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#weird dream experiences
manicpixieangel444 · 2 months
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me core°.★
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linkvcr · 1 day
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weird dreams lately
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mcksnn · 1 year
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sharing dreams (nanomachines are crazyyyy damn)
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mishkinis · 1 month
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Do androids dream of electric sheep?
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nananarc · 4 months
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Ashtray . 2023
(Yeah no don't worry she's a 120kg cyborg that can crush his skull with a squeeze of her hands if she wants)
PopArt Colorful Alt Versions on my Patreon:
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will-wood-confessions · 6 months
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had a fucking bizarre nightmare last night that the newest litwtc episode was "the tumblr episode" where chris and will just read posts from the litwtc tags the entire time
when chris said my url i panicked and turned the episode off, then i heard a knock at my door and when i went to answer it will was just fucking standing outside my door with the most disappointed look on his face
thats when i woke up i couldnt take it anymore, this sounds dumb as shit now but trust me i was sweating bullets when i woke up and i couldnt bring myself to listen to the newest episode
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I had a horrible dream that steven universe had a velma-like spin off called connie
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just-french-me-up · 8 months
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(In)somnia Veritas
Fandom : The Sandman (AO3 link) Pairing : Dreamling (Dream x Hob) Rating : G | 1.8k Tags : Angst & Comfort, Retired Dream, Post Wake Fix-it, Established Relationship Summary : No longer Dream of the Endless, Morpheus spends his first night as a human at Hob's, struggling with his new condition. He can not sleep. He will not sleep. How could he, when wakefulness is all he has ever known?
Hob had expected the craziness of it all to keep him awake. The Kindly Ones. The Fates. Daniel Hall. Dream of the Endless, now, for all intents and purposes. It all whirled in his head as he settled in bed, Dream―Morpheus' form next to him, already still from sleep.
Hob's gaze lingered for a moment. He didn't look changed. Even like this, very much asleep and vulnerable, his lips slightly parted in a shallow, slumbering breath, Morpheus still looked like the powerful being he'd been, mere hours ago. Human. It hardly seemed thinkable. Hob had been around for a while, and never had a human ever looked like that. Yet another rule broken tonight, it seemed.
As his head hit the pillow, Hob could feel the heaviness of the day weighing on him, a crown of lead encasing his head, a migraine he resigned himself to fight all night. Instead, sleep took him the second he closed his eyes, his body melting away, as though engulfed by a wave.
The rest was for Dani―Dream of the Endless to know.
It was still dark when sleep loosened its grip around him. Disoriented, Hob rolled drowsily on the mattress, expecting to meet the cold yet substantial shape of Drea―Morpheus' body, yet only found more sheets.
Confused, he cracked an eye open, his hand instinctively patting the empty space, as though he would find Morpheus hidden between the folds somewhere. Nothing. Hob's heart jolted wildly in his chest, pumping bitter bile in his throat. The Fates changed their minds, panic whispered in his ear instantly. They've taken him back. They could not let him be.
Slapped awake, Hob sprung out of bed, blood thrashing in his ears. I've got to get him back, he kept thinking. I must get him back. He did not know where to start, how to work out any kind of summons or strike any sort of supernatural bargain (those had a tendency to find him, not the other way around), but he would figure it out, he had to, he would even call―
His hand still tense on the doorknob, Hob froze in his tracks.
In complete darkness, Morpheus was sitting on his couch, his thighs pressed against his chest, still wearing the old t-shirt Hob had given him as improvised sleepwear. He barely seemed to notice the interruption. He barely seemed to breathe, for that matter. He simply sat there, statuesque, his eyes burning a hole into the opposite wall.
Relief flooded through Hob at the sight, no matter how eerie it felt. He was there. He hadn't gone anywhere. His hand relaxed around the doorknob, though his heartbeat had trouble adjusting.
"You alright?" he asked quietly, his voice slightly hoarse.
There was no acknowledgment of his presence, or answer. Still as a rock, Morpheus kept staring at the wall, his face blank.
Hob dared a few steps closer.
"Can't sleep?" he tried again, cautious not to startle him as he neared the couch. He considered switching on the lights, but quickly decided against it. It felt like one of those matters that were best discussed under the cover of darkness. The constant London light pollution would have to do.
"It's all so... silent."
Hob stilled, caught off guard by the sound of Morpheus' voice. It was still his, undeniably, every note, every inflection, but it missed... something. An edge. A preternatural depth that rose from the dawn of times, when the first being laid down and dreamt on its first night. A human did not need such speech. Like the rest, it now belonged to Daniel.
