”

Dream finds himself perturbed. Why wouldn’t he have helped you out of your less-than-ideal situation? It seems like common decency, but perhaps human society has decayed so badly that even this simple act warrants a heartfelt thank you.

“Of course. After all, I could not let one unfamiliar with those here be forced to mingle with Cluracan of the Faerie.”

He nods towards the aforementioned Fae, who is currently strutting around looking for his next conquest. Behind him trails his sister, Nuala, just as fair as her brother but decidedly a much kinder creature. She whispers something in his ear, and he merely brushes her off before continuing his search.

“By the looks of it, that would have been a fate worse than death,” you remark.

The statement, said with the confidence of someone who does not know that there are forces far beyond that which they may believe, is so humorous to Morpheus that he can’t help but laugh. How could anybody regret their time spent with Death? She is the literal oxymoron of her name; in fact, she should be the personification of sunshine instead of death.

Instead of shying away from him, because he does know that his laugh is truly horrific and thus wouldn’t blame you for doing so, you surprise Dream by grinning at the sound and looking rather proud of yourself for eliciting a laugh from him. Oh, he really enjoys this. 

He’s always found himself fond of those able to look beyond his function. As he continues to interact with you, he realizes that you apparently have no clue who he is. He also realizes that talking to you is not the same chore as it is to converse with the others that are here in his realm tonight.

Before he knows it, he’s offering to take you out to the gardens and tell you the tale of how a young Will Shaxberd came to be known as history’s greatest playwright. He shouldn’t be abandoning his guests, for that’s not what a good monarch does. However, it’s too tempting to not try and have you to himself. When you accept, he finds himself thrilled for the first time since before his imprisonment.

Dream takes great pride in the palace’s gardens. Much of the flora there had long since gone extinct, and the only thing keeping them alive in this moment was the Dream Lord’s memory (or, the memories of dreamers long gone whose knowledge Dream had leached from) of when they still flourished. He was happy to share those memories with anyone willing to listen, and you were proving to be one of the most engaged audiences he had entertained when it came to his garden.

Time is a fickle thing in the Dreaming, to be certain. Hours can pass by like minutes, or minutes can be days. It’s why he tends to keep appointments in the Waking to a minimum; he loses track of time far too easily, and often needs multiple reminders that he has an obligation in a realm not his own.

Never has Dream felt Time so keenly in the Dreaming as he does when he finally looks away from the path ahead and towards you, only for Time to seemingly come to a stop. The moon shines down upon you like an ethereal spotlight while you bend just slightly in order to fully study a daisy that was last seen in the Andromeda galaxy two hundred lightyears ago. Softly, so as not to ruin it, you gently run a finger along the edges of the velvety petals. Your smile as you do so is filled with so much kindness that Dream believes he could drown in it, not that he would mind in the slightest.

Dream had experienced love at first sight far too many times for his liking. A secret hopeless romantic, it was far too easy for him to immediately see the best in any potential romantic partner and offer himself up to them on a silver platter. Indeed, he had given lovers the finest jewels or entire worlds created just for them, and every single one had ended up spurning him in the end.

Perhaps that’s why this feels so different. This isn’t love at first sight, for he certainly had held no love in his heart for the strange intruder wandering wide-eyed around the ballroom. He’s had Time on his side, allowing him the chance to actually get to know you.

And after getting to know you, Dream wants. He wants to feel the gentleness of your touch on his skin, he wants your soft smile directed towards him. He wants to hear every thought that goes through your wondrous mind, he wants to know what you like and don’t like. He wants you, in every way that you’ll allow him to have.

Time finally restarts again, and Dream notices that you’re staring curiously at him. Distantly, a small part of him wonders how long you’ve been looking at him like that. A much larger part of him admires the color of your eyes.

“What is it? Are you okay?” you ask.

“Yes, I…” 

He really must stop staring at you, he knows that it’s already far past the point of politeness. Shaking his head, Dream looks back at the ball and tries to contain his emotions once more before speaking again. 

“I believe I promised you a story, yes?”

Dream didn’t earn the title of “Prince of Stories” for no reason. Still, it makes telling stories infinitely more enjoyable when the audience is interested in what he’s saying. You, however, are not just interested. You’re enraptured, hanging on to every word he has to say. This, by far, is his favorite type of person to tell a tale to. The fact that it’s you, the mysterious human who somehow snuck into his palace, makes it even better.

After his tale is finished, you ask him if it’s true. He can’t help but to demur, planting the seeds of doubt even though it’s very much true. After all, if he had wanted you to know that, he would have told you outright during the story.

“And what would you do,” Dream asks, suddenly feeling bold, “were a stranger to come up to you and offer you anything you ever wanted?”

“Well, I–I guess it depends.”

“On what?”

“On who the stranger is.”

Dream really wants to kiss you right now. By the way that you whisper, and how Dream catches you looking at his lips, he thinks that you feel the same.

He leans in even closer, nodding his head slightly towards you. “May I…?”

You nod, and Dream is so thankful that you do. He’s not sure that he could bear the rejection, not when you’ve gone and made him fall in love with you so effortlessly.

Dream has seen plenty of teenagers dreaming of their first kiss. Mere children on the cusp of adulthood, their emotions are always so palpable. The fear of messing up, of getting this wrong. The exuberance of finally getting to kiss the one they have not been able to stop thinking about. The burgeoning passion of young love, sealed, quite literally, with a kiss.

Right now, as your lips just begin to meet his, Dream feels much like those teenagers. He’s terrified that he’ll move too fast or make some wrong move to push you away, while at the same time, he’s thrilled that you want to kiss him just as much as he wants to kiss you. Underneath it all, the embers of something more promise to be fanned into flames once he actually kisses you.

Before Dream can actually do that, though, he feels your lips become less real, less firm, against his. He can only watch as your body fades from within his grasp and you disappear, presumably back to your Waking body. After you’re well and truly gone, with no sign of you falling back asleep and appearing in his embrace once more, Dream can only stare at the spot you once occupied.

When Dream comes out of his stupor, his head falls to his hands in disbelief, unable to believe his truly rotten luck. He remains in this position until the sky begins to grow light and he remembers that he has duties he must attend to, duties that include politely but firmly seeing all of his guests out of his realm.

As Dream nods his head at guests telling him how much they enjoyed the festivities and thanks others for coming and accepts quiet alliances re-formed by those who had believed the Dreaming well and truly gone, he’s quite proud of the fact that he’s somehow pulled himself together enough to not currently have a hurricane that reflects his emotional state sweeping through the Dreaming proper. It doesn’t matter that said hurricane will likely begin to rage the second the doors to the palace close and the hastily-constructed dam holding Dream’s feelings back breaks from the pressure. For now, he has it all under control.

At least, he has it under control up until he walks back into his throne room to find Desire lounging at the bottom of the stairs.

“Sibling,” Dream greets reluctantly, his patience wearing extremely thin. “Do you not have the desires of my guests to chase after and feed off of in your realm?”

“Don’t you worry, big brother, I’m on my way out.” They stand and stretch in a way reminiscent of how a cat stretches. “Great party, by the way. Why, you look really bummed out for somebody who just met the love of his life!”

It should not be nearly as surprising as it is that Dream’s sibling has once again inserted themself into his life, where they do not belong. Regardless, it is as surprising as it is rage-inducing. Between one blink and the next, Dream has Desire pinned against the wall with his hands wrapped around their neck. Desire simply laughs breathlessly.

“I should have known that you were behind that,” Dream spits.

“You don’t have to say it–” Desire’s sentence breaks off with a choking sound, courtesy of Dream squeezing even harder and resisting the urge to wring their neck. “–Like it’s a bad thing.”

“I told you that, were you to mess with me or mine again, I would not hesitate to spill family blood. Are you really so stupid as to disregard our last talk, so soon after we had it?”

Desire looks frightened, and they should be. Dream truly wants to kill right now, to unmake something with his bare hands and feel the carnage that he creates. “No, no, no, you have it all wrong!” they say. “I’m giving you a gift, sweet Dream. No strings attached, nothing you have to do besides say ‘thank you, my favorite sibling’ and accept it!”

“A gift.” Dream’s hands loosen around Desire’s neck, but still remain fixed in place.

“Yep!”

“And why should I trust you?”

“Because I really am sorry, Dream. Truly. I regret how I’ve treated you, especially over the past couple of centuries. You’re a pain in my ass–just as I’m a pain in yours, I’m sure–but you didn’t deserve what I did to you, and for that, I’m sorry.” 

He doesn’t believe them, a fact that is plainly clear and causes Desire to roll their eyes. When they push back against Dream, he finally lowers his hands and takes a step back.

“We’ve been siblings for long enough, and you’ve felt my influence on—how many lovers is it? Tell me, did you feel any of that on your little dreamer last night?”

“No,” Dream admits.

“No, exactly. So when I was trying to figure out, ‘how can I say sorry to my beloved big brother and truly mean it,’ I thought it would be nice of me to find out if you had a true love, who said true love was, and then bring your true love to you! You can thank brother Destiny’s little Book for helping me there; he would have never allowed me to look and see if you had a true love if it weren’t for the Book telling him to do so.”

“What?”

This comes as quite the shock to Dream. It’s one thing for Desire to try something as outlandish as looking in Destiny’s Book; it’s another thing entirely for Destiny to let them do so. As Desire said, if the Book did not tell him to do something, then Destiny would not do that thing.

“Mhm,” Desire says, looking entirely too pleased at this situation. “The universe itself wanted me to give you this type of an apology.”

If Desire had used Destiny’s Book to find you, then that means that they know your name. “So, you know…”

“Your little lover’s name? Yes, I do. Why, did you not catch it?” Of course they know that Dream doesn’t know your name; it’s what Dream wants most right now, so naturally, Desire can sense it. “Were you two lovebirds too busy flirting with each other to remember to ask for names?”

“Tell me, Desire,” Dream snaps. He winces, feeling slightly guilty about letting his emotions get the best of him. Not that he’ll apologize, since it’s apparently Desire’s turn to do so.

“Sorry, I had to tease you a little bit.” 

Desire finally feels a modicum of empathy and tells Dream your full name, and a part of Dream that he wasn’t aware he was missing slots into place.

“Well, I suppose I should be off now. Lots of your party guests whose desires I have to chase after and feed off of. You know.” 

They grab the lapels of their opulent fur jacket and smooth out the wrinkles that their altercation with Dream put into their carefully-created ensemble. Dream will feel even more guilt about that tomorrow, he supposes. For now, you’re the only thing on his mind.

However, Dream would be remiss to not acknowledge the effort that they know Desire put into creating this apology. He can’t let his sibling go without having them know that he appreciates it, and so he calls after them. “Desire!”

They turn on their heels. “Yes?”

“Thank you. I…accept your apology.”

