#dreams and nightmares

[nikathingz]

Witch’s Dilemma

Morpheus x Immortal!Witch!Reader

This is purely self indulgent bc I love him so much

Part 2 here - Masterlist

Word count: 2657

(Also this gif is so cute but it makes me want to cry knowing the short moments that follow 😭)

*RING* *RING*

You picked the phone up and held it to your ear with your shoulder as you scribbled runes and incantations into your leatherbound journal “Hello? L/n residence” You said absent mindedly and briefly placed your pen down to look over at the texts you were studying. 

“Uhm, I would like to speak with the mage called Y/n please” a weary male voice spoke through the phone, this piqued your interest, prompting you to set your pen down and fully acknowledge the conversation. 

“That would be me, now who is this?” You questioned leaning on your hand, you had not been known as a mage in many decades. 

“T-this is Alex Burgess, you knew my father Rod-” 

“-Erick Burgess, yes I do, he is the man to have captured a demon in his basement,” you said more to yourself than the man on the phone “He has asked many favors of me in the past, what is the meaning of this call?” You inquired Alex about his business with you. 

“If you would miss, I was hoping you would come out to help me with something, a spell, if you will” His voice, was desperate 

Now he truly had you hooked, what would a Megas's son need with a mage? Was he not magically endowed himself? “What sort of spell is it?” you were already running through thousands of possibilities but unfortunately the only answer that Alex gave, brought much disappointment. 

“I'm afraid I can tell you no more until you arrive,” He said hastily, “Does this mean you will come?” His voice had a boyish hopefulness to it that made your lips quirk up in a slight smile. 

“Yes, just tell me where I need to be and I will travel as quick as the crow flies,” you said, your curiosity sending you into a daydream of what the man could want.

You let out a breath of relief as you pulled into the gravel driveway of the Burgess manor it was late in the evening which basked the manor in an eerie light. You stepped out of the taxi and walked up the creaky steps, rapping on the old wooden door. You stood for a moment before a kind eyed old man opened the door “Well hello, please come in! My name is paul, and you must be Y/n yes?” He asked with a sweet smile and you nodded, returning it. 

“Yes, that is me. It's lovely to meet you Paul” You said and he nodded, leading you to a study where an old man sat perched in a wheelchair by a window. “You must be Alex Burgess” Your words startled him as he jumped slightly and looked in your direction. 

“Yes, yes come in, please” You nodded and allowed some of his help to take your bags, sitting in a cushioned chair he kept in his office. He chuckled and examined your youthful form “I'll be honest, I was expecting someone older, my age perhaps,” he joked and you shifted a bit awkwardly. 

“Haha yeah… sooo about this spell, what is it?” You cut right to the point, you couldn't lie, the question had been eating you alive for the entire week it took for you to prepare and travel to the Burgess manor. 

Alex seemed to stiffen at the mention of your coming here, wordlessly Paul walked behind him and started to wheel him out of the room, and you followed blindly, Paul helped Alex down steep concrete steps and into a cold damp basement. 

The breath was stolen from your lungs as you laid eyes upon a glass sphere, and inside was a man, who had raven hair and sickly pale skin. He remained still and silent in his glass prison, his eyes closed in a false peace. Paul and Alex stood back as you approached the wondrous thing before you, while you had worked with Roderick Burgess in the past he had neither confirmed nor denied the rumor of the demon in his basement, not even to you. 

But this man did not look like a demon, in fact, he looked to be the opposite, he seemed to be crafted by the hands of gods themselves, when you came within reach of the orb you placed a curious hand on the glass, causing the being inside to look up at you. In his eyes you swear you could see the whole cosmos, but past that you could see a human like being. “So the rumors are true…” you muttered

Behind the beauty, in his silvery blue eyes, you could see the faintest amount of curiosity as he looked from you to the firmly planted hand on the glass. When you snapped out of the childish trance the man had captured you in you whipped around to face the old men and the guards who were watching your every movement. 

Your face contorted in disgust and disdain “What is the meaning of this, Alex Burgess? Why do you bring me here under false pretenses and show me this man you keep locked in here like some trophy!?” Your disgust was immeasurable as you turned fully to the men. 

“Your mistaken mage, I did not bring you here under false pretenses, I brought you here to cast a spell that would bind this basement shut, and I do not keep him like a trophy! He has refused to speak for over a century! All he had to do was promise not to hurt us and he could be free!” Alex tried to argue his case but you already had all the information you needed.

Your lip curled in disgust “And how do you expect me to bar this being in your basement when I don't even know what he is?” You questioned and he faltered.

“It's a being more powerful than gods, my father called it ‘Dream of the endless’ it wasn't even the one my father wanted to capture in the first place, please we were just scared that it would hurt us, we never wanted to keep it here, we just wanted to be safe” Alex sighed and spoke more calmly. 

Dream of the Endless, a being greater than gods? And yet here he was, trapped for over a century in glass confinement, all because some mortals got greedy and scared? 

Your stomach churned at the thought of keeping him locked in here for as long as the foundation of this house stood. You gnawed on the inside of your cheek in thought, briefly glancing over your shoulder to look at the Endless, his eyes were still trained on your figure, but his brow was slightly furrowed as if deep in thought himself. 

“Please, this is our last result. We just want to be happy,” Paul pleaded and he clutched his lover's hand. 

You inhaled a deep breath and stepped away from the glass sphere, feeling overwhelmed at the moral dilemma. “I need to think…” you muttered and crossed the room to stand in front of Alex and Paul “If you would be so kind as to show me my room, I'm exhausted from travel. I certainly could not perform such magic in my current state,” you stated and they both nodded, understanding. You followed as Paul helped Alex up the steps. 

As you walked through the iron gate you looked back at Dream, whose demeanor had changed from when you had first walked into the basement before it was curiosity, now it was cold. You couldn't get rid of this looming feeling of despair. 

Your sleep was restless that night, tossing and turning and unable to get rid of the image of him sitting in there for gods know how long, it was early in the morning before you finally rolled out of bed, deciding that a cup of water might help ease your troubled mind. 

The house was quiet as everyone was asleep, you padded downstairs and into the old creaky kitchen, rifling through the cabinets to find a glass to quell your thirst. Your fingers bounced in thought, did you really want to do this? If you helped Alex then when the Dream King finally did escape you would be the only one alive for him to seek revenge on, and quite frankly you did not want to piss off one of the Endless. 

You had read about the Endless a few decades ago, they were exactly as they were named, endless beings more powerful than gods, created by Father Time and Mother Night, Destiny, Death, Dream, Destruction, Desire, Despair, and Delerium. 

You had met Death once, it was a long time ago but you remembered her kind smile, she was the reason you were still walking the earth today. You leaned on the counter in thought, remembering the deal you struck with her to gain your immortality. 

Thinking about Death made you wonder why Dream’s siblings had not come to help him, the rumors of his predicament surely had to have reached the other Endless- of course, they had. You wanted to slap yourself, they knew what happened to him, and they were afraid that if they tried to come to his aid they would end up just like him. Your gut twisted in sorrow for him, abandoned by his siblings and made prisoner by the humans he was supposed to bring extravagant dreams to. 

You finished off the glass and placed it delicately in the sink, padding back into the hall and stopping at the bottom step. You looked down the wall to the door that lead into the basement and heard a small voice in your head telling you to descend the stairs and gaze upon the ethereal being trapped like an animal. 

Ignoring the pounding in your chest, you approached the basement door, there was a brief moment after you wrapped your hand around the brass knob where you considered turning and returning to your room, waking tomorrow, and just doing the damned spell. But instead, you pushed the door open and carried on down into the damp room, The Endless sat just as he did when you had last seen him earlier, elbows resting on his knees and arms crossed over his lap, in an effort to preserve his dignity. 

One of the guards had gotten up to meet you at the gate, and you watched as his face was overtaken with confusion. “I apologize but I can't allow you to enter, Mr. Burgess doesn't allow any house guests down here alone, you’ll have to come back in the morning-” He tried to deter you but you stayed firm, giving him a hard glare. 

“Mr. Burgess knows I’m down here, in fact, you both can go home, I've come to prepare my spell and it would be in your best interest to not be present unless you wanna be stuck in here with him for eternity,” you nodded past him to the Endless, who stared at you with a fierce glare. The man opened the gate and allowed you to step inside while he and his partner scurried to gather their things and leave the basement. You were honestly surprised he believed you, you were still in your pajamas and had none of your arcana with you.

Once left alone you shifted awkwardly on your feet, the cold concrete uncomfortable against your bare feet. His head cocked to the side as he watched you wearily approach, your eyes trained on the gold binding circle as you walked across the room to stand on the small water surrounded square of concrete where the circle was laid. His glare was unnerving as you crouched and ran a finger lightly over the binding circle and lifted it to see a slight residue on your fingertips. 

She looked up at him and was almost taken aback by the mix of curiosity and pure displeasure, “Don't look at me like that, I don't actually plan on locking you down here, I'm just trying to actually get a plan together before someone realizes what I'm actually doing down here” You said and stood up with a sigh, knocking on the glaze to try and gauge just how much force would be needed to break it. 

Dream’s jaw clenched and unclenched as you stared at him with a sour look on your face, you looked over your shoulder to the desk that the night guards had hastily abandoned, you looked at your hand and determined you definitely couldn't even crack the glass if you simply punched it. So you crossed the room to the desk and pulled the small lamp off of it, yanking the cord out of the wall, you turned on your heel and raised your arm over your head, and flung the lap right at the orb of glass. 

Dream lurched back in surprise as the lamp collided with the glass, causing cracks to spiderweb outwards from the point of impact, but not enough to fully breakthrough through. His eyes were wide in disbelief as he stared at the damaged glass. You hurriedly walked back over and started to rub the gold runes etched on the floor with your foot while pressing a hand on the glass and giving the distraught Endless a slight smile “I'm sure you can take it from here yeah? Just one thing before I get the hell out of here though” you glanced down to see that you had rubbed a good chunk of the golden binding away.

 “Just give me a few minutes to get properly out of here before you bust out of this joint, I’d rather not be around for what happens when you do break this glass cage,” you said with a light chuckle while walking back across the room watching as he shifted up onto his knees to properly examine the damage you’d done to not only the spell that kept his powers at bay but also the glass that kept him confined here. 

He looked back up at you, his brows pinched together, so curious as to why you were different than all the other humans that visited the basement during the over a hundred years the Burgess’s had kept him bound here. He watched as your form retreated and disappeared from the basement and listened as the floors creaked above him, he didn't understand why but he sat there on his knees for several minutes until the house was encompassed in silence. 

Meaning you were gone, and that he could finally escape this hellish place after over a century. 