Hob approached him, electing to sit at the edge of the couch rather than directly next to Morpheus.
"You think this is silent?"
He had grown used to the constant whir of London life, every new century bringing new sounds to the mix, but there was no ignoring the myriad of dogs barking outside, the drunk students talking much louder than social norms would allow during the day, and the ballet of bin lorries and automated street cleaners. Could Morpheus not hear that?
"How can you bear it?"
Slowly, Morpheus' eyes left the wall to settle on Hob, turning to face him. Even with the lack of proper lighting, Hob could see his eyes clearly. Blue, as the day they first met. And full of apprehension about this world he'd never had to navigate this way, even though his pride would not allow him to put it in such words. This, at least, had been his to keep.
Hob stared at Dream, at a loss for words. If this was silence for him, what hellish racket must have been filling his mind until then? How could he bear it?
"It's all I've ever known," he said, settling for something that felt true, in his core. "I'm sorry. I imagine it must be... jarring."
"It is... unnerving," Morpheus nodded slowly, looking down, as though he would not bear to admit it while looking at Hob in the eyes. "Isolating. Empty. And at the same time..."
"Deafening," Hob supplied helpfully. "I understand."
Of course it felt empty, he thought. When one had spent their entire existence with the collective unconscious at their fingertips, dreams and nightmares echoing into their ears every second of every day, being severed from it must feel like having your head dunked into a bucket of water.
"It is no wonder humans devised all matters of utensils to fill the silence," Morpheus mused faintly. "It kept them from going mad."
Them. Humans. Hob wondered how long it would take Morpheus to see himself as one. Never, perhaps. He struggled to see himself as other than what he was, originally. The only difference between them was that Hob had considerably benefited from the change. For Morpheus, this was hardly a step-up. It was free falling.
There was an urge there, lodged deep into Hob's chest, to reach for Morpheus' hand, to hold him close, to offer him all the reassurance he could provide and then more. But Morpheus was not there yet. This human body ached, Hob knew it. It was new, unused, unacclimated to the world it had been thrown into. It looked every way the body he knew, the one he'd touched, loved, held, once. Not quite, though.
"We could buy you a white noise machine," Hob suggested lightly, pushing down the emotion down his throat. He was here, safe, it was all that mattered, in the end. Hob just needed to be patient.
Morpheus frowned, confused.
"It's a box that makes noise. Some people use it to fall asleep."
There was a huff, and the first hint of a smile on Morpheus' lips since their encounter with the Fates.
"Of course you people fashioned a noise machine."
"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it," Hob smiled, purposefully stirring the conversation towards a lighter territory. "Whale songs might be just what you need."
"I doubt it will suffice."
In spite of Hob's best efforts, Morpheus' playfulness was short-lived. His face closed again, returning to its persisting melancholy. Hob leant towards him, inching closer, assessing his lover's reaction, any sign of recoiling.
"What's wrong?"
"I fear I may not be... welcome to the Dreaming."
The admission rolled out of him like a wound, bloody and raw, almost shameful. Hob furrowed his brows.
"You're afraid Daniel may not grant you entry?"
"No, I..."
Morpheus gave out a faint frustrated sigh.
"It is no longer mine to rule. Dream of the Endless endures, outside of me. Perhaps I do not... belong there. My presence could be ill-received."
"Love, I―" Hob bit the inside of his cheek, trying to find the words that would hurt the least. "You will have to sleep at some point. That's... I'm sorry, but that's part of... this."
"I know."
In the darkness, Hob could have sworn he saw a tear trail down Morpheus' cheek, glistening in the light of a nearby street lamp.
"I'm sure Daniel will go easy on you. He's a good kid."
Was a good kid, Hob reminded himself. Daniel was an empty name now. There was no more Daniel Hall. Not really. Dream was what remained.
"It is a terrible fate I have delivered onto him," Morpheus countered weakly. "It would be fair on his part to torment me for it."
"Morpheus."
Unable to help himself, Hob rested his hand atop Morpheus'. His skin was warmer than usual, he noticed. Human. Instead of pulling away, Morpheus leant towards him, almost nuzzling against his shoulder.
"I have never fallen asleep," he confided softly. "Never dreamt. Not once."