Desire grins brightly and nods, which is how Dream knows they’re thankful for this acceptance. They wave their fingers teasingly before continuing on their path out of Dream’s palace. “Have fun with your present,” they say over their shoulder and promptly disappear.

Dream is finally left alone in his throne room which, at the beginning of the night, was all that he wanted. Now, with the silence only 

He knows your name. Not only that, but he knows that you and he are meant to be together. It truly is the greatest gift that anybody could have given him, made more meaningful since it’s Desire who has done this.

There are a number of actual appointments on his docket that he must begrudgingly attend to, even though he wants nothing more than to rush to the Waking and find you. That would be neglectful of his realm, though, and Dream promised himself, back when he believed you to be a threat, that he would not allow you to ruin his realm. 

Now, he would gladly ruin his realm if you were to ask him, which is why he’s so determined to see to everything that must be completed. Though it all feels tedious, the tasks do eventually get completed. Dream leaves almost immediately after the last report, delivered by a young dream in the form of a talking dog, is escorted out of the palace.

(Matthew is extremely confused by his boss’s sudden change of attitude. Lucienne, who’s seen this plenty of times before, simply sighs and hopes that he knows what he’s doing this time.)

When Dream arrives outside of a small restaurant, evening has already fallen in the Waking. It’s been less than 24 hours since you first made your way into his palace, a little over 12 since you were jerked back to consciousness and away from him. Truly not long, in the grand scheme of things, but it’s felt like a lifetime to Dream.

Your attention is divided between one of your patrons, telling a story about a mishap at work and embellishing just slightly, and the drinking glasses you’re pulling from a tray and drying clean. Dream can’t help but watch you in your element for a moment, but Dream is not a patient man, and a moment is all that he can afford before he steps up to the bar and across from you.

A smile is already on your face before you turn to look at Dream, a smile that freezes in place when your eyes meet his. Your hands begin to shake, and the glass nearly slips from your grasp before you manage to firmly set it down on the wooden countertop.

The shock is understandable. After all, most dreamers do not expect to see someone in the Waking that they have previously only seen in their dreams. Dream just hopes that it’s a good shock that you’re feeling, and not the one that he fears.

Your smile turns into something smaller, softer, and those fears that Dream held evaporate when you greet him. “Hi.”

“Hello.”

“It’s you. You’re real!” 

After having spent a few moments trying to figure out what to say next, Dream is amused that this was what you decided on. “Did you think I was not?”

“I don’t know. I mean, it was just a dream.”

“It is never ‘just a dream’.” And today, he is so glad that this statement is true.

You round the bar in order to be on the same side as Dream, and it takes every ounce of restraint in him to not immediately gather you up in his arms and sweep you back to the Dreaming.

“I believe we forgot to properly make each other’s acquaintance last night.”

Gently, he takes your hand and kisses the back of it. By the surprised whimper that gets caught in your throat, Dream assumes that courtship rituals have changed since the last time he attempted a relationship. Interesting, and something that he’ll be sure to ask you about later.

“I am Morpheus, Dream of the Endless. You may call me by either name, dearheart, for either shall sound sweet coming from your lips.”

Though he already knows your name now, he still allows you to introduce yourself to him, if only for the pleasure of getting to see the starstruck way you look at him when he says it as if to confirm that it truly is your name. If there were any residual worries about your passion for each other not translating to the waking, those are promptly wiped away when you throw your arms around Dream’s neck and pull him to you for a kiss. 

Truly, this is a new age that Dream is entirely unfamiliar with if kissing in public like this is acceptable. By the sounds of patrons’ applause, it appears that it is. What a strange new world Dream has found himself in. Not that he’s complaining. No, he’ll take victories as they come. As he brings a hand to your chin so that he can tilt your face and kiss you even deeper, he thinks that this is the greatest victory he’s ever had, for this victory has brought him you.

His own dream come true.

Desire of the Endless (again)

Desire’s enjoying their second glass of ambrosia, courtesy of the Greek pantheon, when they catch sight of Death, tight curls bouncing around her head, marching straight for them. They look both ways in the hope that there’s some other being who’s about to receive their sister’s wrath, but unfortunately, it looks as though they’re the target.

“Sister, how wonderful it is to see you tonight,” Desire greets. “Are you thirsty? Let me grab you a refreshment.”

Death simply narrows her eyes in suspicion. “You’re up to something, aren’t you?”

“What?” Desire holds a hand to their chest. “Me? What would make you say such a thing?”

“Mm, the fact that I’m your older sister and I know what you’re like when you’re up to something. You’ve had that look about you all night, the one that says that you’re just waiting for one of your plans to play out.” She nudges her sibling with her shoulder. “So? Out with it.”

“Fine. I’m in the middle of apologizing to our brother.”

“Oh gods,” Death bemoans.

“Don’t say it like that! This is a good thing!”

“When have you ever apologized to anybody for anything?”

“I apologize to Despair quite often.”

“Because she’s your twin.”

“And I’ll have you know, I also recently apologized to Unity Kincaid.” 

Now that gets Death’s attention, as it should. Desire, apologizing to one of their pawns? Death might need to go check and make sure that Hell hasn’t frozen over.

“Alright, then,” Death says. “You do know that apologizing usually involves going up to the other party and saying you’re sorry, right?”

“That comes later. First, Dream gets his apology gift.”

Desire gestures across the room, where you and Dream are currently involved in some sort of contentious stare-down after Dream had come to your aid when you were being forced to dance with anybody wanting a dance. Not the best start to a relationship Desire’s ever seen, but Dream’s always liked a lover that can challenge him.

Death doesn’t see it in the same way as Desire. All she sees is Dream talking to an unknown mortal, one that Desire brought here. Naturally, she gets the wrong idea.

“Oh Desire, you didn’t!” Death scolds. “Have you learned nothing from Alianora, Killala, Nada, or any of the others?”

“This isn’t like that!”

“Really?” Desire nods. “Okay, then tell me what it’s like.”

“I simply brought the mortal here for Dream to find! Those two are doing the rest.”

“And you swear that you have done no meddling to make them have any feelings for each other?”

“Yes, I swear.”

Death continues to glare at her younger sibling, which, okay, Desire supposes that’s fair. Doesn’t mean they have to enjoy the apprehension, though.

“Fine. I swear on my function, as well as the first circle, that I have not manipulated either Dream or the mortal.” 

Desire makes sure to swear on the most solemn and binding of things that an Endless can swear on, both so that Death will realize how serious they are and because they know that they’re not telling any sort of a lie. 

“All I did was find out whether Dream had a true love, which he does, and then I made sure that the mortal would have an invitation to tonight’s festivities.”

Death nods, satisfied. “How did you find that out?”

“Apparently, even the forces of the universe want Dream to get laid. Destiny let me look in his Book.”

Death lets out a sharp laugh. “Oh, he must have hated that!”

“He gave me exactly thirty seconds before snatching it back.” Desire scoffs. “Not as if I could have done anything to it, considering it’s literally chained to him.”

“It’s like his security blankie!”

A harsh, frankly disconcerting laugh echoes from nearby. While others would simply shrug it off, Death and Desire know exactly who that laugh belongs to. When Death finally fails at trying not to spy, she and Desire both see Dream’s shoulders shaking with laughter. Next to him, you’re sporting a pleased grin from the reaction you’ve been able to elicit. It’s quite the sight, and most try not to look so as not to incur the ire of the Dreamlord. His siblings, however, are exempt from that bit of common sense.

“Aw,” Death coos, her eyes shining as she watches the scene.

Desire knows exactly why their sister has such a reaction. Never, even in the early days of his courtship with Calliope, which was easily the “best” of his relationships, have any of the Endless ever seen Dream smile so freely and openly towards someone. They’ve especially never seen him let his guard down enough to laugh–which is probably a good thing, because the few times Desire’s heard his laugh, it’s left them feeling a little unsettled for a couple hours after.

“So this is simply part one of your apology?” Death asks.

“Yes. I truly am sorry for how I’ve treated him, especially over the last couple of centuries. Dream would have every right to not accept my apology, which is why I’m not just giving him a simple ‘I’m sorry’. Instead, I decided to shorten Dream’s path to finding true love, and both find his true love for him and bring said true love straight to him. A genius plan, truly.”

“You decided?”

Damn their oldest sister for being, well, an oldest sister. “Despair gave me the idea.”

“That sounds more like what I expected.”

Desire’s about to go on a diatribe about how this family only ever sees the worst in them (mainly for the fun of it, not because they actually care), when Death squeals, smacks Desire’s chest, grabs their arm and points back towards the two future lovebirds.

Dream is looking up at the ceiling to try and hide the fact that he’s blushing. His cheeks are a light shade of purple, and you look absolutely besotted by the sight.

“Oh, this is going so much better than I could have hoped,” Desire says as Dream levels his gaze with yours once again, the two of you seemingly challenging each other again on something. If the Book hadn’t told Desire that you and Dream were meant to be, this interaction would surely let them know.

“Shut up!” Death smacks Desire’s chest even more when Dream holds out his hand, which you take, before the two of you begin to sneak off like a couple of teenagers.

“What did I say?” Desire posits triumphantly. “Those two are doing all the work.”

“He’s going to be right pissed when he finds out, you know.”

Desire nods, because they do know. They’re expecting all sorts of threats of bodily harm and promises to break the most sacred rule of the Endless, all so that Desire can finally get their perceived comeuppance. If Desire’s being honest, they deserve that rage that Dream will direct towards them. They just hope that Dream will actually listen to what Desire has to say.

“He’ll get over it once I explain it to him,” Desire says.

“For your sake, I hope so. Won’t be too much of an apology if he doesn’t forgive you because he can’t see the validity of it.”

“He will.” Desire’s sure of it, and they grin at their sister. “Even if he doesn’t today, they can both thank me for my hard work at their wedding.”

Desire has enough tact to keep their triumphant “I told you so” to a smug grin when, barely a year later, they find themself back in the Dreaming for your and Dream’s wedding celebrations.

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

[c-e-d-dreamer]

You bringing back that Cassian hair fic and your tags on it have me giggling. Clearly so passionate about our fave bat boy's hair! But you're right and you should say it 🤭

You know what, lovely Anon? I am passionate about it 😌 Like listen, this is absolutely the fandom hill I am willing to die on even if it's just me and like 4 other people, and I will not apologize for that!!!

I will say, the people who I was talking about this with yesterday (and thus sparked the reblog) are fandom friends, and they're lovely people, and they had no malicious intent in this joking and teasing instance, but I do think there's a wider fandom problem of lessening Cassian's character.

And I know what you're thinking, "but Caty. You shit on canon Cassian all the time." And I do! But that's still my boy!

He's a General. He leads whole armies. He has intricate military knowledge, strategy, probably history. Nesta notes in ACOSF that he has a lot of books. Like Cassian is smart. He is a smart dude. But I've found that often he gets cast as like the fandom comedic relief. Like you watch the skits on TikTok and they're fun, but Cassian will always be played as the Big Dumb Boi(tm). He's the head empty himbo. And now we're adding that he's unhygienic too? That he doesn't wash and doesn't care about his appearance/doesn't even try? No thoughts in his head and no care for the hair on that head....