And he was correct, after you disappeared from the basement you had rushed as quietly as possible upstairs to gather the little items you had brought with you, then booked it out of the house not wanting to wait around to see how royally pissed the Endless would be when it fully registered to him that he was no longer bound to that glass case. 

You felt light despite the fear that he might also want to knock heads with you, deep in your soul you knew that you had done the right thing by aiding in his escape, and a little voice in the back of your head assured you that he would be more inclined to spare you for not sealing him in the basement. 

You were able to catch a ride back to the city where you could rent a car to get you back home, opting for it better than getting cabs all the way back as you had on the way over, you don't remember when but some days after you had arrived back in the safety of your apartment you had seen that Alex had caught a severe case of the sleepy sickness, and you had nothing but pleasant dreams every time you slept.

You had an inkling that both were work of the sandman.

•••

I love this sm, I had so much fun with it I hope you love it as much as I do

#the sandman netflix #the sandman fanfic #dreams and nightmares #the dream king #the dreaming #dream of the endless #morpheus #arcana #witch #roderick burgess #alex burgess #self indulgence at its finest #Dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x reader #witch!reader #immortal!reader #death of the endless #rip jessamy

[memesandtvshowthings]

The way he just stands there in the background!

#ladybug #cat noir #ladynoir #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #adrienette #marichat #plagg #Tikki #miraculous ladynoir #love square #miraculous awakening #dreams and nightmares #dreams #nightmares #afterlife #kitty #yoyo

[wangxianficrecs]

watch the slow door by Lirelyn

watch the slow door

by Lirelyn (@ginnymoonbeam)

T, 2k, Wangxian

Summary: Lan Wangji woke shuddering. There was a hand on his shoulder, a face bent over his. It took him several moments to understand where he was, to know that the face was Mo Xuanyu’s. “Hey,” said Mo Xuanyu. “You — I think you were having a bad dream.” Lan Wangji closed his eyes, shuddering again. His cheeks were wet. His chest ached. It had been years since he’d had one of these dreams, and he’d always been alone. To be seen like this was unbearable. Kay's comments: This was absolutely heart-breaking and I loved it. The mortifying ordeal of Lan Wangji not immediately recognizing Wei Wuxian, but also sort of realizing that something is up with Mo Xuanyu and thus lashing out again to protect his heart. The angst hit really good in this one and made the reveal even better. Bonus points for Wangxian getting together immediately after the reveal. There's also a podfic of this story available. Excerpt:The next day he felt brittle, the way he hadn’t since he was a teenager: the feeling that the wrong move or the wrong touch could shatter his skin, letting light fall on soft, rotten things. To imagine that he could be treating Wei Ying as a stranger was horrifying. To imagine that he could be thinking of a stranger as Wei Ying was nauseating. It was intolerable whatever the truth was, and somehow he was still required to move through his morning in an ordinary way. He encased himself in icy composure. He walked beside the youngest of the disciples, who were too much in awe of him to see anything amiss. He tried, and failed, not to look at Mo Xuanyu. When he failed, half the time Mo Xuanyu was already looking at him. Lan Wangji wanted to drive him away, to shun him, to never see him again. He wanted to take him by the shoulders and shake him and ask Who are you? until he was given an answer he believed.

pov lan wangji, canon divergence, grief/mourning, mistaken identity, identity reveal, dreams and nightmares, angst with a happy ending, emotional hurt/comfort, podfic available

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

#April 2024 #Wangxian Fic Rec #The Untamed #Wangxian #MDZS #Kay's Rec #short fic <15k #watch the slow door #Lirelyn #teen #pov lan wangji #canon divergence #grief/mourning #mistaken identity #identity reveal #dreams and nightmares #angst with a happy ending #emotional hurt/comfort #podfic available

[idreamofanxiety]

#surrealcore #surreal #liminal #dreams #dreamcore #dreams and nightmares

[tampire]

Carl and Corinthian’s Halloween Grindr date went well Bonus Return of the Living Pumpkinhead:

#The Sandman #Sandman #sandmanedit #thesandmanedit #The Sandman Netflix #Carlinthian #Carl #The Corinthian #Ben Wiggins #Boyd Holbrook #Merv Pumpkinhead #mervyn pumpkinhead #Mark Hamill #Wednesday Addams #The Addams Family #Return of the Living Dead #Dreams and Nightmares #Mine #My Edit #My Stuff #My Shitpost

[dark-strangers-art]

Dreams and Nightmares

Poem by ~Dark Stranger© 2015

-

The Darkness welcomes me

The vast emptiness

Where only shadows know

What is real

I welcome it

-

Where oceans of magic

Spinning into eternity

Create new worlds

Waiting for me to conquer

-

I will take the unknown road

Battle dragons

Love unrestrained

Feel pain, anger jealousy

-

And wake

to feel the morning sun

caress my cheek

and a new day

-

~Dark Stranger©

#My Poems #dark stranger #dreams and nightmares #original poems

[jomiddlemarch]

to be two chaoses 

The nightmares began after Rose was born. 

Resumed was the more accurate term, as Hermione had nearly become dependent on Dreamless Sleep within a few weeks of Harry’s victory over Voldemort, when the multiple years’ worth of trauma, especially the torture she’d experienced at Malfoy Manor, had come bearing down on her like the Hogwarts Express on steroids, an expression Harry would pretend not to understand and Justin would shrug at in commiseration. Her parents, sequestered in Mugglish obscurity in Melbourne, would not have been any help if she’d been able to get to them and restore their memories, something she repeated to herself as a mantra, since she couldn’t get to them and it turned out she couldn’t restore their memories, orphaned in a way no one around her grasped. There was a nightmare about that, but it wasn’t in the top tier, such that she almost welcomed its arrival; it was the only way she saw her parents when they knew who she was to any degree. Though it ended in devastation, it always started with her mum smiling at her.

*

If Ron hadn’t been able to help her, they never would have stayed together. She knew that in some deep, indefinite part of herself, just as she knew not to tell him. There had been lust, initially fierce and apparently unslakable, and the affection of their schoolyears together, the shared jokes, the homely memories of jacket potatoes and Madam Longbottom’s horrific flower-pot hats secured with jeweled pins that were nearly as deadly as a wand, the scent of the first snow, and so many recollections in candlelight, but none of it would have been enough if he hadn’t taken her into his arms and held her the first night she woke breathless from a scream she’d swallowed, the arm Bellatrix had cut burning terribly, the scar from Dolohov as heavy as the weights they’d used to press witches with in Salem. He’d said her name completely, not dropping a syllable, Hermione, and then I’ve got you and nothing else, letting his heartbeat and his breath be the only sounds she could hear. He’d grown into his frame that last year on the run when she’d starved in the woods, losing her period and handfuls of her brittle curls, and he’d somehow known how loosely to hold her so that she was able to nestle against him. The fragrance of the herbs his mother used in her laundry spells was faint but present, familiar. There was nothing sexual about his embrace then, but there was an intimacy greater than any fucking in the way he reacted, the inviolable memory of the agonized way he’d cried out when he’d heard her being brutalized that lived between them, as potent as the delight he took in her ecstasy.

She’d wondered that first night if it was a fluke, his ability to comfort her, and had told herself not to expect anything the next time but she’d been glad to be wrong. She put aside the sedative potions in their battered flasks and let herself fall asleep with a book in her hands, her hair still damp from the bath she’d taken, able to rely on his presence in the dark, the slight gleam of bronze in the moonlight that was his hair, the nearly grey blue of his eyes. They didn’t speak of it during the day, other than the infrequent mornings he greeted her with all right then instead of a nuzzled kiss to her temple or collarbone. The nightmares began as an onslaught and they waned slowly, slow enough Ron didn’t even ask when she might consider having children, though Hermione recognized the Weasley impulse to obscure their losses with babies, Fleur glowingly enceinte within a few weeks of Victoire’s birth, Ginny’s hand lingering over the small matinee sweaters her mother knit by the dozen. Percy’s return to the fold was eased by his hand at the small of his bride Penelope’s back, her radiance reflected in Molly’s face when they announced they expected a set of twins by the solstice. Ron gave Hermione what she needed to sleep and he gave her time to let the past become the past, her bloody, broken youth a shore increasingly distant. He couldn’t give her everything, but what he did was enough she’d been willing to let herself conceive the future he wanted so badly. He’d wept when she told him, burying his face in her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her instead of laying one large hand on her belly. It was his hands on either side of her spine that reassured her she’d been right.

*

The pregnancy was ordinary enough. Her only real dilemma was how to satisfy her cravings for Branston Pickle and Hobnobs without offending Ron’s mother or drawing too much attention from his father, whose fascination with the miscellany of Muggle life hadn’t declined with the end of the war. Ron, displaying the thoughtful observation she’d first found impossibly attractive while watching him play Wizard chess, maintained a calm affection towards her in company, a quiet tenderness when they were alone that made her worry sometimes he was trying to be someone he wasn’t just to please her. And then there were the times she found him gazing out a rain-streaked window at the Burrow. She knew he was thinking of Fred, of Tonks and Remus, of the scars on Bill’s face, the brother Ron most resembled, and she knew he’d been forged by grief as much as by victory. Hermione ate, she slept, she complained of heartburn and was told she must be carrying a ginger with curls as wild as her own. She read what passed for child-rearing books in the Wizarding world, nearly decapitated Harry chucking the third book across the sitting room in an only-partially hormonally mediated rage and bought every glossy paperback on the display at Foyles, which gave her some idea of what she might expect if she’d been a Muggle and included the concept of a birth-plan. Plans, as ever, held an irresistible appeal and were nearly as tranquilizing as Professor Binns.

*

When she mentioned that bit about the birth-plan to Ron while they were visiting his parents, George hanging about as usual, Percy working on some document at what passed for a desk over in a corner Hermione couldn’t remember previously existing, her mother-in-law just managed to keep from saying “Nonsense.” Hermione could clearly see that was what Molly had wanted to say and that she decided against it at the last minute after taking in at the book gripped tightly in Hermione’s hand and then Ron’s blue glare. Arthur kept fiddling with an immersion blender the way a Muggle child would handle a Rubik’s cube.

“A birth-plan is a very good idea, dear, but you’ll need to follow a witch’s plan and I do think, with the number of other witches you’ll require, you’ll be more comfortable at home or here at the Burrow,” Molly announced. Hermione glanced around and saw everyone present agreed with her mother-in-law.

“I’ll need to—or else what?” Hermione asked, curiosity outweighing her annoyance at Molly’s declaration.

“It’ll be too dangerous, for you and the baby,” Molly said. “Wild magic’s always an issue during delivery. For a witch as powerful as you and the baby likely to be the same—”

“It might be a boy,” Hermione said.