It had always felt odd to Hob that Dream of the Endless, King of Dreams and Nightmares, did not sleep. How scary it must be, for someone who had never done it, to surrender yourself to the hand of another, in your most vulnerable state. Scary enough to leave the bed and avoid sleep altogether.
"I could hold you," Hob suggested gently. "Whatever happens in the Dreaming, it can't harm you here, can it?"
"No. Not really."
Not the most reassuring answer. Nor the clearest. Vagueness was a Morpheus trait, then, not a Dream trait. Good to know.
"I would like that. You, holding me."
"Come here, love."
It happened slowly, inch by inch, but Morpheus nestled into Hob's arms, resting his head in the crook of Hob's neck. Hob could feel his breath blowing against his skin, warm, regular, vital. It was odd, but far from unwelcome. More new than anything else.
"How does it happen? Do I merely close my eyes and wait?"
"Essentially. There is a relaxation aspect to it, though."
Clearly something Morpheus had no experience with either, considering how tense he felt against him.
"You could... breathe with me."
"Breathe with you?"
The suggestion sounded ridiculous in Morpheus' mouth, but Hob was not so easily deterred.
"Yeah, just... just humour me."
It was difficult, at first, for Morpheus to follow the rhythm of Hob's breathing. He was going either too fast or too slow, as though breathing did not come naturally to him, which, in fairness, it did not. It was a conscious effort, every time. After a few minutes of off-beat inhales and exhales, they came to a harmony, their chests rising and falling in tandem. Morpheus had only been pretending to sleep earlier, Hob understood. He could see it now, from the way his face truly relaxed, how his body became more pliant in his arms. If he was not fully asleep, he was getting there, at last.
Hob smiled at the sight, pressing his cheek against his lover's forehead. He could feel Morpheus' pulse where he held him, strong, regular, and undeniably human. Yet no less the man he loved, in spite of the changes.
"Sweet dreams, dear heart."
He raised his eyes to the ceiling, knowing full well there was no one to hear, and no one listening, but he could not help but add:
"Let him rest, will you? I don't think he's ever done that in his life. Might as well start this one with something new."
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streetlight-halo · 5 months
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had a dream that i was part of a very small crew that maintained part of this giant space warship, and during our time off we were trying to write a novel. we never got around to even starting it; one of us kept insisting on filling out these strange sort of forms/tables for what information each chapter would contain and we never got anywhere. another crew member was kind of starting to lose it. space travel was doing something weird with his brain i guess, and i kept asking him how to spell his last name and he kept giving me random long strings of consonants, absolutely sure that they were correct
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king-magppi · 1 year
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I think Boyd and Fred stole the show for this post. As they do on this blog though 😭 ALSO.. there's some Milkman stuff in here too...
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bloo-the-dragon · 5 months
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Hehe
The Moon is back in the horizon~
So I have 1 question for you
Blue(d) Moon or Blood Moon
I actually drew a Blue (Bloo) Moon last year inspired by a dream where me and Moon swapped bodies LMAO
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also i raise you - Bloo(d) Moon ;D
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Short Prompt #1196
"I had a... peculiar dream last night," they said, staring emptily at the wall. The bedsheets scrunched up beneath where they sat, crinkling quietly as Friend settled down beside them. "I'm not sure where I was but... there were people from my past there. They didn't really care about me as per usual, barely paid me any mind."
Their expression didn't change as they continued, "At first, I was in a forest, then some kind of campground... then a boat...
"And at some point," their voice slowly turned into a whisper, "something happened."
Tiredly, their gaze drifted to the floor. "Out of nowhere, I couldn't see. I could feel that my eyes were open... but there was nothing but static filling my vision."
They shuddered. "And there was... a voice. I can't remember what it was saying, but it just kept chanting the same two words over and over again - the same phrase. A request or demand perhaps?
"I was yelling at it to stop, yelling for help... But nothing ever came of it until I suddenly woke up."
Friend finally spoke up. "Wow, that... sounds kinda scary."
They didn't nod but instead shook their head in a so-so motion. "It was. But at the same time... I think I wouldn't mind having that dream again."
"R-Really?"
They nodded that time. "As scary and confusing as it was, as much as I fought to wake up from it... That... thing that spoke to me... It wanted me.
"And oh... it's been so long since anyone has yearned for me the way that thing did. It wanted me so badly; wanted us to become one...
"It was terrifying... how it overwhelmed my entire being with nothing but its voice... but I can't help but wish to see it again.
"I can't help but crave to feel wanted."