Like please leave my boy alone 😭

Plus, Cassian's a bastard! And I know people often point to that as like further proof he's not doing much because he literally couldn't as a child and obviously had more important things to worry about while in the snow. But I actually think it had the opposite effect! Cassian isn't exactly a proud bastard. We see in ACOSF that it still affects him, that he thinks Nesta deserves a prince like Eris over lowly ole him.

I think Cassian learned something from Rhys. He learned something being raised by Mama Night. And I think he puts in the work to present himself in a way that reflects his status, his station now. He is standing there as The General(tm), and you better damn put some respect on his name!

And I know there's jokes to be made about SJM's choice to make Illyrians workout and sweat in leather of all things (🤢) and how Cassian is always in them and does he even own any other clothes? But I think that's part of it too! Him always in his Illyrian leather is part of him presenting as the warrior, as the General.

And mmm now I'm thinking about a fic where similar to Cassian seeing Nesta with her hair down and what that signifies. But it's Nesta seeing Cassian without the General mask. No leathers. No siphons. A little bit messy and not put together. So soft... So vulnerable.... Jots notes for Cassian Appreciation Week....

Anyways! This answer really got away from me, didn't it? So rambley. I've completely lost the plot and the point. But yeah, I'll just step down off my soapbox now.... 😅

#answered #fandom wank #I guess #Caty's soapbox rambles #we'll make that a new tag #cassian #acosf #acotar

[adizzyninja]

I think the larger point being overlooked in all the Fallout Prime VS New Vegas Canon controversy is less who's in charge of canon and the future of the franchise and more just the general potential for stories being kinda squandered with some of these decisions.

(As a disclaimer I really liked the Fallout show!! Really solid mysteries and reveals and just overall presentation. Just criticizing a bit how it handled the wider lore)

So like, Bethesda's lore is completely separate from the 1,2 and NV stories, in my head. They can reference the past stuff as much as they want but it doesn't change the fact that the writing teams are comprised of different people working from fundamentally different mindsets. That's totally cool! They can create their own spin on the canon and go whatever direction they want with it. The Interplay/ Obsidian stories will always be there and there's nothing that can change that.

All that being said though, I feel like there's another perspective to look at some of the wider lore choices the show makes through: wasteful. The show writers had an incredible springboard of interacting factions and pre-established lore to work with. And it seems like all they really did with it is blow it up. Maybe season 2 will turn things around and it turns out New Vegas is actually fine, but it doesn't change the fact the NCR has been effectively wiped out.

I've always felt that getting too liberal with death and destruction in a story is a good way to quickly make a world feel a lot smaller. It can be done well, and to its credit the show does seem to have made the nuking of Shady Sands a fairly integral part of its plot/ themes. But I don't feel like the narrative mileage they'll get out of that could compare to just... having a massive faction like the NCR present! Not to mention how much fun could be had with a functioning New Vegas, or an even vaguely acknowledged Legion for that matter!

Idk, riding NV's coattails too hard would easily come off as cheap, but at the same time I can't help but wonder why they even bothered setting it in California if they were just going to wipe away pretty much all the established stuff that made it interesting! There's a *massive* middle chunk of America that's untouched in the lore! I just don't really see the point of basically arguing with what exists instead of just focusing on whats missing and making something new with it.

#good fucking lord this show is good at squeezing thoughts out of me #I didn't even know Fallout still had a vice grip like this on my mind lmao #hopefully this came across as coherent cuz I haven't written essays like this since uni lol #fallout #fallout 3 #fallout 4 #fallout new vegas #fnv #dizzying

[helpimhyperfixating]

*Peeks your hoarder status*

So......... y'all got any of them WIPs? 👀 Tbh, I've always been intrigued by that Android Joots...

The android fic has been a little baby of mine for so so long. And I’m so mad at myself for constantly forgetting about it

I wanna finish it, Dangit 😩

So, I’ve decided to give you all the first scene of meeting Android!Jotaro :3

Is this inspired by DBH? Yes, but it’s my own spin on androids too ^^

The plot of course involves romance and this is just one (long) scene, but have an extended sneak peak:

Word Count: 1562

The doorbell ringing caught your attention.

Putting down your book, you got up and started walking to your door, only to hear the doorbell ringing once more. Calling out a soft ‘I’m coming!’ as you sped up, the doorbell rang again and you furrowed your brow for whoever impatient was standing behind it.

Pulling the door open a little harder than you intended, you glared up. “What?” You asked with a hint of annoyance, only for your eyes to widen.

Looking down at you, face devoid of any emotion, stood an android. Your j.o.e.s.t.a.r. Android. “O-Oh, hello.”

He was wearing the standard android uniform of long-sleeved shirt and pants – the dark coloured version. Simple yet effective. His right sleeve sported the android indicator, as if the glowing light on the left side of his head was not evidence enough.

“Good morning. I am the KJ03, serial number 172941, your new android.”

For a second you just stood there, dumbfounded. His voice was very deep and sounded smooth, making you want to blush. At that being your first thought however, you mentally slapped yourself and jump-started into action.

“Uh, come in, sorry!” You stepped aside and let the door open a little wider, giving him room to get inside.

He didn’t say anything but just got inside, walking through the hall and then stopping in the middle of the room, holding his hands in his pockets as he seemed to just… stop.

After twenty seconds of you just staring at his back and him not moving, you walked up to him and around to in front of him. “Uh, are you alright?”

At this, he finally averted his eyes down to you, looking you over for a second and stopping at your feet before turning around and looking behind himself.

“I apologise, I’ve tracked dirt.” Stepping out of his shoes, he bent down and picked them up, turning back to you. “I’ll clean it.” With that, he walked back to the door and put his shoes in the corner. In the same area as yours but still a bit away - out of the way.

“You don’t have to, you know, honest mistake.” You spoke and you could have sworn you saw his eyes soften for a split second before steeling back into what they were before.

“It is my duty as your android.” He opened the broom closet in the hallway without faltering and took out a dustpan and tin, as if he had always known it was stored there.

Furrowing your brows a bit, you simply looked at him for a bit while he cleaned the few atoms of dirt he had tracked inside, getting lost in your thoughts at the same time.

He was a lot politer and more formal than you would have imagined. But at the same time, every sentence he had said so far seemed a bit strained. As if someone dragged to a party and forced to talk and intermingle with others. Did he not want to talk like that but was he being forced to? Could you do anything to make him more comfortable? Make him change his mind about being formal? He seemed really stubborn, would that even be possible?

“Miss L/N.” His voice speaking up snapped you out of your thoughts and you saw him standing right in front of you, bent down slightly to your height to look directly into you eyes. “I asked if there was something else you wanted me to do.”

“Oh, uh…” You looked around a bit, but honestly, you had no idea what to do with an android. “No, not really, sorry. You can just go do something you like?” You said, unsure, and he hummed, standing upright and going to turn away before you stopped him. “Wait!” At this, he stopped turning and looked back at you.

“Yes?”

“Do you have something I can call you?”

“I am the KJ03. Many abbreviate that to Kujo.” He stated but you frowned.

“Would you want to be called by your model number all your life?”

At this, he fully turned to face you again. “I don’t have a life. I don’t die.” He spoke in a deadpan but his words sent a pang through your heart. “I’m a machine, I don’t need a name, personally - other than what kind of machine I am.”

With that, you already had enough. “Hey!” You pointed a finger right at his face, firmly getting his attention. “Stop talking like that! Just because we have different insides doesn’t mean I can’t care nor that you shouldn’t! I name everything, buddy-boy. From my printer, to my plushies, to my plant over there! That’s Marie by the way.” You angrily pointed to the plant standing in the hallway to your left. “Everything deserves a name, and that definitely includes you.”

He was silent while he looked down at you, his face showing nothing, but a faint yellow light was coming from his emotional indicator on his left temple. You didn’t know what exactly that meant but you’d figure it out later.

“So, I will ask again. Do you have something I can call you? Something that is not your serial number or model, I mean.”

“……” He was silent for a few seconds longer before he opened his mouth again. “You can appoint a name for me, should you so desire.”

“W-Wait?! Me?!!” You called out loudly in response and he flinched back a bit, automatically making you quickly apologise before starting to nervously bounce again. “Why me?” You asked nervously and he cocked his head to the side.

“Did you not just say you name everything?”

You, who was biting you nails while staring mindlessly at his chest, looked up at him at that. “Y-Yeah but those were for silly little things! Does that plant look like a Marie to you?” You said while frantically pointing at the tall plant in the pot to your left.

“It looks like a Dracaena Gold Star.” He simply spoke.

You stuck out your bottom lip in worry, going back to biting your nails.

“Don’t do that.” The android in front of you then pulled your hand away from your face and you took a deep breath. “Just take my model if you are that worried. Kujo is fine.”

“No, other people already call you that! I don’t want to copy! Besides, where does the 3 go in that name?” You put your hands on your hips now, staring intently at the KJ03 model number displayed on his shirt on the left side of his chest. As if that would reveal all the answers.

“Did you know a 3 looks a bit like the Japanese kanji for ‘ro’?” You suddenly questioned after a few seconds of intense staring, but didn’t look up, the android also choosing to remain silent while your mind was just spinning. “So… how about something like Jo…ro… or something? No, that doesn’t sound right, it needs something in the middle.” You were just talking your thoughts out loud now and your eyes drifted over to your plant, making you perk up. “Hey, what kind of plant was Marie again?”

“A Dracaena Gold Star.”

“So! How about, Jostarro…? No, that doesn’t sound right either, I don’t want your name to be your line of design, just slightly spelled different.” You mused. “So, we get rid of the ‘s’. And then the double ‘r’ also makes no sense so we’ll get rid of that one too. Then, we are left with… Jotaro.”

With that, you slowly straightened your back and looked up at his face, still seeing him looking down at you.

“Do you like it?”

He didn’t say anything, though it looked like he was going to open his mouth for a very brief second before being stopped, his emotional indicator flashing orange for a very brief second before going back to the neutral white. “I don’t have to like it. Only you do.”

“Do. You. Like. It? I don’t want to ask again.” You threatened lightly and the android in front of you stared for a second, almost contemplating before he spoke.

“Where does the K of KJ03 go in the name Jotaro?”

Opening your mouth, you stopped yourself from speaking before squinting at him, seeing the tiniest of smirks on his face. “Alright, alright. Sarcasm huh? Well, Kan fuck off, that’s where it goes.” You answered back with a smirk of your own.

“Can starts with a C.” He spoke back in the driest tone possible and you snorted.

“So you do got jokes.” You grinned, still getting not much emotion out of him other than the faintest upward curves of his lips, but that was already all you needed.

“That is not correct English.”