“Yes, I suppose it might,” Molly replied, her tone now entirely humoring-the-pregnant-daughter-in-law. She was convinced Hermione was carrying a girl, though Hermione and Ron had declined to find out when offered the chance at St. Mungo’s. “I meant the baby is likely to be magically gifted, considering her, that is, their parents. You’ll need at least four witches and seven would be safer. Obviously, Ginny and I will be there but you must decide who else you’d like.”

“I don’t know,” Hermione said. She’d never imagined childbirth to be organized like a tea-party. “I hadn’t thought to have anyone with me except Ron. And a midwife.”

Would she have wanted her mother with her, if she’d had the choice? She didn’t let herself wonder.

“If you don’t mind, dear, I’d suggest Augusta Longbottom,” Molly said briskly, making it clear that the if you don’t mindwas merely pro forma. 

“Neville’s gran?” Hermione said.

“She’s a very powerful witch and she’s quite fond of you,” Molly said. “She’s got better control than Minerva, though I’ll never admit that I’ve said that, and she’s no little experience with a laboring mother.”

“I’ll have Luna,” Hermione said. Ron gave her a quizzical look but knew enough not to say anything else, though she could see the effort if took for him to keep from mouthing nargles? at her. “That’s four, that’s enough.”

“Seven would be less dangerous—"

Who else would she ask? Part of her longed to throw up her hands and tell Molly to stuff it, she’d rely on the NHS to see her through, she still had her card, but then the baby kicked, sharpish, as if to scold her for being an absolute ninny, and Ron was still holding his tongue when she knew it cost him to be quiet. He worried about them both, she could tell he’d be a good father, and Molly was only trying to make sure they both came through it, privy to knowledge Hermione couldn’t easily learn from any book.

“I’ll have Luna, but I’ll ask Andomeda, in case Luna isn’t able to come,” Hermione said. “There’s no trouble with five if they both show up, is there?”

“No. There might be a wobble, but nothing Augusta and I couldn’t manage between us and Andromeda’s a light hand,” Molly said.

“A light hand with pastry?” Ron asked. 

“That too,” Arthur put in. “I believe your mother meant in channeling a magical surfeit, but she does make a very satisfying treacle tart. Not a patch on your mother’s, but close. Quite close.”

*

Molly was right.

Seven would have been safer, but Hermione and Rose bloody well squeaked through, as Ginny put it, earning herself a sharp glance and then an approving nod from Augusta Longbottom. The toucan-adorned hat had come off as Hermione entered transition and Madam Longbottom had had to exert herself to contain the burst of near Fiendfyre Hermione had unleashed. Luna had commented, with clear admiration in her usual dreamy tone, that Hermione was very equitable when it came to her elemental wild magic, as they’d had to contend with not only flames but a gale, a wave that overwhelmed Molly’s hastily conjured hip-waders, and a trembling underfoot that had made Arthur pop his head in and ask whether he ought to firecall St. Mungo’s or the Department of Mysteries. The gnomes had all cleared out and there was an ominous odor of brimstone seeping through the latched windows.

It was terrifying. What she was capable of and how proud they all were of her for it. She nearly burnt down the Burrow and Molly was as red-faced as she’d been battling Bellatrix Lestrange at Hogwarts by the time the baby was crowning, but she had a smile Hermione had never seen directed at herself before, a deep satisfaction that only grew more pronounced when Rose was delivered and discovered to be a little ginger witch, complete with a birthmark shaped like a phoenix’s tail-feather at the nape of her neck. Every peach on the trees Neville had painstakingly espaliered on the south wall withered in an instant and Augusta Longbottom only remarked, “Well done, you.” Luna had almost suffocated before she’d thrown up a Protego and her eyes were bright as she patted Hermione on the shoulder and Ginny had let out a long whistle, as if Hermione had captained the Harpies to a world championship when the Burrow had rung with the sound of the good china shattering.

A new marker appeared on Molly’s clock, the hand for Hermione pointing to “A Mortal Danger” instead of “in.” 

Ron grasped Hermione’s dismay, but he was more concerned with her health and Rose’s. Once reassured, he kissed her softly and then asked to hold his daughter. Something about seeing his big hands cradling the swaddled baby and the tears in his eyes when he looked back at her made Hermione think everything would be all right.

That was probably the hormones and the residual magic kickback.

*

She chalked it up to sleep deprivation, since she was nursing and Rose was a little colicky and Molly said, no, believe it or not, dear, there wasn’t a spell that was safe to use to help settle a colicky little witch. Hermione knew this meant there was some Dark magic that would do the trick, but she’d probably be sacrificing her pinky finger or years of her life or Rose’s, so she gritted her teeth and reminded herself she’d get to sleep again. At some point. Likely before Rose went to Hogwarts.

The first dreams to return were from her earliest days of Hogwarts. The troll, the bathroom, the terror of being alone in her curtained bed and hearing Parvati and Lavender chattering away, but now there was an overlay of Rose’s crying to mix with the tears Hermione had swallowed back or sobbed out silently. In the manner of dreams, the smallest details were vivid—the nap of the velvet bed curtains, the shimmer Moaning Myrtle made in the mirror above the sinks—and yet Hermione woke with only a sense of dread, no memory of the lengthy half-imagined conversations she’d had with Harry or Ron.

Those were the easiest dreams to deal with.

Days turned into months. Rose grew, her silky ginger hair showing a decided curl, her eyes the same warm brown as Ginny’s. She babbled and scooted, crawled and stood and ran, and only Hermione hoped it would be a little while longer before her magic manifested. Hermione’s dreams grew darker, more terrifying. There were a thousand Horcruxes. Harry didn’t survive the final battle. Ron turned away and didn’t come back.

Snape bled to death in her hands.

Fenrir Greyback took her in the flight of the Harrys.

Azkaban. Gringotts. The Room of Requirement.

Bellatrix, laughing, singing, coaxing. Cruciatus until Hermione woke with tears in her hair, afraid it was her brain leaking out. Ron calling out for her under the chandelier, Dobby whisking her away, the knife in Harry’s back.

Everything impossible that had never happened.

Everything possible that had.

They became less gruesome, more disturbing. She thought she might be losing her mind. She worried about having another child and leaving Ron with two children to raise alone, being locked up in the Janus Thickey ward. Not knowing she was locked up, trying to play the out-of-tune piano because she had once wanted to play Liszt’s “La Campanella” at Carnegie Hall. She couldn’t decide which would be worse.

She spent as much time doing Arithmancy as she could and walked away when the conversation turning to curse-breaking or the old days. Hugo was conceived, carried, and delivered with far less fanfare and commotion than Rose and he was a solemn-eyed baby who needed a lot of rocking in the night. She dozed but didn’t sleep deeply enough to dream. It was a respite.

She grew used to it. She perfected her glamour for the shadows beneath her eyes. She learned to manage her hair after a jaunt to a Muggle stylist in London who scolded her for using a brush and sent her off with a bag of oils and conditioners and advice on a silk head-wrap for sleeping in. She worked her way up in the Ministry and Rose levitated herself to their roof along with the seemingly immortal Crookshanks. Hugo made the apple trees bloom at Yule. She lived. She dreamed. She considered the alternatives she’d dreamed and tried to be satisfied with silence.

Rose began to resemble Hermione’s mother.

Hugo hummed off-key under his breath like her father.

Rose turned eleven, got her letter, found Hermione’s old copy of Hogwarts: A History and packed it first along with a set of Extendable Ears from her Uncle George.

They went to the station platform.

Hermione saw Draco Malfoy for the first time in over a decade. His wife fussed with their son, the strap of his satchel. Ron reminded Rose that the Hogwarts pumpkin pasties wouldn’t be as good as Nan’s but she wasn’t to let the house-elves know or that would be all she had to eat for a week.

Draco looked back at her.

He knew.

*

He sent the letter to her office at the Ministry and not their home, the thoughtful tact therein encompassed being the primary reason she responded. 

Yes, she would meet him at the coffee-shop he’d specified. The time was agreeable. No, she did not need directions in Muggle London. 

She didn’t tell Ron about the letter or her answer. There needn’t be anything to tell. She knew how much omission was required for their marriage. She loved him. There was no betrayal.

She wore Muggle trousers and a cashmere jersey that hadn’t come from Molly’s needles beneath robes she Transfigured into a Burberry knock-off trench. It was a kind of armor, like the wand holster strapped to her forearm, the leather charmed to feel like silk and be stronger than dragonhide. She left early, to get there first. She wouldn’t be taken by surprise again.

Draco was sitting at a table off to the side when she arrived. He’d left her the place backed up to the wall, leaving himself the vulnerable party, the nape of his neck bare, his kidneys neatly framed by the slats of the chair. When she got close enough, she saw his eclipse-bright hair had begun to turn grey. The cufflinks at his wrists were malachite, neatly secured.

There was a tea-service set between them. The steam smelled of bergamot and smoke, an Earl Grey made with lapsang souchong. Her favorite but not a secret, something it would not be difficult or intrusive to discover, something that showed attention, discretion, and care. Slytherin, as always. He rose when she approached, waited to sit until she’d settled herself. His old-fashioned manners were exercised without any awkwardness, the politeness he would have shown to any witch. 

“Thank you for agreeing to meet, Madam Granger,” he began, using the title she had decided on after completing her Arithmancy mastery via correspondence under Professor Ergodic. When Bill had pointed out the more traditional address was Domina Nimue Granger, Ron had nodded and stopped making his incipient fuss.

“Do we need to be so formal?” Hermione asked. “We’ve known each other since we were eleven.”

“Whatever you prefer, Hermione,” Draco said, his voice giving a slight upward inflection to her name. She couldn’t recall him ever using it before, only Granger said with a sneer, but the boy who’d smirked seemed long gone from the solemn, careful man sitting before her. “You are the one doing me the favor—”

“Am I? What exactly do you mean?”

“You read my letter. You responded. You showed up,” he said. “You didn’t need to do any of it.”

“I read the letter you sent after the trial,” she replied. 

It had been delivered by a splendid eagle owl she did not recognize, the parchment hand-written in a perfect copperplate hand. The opening section had been rendered in ancient Etruscan, indicating the gravity of the statement, a Pureblood ritual she’d had to ask Ron, Molly and finally Neville’s gran to explain to understand the significance thereof: there was no greater level of ceremony invoked, the abasement of the writer compleat. If it had been a final examination paper for a mastery, it could not have been more exquisitely and thoughtfully written. It was a letter than required no reply and sought none, a detailed acknowledgement of Draco’s transgressions against her. Still, it went across her inarguably upper middle-class background to fail to send some kind of response, so she’d managed to find some monogrammed stationery her Aunt Judith had given her for a birthday gift and had penned a quick note in her crabbed hand to say Draco’s apology was duly noted and accepted. She had balked at wishing him well in his future endeavors, but to be fair, she had been eighteen, effectively orphaned, unable to sleep more than three hours in a night, and had been known to hold a grudge.

