#amonstrousdream | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

uncannysam · 2 months

Text

PARTIES: @amonstrousdream @uncannysam TIMING: Mid-December SUMMARY: Leila drops by Sam's place for a snack, but comes to find more than she bargained for. WARNINGS: None!

She hadn’t meant to go so long without feeding on the dreams of some unsuspecting victim within Wicked’s Rest. But with all of the chaos that previous months had brought, whipping up nightmares had been the last thing on Leila’s mind. There were projects to work on, people to take care of, elder vampires to kill, and a death-day anniversary to ignore. With all of it combined, it took the waking and dreaming hours of her life. Meals became few and far between. Finally, it had been too much. She needed a dream, and she needed it immediately.

And so, the mare disappeared into that in-between space of the astral and fluttered about the town, hunting for sweet dreams to sour. The town, slowly emerging from the gooey hellscape of autumn, was slowly taking on a more saccharine feel again. Naturally darkened dreams of stress and dread were starting to grow brighter. It was overwhelming, to say the least.

After what felt like ages, Leila found a bright spot of dreaming that her hunger would not let her pass up. She slipped through the keyhole, into the darkened room on the soft edges of shadow and moonlight, following the smell of dreams until she found her little dreamer, tucked away in bed. A feather-light hand rested against their arm to ensure they stayed asleep before the mare snuck her way into their dream.

Sam couldn’t go any longer without sleeping, but she knew if she slept, her gift of sight would go away. It seemed to do that, when her body was actually well rested. But she couldn’t stay up another minute, especially considering she had almost walked out in front of a car today coming back home from the store. So she reluctantly shut off the lights, crawled in the bed with Scout at her feet, and as soon as her head hit the pillow, drifted off into a deep slumber. One she had at least hoped would be restful, if she had to endure it.

Settling in and shifting through the REM stages of sleep, Sam had finally found herself in a peaceful environment. One that she had felt safe and comfortable in. It was full of familiar faces of friends and family. She was back home in Kahnawake. Everything looked familiar, at least to what her childhood memories were, but this time she was grown. In fact, it was as if she had resided there. Wicked’s Rest was a thing of the past, and she had reopened her comic book shop.

Hearing the bell alert her to the presence of someone, Sam had walked out from the back, “Can I help you? Is there something you’re looking for?” Everything seemed like another day at Escape Your Fate, except Scout seemed to be missing, which had felt off for some reason.

—

It had taken the nightmare an awful long time to realize what feeding on dreams was akin to. Centuries of floating on the periphery of that one divine moment on the edge of sleep where dreams were all that were and ever had been had shown her that dreams- most dreams, all dreams- were simply life in disguise. Nightmares fed on that. The bit of life and humanity that made all people dream, to replace the life and dreams that had been stolen from them. Had she not been so hungry, Leila might have been disgusted by herself. By interrupting the remembrance of life and happiness in the place in-between.

But monsters had a desire to live, too.

Unseen, unknown, the mare stalked about, looking at the sweet dream that seemed to be playing out in the stranger’s mind. A bell jingling merrily. Comic books lined the walls as she flitted down the aisles, a bit of breeze. The tang of uncertainty caught her off guard. The dreamer had noted something. Something missing. A string she could pull, perhaps. Some memory she could unravel? Ah… An idea flickered in Leila’s mind, and the mare willed the sound of footsteps in the back of the store. A voice. A thud. Maybe there was something here she could work with?

___

Hearing the sound of footsteps, Sam narrowed her eyes and looked back. It wasn’t Scout. He was right next to her and those footsteps were clunky, like boots. Turning her attention back on the person in the store, Sam noticed a stranger she had never seen before. But quickly the voice; an all too familiar voice. One she had heard almost every day of her life since coming to Wicked’s Rest peaked her interest once more. Zach. The part of her heart that had been missing for months now, but he was alive? Of course he was! Sam didn’t know she was dreaming. To her, this was life, but the thud, for whatever reason, had sent a wave of anxiety shooting through her body, and without hesitating, she was to her feet and running towards the back of the store in the blink of an eye.