You snorted again. “You are right but also shush and let me talk my lingo.” Your finger was sassily waving back and forth again and he followed it with his eyes, making you realise and bring it back down together with your head. “Uhm, so, you do like it, right? I know it is technically still you model number but it is kind of unique and-“

“I like it.” He cut you off and you looked up at him again, seeing the emotional indicator on his temple glow a very faint blue.

#hih answers #jotaro kujo x reader #jotaro x reader #android au #sneak peek to hopefully get you excited on what is to come :3

[nogacheloveka-blog]

The Bad Sanses somehow ended up in the Backrooms. №5

next 6 prev 4

This is the translation of the another post from Russian to English. I understand English, but it is very difficult for me to write in English, so I asked chat GPT to help me. I have corrected some parts, but there still may be mistakes.

Wow, this is probably the longest and most productive time for me. I don't force myself to do any of this at all. The plot just comes to me, and I am filled with happiness as I embody it. But I think I will still slow down the pace and post the plot development a little less often, so as not to feel bad when I don't feel like drawing.

I'm trying to experiment with the glow of the eyes. It seems to me that it turned out very ok =)

Error got a little carried away with knitting. But it killed two birds with one stone: he no longer needs to constantly tie Cross and Dust with threads, the effect now works without his participation. Thanks to the generosity of the Destroyer, Dust now has a cozy corner of personal safety under his hood.

The Bad Guys found a sewing kit at Kitty's place, so they were able to mend their clothes a little and not look like tramps (well, more than they do now). There were also a lot of sweets and other food in the kitchen, which now fills the inventory of Horror, Cross, and Killer. They managed to find out the properties of some food:

Almond Water Restores 15 HP and sanity. *you can never have too much

Greasy Marshmallow Restores -25 HP. *sometimes there is too much *makes your skin smooth and elastic *follow the recommendations

Fortunately, the recommendations were found in the notebook with some details:

I once saw how one idiot ate 50 of them on a bet and turned into a pile of marshmallow and fat. A terrible sight. Smelled like at Willy Wonka's factory. But wow, this thing is almost like chocolate when melted. Sometimes I'm ready to kill for such a treat. Recommendations: - Melt the marshmallow. - Do not melt more than 30 at a time. - The interval between marshmallow intakes is 40 minutes. - Cook it with Almond Water. - Make sure you are safe during use - its smell attracts dangerous entities.

This food looks dangerous, but they are not in a situation to turn up their noses. And the note about chocolate excited at least half of them.

As soon as Error finished making a knitted doll for Kitty, they all left her house. As the notes said, she moved them back to the halls of IKEA. From there, they found an exit to some underground corridors resembling catacombs. The air there was humid, and condensation had formed in some places.

The local architecture resembled a labyrinth with orange wallpaper and a smelly carpet. The corridors twisted haphazardly, and there were many more doors and stairs than they expected. Some of the doors had signs. Most of them said "Service Rooms", "Storage Rooms", and they found various things in them: cleaning supplies (Dust took some of them without any explanation), mops, knives (Killer took a couple, he didn't need any explanation), rusty muskets, wet gunpowder, bundles of wires, dolls, coins of different countries and denominations, boxes of rotten canned food.

There were also "Room 402", "13", "10". These doors led to living rooms, as if from hotels and inns, but some abandoned ones, with broken and rotten furniture. Nothing interesting.

Finally, the corridors became wider, branched out, and there were rooms with several passages, communications ran along the walls, in which, judging by the sound, water was flowing somewhere. They were both warm and extremely hot.

Finally, in one of the corridors where they decided to stop, Killer found a balloon, which he carried around like something funny. Around the corner, he found another one and a bunch of scattered confetti. There was also a disturbing graffiti on the wall. But the Bad Guys were no longer surprised by anything, having traveled for about a week and a half through constantly changing space. They stopped for a break in this remarkable place.

However, those who decided to flip through the notebook, Dust and Cross, were a little scared, distracting Nightmare from his conversation with the Destroyer with a flash of negativity.

Party people Very dangerous. Do not touch the balloons, poppers, and confetti. RUN WITHOUT LOOKING BACK. Do not let them corner you, and if you see signs of their presence, pray that they don't find you. Smart creatures, constantly hacking our databases and editing texts (be careful with "=)"). Recommendations: - Correct/delete pages created/edited by Partygoers - Run if you see or hear one of them. - Inform others, especially operatives [illegible], about any observations of 'party rooms'. Prohibitions: - Follow the balloons, party sounds, and confetti. - Make tactile contact with the Partygoers

They tried to calm down by the fact that the author of the notebook clearly sometimes exaggerated by calling things "lethally dangerous " and Error said that most things in this place work on them "not as they should have ". But in the main moments, the former owner of the notes was right, wasn't he?

Despite this, the short break went quite normally, no one bothered them.

Nightmare belongs to Jokublog Killer belongs to RahafWabas Dust belongs to Ask-DustTale Horror belongs to Sour-Apple-Studios Error belongs to CrayonQueen Cross belongs to JakeiArtwork

#bad sanses #cross sans #dust sans #error sans #horror sans #killer sans #nightmare sans #the backrooms #au #undertale au #bad guys in backrooms #bad sans gang #art

[misc-obeyme]

The anon's point about the Mc's presence and how it could be more representative of a wider range of players if the character had an independent goal or mission is definitely a valid one.

But just like you said, a lot of otome games often focus on romance and relationships, with the Mc' s main motivation being to connect with and date the "main" love interests. But there is potential to introduce more complexity and appeal to players if the Mc has their own goals, motivations or missions that are separate from the romance aspect of the game.

Personally, I do think the idea of exploring the more "plot-based" angles and incorporating more elements of action-adventure into the story is a great suggestion and one that could make the narrative more engaging and relatable for us/players.

While the focus of the game may still be on romance aspects and character relationships, adding more depth and complexity through plot-driven angles can definitely add an extra layer of interest and appeal.

And I would love a buff mommy Mc or love interest by the way

I absolutely agree with everything you're saying.

The thing is, that is what you would get from something that is well written.

You are not going to get that level of consideration or good writing from a mobile otome game. Especially one that regularly rotates writers and also has a whole translation team that also mangles the story when they put it into other languages.

I love Obey Me, I really do. But the writing leaves a lot to be desired. I think it's inevitable. And honestly I think that right there is the only reason I decided to write fanfiction for it.

Because the characters have so much potential that's wasted. So why wouldn't I feel the urge to elaborate on them myself? I haven't written fic for a fandom in ages because I never felt compelled to until Obey Me came into my life. I couldn't possibly fuck it up, right?? LOL okay I'm exaggerating, it's not that bad. But they definitely have more characters than they can actually develop effectively.

So I would argue that the main story is more focused on MC's goals independent of their relationships with the characters. In the first season of OG, MC's whole goal is to get pacts, eventually the reason for this is to free Belphie from the attic. But none of that really has anything to do with MC's love story with any of the characters. You can go through that whole season and give them only platonic responses. Season two is similar in that MC's whole thing is figuring out how to deal with their "ring."

In fact, I would say that after season one, the events of each season don't even have an impact on MC's relationship with the seven brothers. The main thing that connects them and deepens their relationships in season one are the pacts. But in subsequent seasons, it doesn't seem to matter what happens, the brothers always see MC as family.

So I actually feel like the romance of the game is a side plot and even then, you can still choose to go through all of it without choosing lovey options for any of the characters.

However, they are expecting you to want to romance the characters. So they have to make MC someone that all the characters can fall in love with, whether their romance is front and center of the story or not.

Would it be more compelling for all of us if MC had a more interesting personality? Yeah, probably! But do I think these guys could pull off something like that? No, not really.

I'm not trying to bash the game or anything, obviously I totally love it. Look at my blog lol. I'm obsessed with it. But I've never found the writing to be especially good.

I've seen complaints that it's not romantic enough. I've seen complaints that it forces romance on the players. I've seen complaints that MC is too generic. I've seen complaints that MC is not generic enough. I'm sure they're doing the best they can, but I highly doubt writing quality is high on their list of concerns.

All that is to say that of course every anon that has come to my ask box about this particular topic has valid opinions on it! And you can certainly discuss what would improve the overall story. I just generally choose not to think about it too deeply because I'm not expecting anything of higher quality than what we've been getting all along. Which is just quality enough to keep me hooked lol.

Lastly, all I want in life is a buff mommy love interest asdlkfkjf not at all holding my breath, but SHEESH. Just gimme a stunning muscular demon lady, huh? I would die on the spot.

#hmm sorry I feel like I rambled again #I just have thoughts about this apparently #obey me #anon asks #misc answers

[dabisqueen]

Falling in Love Ch.7

Rockstar Dabi (Touya) x fem!Reader

⇢ word count: roughly 4.5K

⇢ series plot: after receiving a VIP ticket to a concert of the most popular rock band, you go and it proves to be a life-changing event.

⇢ current plot: getting ready for your first concert with the LoV, Dabi sure takes your mind off of things. But, what does his bandmate Keigo say to all of that?

⇢ warnings: 18+, minors DNI, alcohol consumption, kissing, groping, sex in public, unprotected sex (duh), creampie, lots of jealousy

Personal note: finally got my head out of the gutter enough to finish this. Thank you @/hunajan for being my beta. And thank you @/crumbly-scrombly for being the second brain on this.

Series masterlist

Taglist

Arriving at the venue, Dabi handed you an all-access pass and you happily pulled the badge around your neck. Dabi grinned as you smiled up at him, nodding almost too eager when he said, "Let's go!"

Soon after everyone met up, the band met up for a quick sound check. It was fascinating to see how they had their process down to a science, their set-up, and plug-in. 

Sitting down at the edge of the stage and letting your legs dangle off the platform it was amazing hearing the little previews of carefully dialed-in bass tones and guitar effects. 

As Keigo grabbed the microphone and went about saying "Checking one, two…" Dabi continued to tune his guitar before playing a few rifts.

Eventually, it was his turn, and stepping up to the microphone, he winked at you before deciding to put his own spin on the sound check, "Test Test Testicles."

Keigo snorted into the microphone, grinning hard while Tenko muttered, shaking his head, "I'm too old for this shit---"

Dabi’s smirk grew wider as he kept staring at you, his eyes glinting mischievously, "Check check, check her out."

Your ears started glowing a deep red while Dabi kept doing his own version of a sound check, using an array of expletives with Keigo's laughing next to him into his microphone asking for him to keep them coming.

Once the Front Of House sound had been adjusted, the sound engineer went about setting up individual mixes for each band member, which were delivered via in-ear monitors. 

Eventually, they moved to run through a portion of their set. The sound of an electric guitar being strummed blasted from the speakers, and Dabi's distinctive voice started echoing through the venue, resonating in your ears.

The sound engineer kept adjusting the volume of each instrument and tweaked various frequencies to ensure the sound was clear, well-balanced, and set at a suitable volume.