“Yes, I know. I didn’t mean that letter however,” Draco said. “I meant the one I sent last week. After the train station.”

“You didn’t say what you wanted to talk about,” Hermione replied.

“I thought you would be more likely to show up if I didn’t,” he said. “Your curiosity remains renowned—”

“Are you insulting me?” Hermione asked, without any of the heat of her girlhood. 

“Not at all, though I should be able to express myself more skillfully than this, if you’re wondering,” he said. There was a wryness in his tone that was new to her. “I wrote because of the dreams—”

“What dreams?” she interrupted.

“I have them too,” he said gently. 

“I don’t know what you mean, why you think we have anything in common, it’s mad—”

“They are a torment,” he said. Like four notes, the Tristan chord creating the opening between them, leaving her struck by the misery in his voice, the utter candor.

“I—they don’t—” She could not finish the sentence, could not think of what to say next. Draco picked up the teapot and poured them each a cup, stirring a lump of sugar into his own, never once hitting the china with the spoon’s lip.

“You’re not going mad,” he said.

“I know that,” she snapped.

“Then you’re ahead of me, as per usual. I’ve wondered, worried, for years. When Scorpius was born, I thought, maybe I’d be locked up in a straitjacket somewhere by the time his magic emerged. If it did, if he wasn’t a Squib,” Draco said.

“You were worried your heir would be a Squib?” Hermione said.

“I was worried the son of two Purebloods with known genetic disorders and curse-damage would be a Squib. I was worried I wouldn’t be there to defend him from the rest of the family,” Draco said. “You wouldn’t have had the same worries. Hybrid vigor, brightest witch, and the Weasley-Prewett line—”

“They thought we might both die in childbirth from my wild magic,” Hermione said. Draco cocked his head to one side and nodded. “We should have had seven witches present.”

“I did hear something about it,” Draco said. “My mother was quite impressed, though she did say they should have let the Burrow and all its tat burn to the ground and start over with the Ministry money.”

“What?”

“There’s money set aside for those situations, a fund. It’s because it only occurs when there is a surfeit of power. It’s in the Ministry’s interests to make sure a family with such a witch remains properly housed,” Draco explained.

“Oh. I thought maybe I’d die when she was born,” Hermione said.

“And then the dreams would be over,” Draco finished.

“Yes,” Hermione said. She took a sip of the tea, the universal panacea, unsurprised when once again it did nothing for her. It was properly steeped, she’d give him that, since he hadn’t been able to use magic in the Muggle café.

“It was Bellatrix,” he said. “You and I, I believe we’re the last sane survivors of her spells. That’s why we have the dreams, why they don’t attenuate.”

“Dark magic then,” Hermione said.

“Not exactly,” Draco said. “There was something wild about her even before she turned to Dark magic and you know the Blacks are given to madness, throw off restraint like a stallion bucking the bridle.”

“Is that all, then? I suppose it’s helpful, to have some idea why, though it’s not much of a relief,” Hermione said. She refrained from pointing out he was also of the Black line.

“Master Mamu at Uagadou has a theory we’ve been corresponding about,” Draco said. “Oneironautika, whether a charmed potion could function as an inducer, what a traveler could reliably affect within the dream structure, it catalysis is the only viable intervention. But Neville—”

“Neville knows? He’s been writing to Mamu?” Hermione exclaimed.

“They prefer to Floo. Such a mess, all that ash, but I suppose it’s nothing to the greenhouses and Bubotuber pus,” Draco said. “Neville’s been quite helpful, even though it’s not his area of interest. But his parents, well. He and his grandmother have years of observation to draw on.”

“Does Neville know about me?”

“Only if you’ve told him. He may have put two and two together, he’s quite brilliant for someone who was such a duffer,” Draco said with such fondness Hermione could not be roused to irritation. “I can’t imagine he’d ever speak of it to anyone, even if he suspects. Though if your glamour starts to fail, exquisite work, that, I shouldn’t be surprised if he sends along his alternative to Dreamless. He uses heather honey in it, it’s a revelation, but it’s not as much dream-lessening as muting.”

“You want my help,” Hermione said, having figured it out. It was what anyone ever wanted from her. “With Master Mamu, Neville, you want me to work the Arithmancy, perhaps to interpolate the runes—”

“No,” Draco said. “Rather, if you wish, you are most welcome, a witch of your caliber could only be a tremendous asset, but that’s not why I wrote you. That’s not what I wanted.”

“What do you want? Pardon me if my directness offends your Slytherin sensibilities,” Hermione said, tired, the tea in her cup cold, the broken night beckoning.

“I want to help you,” Draco said. “To make you feel better.”

“No one can do that,” Hermione said. Ron did what he could, steady now as he hadn’t been in their youth, astute enough not to speak of it.

“I can,” Draco said.

*

“You can,” Hermione repeated. “You can do something no one else can and beyond being able to, you additionally want to. There’s no life-debt between us, Draco, even if I believed you, there’s no reason for you—”

“I didn’t protect you when I could, Hermione,” he said. Had his eyes been lighter when he was a boy or had they always been this stormy shade, grey clouds over a grey sea?

“She would’ve killed us both,” Hermione said. 

For a moment, she was lying on her back looking up at the chandelier, the bare outline of a girl around nothing but pain. She couldn’t not have told anyone her name if she’d been asked. Ron had been screaming but his voice had been distant, as distant as the future and the past, while Draco’s eyes on her had been a tether. They’d been bound in that second, in hopeless, blameless recognition and agony, and there had been some tiny, inviolate spark of herself that loved him then in a way she could never love anyone else. “You do mean when Bellatrix cursed me, don’t you?”

“I didn’t protect you then. Not before. Not after,” Draco said.

“Well, we were enemies,” Hermione said. She waved over a waitress, asked for a fresh pot of tea and a plate of lemon biscuits while Draco stared down at his hands. They were well-made, beautifully shaped, the hands of a sculptor or a pianist. Neither was the career a wizard would undertake, certainly not an aristocrat like the heir to the Houses of Black and Malfoy. 

“No, we were schoolmates. Rivals. We were children and then teenagers,” Draco said. He rubbed a hand across his eyes, bowing his head. “I liked you—”

“You liked me?” Hermione snorted. “Is this revisionist history? Are you going to tell me you wanted to take me to the Yule Ball and buy me sweets at Hogsmeade weekends? Were you terribly fond of Harry and did you think Ron was a good chap whose family was just a bit down on their luck?”

“I liked you, Hermione,” Draco repeated, his voice low. “I wasn’t supposed to, wasn’t allowed to, but I did. I do.”

“You’re married. I’m married,” Hermione said. “Handfasted. Your family isn’t the only one to follow the Old Ways.”

(She would have married Ron at the Ministry, but Molly wouldn’t hear of it. Hermione’s own parents wouldn’t hear of it at all, so she’d acquiesced to the whole thing, the ring in the garden, the saffron yellow veil, the woad, the unsalted cakes she and Ron had had to bake in a solar oven without any magic. The only part she’d liked had been laughing together as they looked at the ugly lumps of dough, the gleam in Ron’s eyes as he’d told her they’d only have to choke down one bite each.) 

“I know. I’m not trying to interfere. Weasley’s a good man and I would never dishonor Astoria,” Draco said. “But he can’t do this for you. You know that. He’s done what he can and you’re still suffering.”

“You’d be my Healer then? Without any certification, Healing mastery, apprenticeship?”

“Your friend. A fellow-traveler,” Draco said. “Whatever you’d allow.”

“My friend,” Hermione said. 

“You are the same person who pledged her friendship for life to Potter and Weasley after being brought together in a bathroom by a troll,” Draco said. “It shouldn’t be that great a stretch for you.”

“Perhaps I’ve changed,” she replied.

“Perhaps,” Draco agreed, then hazarded a very small smile. “I don’t think so though. Not in this regard.”

“Will it help you with your own dreams?” Hermione asked.

“That’s not relevant,” Draco said. “That’s not why—”

“It’s relevant to me,” she said firmly.

“Of course it is,” he said, under his breath, as if he could get away with it sitting across from her, the café much quieter as the late afternoon rush had ended. 

“Well?”

“I don’t know. Possibly,” he said. For the first time, he sounded put out, frustrated. It was the throughline to the boy he’d been and she found herself liking him for it.  “Before you ask, it’s very unlikely to make anything worse for me. This isn’t some grand Gryffindor gesture of sacrifice on my part.”

“I think we’re beyond House identification, Draco,” she said.

“Is that a yes?” he asked.

“It’s a tell me more about how you mean to proceed. What this dream-walking entails precisely,” she said. 

“Will you let me show you something?” Draco said. Hermione considered. They were in a public place and she had faced greater horrors than a prematurely greying Draco Malfoy in his Savile Row suit. She nodded. Draco pushed the teapot and their cups to one side, reached over and took Hermione’s right hand in his own. His palm was warm against hers, his grasp charged with the familiarity one had with their wand, the tenderness of a long-awaited reunion. Hermione looked at their hands and then up, to find Draco watching her.

When she didn’t pull her hand away, he reached out with his left and took her other hand. Something surged between them, electric and yet sustaining, soothing. Something that was not magic but was of it, an ardent affection that sought only to give, to cherish, some fundamental realignment. Later, she would puzzle over it, scribble equations, then manipulate them with her wand, with an incantation of runes. She would find a way to explain it to Ron so that he’d understand. When he did, she might. 

“Yes?” Draco asked. She could tell what he hoped for and that he would wait as long as she wanted. She could tell he would let their hands fall apart if she refused.

“Yes,” she said. He held her more tightly then and the brightness in his eyes was like moonlight, like the first time she had cast Lumos and banished darkness. Between them, it was as if a cup was filled, spilled over. She could not, however, resist poking.

“You must’ve worked some part of it out. I’ll want to review your notes.”

“Certainly,” he said. 

*

Master Mamu authored the definitive text on oneironautika, but Draco wrote the introduction and Hermione the acclaimed chapter on runic expansion.

Draco insisted Hermione be the editor of the journal. He provided the funding for the first five years. After that, as he’d predicted, no financial assistance was required.

Ron wasn’t remotely put out, though he did scold her a bit for worrying he might be. “You the one always telling Rose and Hugo love’s not a pie. Well, that means you can’t get too full or lose your appetite for it.” At the service for Astoria, Ron told her to go over to Draco and played a three-hour game of Wizard chess with Scorpius he worked hard to throw stealthily enough the boy didn’t notice. 

They weren’t one big happy family. But they could be happy and they could be a family.

When Kimah was born, there were seven witches present.

Draco collected a handful of knuts warm from Ron’s pocket when Scorpius announced she had red hair, Transfigured them into a bouquet of apricot tea roses, and gave them back to his son for his daughter-in-law.

Hermione, who had been up all night, slept.