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starculler · 10 days
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strap in for this week's fic flavor: the failsafe episode of season one of the young justice cartoon except the simulation just won't. fuckin. end.
(fics that inspired this at the end)
If I ever did sit down to make my own fic, I'd split it in 3 parts:
The Simulation: bits and pieces of the 40 years Dick lives after most everyone he knows has died
The Return: the immediate aftermath and healing from the trauma of having not-quite-actually lived a whole life only to wake up and find out it was all fake. nothing traumatizing about that whatsoever.
The Unintended Consequence: aka the twist I'd love to add and would hint to in the second part - finding out the simulation, through martian mind fuckery, pulled from the real world (and in many cases, from real minds). Dick meets a bunch of people he didn't think were real outside the confines of his simulated life. A bunch of rowdy, heroism-inclined teens across the years get to meet the sibling/friend/mentor figure they all dreamed up one night.
(actual idea snippets under the cut)
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Dick Grayson is 14 and most of the world's heroes have died. He planned a suicide mission that left him the sole survivor of a doomed team he helped found. The invasion may have been stopped, but is this really the price he wanted to pay?
The first face he sees in the infirmary is Roy's, and he has to close his eyes and just breathe for a few minutes because for one painful moment he'd thought it was Wally. But this isn't the world where his best friend miraculously survived alongside him. This is the one where he got his best friend killed and didn't even give him the courtesy of following behind him. Behind them.
.
Dick Grayson is 27 and has lived longer without Bruce than with him. The invasion's anniversary is always a tough day for him, but that morning seems especially harrowing. He'll get shit for it later, but can't resist stepping out onto the balcony of the manor's master bedroom (Bruce's old bedroom) for a smoke -- his first since he'd promised to quit if Jason, just 15 then, did too.
"Bad habits tend to pile up," he'd said, a rueful quirk to his tired grin. He'd tapped the cigarette twice on the railing and added, lower, "and this one's especially nasty, huh."
He inhales, watches the sun creep across the horizon, and lets acrid smoke burn through his lungs for a long moment before blowing it out in a small cloud. His eyes water, but he doesn't cough. It tastes just as bad as it did the first time he smoked one, not even a year after the invasion and treading water as Robin proved insufficient.
There hadn't been enough heroes to go around then, and Dick had been trained by one of the best. It hadn't been fair, but it had been his plan that had ultimately stopped the invasion. His shoulders everyone's expectations fell on.
He takes another drag, then smudges the lit end against the rail he's leaned on when he hears a boot scuff purposefully against the roofing above him.
"Todd and Pennyworth will be upset with you."
He doesn't turn around. Damian doesn't jump down to join him.
.
Dick Grayson is 54 and wakes up in a room full of ghosts. He hears his long-dead father-figure tell his long-dead team about a simulation they weren't meant to win. A training exercise gone wrong and only half a day spent under their mentors' careful, if slightly panicked, supervision.
He looks at his hands, watching the way his gloves crease when he flexes them in and out of tight fists. He looks at his team, their eyes a little haunted but shoulders slumped with relief even as they grumble. Batman's heavy, gloved hand settles on his shoulder and the weight of it is a nauseating mix of foreign-familiar.
He opens his mouth. Closes it.
Tears prick his eyes behind his domino mask, and he tells himself the suffocating, acidic void building in his chest is just some leftover side effect of the ordeal and not the grief-guilt of outliving yet another family (no matter that they hadn't been real in the end).
.
Dick Grayson is 16-going-on-56 and well used to the coincidences piling up between his simulated life and the real thing. Some of it -- missions and villains he remembers cropping up -- he's marked for Bruce to review and sort as he pleases. Some -- security for the cave, team building anecdotes, and training regimens -- he's shared with the team. And some he keeps only for himself.
Tim is one of those. He knows it's not fair to the kid (so much smaller now than he ever was when Dick lived his simulated life), but he can't help being selfish just for this. Tim is the one kid he's sure he didn't make up, and if Dick's taken to babysitting the kid just to be near at least one member of the family he built for himself in the wake of the worst days of his life .... Well, anyone who says shit about it can happily stand in line to have their teeth kicked in.
Despite this, it still catches him off-guard when he sees a familiar face pop up in one of Bruce's reports.
Jason Todd, caught boosting tires off the batmobile, is nearly the same age now as he was when Dick met him. He stares at the words, but none of them really sink in beyond the kid's name and address. He's moving before he's even made the decision.