Seeing Dabi on stage, in his element, you realized what music meant to him. It was an escape, from this world, from all the suffering and pain. It sent chills down your spine, seeing his expression going soft, all worries and troubles fading from his world. Joy bloomed in your heart, having you yearn for him even more, making your heart ache for his presence.

With him at the center, the LoV radiated with this incredible confidence that made it seem like they were actually performing. Even some of the crew stopped what they were doing, listening to the band go. 

It was only then that you saw Keigo standing off to the side, and a strange feeling overcame you. His golden eyes stayed fixed on Dabi with an expression on his face that spoke of deep longing and craving. Your breath hitched in your throat, wondering how you never noticed before and your heart started feeling weighty.

He continued staring at Dabi like that until his bright eyes flicked over to meet yours. His expression darkened considerably and– averting his gaze– he turned his back to you, continuing to play the current song. 

As fast as the spectacle had started, it was over again and even though it was merely a sound check, you already felt like you had watched the entire show.

While Dabi and the rest of the band went to an organized Meet and Greet, you took the time to walk around the venue a bit. Even before the event got underway, there were people hustling and bustling everywhere. It was electrifying in a way, like the buzzing of a bee hive ready to greet its queen.

The stage was set in the northern part of the stadium. Giant speakers were placed in the four corners to make the music highly audible. Three huge LED screens were set at the back of the stage, glowing with the radiant blue of the LoV logo. They made sure that even the fans in the back of the stadium could see the band play live on stage. 

Hundreds of LED lights were set in the lighting rigs, ready to recreate dozens of color combinations with the push of a button, and spotlights in the balcony to follow around the band members. All of them were ready to unleash their spectacular light show on the viewers and pull them into the emotion of the songs, of the show.

You stopped and exhaled shakily, trying to comprehend the magnificence of what was coming up, already capturing the mood and the vibe of the show before it even started.

Looking up you saw Dabi waving over to you, signaling the Meet and Greet to be over. With everyone heading back to their dressing room, they started preparing for the upcoming show. 

While the stars started to spread across the darkening clear sky above the stadium, the crowd slowly started to pour into the empty venue.

An array of snacks waited for you back in the room, consisting of fruit, assorted cheeses, some crackers as well as drinks. Seeing some Ichiro’s Malt Chichibu Whiskey with Dabi's name tag on it accompanied by another bottle of The Macallan Rare Cask Whiskey with Keigo's name on it, you rolled your eyes, laughing lightly.

What was unexpected, was the flat screen sitting off to the corner, several consoles and controllers hooked up to it. While Dabi and Keigo went straight for the Rider, Tenko headed for the game area, grabbing the controller to turn on the system. 

You sauntered after your boyfriend and while he poured himself his first drink, you asked Dabi about it. 

Dabi’s lips formed into a pout as he muttered that it was Tenko’s way of taking his mind off the upcoming show and relaxing.

"Why'd ya ask? You wanna join him?" He narrowed his eyes at you, "My company not good enough?"

Nudging him into his side you scolded him teasingly, "Dabi, don't be so jealous…"

"'M not," he scowled, turning to pour himself a glass of whiskey, "Just saying what I'm thinking."

It was still over an hour to go, and the opening band was just starting to play on stage. While you nipped on your water, Keigo and Dabi rehearsed more of the nightly program, going through the run-off the assistant had passed out and picking the songs for the encore. 

Dabi held tightly onto your hand the entire time, not giving you a chance to part from him. Each time you tried to, his arm circled your waist, keeping you closely pressed against him. It was like he needed you, that he wanted to make up for the time being apart from you coming up.

Hearing his name being called, he turned to see his manager wave over to him. 

"Wait here for a moment," Dabi pecked a kiss on your cheek before sauntering over to the other men.

Seeing this as a chance to approach Keigo, you took a deep inhale to calm your shaking nerves and greeted him with an awkward smile, "Hey Keigo."

Keigo kept his gaze fixated against the wall, continuing to sip his drink when he muttered back a brusque, "Hey."

"Maybe we haven't had the best start," you gulped, gathering some more courage, "But I still want to let you know that I'm not what you think I am."

Keigo snorted, his golden eyes flicking to yours, "Enlighten me."

"My feelings for Dabi are honest." You tried a timid smile. 

"Doubt that," he said bluntly before turning his attention back to his drink.

Stepping closer to him, you looked up at his stern face, "C'mon Keigo, I realized that maybe you're fighting with me for the wrong reason."

"And what would that be," he laughed derogatorily, knitting his eyebrows together.

"I know you have feelings for Dabi as well so—" you started but he harshly interrupted you with an upward raised palm.

"My feelings are none of your fuckin' business—" his expression turned sour, feeling caught, frozen because you saw right through him.

"Keigo please, I saw the way you looked at Dabi…" you tried again.

His intense golden-brown eyes were like slithers and he leaned in close. You could see little flecks of black in their irises. They were beautiful and you gulped, the air around you suddenly seeming to blister with heat.

"Aren't I right?" You added softly. 

His breath hitched and for a split second, you could see hurt in his eyes too.

"You don't know Dabi at all." Raking his manicured hand through his ash blond hair, he scoffed, "Not the way I do – I know him better than you, I have been with him for years."

"Keigo, I don't want to fight you," you pleaded, wondering what else he knew that you didn't, "So what is this all about?"

"That Dabi is better off with me," he almost growled before shouldering past you towards where the manager and Dabi were standing.

Your shoulders slumped and you sighed, the urge to seek comfort with Dabi dampened by the fact that Keigo was standing beside him by now. 

You turned to see Tenko sit on some pillows on the floor, legs crossed and immersed in some ego-shooter. You took a glance back at Dabi, who was deeply engaged in a conversation with the crew and Keigo.

"Winding down a bit?" You asked, sitting down next to him.

Without averting his eyes or pausing his gaming, Tenko just rasped "More like, trying my best to get riled up enough to join those two dingbats back there later on…"

You burst out giggling, something about his uncomplicated ways just so cute and boyishly. The way he was always so rough yet transparent with his emotions put a light in your heart and made you feel relaxed around him. It's the same feeling you had when being around your roommate. 

"Aw Tenko," you leaned forward and pecked a friendly kiss on his cheek, "It's always so nice talking to you."

He blushed all the way to his ears and almost dropped his controller. A gunshot followed by a gurgling grunt sounded from the speaker as his character took several hits and died.

"Shit, sorry," you laughed out loud, the screen turning bloody red, while Tenko grumbled an array of curses into his headgear. 

He lightened up your heart and after that depressing exchange with Keigo, you needed that more than anything else.

Behind you, Keigo and Dabi were watching you both, the lead singer's face turning pensive as he endured the scene before him.

"Seems like she's getting along pretty well with Tenko, isn't she?" Keigo nonchalantly dropped.

"None of ya fucking business," Dabi answered, lifting the glass to his lips to take a sip.

"Aw c'mon, you know she'd never betray you," he placed his palm on the low of Dabi's back.

"Aren't I right?" He mused, watching Dabi from the side. 

Dabi never averted his eyes from you. Watching how you leaned into Tenko, brushing your hand over his arm. His emotions surged, a pain spread through his chest and he felt anger, jealousy, and hurt.

"Hurts, seeing them together, doesn't it?" Keigo absent-mindedly stroked his thumb along the glass in his hand.

"Shut it," Dabi growled through gritted teeth.

Keigo leaned in, his lips brushing along the lobe of Dabi's ear as he whispered, "You know I'm much better for you than her." 

Dabi didn't respond, biting the inside of his cheek. After a moment of silence, Keigo spoke again.

"Mark my words," Keigo laid his palm on Dabi's shoulder, assuring him with a false sense of certainty, "She's just another groupie."

Dabi couldn't reply, watching you with a suspicious look on his face as you leaned into Tenko and laughed lightly. Keigo turned and walked away, a satisfied smirk on his face.

Over on the other side of the room, you had just stopped laughing. 

"Well, sorry about that," you wiped the tears from your eyes, "But I need to get back now" 

"Yeah yeah," Tenko muttered, scratching his neck, trying to hide his grin behind his pale unruly bangs, "I needed to finish anyways, we're starting soon…"

Standing up and scanning the room, you just saw Dabi disappear into the bathroom. Following behind and clicking the door shut behind you, you saw him place a small package of white crystalline powder on the counter. 

"Dabi," you approached him. "There's no need—"

"The fuck are you to tell me what I should and shouldn't do?" He snorted, unable to meet your eyes, gaze still fixed on the package.

"Nice move, tough boy," you crossed your arms, cocking your head, "Says the guy who seemingly wants to control who I converse wi–."

"You kissed him!" His voice was clear and loud as he slammed his hand on the counter. 

His rage-filled eyes met yours, glowering at you. You took a sharp inhale, shocked by his sudden outburst. But then you straightened up and replied.

"Touya, that was a peck on the cheek for crying out loud!" You bit back, just as startled as him when you heard those sharp words tumbling from your mouth.

He flinched, his hand flying up to press against his chest as a stabbing pain spread through it. He gasped for air a few times, cold sweat starting to form on his forehead. 

He stared at you, his sapphire eyes beautiful and mesmerizing as ever. Yet, underneath that beauty, there was a frightening mixture of fear and uncertainty.

Raising your hand to cup his cheek, you waited, gently stroking your thumb over the damp skin of his cheekbone, feeling the quivers that ran through him. He covered your hand with his own, keeping it there, leaning into your touch. 

After a while, the fear in his azure eyes slowly faded and made room for something else, something full of hope and affection. The tremors shaking his body slowly subsided, his breathing evened out and he broke eye contact, his gaze dropping to the floor.

Staring at the small pouch with the cocaine in it he spoke quietly, "What if I need this to forget? To forget my jealousy…"

"Touya," you dropped your arms to gently circle his waist, pressing your body against his.

"You're the only one for me, don't you know that?" You whispered against his chest, "I— I love you."

A moment passed by in silence with Dabi's eyes widening.

"You… love me?" His fingers hooked under your chin, lifting it so his brilliant blues met yours, his eyes full of warmth and adoration.

"Of course I do, you idiot," you gently tugged a loose strand of hair behind his ear.

His body language made it clear that he was on the verge of breaking.

"Please," rocking on your toes, you placed a kiss on his lips, "I'm yours. You don't need drugs to make you feel good."

His eyes flitted back to the package and then to you. With a sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling so awful for getting all worked up. Burying his face into the crook of your neck, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your fragile figure against him. Your arms were tight around his waist as you snuggled against the warmth of his chest.

Staying like this he caught the faint hint of your own sweet scent. He felt something in his chest, that feeling of being at home again, a deep peace spreading through his body. 

Dabi knew you were the only one, and now that you were so close to him, there was no way he was going to let you go. 

If only he could tell you though.

Lifting his head, he cast his eyes to the wall, chin resting on your head as you relaxed against one other.