Breaking the threshold of the doorway, Sam hit the brakes when suddenly, she was no longer in the comic bookstore, but standing in a dark alleyway that appeared empty at first, until she had squinted to take a closer look; her eyesight failing her in the moment. As she inched closer, she couldn’t help but remain cautious. She could have sworn, she was just in the comic book store. And where was Scout? So badly she wanted to shout out his name, but there was a lingering fear sitting inside that told her to remain quiet.

___

Oh… oh, she’d found the thread to pull.

Whoever the owner of the voice that filled memory after memory in this girl’s mind was, there was an awful lot there. All of it dark. Something in Leila’s chest tugged her forward, wanting to know what it was in this particular thread of memory she’d plucked up and begun to weave back into the story it once was.

The safety of that shop was easily transformed into something more sinister. Whoever Zach was, nothing good happened to him here, in the damp of a dark alley. She wove the scene together quickly, continuing to pull along at that thread as if it were her personal, unending ball of yarn. She created shadows there, just out of sight of the girl. Enough to draw her forward, enough to pull her along and create the suspense that would satiate her appetite. Sam… Sammy… Leila used that voice again, calling out like a mockingbird. The uncertainty was a start. The strange, tickling warmth that filled her chest with every feeding urged the mare to create terror rather than mere uncomfortableness. The problem was that despite her hunger, despite that instinct, she was curious. She wanted to know what happened. Wanted to see for herself.

Sammy, where are you…

___

Sam lingered in her spot in the alley. Fear had engulfed her entire body, and she stood frozen. But Zach was calling for her. Calling her name, looking for her like she had been looking for him. She had to move forward. She had to go find him. She couldn’t leave him. The way the guilt was swelling up in her small form made her heart seem to shatter for unknown reasons thanks to the dream she was currently lost in. Not because she could actually, in that moment, remember the exact events and the way everything went down.

With a quivering breath and her heart pounding so much faster than it had been both in the dream and in her waking life, Sam took one step forward, followed by another and another, letting out a soft whisper, “Z-Zach…” If there was something lurking in the shadows, she didn’t want to awaken it to her presence. Her mind seemed to run stories from her childhood on repeat; tales of warnings from the various creatures that roamed the Earth when her ancestors were still a part of the living world, “Zach, I’m here…where are you?”

Sam continued to step cautiously as her narrowed eyes scanned the area looking for him, but so far nothing. She just seemed to move deeper and deeper into the alley and the darkness and impending certainty of doom that it held hoping she would eventually run into him.

___

There was a rush that came with the fear of a dreamer. It was heady, utterly intoxicating- the first time she’d experienced it, the mare hadn’t known what to make of it. But as existence had stretched on and on, Leila had finally been able to pinpoint it. The racing pulse and sharp intakes of breath were so harsh that they almost replaced what was lacking in the mare. It was horrible, yes. But it was necessary. Without that little act of thievery, she feared she’d dissipate into nothingness.

It was easy to pull the threads together now. The further into the girl's memories that she played, the more elements Leila could call to light. The boy’s- Zach’s- voice, calling out for her dreamer. Letting it go from whispered calmness to hissed fear as Sam’s fear grew. Shadows… she needed to shape the shadows. With a keen eye for detail, she pulled a form from the recesses of the girl’s mind as one might pluck a pattern from a rack. What Leila wasn’t ready for was how much it startled her to see the form take shape. Feminine. Small. A heap of a boy at their feet. Who was this that she’d created from a memory? And why was this body discarded like abandoned prey, eyes wide and empty…?

The voice morphed from the fearful Zach’s to something other. Some cacophony of terrible voices, all crying out at once from this strange figure’s mouth. sam. Sam. SAM. SAM.