And dreamed.

@artielu you are my main Dramione mutual so I hope you enjoy this atypical offering!

#dramione #romione #harry potter fanfic #hermione granger #tw: trauma #everyone here is an adult #well except for the next gen characters #marriage #love and friendship #making amends #my own world-building #dreams and nightmares #this probably won't satisfy dyed-in-the-wool Dramione shippers #leaning into the write the fic you want to read HARD #no ron bashing #only quasi epilogue compliant #no astoria bashing #taking tea together #ethel spowers #hermione POV

[bluejaysandblackbats]

The Juice Box Jubilee

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam, YJ98, Titans

Summary: A mysterious girl walks through heroes' nightmares, and they band together to figure out why.

Chapters: 2/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Barbara Gordon, Cassandra Sandsmark, Bart Allen, Tim Drake, Conner Kent, Cissie King-Jones, Grant Emerson, Roy Harper

Relationships: TBA

Additional Tags: Dreams and Nightmares, Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergent AU, First Person POV, Mystery Character(s), Confession(s), Found Family, Healing

Chapter Two: playing dress-up (Cassandra Sandsmark's POV)

Sometimes I feel like an imposter. Nothing makes me feel worse than the nightmare I’ve had for the past two or so years. In my dream, I’m eight years old again. I’m in the art and history museum by my house while my mom works in her office examining new items before displaying them to the public. I walked through the empty impressionist exhibit, mimicking the poses of the women in the paintings. I stretched like the elegantly poised dancers and leaned forward, weary and worn like the exhausted women in their pretty dresses in other paintings. I hear a giggle in the empty exhibits. It was out of a strange curiosity that I did it. They were women. I thought I should be like them.

I heard a giggle in the empty exhibit. It filled me with an indescribable feeling of shame. I froze, trying to ignore it at first. But it echoed. “Who’s there?” I asked before turning around. Without warning, mirrors surrounded me, but instead of seeing my reflection, I saw nothing but myself in my different costumes and outfits over the years. I thought it was a prank. I always thought it was a prank at first. “Okay, cut it out!”

I turned to leave the room, but there weren’t any exits. Then, one of my reflections spoke. “What are you trying to prove?” fourteen-year-old me asked.

“Who are you trying to be?” sixteen-year-old me asked. I opened my mouth to answer the questions before my seventeen-year-old self snickered.

“What are you really wondering, girl?” my seventeen-year-old self asked.

Then, they all started teasing and jeering at me, bringing up my worst insecurities. They told me I wasn’t a real Amazon. They told me I’d never stop trying to imitate the ones that came before me. I was a cheap copy of every woman I admired. For all my strength and power, I was a pathetic excuse for a hero. I was nothing but a fraud. At this point, I would’ve started shattering the mirrors until my knuckles bled, but a small hand caught my fist. “Why are you hurting yourself?” the voice asked. I looked at her with tears in my eyes. She was a little girl with brown hair and serious eyes.

“I-.” I tried to speak but couldn’t give her a sensible answer. “They’re right… I don’t even know who I’m supposed to be. I’ve been playing dress-up my whole life.”

“Everybody plays dress-up sometimes,” she replied. She hooked her fingers into the mirror and opened it like a door. “Do you wanna play one last time?”

I wanted to say no, but she had the sweetest smile. We entered the room filled with costumes, clothes, and wigs. I hesitated before picking something, but she spun through the room and changed into items like a magical princess. I smiled, and it felt like we played for hours. She didn’t judge me or expect me to change, so I felt free to try things I hadn’t before. Different outfits and wigs that I thought were cool. And I told her stuff I wouldn’t tell anyone. “I never felt more at home than when it was just me and the guys… I didn’t have to be anything with them,” I smiled, “And if we’re being honest, I thought I had a crush on Conner, but I-.” I trailed off.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“It sounds dumb, but I thought the only way people would see me as an Amazon is if I looked like the ones I idolized,” I confessed, “And then I kept trying harder and harder to be feminine-. That’s not what I wanted to be.”

“What do you want to be?” she questioned. I looked in the mirror while I fidgeted with my wig and straightened the waist of my side button track pants.

I slipped on a pair of goggles and smiled. “I don’t think I want to be Wonder Girl anymore. I think it’s time I stop pretending,” I smiled.

*

I called Bart, Cissie, and Conner to the park to hang out while I tried to find the words to explain my feelings. Bart arrived first with Cissie and swept me off my feet in an embrace. “It’s been a million years! How’s it going? Wait-. What’s wrong? There’s something wrong,” Bart greeted me. He held my shoulders as he looked me over.

I chuckled and hugged him. “Not like you to notice stuff like that. How are you?” I asked. Bart’s face changed for a split second, almost frowning.

“I’m great. I can’t complain. Max is back,” Bart replied. Cissie hugged me and laughed.

“My turn, okay?” Cissie smiled at Bart. “How’s it going, Cassie?”

“Um… I don’t know yet,” I answered.

Conner and Tim came through together. “Hey! Conner brought food!” Tim shouted.

I hugged them, and we walked toward the picnic tables. We sat at the table, and I stuck my fingers in the patterned holes in the metal. “I’m not-. I don’t have-. I’m not going to be Wonder Girl anymore,” I announced.

Bart stood up to protest. “Why?” Bart asked.

“Because I don’t-. I’m not-. I don’t-. I’m nonbinary,” I stammered. I raked a hand through my hair and started rambling about how I never felt like a girl and how hard I tried to be a girl. “So, um-. So when I change my look and my costume and name-. I wanted you guys to be the first to know.”

We sat silently for a few seconds, and Conner poked his lips out and cleared his throat. “At the risk of sounding insensitive, these tacos will taste terrible cold,” Conner mumbled. I chuckled, and everyone else laughed, too.

We ripped the bag open and started eating before Conner stopped to look at me. “Hey, Cassie, we love you. You know that, right? That’s never going to change,” Conner reassured me.

“Cassie, we’re a family,” Tim added.

“Yeah, Cassie, we’re happy you told us,” Cissie smiled. Bart didn’t say anything.

Instead, he waited until everyone left and sat with me. “Bart? Are you okay?” I asked.

“I-. I’m glad you called. I’ve been-. I’ve felt down in the dumps for a while now, and it felt good to see you guys. I know you’re-. I’m nonbinary like you. It’s more common in the future, but I get how-. You don’t-. You and me. We don’t talk about our feelings,” Bart explained. I never expected Bart to say he was depressed.

“Bart, are you okay?” I asked. “I’m pretty sure my mom-.”

He burst into tears. “I feel like everyone’s fading away,” Bart cried, “And I don’t want that. I want you to stay. I want Cissie, Conner, and Tim to stay. I wake up every day wondering if the people I see will disappear or if I’ll-.”

I hugged him. “Bart, I love you so much,” I replied, “You jerks are my best friends… And in true best friends fashion, I’ll tell you a secret, and if you ever tell Conner I will kill you with my bare hands.”

Bart stopped crying and nodded. “I won’t,” Bart promised.

“I used to think I had a crush on him, but I realized something… I wanted to be more like him,” I confessed.

“I thought everyone felt that way about him… Well-. Not Cissie, but almost everybody. I’m behind everybody maturity-wise, but I’m catching up quickly. He’s the oldest and the coolest in the group, so it’s only natural,” Bart replied. I grinned.

“You’re right… And-. Bart, let me text my mom. It can’t hurt for you to spend the night at my house-.”

“I can’t sleep,” Bart confessed. It seemed like a big deal. So, I grabbed his big head and kissed the top of it.

“If you still can’t sleep, we’ll stay up all night talking. We definitely have to talk about your gender,” I smiled. Bart nodded.

#fic #tjbj fic #wonderfam #yj98 #young just us #Jason Todd #Barbara Gordon #Cassandra Sandsmark #Bart Allen #Tim Drake #Conner Kent #Cissie King-Jones #Grant Emerson #Roy Harper #Nonbinary Bart Allen #Nonbinary Cassie Sandsmark #Dreams and Nightmares #Hurt/Comfort #Canon Divergent AU #First Person POV #Mystery Character(s) #Confession(s) #Found Family #Healing

[trashyswitch]

A Jiggly Friend

Mario and Luigi are given a chance to meet SCP-999. Luigi is very hesitant, but quickly warms up to the creature once he realizes he's a friend-shaped slime puppy.

This fanfic was suggested to me by @gamequeenanya! It was actually a direct message through Discord. I had asked her for ideas of who 999 should meet, and she said "What about Mario and Luigi?". And MY GOD, I LOVED THE IDEA! So, I made this! I hope you enjoy!

Two quiet pairs of footsteps could be heard filling the echoey hallway. Locked steel doors and pure white walls filled the hallway they walked in. The two beings that filled this hallway with their footsteps, felt very out of place in this kind of environment. They couldn’t describe the feeling of overwhelming curiosity mixed with the unbelievable sense of doom. This collective of emotions made the two people wary and cautious as they walked. Slowly, their eyes gazed upon the countless number groups on the doors. 

“M-Mario…I don’t like this…” One of the men told the other. 

“We’re really close. We just need to find the right door.” The other man said. 

“What if…I don’t like it?” The man dressed in green, had asked. 

“Don’t worry, Luigi. You will like this one. I’m sure of it.” The man named Mario, had told the man in green. 

Luigi walked to the door at the end of the hallway, and looked at Mario. “It’s the 999 number, right?” he asked. 

Mario looked at the paper in his hand, and nodded his head. “Yup. SCP-999.” Mario told him. 

Luigi bit his lip and looked through the windows of the chamber. “Hmm…” He looked inside the windows, and saw the glob of orange that was hopping around the containment chamber. “Is…is that it?” Luigi asked. 

Mario looked through the window and smiled. “That’s 999. Isn’t he cute?” Mario asked him. 

“He’s...I don’t know…” Luigi muttered aloud. “He’s strange-looking, but…” Luigi widened his eyes as he saw the creature getting closer. Luigi widened his eyes as he saw it slide its way closer to the window. Luigi stared at the creature with newfound awe and wonder, as 999 blubbered and ‘bounced around’ with its body. 

Mario smiled and pulled out the key card they had been given. He slid the card down, and watched as the red light turned green as it made a clicking sound. Mario pulled on the door, opening it and looking at Luigi. “You ready?” Mario asked. 

Luigi nodded with a smile as he got up and away from the window. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” he replied. 

Mario pulled the door open a slight bit more, and gasped as he saw 999 just waiting for the boys to enter. Mario entered first, and kept the door open for his brother. Luigi moved through the door as well, and took a moment to hear the door close behind him. “Okay…” Luigi looked over at SCP-999 and waved at it. “Hello.” Luigi greeted awkwardly, unsure what else to say. 