"Ok," a faint smile spread across his face, as he leaned back to cup your face and kiss you gently on your lips.

"But I need you to show me how much you belong to me," he cocked his head, a mischievous grin painting his lips. 

His crotch pressed into you, making you feel the heat down there – and the growing bulge straining against the leather of his pants, "Let me mark you."

With that, he picked you up and you giggled lightly, knowing what was about to happen.  Spinning you around to place you on the bathroom counter, his lips sought yours for a hungry kiss, his fingers sliding under your dress, pulling it up until it pooled around your chest, starting to squeeze your bare tits.

Hearing the sound of the clink of the buckle and sound of a zipper, you asked as he pulled down his pants, revealing his unclothed hard cock, "Always going commando, huh?" 

"Only for you," he grinned against your lips, tugging your panties aside while lining up with your slick folds, slowly sliding inside.

You groaned at the stretch, still not used to his size, and started panting when he pressed further inside until his hips were flush with yours, the tip of his cock pressed against your cervix.

"Don't have much time," he rasped, bending down, his hot mouth lazily pressing wet kisses against your pulse.

Quickly pulling out to slam back inside, he started picking up a rough pace, "H-Hope that's OK."

"Don't worry–haa–," you bit your lip to suppress louder moans, "with you I'm always close."

The way his pierced cock kept hitting that perfect spot over and over again, you felt yourself being propelled towards your orgasm.

“God, I want to mark you so badly...” His voice had gone smoky, his eyes heavy-lidded, burning with desire when he looked at you.

Breathing against your pulse, his teeth sank into the soft flesh, pulling a sharp gasp from you.

"Then –ah ah– do it," you replied, feeling him latch his lips onto your skin and starting to suck with vigor.

As he kept pounding into you, the lewd squelch of his balls slapping against your ass filled the otherwise quiet room. You were so submerged in the feeling of chasing your high you almost didn't hear someone calling Dabi's name.

"Shit," Dabi panted but before either of you could react, the door flew open and Tenko barged in.

You squealed, frantically trying to cover up your blushing face with your palms.

Seeing you on the counter, legs spread wide with Dabi buried to the hilt inside of you, Tenko came to a stuttering halt. He turned a deep red, his eyes starting to bulge before swallowing loudly, turning on his heels.

"The fuck, dude," he cleared his throat, gaze flitting to the floor as he stammered, "L-Lock the fucking door, for fucks sake."

You tried to squirm away but Dabi held you tight by your hips, tutting quietly, not stopping to move his hips, sliding in and out of you at a rapid pace, "What do you want, Tenko?"

Fiddling with the doorknob, Tenko ripped it open to hurry outside, slamming the door shut behind him.

"Haven't you already done it once today?" His irritated rasp sounded from outside the bathroom.

"Once? This is the fourth time," Dabi chuckled and Tenko cursed in response. 

"Are you two trying for a kid?" You could make out the sarcasm in his tone, "You guys certainly fuck like you do—"

"Heh, he's right," Dabi chuckled, "We have been going at it like bunnies…" 

Just as you opened your mouth to retort with a snarky reply, Dabi thrust into you at a particularly deep angle, drawing a high-pitched moan from your lips.

"Just - hurry up will ya?" Tenko grunted nervously, "Everyone else is waiting already."

"Yeah," Dabi groaned, starting to feel his insides tightening up, "Gonna cum now anyways."

"Ew– spare me the details," Tenko huffed as you heard him leave.

"Oh fuck, Touya," your fingers dug into his shirt, as you felt your entire body tensing, your walls starting to flutter around him.

"God I love it when you call me that." His head fell into the crook of your neck, his breathing turning heavy and hot against your skin.

His thick cock missed none of your sweet spots while his thumb found your needy, neglected clit, starting to rub frantic circles in it.

"I'm g-gonna—" you shakily breathed out, toes curling in your boots. 

Dabi let out a broken moan as you threw your head back, starting to cream around his fat girth.

A lazy smile on his lips, he watched you through heavy-lidded eyes as you came undone around him, feeling you clenching around him, repeatedly clutching his cock.

"Fuck, you're milking me, doll." He groaned as his balls tightened and his hips started to stutter. 

You moaned out his name as he started to twitch inside you, shooting the first spurt of cum into your tight cunt.

"Take it all, baby," he hissed through gritted teeth, emptying the rest of his sticky load into you, "Gonna mark you mine, got that?"

"Yess–" you wailed as he rolled his hips a few times lazily into you, making sure that you were filled good.

The room had grown quiet again, the silence only broken by the distant sounds of the concert continuing and your shaky breaths.

“Holy shit.” Dabi chuckled, twitching cock still buried deep inside of you.

His cock slipped from you, and he wiped it off on your naked thighs.

"Ew, you're gross Dabi," you complained, scrunching your nose.

But he just chuckled, "Don't have time to clean up," tugging his still erect cock back into his leather pants.

Buckling up his belt he pecked you a short kiss, "Gotta run, ok?"

"Yeah," You looked down at the mess he made and sighed, "Go get 'em, tiger."

Slipping out the door, he swore under his breath when he looked back and saw you staring at the ceiling with dazed, half-lidded eyes, your combined juices dripping from your red puffy folds onto the counter below.

After he closed the door you slid off the counter and proceeded to rid yourself and the poor bathroom cabinets from the remnants of your heated encounter. 

Following the lines on the floor towards the stage area, you arrived just in time to hear Keigo speak, "Dude, you seem stiff, got a stick up your ass?"

And Dabi chuckled, "Na bro, just a stiff prick in my pants–"

"Told you already– spare the details!" Tenko interrupted while everyone else burst out into laughter. 

When you met up with them, Dabi and Keigo were just checking their equipment, with the assistants readjusting the headsets as well as applying the final touches of makeup.

As soon as he was ready, Dabi looked up to see you standing off to the side. He strolled over, circling his arms around your waist, pulling you close. His breath heavy with whiskey, tickled your lips as he whispered against them, "You alright, doll?"

"Yeah," you ran your fingers through your hair, "Maybe kinda–nervous?"

Pinching your cheek, he clicked his tongue, "I should be the one being nervous, you lil mouse."

His mouth met yours before you could reply, his tongue licking across your lips demanding entrance. You sighed and he slipped in, his hands trailing down to grab the plush of your butt cheeks, his digits digging in, making you squeak.

His taste was heavy on your tongue, whiskey, smoke, and - him.

It made your heart drop in your belly as he pressed his pelvis against you, a growing bulge starting to strain against his leather pants again.

He pulled back, a string of saliva connecting you both. Smiling sheepishly, he whispered against your lips, "Fuck doll, you get me all riled up again."

"Time for showdown!" a voice interrupted your make-out session and Dabi sighed but turned around to see everyone grabbing their equipment. 

"Gotta go," cupping your face, his lips met yours again before he said, "And keep your eyes on me.”

"I-I will," You nodded. “And you look for me in the crowd, ok?”

"I'll do," his lips brushed yours one last time before he sauntered over to his pitch black Strat with an LoV logo and grabbed it.

Just as he stepped up to the stage, he turned and grabbed his bulge, squeezing it once before throwing you a kiss and stepping into the stage lights.

As he ran on stage, he looked so stunning with the sleeveless shirt, a raging boner sporting in his tight leather pants. It was so obvious that the crowd erupted in frantic screams in an instant. With his electric guitar around on his shoulder, his silver piercings glinting under the light, the fans went berserk seeing the way his shaft piercings were visible because he was pushing those leather pants to their limit.

The crowd roared, screaming his name and you could see through the huge LED screens how Dabi smiled cockily when he grabbed the microphone and turned towards you and - poking his tongue at you - rutted his hips forward in a quick suggestive way.

You could feel your cheeks growing hot, your heart violently jerked in your chest. You rolled your eyes and saw him laughing when he turned back towards the hungry fans, lifting the microphone to his mouth.

"Hello, y'all! Are you drunk enough yet?" His voice, raw and deep, thundered through the stadium and sent shivers down your spine, "Cause we're here to. Fuck. You. Up tonight!"

The audience screamed loudly in response to his words when he placed his hands on his guitar, one on the neck, the other holding the plectrum, hovering over the strings.

There was something so irresistibly sexy about him as his airy laughter sounded through the speakers, the way his eyes glistened with pure joy before he turned his head to nod at Keigo.

And then, with Tenkos count, he slammed into the chords and LOV kicked off the show, too loud, but not loud enough. Clouds of smoke billowed into the air with fountains of fire erupting on stage while the world around started to fade, being replaced by the sound and vivid colors of their performance.

#dabi smut #rockstar dabi #dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi #dabi todoroki #bnha dabi #mha dabi #dabi my hero academia #touya todoroki #todoroki touya #mha smut #bnha smut

[literary-illuminati]

Book Review 71 – Prophet, Volume 3: Empire by Brandon Graham (et al)

I’m continuing to read volumes of this as natural breaks between each large book which, besides being a way to juice my reading stats for the year, does do a great job of testing how good my memory is. In general this feels like a pretty consistent continuation of volume 2, with sharper characterization and an utterly overstuffed plot.

The comic continues the saga of a revived Earth Empire, entirely populated by the revived (and no also being once again mass-produced) effectively-posthuman clones of one John Prophet. Specifically, the story is mostly split between following the ‘Old Man’ Prophet who defected and led the rebellion which toppled the first empire, and the newest Father, the prophet who was the star of the frst volume and is responsible for resurrecting the empire to begin with. Beyond continuing on the story from previous volumes, these issues introduce a new threat invading from the edge of known space which is the ostensible new driver of the plot and what both leads are left scrambling to try and find a solution to.

Now, it might just be that I’m failing to adapt and meet the medium where it is, but my overall feeling really is that there’s far too much plot (and just, stuff) stuffed into far too little space. This volume did do a lot more touching on and sketching out real character dynamics and fun little beats for the cast, which really only kind of drove home the fact that there just isn’t the page count to do more than touch on them. In terms of plot my feeling is that this whole psychic pain nebula or whatever is a needless distracton from a story that already had plenty going on, especially since as of the end of the volume it’s stll no where close to being resolved. Will see where volume 4 goes with it, I suppose.

One thing the book did set aside a bit of time for was giving a sense of what the society of a bunch of wildly distinct posthumn clones of some guy from thousands of years ago now engineered into a brutal imperialist engine of militarism with genetically defined castes actually looks like. Which was absolutely great fun, and I dearly wish there’d been whole issues devoted to the question. Especially since the book actually commits to it being weird. Also, as far as world-building tropes goes, I absolutely adore the whole conceit of a society of engineered soldier/slaves/automata upholding an empire long after the creators their theoretically imperializing for are long gone. Gets into fun themes of inheritance and legacy, if nothing else.