He's used to the world kicking him when he's down - lived it for 40 frustrating years. But he has Bruce again. And things with Tim have been so good. And he's always been selfish when it comes to family. If he could just see Jason. If he could just meet him. If he could talk to him.
If if if if if--
.
Inspirations:
Circles in Shattered Mirrors by InfinityIllusion
Fine (But Not Okay) by CharlotteDaBookworm
Verisimilitude by mutemelody
#young justice#young justice cartoon#batfam#batman#dick grayson#the heart wrenching inability to cope with the fact that you've lived a fully realized life#you've loved and lost and loved again in the face of every unending tragedy#until you've forcefully carved out this one little safe haven for yourself#only to be thrust back to the beginning of one of your greatest traumas - esp one you're partly responsible for!#gotta love it#anyway i am and always have been obsessed with dick grayson and no one can stop me#the simulation was fake but some psychic bs means real world elements filtered in#cue several children with weird dream-memories of half-lived experiences and a massive sense of deja-vu#when they wade into the superhero world#all i can picture is the spiderman pointing meme but it's the batkids at dick lol#my favorite idea is that once Dick gets his grubby hands on Jason and Tim it's all over from there#he's pulling late nights and researching and scouring facial recognition databases until he finds his kids#(he blurs the lines a lot when it comes to considering them his siblings vs kids#on the one hand they're not super far apart in age bar Damian#on the other he hasn't been a kid in any meaningful way since he was 14 and he very nearly raised half of them in some way#(plus side to an au is that i can space the ages out more as needed compared to the show haha)#jason and cass are firmly siblings close as they are to his age#steph tim and duke fluctuate depending on how in trouble or injured they are#i will die by dick being damian's dad tho lmao#babs is more platonic life partner than sibling but very firmly family regardless#this is the dick grabs on to any shred of family he can with both hands and drags them in kicking and screaming if he has to au#thoughts and headcanons
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lost-technology · 22 days
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I woke up this morning from the weirdest this-fandom related dream ever. So, in my dream, Vash and Wolfwood were sitting by a campfire and griddle talking about weird meats. They had some weird meats with them, as in meats from different animals that they were planning on cooking and eating. Vash drew out a plastic wrapped package (vacuum pack, looked like my local store brand) that looked like a pork chop, but declared that it was, in fact, human meat. He'd gotten it from a little post-apocalyptic Noman's Land shop that specialised in such things. He said that, as a Plant, he wanted to try it to see if he was compatible for eating human. Dream!Vash? What the actual FUCK?!!! And so unwrapped it and put it on the griddle and creeped out Wolfwood, but Wolfwood understood. Something like that. And then I flashed back into my body. This entire scenario was one that I was writing as a fanfic on a public counter in some kind of cafeteria at an anime convention. Above it, appearing almost immediately, was a fancomic someone else did on the upright part of the counter that recounted the events of my fanfiction (a fancomic of my fanfiction) except that whoever did it made it more Vashwood than I had intended my story, ending it with Vash and Wolfwood kissing. At the same time, I was thinking "My fanfic doesn't deserve this, it's not that good. It's not like Sin Eaters by dragonofeternal, which has a similar theme done much better." Yes, I was literally thinking of a real fic I'd read in my dream! I commented aloud on the comic that "This is more Vashwood than I'd intended, but I'll take it." As in, it's not really my ship, no one that I see as canon, but I like people in fandom shipping whatever they like and I enjoy Vashwood when it's done well and makes sense, which it kinda did in this fancomic even though it was inspired by my fanfic, which hadn't gone in that direction. Cue some snotty twenty-something with blueish purple dyed long pigtails and a Goth look sitting around nearby looking at all of this informing me "Vashwood is canon." and I said "No it's not." And she argued that she'd read some very obscure comic where it was - and it turns out we had both, by then, shifted into Batman fandom and she was referencing some obscure storyline in which Batman and Robin had fucked like animals. I further argued that I was going by a very specific canon (ala, "Batman the Animated Series" - which was somehow Trigun now), but concededed that while I wasn't as much into the deep lore of the comics, that I wouldn't be surprised if Batman/Robn (Vash and Batman now? Huh?) was canon in some form. Brain.... what are you doing?
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corsair-kovacs · 2 days
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"Echo"
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@zoroarkthief (IOU)!
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idk why it didn't add this photo earlier. Not IC yet but I love how they look side by side! [Heroes & Villains]
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silvermoon424 · 7 months
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