Mario knelt down. “Hi 999. I’m Mario.” He greeted. “And this is Luigi.” He told 999, hugging Luigi close to him. “He’s my brother.” Mario told it. 

Right away, Mario could smell something rather comforting from their childhood. 

“M-Mario?” Luigi looked at his brother. “Is…is it normal for 999 to make you feel…excited?” Luigi asked as he felt giggles bubbling up in his lungs. Mario giggled. “Do you smell Papa’s waffles?” He asked. 

Luigi nodded. “Y-Yeah…I don’t know how, but…I do.” Luigi admitted. 

Mario chuckled. “999 can emit familiar smells to make you feel euphoric and nostalgic.” he explained. 

SCP-999 let out some gurgling sounds as it made two pseudopods appear from its body. The first pseudopod touched Mario’s cheek, making Mario widen his eyes and smile as he cooed in emotional happiness. The second pseudopod was going to touch Luigi, but decided to wait patiently for its turn. 

Luigi was confused by Mario’s reaction at first. Mario only acts like that around babies and puppies. And this creature was not even close to a puppy. “M…Mario-” Luigi tried not to laugh at him as he saw Mario blushing and smiling widely. He looked like an elated toddler. “Are you okay?” Luigi asked, covering his mouth slightly as he chuckled. 

Mario let out a fit of giggly laughter. “Ihihi probably look so stupid right now…” Mario mentioned, making Luigi laugh as well. “Buhut…I don’t care. I feel amazing.” He admitted. 

Luigi looked at 999 and saw the pseudopod just sitting there. Seeing how Mario was reacting, Luigi reached out for the pseudopod. “May I?” He asked politely. When the second pseudopod reached up and touched Luigi’s hand, Luigi widened his eyes and looked at 999 with shock and…growing euphoria of his own. “W-Wow…” Luigi reacted, feeling a toothy smile growing on his lips. He laughed a bit as he felt the SCP’s strange texture. It threw him off guard at first…It felt like orange peanut butter! But the curiosity seemed to trickle out of his mind the longer he held 999’s pseudopod. “Hehehe…Ihis this what you were-” 

Mario nodded. “Uh huh. How do you feel?” Mario asked his brother with a giggle. 

“Ihi…I get it now…” Luigi muttered, hanging his head and giggling. “I feel great!” 

Mario bursted out laughing at Luigi’s face. “Ihit’s like you were just told we were going to Disney world again…” Mario mentioned with a laugh. 

Luigi chuckled and scratched the back of his head. “Y-Yeah…” 

999 looked towards Mario, and slid its body onto Mario, engulfing him in the peanut-butter substance. Mario gasped and froze in shock. The substance felt cold, yet…comforting. And his body felt wet, but dry all at once. It was…really strange. 

“Is…is he hugging you?” Luigi asked, both nervous, but also calm at the same time. This creature was making him feel so many emotions at once, that he couldn’t even think straight anymore. 

Mario smiled a bit. “It…feels like water, but...thicker.” Mario admitted. “Ihit’s weihihird-” Mario jumped and jolted as giggles and laughter left his mouth. “Wahahait, whahat are you dohohoihihing- eeEEK!” Mario squeaked before leaning his head back as he fell into a fit of laughter. “HAHAHAhahaha!” Mario laughed, wiggling around somewhat roughly and kicking his feet inside 999’s translucent body. 

Luigi stared at Mario, beyond confused. “What is…I don’t get it.” Luigi told him. 

“Ihihit tihickles- Ihihihit TIHICKLEHEHES-! AAAHAHAhahahaha!” Mario laughed somewhat heavily, wiggling around a little harder. 

Luigi had to cover his mouth to prevent from laughing. There was no way…How could it be tickling Mario from inside its body?! And how was Mario so…calm about it?! Usually Mario was a wiggly tickler. So you’d have to be really strong and ready to dodge if you were going to tickle him and come out unscathed. But Mario looked…almost powerless to 999’s gelatin-like body. It was so strange and yet…it looked really fun. 

“Ihihihi cahahan’t stohohop ihihihihit!” Mario reacted, opening his left eye as he removed his hand from 999’s body and covered up his own wobbly grin. 

Luigi couldn’t stop himself from laughing alongside him. The creature was making them act almost drunk without even a sip of alcohol! He had no idea why, but seeing his brother like this was making him lose his mind with laughter. It was absolutely hilarious, and he couldn’t quite explain why! Luigi soon sat himself up and let out a cheer. “Woooo! God, this is awesome!” Luigi reacted. 

“Ohokahay, ohohokahahay- Thahat’s enough plehehehease-!” Mario begged, fighting a little harder. “Ihihit’s toohohoohohoo muhuhuch!” Mario admitted. “Gehehet Luihihigihihi!” Mario said next. 

Luigi widened his eyes. “Wait, what?! Hey!” Luigi reacted. 

999 seemed to understand his request, and gently let Mario go by sliding his body out from its body. When Mario was let go, he had hugged himself with his arms and kicked his feet a little bit to combat the leftover tickles that still plagued him. It also didn’t help that he had developed butterflies in his stomach, which had ALSO begun tickling him from inside. 

“You okay?” Luigi asked, not entirely used to seeing Mario so overwhelmingly happy. 

“Hahahaha- Hahaha- Yohohou gohotta try ihihit!” Mario told him. 

Luigi was about to give him a reply, but was interrupted by the feeling of a cold substance filling his back, before surrounding his front all the way up to his shoulders. “Whoa-!” Luigi reacted, looking down as his body was covered in orange. “Uuuuh…” Luigi looked behind him slightly, and saw 999’s ‘face’ looking at him. “Hi?” He said, giggling a little bit. 

999 gurgled happily and nuzzled its ‘face’ into the back of Luigi’s head for a few moments, earning a few giggles from Luigi. He enjoyed the nuzzles for a bit, before feeling gentle, tickly vibrations against the back of his neck. “eeEEHEHEHEEEK!” Luigi laughed, attempting to lean his head back to stop the tickles. But 999 couldn’t be squished down! All he could do was laugh! “Wahahait-!” Luigi gasped and started wiggling around as more tickly vibrations filled his body. “WAHAHAhahaha! Ihihihit’s sohohohoho weihihihihird!” Luigi giggled. 

“I know, right!? It feels like back massagers against your ticklish spots.” Mario reacted. 

999 gurgled and cooed as it tickled everywhere it could reach. It was strange being tickled by such an unusual creature. Any other time, Luigi would probably be surprised and fighting to get out. But…999’s euphoric effect was making him all giddy. This made the tickle attack feel more…fun than anything else! 

“Do you need it to stop?” Mario asked. 

Luigi tensed up and squeezed his arms against his sides. “Nohohot yehehehet- GAHAHAHAHAA! NOT THERE- NOHOHOT THEHEHEHERE!” Luigi cackled, his wiggles almost doubling. 

Mario chuckled and patted Lu’s left shoulder which was poking out of 999’s body. “If you need it to stop, let me know.” Mario told him. 

Luigi squeaked and squealed, unable to stop his jolts and kicks. “OHOHOKAHAHAY, EHEHENOUHUGH PLEHEHEASE!” Luigi begged, his hat falling off his head when he threw his head back. 

Mario picked up the green hat and looked at 999. “He wants you to stop.” Mario told him. 

With a few gurgles in response, 999 calmed itself down and went still. Luigi’s cackles and laughter slowly began to calm down. Luigi leaned his head back and let out breaths of relief and exhaustion. “Ihi…Gosh…” Luigi looked at the top of 999. “How did you know my worst spot?” Luigi asked. 

999 nuzzled into Luigi’s face with a sense of worry in its gurgle. It was almost like 999 was trying to ask if he was okay, and if it went too far. But Luigi was quick to reassure 999. 

“Don’t worry. I’m okay. You’re in the clear.” Luigi told it. “It was kinda fun, actually…” Luigi bit his lip. “But then 999 found my shoulder blades…” He admitted with a chuckle. 

Mario chuckled and traced a finger against his brother’s upper back. “You always were sensitive there…” He admitted. 

Luigi jolted and arched his back, letting out surprised squeaks quickly followed up by laughter. “Mahahariohoho whyhyhyhy?!” Luigi asked. 

“Cause it’s funny!” Mario admitted. 

“Ihihis nohohot!” Luigi argued, turning himself around so his shoulder blades weren’t so exposed. Mario chuckled and stopped going for it. “Alright alright, I’m done.” Mario told him. “Hug?” He offered. 

Luigi smiled genuinely and wrapped his arms around him. Though he was slightly nervous Mario would go for the really bad spot, He trusted his brother more than anyone else in the world. And nothing was going to change that, not even Mario. 

…Or so he believed…

A feeling of shock mixed with betrayal had taken over his mind as giggles erupted out of his lungs. “Wa-wahahahait- Mahariohoho whahat ahahare yohou-” Luigi hid his face against his brother’s shoulder and laughed into it. “Cohohome ohohohohohon!” Luigi reacted. 

“Listen, this is completely your fault! I’m surprised you trusted me so freely!” Mario reacted. 

Luigi wrapped his arms a little more around Mario and started tickling everywhere on his sides that he could reach. “Cahahan’t tihickle mehehehe ahand thehehen expehehect nohohothing bahahack.” Luigi warned. 

Mario jumped and cackled, wiggling around and struggling to get out of his grip. “eeEEHEHEEEEK! NAHAHAhahahaha! Letmego! Lehet mehehe gohohoho!” Mario giggled helplessly. “Whehehehen dihihid yohohou behecome so plahahahayfuhul?!” Mario asked. 

Luigi chuckled. “Since meeting 999! Speaking of: Are you enjoying this?” Luigi asked, looking at 999 with a smirk on his face. 

999 gurgled and bobbed the top of its body up and down, similarly to a person nodding their head. 

Luigi laughed a bit and turned his brother around so Mario’s back was against his chest. “How about a little bit of this?” Luigi squeezed and skittered his fingers on his sides. 

Mario squeaked and threw his head back, cackling hysterically. “OHOHO NAHAHAHAHA! LUIHIHIGIHIHI IHIHIHI’M GOHOHONNA DIHIHIIIHEEHEHEHEEHEEE!” Mario yelled at him. “Oh, you’re gonna die?” Luigi asked with a smirk. “Tell me: Would you rather die by my hands? Or by 999’s paws?” Luigi asked. 

Mario hung his head and giggled, wiggling and moving around. “IHIHI DOHOHON’T KNOHOHOHOW!” Mario told him. 

“Hmmm…Well, I guess it’s either you’re tickled by your brother who’s known you for ages, or you’re tickled by the living embodiment of the tickle monster.” Luigi teased. “And I agree…that’s a hard choice to make.” Luigi teased. 