Also, points for having a sleazy sci fi brothel scene and having zero conventionally-attractive-human-woman-with-blue-skin to be seen. I think the feature most vocally sexualized was gills? Truly a breath of fresh air compared to most sci fi. Really there’s probably something to be said about how resolutely unsexualized and un-Male-Gaze-ey the art is compared to most big comic books, but I really don’t have the background to make it.

Less pleasing uses of the pagecount where the points where you could really feel it become obvious that this is part of some wider superhero comic universe – the improbable number of characters who are ‘ancient beyond reckoning’ or similar who are clearly introduced and given instant narrative significance as fanservice gets old incredibly quickly. (Also, superhero names are dumb in a way that’s noticeably distinct from the way space opera names are dumb, and they don’t necessarily go together well. Suprema?)

#book review #sff #space opera #comics #brandon graham

[tamelee]

What do you think of Kishimoto as a writer?

Oh. Well.. allow me.

I'm not a writer myself so I feel like I am in no position to say anything regarding him as a writer specifically. But I'm studying to become a storyteller partly because of Kishimoto. As a writer your tools are limited no matter the amount of creativity you have. Imagine a blank page and a pencil. How do you get from an idea to the story that is 'Naruto'? A Manga where he for the most part had to be his own director, storyteller, storyboard-artist, artist, plotter, scriptwriter, character designer, researcher, special effects artist, tone worker- you name it.

But of course, that's not to discredit Kazisa, Takahashi, Yahagi and Ikemoto who assisted him. Or the editors at Weekly Shonen Jump who helped Kishimoto outline his story to what it is today.

Outlines often get rejected and many of Kishimoto's ideas/original plans did too.

I'm glad as well because some of them I don't think were as strong. Neither were some ideas for example a sketch of Sasuke's original introduction compared to what we have in Chapter 3 now. This fits his character way better and even though I'm often complaining about Naruto's ending (as we all should tbh,) the editors of SJ know their target audience best. That doesn't mean that every story or decision succeeds.. but it does mean there is a structure that generally works. A golden way for Shonen Manga. (Ki-Sho-Ten-Ketsu). One that Kishimoto often struggled with not just 'Naruto' but in general I think because he explained that no matter how many ideas he had for an adventurous story, he never got any green lights. He decided to go for a sports theme and sketched out a baseball Manga.

And it's very apparent in many excerpts when he says that the editors were pushing him a lot towards entertainment, that Kishimoto himself embraced elements of realism and more serious topics himself that weren't necessarily suited for Shonen.

(Side-note: Shonen is not really a 'genre'. Also, the difference between Shonen en Seinen depends on the way it's written. Rating or themes does not classify a story as either one by itself although Shonen is targeted at a younger audience and therefore its plot should generally be more easy to understand within a wider audience group. Often the stories are focussed on external conflicts while Seinen expands a lot on psychological struggles. Even if you were to tell the same story separately it can still be the same story- just executed differently, therefore it's not really a "genre" but a demographic. That's what I mean when I say "I wish 'Naruto' would've gotten a Seinen sequel." It's not about the story being more "mature" as some believe.)

But... even though that all is true for 'Naruto' and its world focusses a lot on external struggles of being a Ninja in it's incredibly adventurous Shinobi-world, Kishimoto didn't shy away from making it a very character-driven story as well. A story where partly, Naruto and Sasuke as our main-act, with their internal conflicts till this day, are somewhat hidden away from that very same demographic even though their feelings are in plain sight. Why? Because it isn't suited for them and certainly not that easy to understand. If you've come across posts here that say "omigod how can you not understand this simple thing? 🙄" regarding something in the story then I'm here to tell you that they probably also didn't the first time they read it, unless they have some media/literacy-experience or something similar. In which case I admire them, but also, don't worry- you're not alone and it's pretty normal.

There's a reason Kishimoto had to fight his own staff so hard to get certain scenes through. (For example his reverse Harem no Jutsu.) And seeing him say that he felt pressured a lot makes me sad but it's understandable because I think what mattered to him at some points through storytelling would've become too complicated for SJ's audience. I can't imagine his own internal battle having fought solitude and rejection himself but then hunching over a desk for 15+ years, immersed in doing what he loves only for him to most likely not be satisfied with the ending. In fact, I'm pretty sure as that last Chapter felt painful. Like a bucket of icy water slapped in your face on your way out.

Hehe. Well, he did.

As him being a Mangaka and creator of stories, I genuinely respect Kishimoto so much. There's a reason why people in the industry call him Kishimoto-sensei. A teacher and master of his craft. It shows in his work and most of all his art.

I mean.. how can you not respect that?? Honestly I could go on and on but I'd be writing entire essays. The writing process itself is complicated, people are involved, editors, but I think he was able to show very well why 'Naruto' at least meant a lot to him and why he wanted to create it. I'm glad he was able to push his ideas through.. despite SJ's demographics in his own way and I can only hope that one day he would have it in him to create a satisfying resolution regardless of anything else. He and the fandom deserve it. But I can only hope. Oh! I love his other stories too actually but, I'm not sure if you're asking about that.

#asktamelee #kishimoto #I'd be writing loveletters

[billpottsismygf]

The Church on Ruby Road (spoilers)

Oh my god! I absolutely loved that! Ncuti Gatwa is phenomenal. He's got so much presence right from the start, and there were some lovely little Doctor-ish quirks that he got across very nicely. I particularly liked his disdain for the Goblins' supposed time travel, him loving the name Lulubelle and the way he rattled off his police interview answers (though the bit about the proposal was perhaps a little too Sherlock). On a sadder note, his 'maybe I'm the bad luck' line was also delivered really well.

Ruby Sunday is pretty cool too, though I'm not quite as sold on her yet. Millie Gibson's performance felt just a trifle stilted to me, but I hope that goes away as she relaxes into the role. I loved her family, especially her gran. It's so nice to have a wider companion family like this again. We got it a bit with Yaz (and sort of Ryan and Graham), but I hope we get to see a bit more of this lot!

I wasn't sure what I was going to think of the Goblins, but I really like the alternative physics time travel thing they have going on with the language of luck. The Doctor's line about learning the vocabulary of rope was great; some real 'resonating concrete' vibes. But yes, the Goblins were fun and interesting. I don't know if they'll become anything particularly iconic, but not every villain needs to be.

The musical number was enormous fun. Obviously the first part was released ahead of time, but the Doctor and Ruby launching into a second part was unexpected and fantastic. Ncuti has a damn good voice. There have been questions about whether a musical episode of the show could work before, and I'm definitely here for it if there's ever a plan to give us more than just one song! Ruby's own ability to sing (improvisationally!) was also quite nicely set up with her being in a band.

Perhaps the best part of the episode was when Ruby was taken out of time. Her mum being a far more jaded and unhappy person, with even the lighting getting dimmer, was incredibly effective. Her declaring she was happy alone with tears in her eyes, the Doctor also crying, really got me. Ncuti's performance throughout that as well gave me a lot of faith in what's to come (not that I needed any, given what I've seen of him in Sex Education). (That 'then why are you crying' also had more than a hint of Amy crying for Rory.)

I have to mention the timeless child stuff. As with what he did with the flux in Wild Blue Yonder, I'm over the moon that RTD is taking things from the last era and actually doing stuff with it. I know there will be people angry about it because they expected him to retcon the whole thing, but I far prefer this approach. Granted, I never minded the timeless child stuff that much (unlike the flux), but it was really effective having the Doctor actually bring up the fact that he doesn't know where he's from. I wonder if RTD is planning to do anything more with it, or if it will just be used as character and relationship building material.

Smaller stuff:

We got another mavity mention, so is this just here to stay or is it part of a longer arc?

The way the gloves work didn't make sense to me. The way the Doctor explained them was as if the weight just shifted to the glove (which makes sense for making balancing and gripping easier), but if that's the case where does the extra weight come from when pulling the rope down? Oh well, I'll just imagine they're magic weight deletion/creation devices and move on with my life.

That spike through the Goblin King at the end was brutal! I'm surprised they were allowed to show it. No blood or anything, I suppose, but still!

Ruby's mother (we presume) was somehow still walking away after the Doctor's whole escapade with the Goblins. Bad directing (I might have bought it if she were much further away on a long road) or an indication of more at play? Either way, presumably this isn't the last of that plot thread!

What the hell is going on with Mrs Flood? When she was watching the Doctor towards the end, I thought it was pretty strange, and then in the mid-credits sequence I started to wonder if she was something more than she seemed. Then came the look to camera and her line about TARDISes… Technically, this could be a weird little moment a la Feast of Steven, but it seems more likely something else is at play. The Toymaker could bend the rules of reality, so perhaps she could be part of the legions he mentioned, able to break the fourth wall at will. We shall see, I suppose!

#doctor who #the church on ruby road #ncuti gatwa #millie gibson #ruby sunday #fifteen #doctor who spoilers #dw #mine #dwe15 #this is my new tag for now to match the way I tag classic stuff #since we're going to be back at series 1 again (my way of tagging new who) #the e stands for era btw in case anyone is for some reason curious about my tagging system #as opposed to dws1 for example for series 1 #I suppose I could have used d for doctor but I like it as it is #reactions #dwmine #I don't know why I'm using a title for once #but there we go #also - tiny thing - how did the priest not hear the raging goblin battle right above him? #and the final episode of ghosts is starting in less than half an hour! #my brain is being pulled in two directions oh no

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

Turning up gravity for space fungi study

Fungi in space have been a plot point in Star Trek: Discovery, but they are also a very real problem for astronauts and space stations. United Nations co-sponsored testing by a team from Macau in China subjected fungi to hypergravity with ESA's fast-spinning centrifuge.

A team from the Astrobiology group of the State Key Laboratory of Lunar and Planetary Sciences at the Macau University of Science and Technology of Macau—a special administrative region of China—used ESA's Large Diameter Centrifuge at the ESTEC technical center in the Netherlands to test the growth of fungal colonies under double normal Earth's gravity.

Up until now the Macau team has been making use of 3D clinostats—otherwise known as random positioning machines, which continuously shift their orientation of the gravity vector to simulate microgravity conditions—to test how fungi respond to weightlessness.

Access to the LDC was arranged through HyperGES, part of the Access to Space for All initiative of the United Nations Office of Outer Space Affairs, UNOOSA.

The LDC is an 8 m-diameter four-arm centrifuge that gives researchers access to a range of hypergravity up to 20 times Earth gravity for weeks or months at a time.

At its fastest, the centrifuge rotates at up to 67 revs per minute, with its six gondolas placed at different points along its arms weighing in at 130 kg, and each capable of accommodating 80 kg of payload.

Their two weeks using the LDC enabled the Macau team extended testing into hypergravity conditions, supported by ESA's Life Support & Physical Sciences Instrumentation Laboratory team.

Fungal species were grown until full mature grown was achieved, and then examined to check for genetic or "phenotypic" stress reactions.