Mario struggled and wiggled in his arms, unable to stop the endless laughter that left his mouth. It was almost overwhelming how ticklish Luigi’s fingers were capable of being. And it embarrassed him more when he realized how powerless he was compared to his brother. Which, as an older brother, is pretty embarrassing. 

“PLEHEHEHEASE STOHOHOHOP. IHIHIT’S TOOHOO TICKLIHIHIHISH.” Mario pleaded. 

Luigi smirked and looked at 999. “Is it time to stop?” He asked. 

999 slid up to Mario and touched his cheek with its pseudopod before gurgling and cooing. “Awww, 999’s giving you love too.” Luigi teased. 

Mario giggled and curled his neck in as the pseudopod moved itself under Mario’s cheek towards his jawline. Mario’s laughter had died down a little bit while Luigi had been momentarily distracted, allowing Mario to breathe a bit. “Ihihi feeheeheeheel ihihit.” Mario admitted. “Ihihihi feeheeheeheel thehe love.” Mario further explained. 

Luigi looked at 999 as he stopped his fingers altogether, and switched to hugging Mario from behind. “I love you, Mario.” Luigi said, resting his chin on Mario’s shoulder. Mario placed his hand on the side of Luigi’s face, and patted it softly. “Ihi thihihink the euphohohoria is gehetting to be too muhuhuhuch fohor you.” Mario admitted. “Wehehe should leheave.” Mario told him. 

Luigi sighed and smiled softly, nodding his head. “Okay.” He replied. 

He put Mario down and picked up his hat, putting it back on. “Thanks for grabbing my hat.” Luigi told him. 

“No problem.” Mario replied. 

“You ready to go?” Luigi asked. 

Mario nodded and gave 999 one more hug. “Bye 999.” 

999 nuzzled its face into Mario’s cheek…

Luigi watched their interaction excitedly, and giggled as 999 engulfed Mario in its body again. He even laughed as Mario swam around inside 999. He even swam up to the wall of 999, and knocked on the gelatin, waving and smiling at Luigi. Luigi waved back at him, noting the occasional bubbles that would form and rise above Mario. 

Mario reached out of 999’s body, and pulled Luigi into its body with him. Now both the brothers were swimming inside 999! Though they knew they should’ve been leaving, Luigi didn’t care. A couple more minutes with 999 never hurt anybody. He noticed the bubbles forming on his hand, and rising up above his head. He thought it was very cool, and almost pretty. Looking up, he watched as the bubbles rose up, until they popped…only to be followed up by a couple more bubbles…and then a few more…And even more…

Luigi looked down, and widened his eyes in horror: his hands were disintegrating! And every bubble that rose up from his hand, was a fragment of his body! Luigi tried to gasp, but coughed and reached for his throat as he realized he couldn’t breathe while engulfed by 999’s body.

With his hands gone and only his lower arms now visible, Luigi tried to crawl himself out of 999’s body. But this proved to be really difficult, especially when he could see himself losing more of his arms. Looking down, Luigi noticed his feet were completely gone…reduced to white ash-like fragments, while only his upper legs remained. He could feel his lungs convulsing and begging for air as he swam helplessly within 999’s body. This euphoric dream had quickly turned into a horrifying nightmare. 

“Luigi!” He looked at his brother, who was almost completely bubbled into white fragments just like him. Mario reached out with his disintegrating hand, and grabbed his right shoulder, which was still intact. “It’s all gonna be okay!” Mario said to him. 

Luigi widened his eyes as he saw his right eye falling apart from the bubbles. “Mario!” He yelled. “Don’t leave me here alone!” He pleaded. 

“I’m right here!” Mario told him, his right hand now disintegrating as well. “It’s only a nightmare!” His brother repeated. 

Luigi could feel his right eye’s vision fading out as it turned to fragments as well. “M-Mario-” 

Luigi jumped and gasped, suddenly feeling the ability to breathe. His vision was blurry, but he could feel his fear melting the moment he registered the flash of red and the comforting arms around him. He wrapped his arms around Mario as tightly as he could, trying to stop himself from crying. “Mario…” Luigi breathed deeply to try and overcome his restlessness. 

“That sounded like quite the nightmare.” Mario reacted. 

Luigi couldn’t stop the laugh that left his mouth. “It wasn’t a nightmare…well, until the end.” Luigi admitted. “The dream turned so quickly, it was hard to understand.” He admitted.

Mario chuckled. “Is that why I heard laughter from you earlier?” Mario asked. 

Luigi widened his eyes and blushed a bit. “I-I-Uh…” He muttered. 

Mario snickered. “I woke up to you giggling in your sleep. And you kept giggling for a little bit.” Mario admitted. 

Luigi covered his face with his hands. How embarrassing…

“I didn’t wanna wake you at first, cause…you sounded like you were having fun.” Mario admitted. 

Luigi uncovered his right eye awkwardly. “Ihihi was…Wehe were visiting a…creature in a laboratory.” Luigi explained. “Someone had come up with a creature locked in a laboratory, with its file written out on this website.” Luigi explained. “The creature, whether you touched it or sat in the same room as it…it would make you euphoric and happy.” Luigi explained. 

“Aw man…That sounds amazing!” Mario reacted. 

“It was…” Luigi chuckled. “The creature is…like a blob of jello. Only, it’s not jello. The stuff it’s made of, is supposed to be peanut butter?” Luigi explained. 

Mario tittered and snorted. “Ohoho?!” He couldn’t stop the cackles and laughter that left his mouth. “Ihihi have no clue what you’re talking about.” He admitted. “It sounds insane…But I love it.” Mario admitted next. 

Luigi bit his lip. “Near the end though…999 had taken both of us, and we were pretty much swimming in its body…” Luigi let out a breath. “You started disintegrating. We both started disintegrating.” Luigi explained. “I couldn’t breathe. I was drowning and falling apart, but you were speaking to me.” Luigi told him. 

“...What did you hear?” Mario asked. 

“It’s gonna be okay…I’m right here…” Luigi muttered. 

Mario raised his eyebrows. “So you could hear me…” Mario muttered. “Good.” He said. “Because when you started gasping for breath and…shifting in your sleep, I didn’t know what to do. I could tell you were scared, because your movements and reactions were getting worse.” Mario explained. 

Luigi shook his head. Luigi hung his head. 

“When you started muttering my name, that’s when I knew you needed to wake up.” Mario explained. 

Luigi pulled his brother into his arms tightly. “Thank you, Mario.” Luigi told him. 

Mario smiled and hugged him back. “Of course.” He replied. “What are brothers for?” 

He felt Luigi’s grip tighten. Mario smiled a bit and gave his brother’s side a little tweak, making Luigi giggle in the process. 

Mario broke the hug and wiped the tears off Luigi’s face. “Alright, no more crying. It was a happy dream, right? About this creature that’s supposed to make you really happy?” Mario asked. 

Luigi chuckled. “Yeheah…” 

“Wanna tell me more about it?” Mario asked. 

Luigi nodded and pulled out his phone, typing [SCP-999] into his phone before showing him pictures and reading the ‘SCP file’ out loud for his brother to listen to. 

#crossovers #fandom fusions #scp foundation meets super mario bros #silly #euphoria #dreams and nightmares #ticklefic #ler!999 #lee!mario #lee!luigi #brotherly love #wholesome #mild hurt/comfort

[m0on-shro0m]

I’m thinking about posting my dreams on here, because I have so many whacky and fun ones! And some even have content creators involved that when I tell my friends- they all beg me to give them their dreams! Plus they could silly ideas for anyone to write or draw or something.

So like just an idea what I can post about more while I’m trying to get out of procrastinating and stuff for drawing myself!

#dreams and nightmares #mostly dreams I’ll write about #YOU GUYS HAVE NO IDEA HOW MANY DREAMS I HAVE RANBOO AND MARTYN INTHELITTLEWOOD!!!

[chthonic-empyrean]

There are many who don't wish to sleep for fear of nightmares. Sadly, there are many who don't wish to wake for the same fear.

-Richelle Goodrich

#dark acadamia aesthetic #dark academia #light academia #literary quotes #vintage #poetry #spilled thoughts #books & libraries #love poem #trending #classic literature #literature quotes #lovers #dark acamedia #darkpoetsociety #dark academia vibes #dark academia quotes #darkacademism #light acacdemia #dreams and nightmares #nightmare #horror #sad beautiful tragic #sad aesthetic #aesthetics #soft academia #academia aesthetic #chaotic academia #deadpoetsociety #dead poets society

[nikathingz]

HEY HEY LOVELY <3

Do you mind doing a Morpheus x reader angst where they get into an argument and he snaps at her with something rly rude and harsh and regrets it later when she cries and doesn’t talk to him for days? /happy end maybe :)

YES OMGG I LIVE FOR ANGST, might've went a lil overboard with it, I just spent the past 4 hours writing this lmao

Masterlist

A Century of Regret

Morpheus x Wife!Reader word count: 2565

You were no stranger to fights with the Dream king, being his wife for many centuries you often disagreed on things, mostly those were about the Dreaming. This one however was different, he had been extra on edge as of late because of a rouge nightmare that had been feeding off humans' fear in the waking world.

He had kept to himself the past few days, and had only spoken to Lucienne because he often found himself in the library trying to find a solution to his problem, but even that was curt.

You couldn't take it anymore, you felt more neglected than ever. Morpheus wasn't a perfect lover, he often found himself caught up in making dreams and nightmares but he always made you feel loved, in his own way. It's no secret that he wasn't much for outward affection, but it was subtle things he did that made you fall for him, reading to you in moments of solitude, light touches, soft smiles, and chaste kisses.

But this wasn't that, it was a whole new level, he had completely shut everyone out, including you. So you marched through the ivory hallways of the palace to the library and entered to find Lucienne organizing a bookshelf.

She turned and gave you a weary look "My lady, I believe the lord is not in a good mood at the moment-" you raised a hand to cut her off, lifting your chin authoritatively, you didn't like being this way with Lucienne, but you were determined to get the satisfaction you came for.

She fell silent and nodded her head, gesturing deeper into the library before turning and going back to her work and leaving you to venture through the library to find your husband.

He sat at a table flipping through a book and taking down mental notes. He didn't even look up at you as you stood across the table and placed your hands on it, leaning onto them. Jessamy had taken immediate notice of you and hopped across the table to rub her beak into your arm.

Your nostrils flared as he continued to flip through his book, you genuinely couldn't tell if he was doing it on purpose or was so caught up in his work that he had yet to notice your presence, the voice in the back of your head doubted the latter, especially because of Jessamy's actions, but you cleared your throat anyway.

He didn't look up but stopped flipping through the pages "I'm busy." he said simply, his tone was already annoyed but you held your ground.

"You've been busy for almost a week Morpheus-"

"Because I have been doing my duties to the dreaming!" His patience was easily gone as he rose from his chair and slammed his hands on the table startling both you and his raven. He had a fixed look on his face, a look you had seen but a few times before. "Do you not understand that I have a job to do? Or that this rouge nightmare is making that job monumentally harder?" He was cold, and your body went ridged in fear.

Your brow pinched and your lip quivered as pressure built in the back of your throat. You didn't know what you expected to come of this, maybe your naivety gave you hope that you could drag your husband away from his endless duties. You swallowed hard and lifted your chin as bitter tears spilled onto your cheeks.

"And what of your duties to me? You are my husband yes? Then why have I not seen an inkling of you for days?" You asked rhetorically and watched his jaw clench as he remained firm in his statement.

"As I thought," You said and turned on your heel, whisking yourself out of the library, ignoring Lucienne's pitiful look as you exited.

You found yourself spending the following days with residents of the dreaming rather than staying in the palace and waiting for your husband to finally cool off. You weren't childish enough to think he would come and apologize, he would likely brush it under the rug and expect you to drop it as you always had.

You couldn't though, as days passed a sinking feeling grew in your gut. You remained firm in your choice to reside outside of the palace, for now. He would send Jessamy after you when he finally decided enough was enough.

•••

Lucienne stood in the throne room with Morpheus as made sure he had all his tools. Her brow was creased in concern as they stood in silence, she cleared her throat and rocked forward on her heels.

"If I may lord, have you spoken to her ladyship?" She asked hesitantly and Morpheus looked at her over his shoulder.

"No, but I intend to once I return... once I can place my full attention to my wife" he mumbled as he looked past Lucienne to the throne room doors, the image of your flushed face that was streaked with tears had not left his mind since, and regret plagued him.

She inhaled a deep breath and pressed further "My lord, you are coming back aren't you?"

Confusion crossed the Endless's face, "Why would I not return, Lucienne?" He asked as he picked up his helm and slid it over his head. 

She shrugged and pursed her lips "I don't know, a presentiment." She paused as he pulled his pouch out of his pocket "As powerful as you are here in your realm, Dreams rarely survive in the waking world." She fidgeted with her hands as sand swirled on the ground and around the king of the dreaming. "Nightmares, on the other hand, seem to thrive there." She watched the typhoon of sand flurry around the throne room as Morpheus's voice rang out once more.

"I shall return Lucienne" and then he was gone, and she was left alone in the throne room.

•••

You felt the heavy weight on your shoulders and your brain fogged with fatigue. You placed a hand on your head and let out a slight gasp as you hunched over the cup of tea that Abel was so nice to give you. You briefly recognized the feeling of the whole responsibility of the Dreaming being placed on your shoulders, signaling you that your husband had departed from his realm.

"My lady are you alright?" You felt Abel place a worried hand on your shoulder and you looked up at him with a gracious smile.

"Yes, I'm wonderful Abel, thank you" You assured him and continued your friendly brunch, Gregory and Cain occasionally popping in to say hi. 

•••

You often found yourself visiting the house of mystery as the years passed and more residents of the dreaming abandoned their kingdom.

You have received the brunt of Morpheus's disappearance, the first decade was the hardest. You grieved the disappearance of your husband every moment, it was heartbreaking to watch all of his creations lose faith in their king and blame you for it.

You slept most of the time as it took everything you had to try and upkeep the state of the Dreaming, but you were not an Endless, and this was not your realm. You were forced to watch the state of the Dreaming decay. Each day that passed constantly drained you of more energy both emotionally and physically.

Jessamy was the only reason you did not lose faith in your lover, and when she did not return you could not even find it in yourself to leave your room for a week. Lucienne had spent most of her time at your bedside trying to make sure you were okay, as much as you could be.

Every day after that was the same, you never left the palace anymore. You would simply drift around the crumbling hallways like a ghost for what seemed like an eternity, have some tea with Lucienne, then returning to your chambers to sleep for the remainder of what could be considered a day.

Eventually, the amount of time you rested, greatly outweighed the time you weren't lying in bed. You avoided reflective surfaces as they would kill you. The last time you looked at yourself, bags were sunk deep beneath your eyes, and your aura just radiated exhaustion. 

You opened your eyes, unsurprised with where you found yourself, in an old study, the rickety chair you sat in had been pulled over to sit just inside of the spire in front of the balcony so you could view the entirety of the Dreaming. You could see the huge ivory gates that would lead to the entrance of the dreaming and your heart panged in your chest.

They were just about the only thing that wasn't in shambles anymore, you sighed and sipped at the tea Lucienne had left for you, it was strange as she usually woke you and stayed with you for a while. This time she just disappeared. There was something different about today, your shoulders didn't feel as stiff and the fatigue behind your eyes didn't feel as immense.

•••

Morpheus and Lucienne stood at the entrance of the dreaming and she fidgeted with her thumbs as he opened the large gates. "Forgive me, sir, but... the realm, the palace... they are not as you left them" she spoke guiltily, as if she could've helped what became of the Dreaming after Morpheus left.

Morpheus felt his heart drop in his chest as he looked upon the basic rubble that had become of his beloved realm "What happened here? Who did this?" He turned to his librarian who seemed to shrink beneath his gaze.

Lucienne nibbled her lip as she tried to explain it to the best of her abilities "My Lord, you are The Dreaming, The Dreaming is you. With you gone as long as you were, the realm began to... decay and crumble." She said and let her gaze travel to the crumbling palace.

"And the residents? The palace staff?" Morpheus's breath caught in his throat as he imagined you leaving the dreaming many decades ago, especially with how he left you.

Lucienne folded her hands behind her back "I'm afraid most have gone." She said sorrowfully.

"Gone?" Morpheus gave her an incredulous look, unbelieving of the words she spoke.

"Some went looking for you.” She reasoned

“And the others?” He turned and looked at her through narrowed eyes

“They thought, perhaps, you'd grown weary of your duties and-" She tried to explain but he cut her off.

"What? Abandoned them? Had they so little faith in me? Do my own subjects not know me?" He asked as if she had all the answers.

"If I may, sir. It wouldn't be the first time one of The Endless had just-" She was going to bring up the prodigal brother of the endless but Morpheus had better things on his mind.

"Enough. I will not have Dreams and Nightmares preying on the waking world. I will bring them all back. I made this realm once, Lucienne. I will make it again." He said matter a factly and looked over his shoulder to his trusted advisor. 

She gave him a smile and started to walk with him through the gates of the dreaming.

Lucienne felt a looming question hang in the air as they walked toward the palace. What of the beloved queen of the Dreaming? She said nothing but motioned for the dream king to follow her.

•••

They stood in front of a double door, Lucienne motioned inside and Morpheus understood what she meant, he lifted a hand to rap on the door but hesitated as he heard Lucienne's quiet footsteps retreat.

So you had stayed in the Dreaming, but what had become of you? You were the queen of his realm and shared in carrying the weight of keeping the realm, surely over a century of shouldering both your responsibilities had taken a toll. One question made him sick with worry though, were you still angry with him? Did you resent him for the horrible terms he had left you on over a century ago? 

He realized he was standing there for much longer than intended and finally rapped on the mahogany door, "Come in Lucienne..." he softly nudged the door open when he heard your small voice inside the crumbling room. His breath caught in his throat as he saw your slumped form facing away from him, your hair and clothes in disarray.

He walked a few steps into the room before speaking "My dear..." He said wearily and watched your form whip around with energy that had long such left you. He swore his heart cracked as he gazed upon your face, deep eye bags and face drained of all life until you laid eyes on him.

Tears had started pouring down your face as you timidly crossed the room to stand across from your lover, all thoughts leaving your head except for the one screaming at you to collapse into his arms and stay there for the rest of time. When you came within arms reach you stood timidly infront of him, and his frowned deepened. He lifted his hand and let his fingers grace over your cheeks to swipe away some of your tears.

His expression hardened as you choked out a sob, unbelieving that he was real after all this time.  "Y-your here, I-its been so long..." You sniffled as he enveloped you in his arms and you both sank to your knees, collapsing into each other.

He mumbled a string of apologies into your hair and inhaled your sweet scent, one he had missed for a century. Tears slipped down his pale cheeks as you shook your head, your face pressed into his chest as your arms were wrapped tightly around his torso.

"I'm so sorry my darling, I've spent a century regretting the terms we parted on and thinking about how you were left here to tend to the dreaming alone" He pulled you away from him to examine your ghostly state but you shook your head and tried to wipe away at some of his steady tears as he did for you.

"No Morpheus please, none of that matters. I don't care, because I have you here with me now," You assured him as he pulled you impossibly close to him, relishing your presence.

But the image of what he had done to you, the toll his absence, his realm, had taken on you and he would never forgive himself.

He had so many regrets but none of them mattered now because he finally had his beautiful wife in his arms again and he swore right then and there as you cried into each other's arms that he would do better, and he would never take you for granted again.

You made a similar promise to yourself as well, you couldn't begin to imagine what he had been through over the past century, one that was littered with regrets for the both of you.

 You would speak of it eventually, but for now, you would sit here together for as long as you both needed, the Dreaming could wait another day or so, you were Morpheus's first priority, and nothing would come before you again.

•••

I put my heart and soul into this. thank you. goodnight, its 1 am and i have school lmao.

#the sandman fanfic #the sandman netflix #dream of the endless #dreams and nightmares #morpheus #the dream king #the dreaming #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x reader #dark!morpheus #angst

[varokai]

dead leaves

and not enough to fill it

what were they doing with these spaces?

#the backrooms #liminal spaces #liminal moments #abandoned places #empty buildings #empty spaces #street photography #urban horror #urban aesthetic #urban exploration #urban fantasy #magical realism #horror #scifi #spooky #varokai #dreams and nightmares #dreamcore #lostcore #rooms #setting #not ai generated #original photography #abstract photography #art #aesthetic #estetica #estetico #photography

[tomoleary]

Yves Chaland "Rêves et cauchemars" (2017) Source

#Yves Chaland #Rêves et cauchemars #Dreams and nightmares

[anxiouscaretaker]

a sickie whose fever dreams are realistic. so realistic that, in one dream, they're still sick in bed and talking to their caretaker. they wake up trying to continue the conversation with their very confused and worried caretaker

#loosely based on my own experiences with fevers lol #my regular dreams are weirder than my sick dreams #whump #whump prompts #sickfic #fever #confusion #dreams and nightmares #could be funny. could be angsty. depends on the conversation >:3

[viceandmature]

Mature VS Ryuji Yamazaki in King of Fighters and Ethel Cripps VS The Corinthian in Sandman

#King of Fighters #kofedit #The King of Fighters #Mature KOF #Ryuji Yamazaki #The Sandman #sandmanedit #Sandman #thesandmanedit #Ethel Cripps #The Corinthian #Dreams and Nightmares #Joely Richardson #Boyd Holbrook #Our Gifs #blondeedit