Next, one of the selected fungal species underwent a second generation of exposure to hypergravity to see if any stress reactions or alterations were maintained, or whether cumulative effects might be observed. As part of the analysis, selected samples were also analyzed under a scanning electron microscope at ESA's nearby Materials and Electrical Components Laboratory.

"The study of fungi in space is called 'astromycology,' a subset of astrobiology," explains Marta Filipa Simões, leader of this project from Macau University of Science and Technology.

"The ship's engineer in Star Trek: Discovery is an astromycologist, but this is indeed a real field of study and an increasingly important one. Fungi have a long history of making it into space and can have serious impacts once they are there."

The Russian space station Mir experienced fungal contamination as it aged. Portholes became obscured while plastics and metals were corroded, triggering malfunctions in turn—and wider concerns for the station structure.

Prof. Simões adds, "The International Space Station has had its own issues in rooms where crewmembers exercise, with higher humidity leading to fungal contamination on the walls. They have to do a lot of regular cleaning and disinfecting to prevent it.

"In a closed system like the ISS, any time you have the growth of biofilms, which fungi use to stay in place, you can have problems. This can be a serious concern because fungi might also trigger infections or allergic responses in astronauts, whose immune systems are themselves depressed in space. Conversely many fungal species appear to have their growth promoted in microgravity conditions—it is part of our present study to try and better understand why."

Some fungi are always going to make it to space, with hardy fungal spores able to adhere to all sorts of surfaces and tissues, such as the human body. Spacecraft cleanrooms are never pristine in practice; biological surveys show they are home to fungi and other microorganisms.

"We are never going to be able to get rid of fungi entirely as we venture into space, so we need to understand them," says André Antunes, part of the research team of Macau University of Science and Technology.

"In addition, they offer positive opportunities as well as risks. Down on Earth fungi are employed to make food—such as yeast for fermentation—as well as medicines, chemical enzymes for industry as well as metal nanoparticles used in numerous fields.

"For future space settlement they might be harnessed to cover different types of needs,, including recycling, or mining essential minerals out of planetary surfaces. These are seen as essential in helping to reduce costs and ensure sustainability of crewed space exploration."

The next HyperGES team to perform experiments on the LDC comes from Mahidol University, Thailand. They team will investigate how watermeal—the smallest flowering plant on Earth, even smaller than the more familiar duckweed—responds to changing gravity levels to assess its usefulness for space-based life support systems.

TOP IMAGE....Fungi species being prepared for exposure to hypergravity inside a spinning gondola of ESA's Large Diameter Centrifuge. Credit: UNOOSA

LOWER IMAGE....Fungi observed on the ISS, growing on a panel of the Russian Zarya Module where exercise clothes were hung to dry. Credit: NASA/ESA

#science #space #astronomy #physics #news #esa #astrophysics

[artemis-entreri]

[[ Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves Review (Spoiler-Free)

I was fortunate enough to attend an early showing of the new D&D movie on March 19, 2023 for Amazon Prime members. As a huge aficionado of the official D&D setting, the Forgotten Realms, I was nervous going in, especially given the history of D&D movies. The movie’s trailer was spectacular, but there was the very real fear that the trailer showed all the best parts of the movie and didn’t leave much for the rest of it. It also didn’t help that the tie-in novels, The Druid’s Call and The Road to Neverwinter, were pretty subpar, which was super disappointing both given that the latter was penned by an author who’d written decent Forgotten Realms novels in the past and that these were the only FR non-Drizzt novels we got since WotC discontinued the novel line. The folks responsible for the high quality of the Forgotten Realms Wiki were very concerned, as was I, for a feature film that might besmirch our beloved world.

We needn’t have worried, as Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves is, in a word, spectacular. It’s so engaging that it holds the attention of the single digit aged theatre attendees enraptured for the entire duration. Its funny moments had the whole theatre laughing. Its sentimental moments moistens the eyes of the most hard-hearted viewers. It brings classical D&D monsters brilliantly to life with the best of modern technology, while putting its own spin on those familiar creatures in really clever ways. Even the most predictable plot point manages to be a tear-jerker, through the exceptional employment one of the most basic strategies of effective storytelling: showing instead of telling. But most of all, for me personally at least, Honor Among Thieves’ greatest success is the bringing home of the core tenet of D&D: the joy and love of a found family, regardless of different histories. 

Those not at all familiar with Forgotten Realms lore need not worry, as points of significance are explained without being artificial. There certainly are elements that the most dedicated loreheads can nitpick, however the movie is so stellar that I and many others find those elements more than acceptable. It is the case that the movie feels like a generic fantasy movie that borrows bits and pieces from the Realms rather than being a dedicated D&D/FR movie, but this is more than understandable in order to have a wider appeal. However, all of this is totally fine, because, as one of the head editors of the Forgotten Realms Wiki (BadCatMan) so aptly puts it:

I gotta say, I was the person most primed for disappointment in the whole wide world. I documented it for seven years, and the movie isn't even that old. I researched and reported on the production, I scoured social media and LinkedIn for clues, just to get articles developed in time. I promoted it, I put the wiki's reputation on it. And then I read the godsawful novelisation that made it indistinguishable from garbage. The other books sounded little better, compressing and dullifying our Realms. I wearied myself out writing wiki articles. I was sick with nervousness all day. 

But the books lied. The promotion lied. It is not some big flashy blow-shit-up Marvel-style movie with a lot of wisecracking and jokes at the expense of the material. It is a classic fantasy adventure movie that treats it all with respect, runs with it, and has a little fun with it. It's not quite the quintessential D&D movie, nor a perfect Forgotten Realms tale. There's still a bit too much Hollywood moviemaking in it. But it may be as close as a movie will come.

There are gaping plot and lore holes in it, and some things are never explained. But it wouldn't be Forgotten Realms without that last mystery, that one loose thread to tug on. [...] And while the books made travel times non-existent and the Realms seem more compressed than the average open-world computer game, the movie has plenty of travel scenes and grand landscapes. Faerûn is as big and beautiful as we always imagined.

I myself teared up at every sprawling scene of the landscape. It meant so much to see a world I love to the bones brought to life. Honor Among Thieves certainly didn’t need to, but it more than pays homage to the scenes of the world. From the depths of the Underdark to the sprawling icy wastes of Icewind Dale, the movie honors the world, lifts it up high, and shows everyone that sense of wonder long time Forgotten Realms fans know in their hearts. 

My only regret is that my theatre did not have the Themberchaud popcorn bucket for sale (photos courtesy of Sheepy, who washed it out and is using it as a dice holder, from Ed Greenwood’s own Forgotten Realms lore Discord server, Greenwood’s Grotto):

It is unknown whether this dragon head will be available in US theatres. It seems that USA AMCs are getting a D20 popcorn bucket instead:

(Image from above is from: https://www.tiktok.com/@amctheatres/video/7210819695308688686?_r=1&_t=8ak5XP7se8w)

This movie will definitely do well enough such that sequels and spin-offs would also be profitable. We can only hope that they do as good of a job as they did with this premier.

For a comprehensive coverage of the movie, check out the Forgotten Realms Wiki’s article on Honor Among Thieves. If you’re interested in a detailed lore breakdown, be sure to visit the Wiki again at a later time, as that’s currently being worked on! 

The aforementioned BadCatMan is working on a, “detailed breakdown, personal critique, metatextual metagame overanalysis of the movie, though it is spoiler-free and focused on the storyline rather than the lore, though I cover lore later. It's not finished yet though. ” Check that out here! ]]

#forgotten realms #D&D #dungeons & dragons #D&D: Honor Among Thieves #Dungeons and Dragons: Honor Among Thieves #Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves #ooc

[zahri-melitor]

1 and 18 for the 20 questions to hate?

1. You have to make one Robin (Dick, Jason, Tim, Stephanie, Damian) not exist permanently and never have existed. Choose which.

Look I've gamed this out before (publicly even) and it's Steph. Steph is the only one of the five I can easily remove from the timeline without disturbing things too much or knock on effects I'm concerned about.

Dick is fundamental. You remove Dick and Bat comics look unrecognisably different. DC comics look unrecognisably different. Superhero comics looks unrecognisably different. Plus I love Dick so much. No Dick is a timeline divergence in 1940 that I don't think anyone can envisage the entire shape of.

Jason? Jason's death is the third most important thing ever to happen to Bat comics storytelling (the first is the death of the Waynes, the second is the death of the Graysons at Haly's Circus). It's a fixed point in the narrative that all storytelling revolves around. No single other event in Bat comics outside of the two origin stories listed above has had so many knock on effects. Prior to Jason's death, Bruce's entire story was about the loss of his parents. After Jason's death, it is also the story of losing a child, and how that changes you. It's heartbreaking to me that, for Bruce, the trolley question of "would I save my parents or my child" is both everpresent there and also in most incarnations, is answered "my parents". (Bruce's kids all believe he would answer "parents").

Tim I can't give up for two reasons: one because he's my boy, but secondly and more importantly, because part of my deep love for Bat comics is about the wide network of characters who revolve around Gotham and Bruce. It's about my love of the Bat family. And these are concepts that did not exist in the way you think they do, which were not developed properly, until Tim walked in and became the Team Up Robin. If you love the Bats as anything more than Batman & Robin (and maybe Batgirl, maybe occasional forays of Selina and/or Talia and/or Nocturna to helping out B&R), you need a Tim shaped character to pull that together.

Damian is the other one I go back and forth on removing, but I think at this point he's tied into enough storytelling that ripping him out as the most recent still does a lot of storytelling damage, plus there's the situation that Damian does allow for a different style of storytelling with Bruce that is different to what Dick and Tim brought.

The benefits of removing Steph is that, despite everything she brings to DC, as a supporting character for almost all comics she has ever appeared in, the only things you really need to rearrange are the precipitating incident of War Games (which actually interestingly could be transferred over to a lead in to Jason's return if you tried; also I suspect they would have killed Holly Robinson instead), and the Batgirl 2009 run (which would either go to Cass or to Babs, heroically I am assuming Cass would get it for my own sanity but we might have been cursed by Babsgirl two years earlier). She's actually not a participant in many wider events; her appearances are usually character work in lighter issues. Pretty much all of her plot relevance or character beats could be absorbed by another character and her loss wouldn't be noticed. Deleting Steph doesn't fundamentally alter the shape of the Bat comics like any of the other four do.

18. Best supergirl.

I have read at least a few appearances of all the major Supergirl candidates at this point, I believe. I think my favourite so far in what I've read honestly has to be Kara Zor-El, a child of Krypton, sorry to everyone else. I particularly enjoyed the storytelling of Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow in terms of the frame of what a Supergirl character could be. I enjoy the loss that exists at the centre of Kara as a character - she's one of the last survivors of Krypton who understands the loss felt. Clark is the story of an immigrant raised in a new culture, never able to quite understand where he came from. Kara, on the other hand, understands the loss of her home. It's an important difference in their characters.

#dc ask meme