___

Sam didn’t want to be the coward she feared she’d forever feel like. She wanted to be brave. She wanted to find Zach. To save her friend. To be the hero she knew lived inside her. Like the ones from her comic books. Even the anti-hero like Maya Lopez. She just wanted to be brave. But the closer she went towards him, the more afraid she became. The more she wanted to draw back and retreat, until…

Seeing the figure form of the woman who had taken Zach and made him her meal, along with blurry shadows of those surrounding a clear image of his deceased body laying at their feet had left her frozen in fear. But this time, she had nowhere to hide. All Sam could do was look on helplessly at not being able to save her friend once again. And the voices…her name…shrill and loud. So loud that she tried to cover her ears, but it did no good. Instead, Sam’s heart was beating fiercely. So hard that it hurt. So hard that she felt like she couldn’t breathe anymore.

Gasping for air, she dropped to her knees clawing at her throat, until her eyes shot open and saw nothing but darkness surrounding her as she tried to adjust to the lack of light, except for that peeking in from the sides of her blinds and curtains. But as she scanned the room, she quickly caught sight of a shadowing figure near her, and without any control let out a blood curdling scream, praying Scout would react, but remembering he was staying with her parents tonight.

Scrambling from the sheets, Sam nearly fell out of the bed and rushed over to find the lightswitch on the wall hoping that once the light was on, it would kill whatever shadow monster lurked in her room and probably moreso in her mind.

___

The dream was enough. More than enough, really- there was so much fear welling up within the poor girl who had been unfortunate enough to become her meal for the evening. Usually, there came a point where the guilt seeped in. Usually, the realization of what Leila was doing to the poor person who was simply trying to get some rest was enough to send her back into the astral. That feeling was what made it easier to weave together dreams in the minds of those who, in some way, deserved it.

But this time, Leila couldn’t leave. She couldn’t bring herself to flutter away to safety, a wisp of smoke and shadow. Instead, she needed to watch. Needed to figure out what had happened, extract as much detail as she possibly could before departing. The girl had suffered, had lost this person whose memory remained like a scar in her mind. She tried to memorize every inch of the figure she’d plucked from the dreamer’s memory. Time, however, was running short. She could feel the poor dreamer’s heartbeat rocketing.

Mere seconds before Sam’s eyes snapped open, Leila was fleeing through the astral, through the crack in the keyhole of the door. What she had seen in the dream lurked in her mind, an echo reverberating over and over and over… It left her curious. Yes, she’d caused some amount of pain here, forcing the young woman to relive the moment in her dreams, but… Perhaps, she could help her. Somehow.

Maybe she could help this dreamer fight the things that remained inside her head.

#para: leila #para: nightmare revisited #amonstrousdream #wickedswriting

8 notes · View notes

magmahearts · 2 months

Text

@amonstrousdream from here:

[user laughs with absolute delight] [pm] I’m going to take that as a yes.

[pm] Yes!!! Yes, they told me!! I'm so excited for you two!

#amonstrousdream #leila: news #private

8 notes · View notes

nightmaretist · 5 months

Text

@amonstrousdream replied to your post “Who was the last person you cried in front of?”:

[user snorts on her tea] InGE

She was very comforting to me, I assure you. She offered me tea and the good tissues. Not those scratchy ones.

#amonstrousdream #leila.#leila: 005.#dash.

9 notes · View notes

deathsplaything · 5 months

Text

@amonstrousdream replied to your post “@amonstrousdream replied to your post “Do you have...”:

Oh! Didn't realize you run a tea shop, sorry for the silly question, then. What's your favorite tea, then?

Yep! I run The Sugar Pot in Oldtown.

I personally like an Earl Grey with lavender. Or anything with lavender. What about you, you like tea?

#amonstrousdream #c;

10 notes · View notes

stainedglasstruth · 6 months

Text

@amonstrousdream replied to your post “[pm] Metzli told me you know what's going on. Can...”:

[pm] Wherever is easiest for you. I appreciate it..

[pm] I can stop by the shop later? And, of course, I care about you two.

#amonstrousdream #wr leila

6 notes · View notes

kadavernagh · 9 months

Text

@amonstrousdream replied to your post “[pm] A warning for you- the turtleneck tried to...”:

[pm] Yes, the shoes and leggings started to... locomote? In the presence of the turtleneck. With no one wearing them. I caught the shoe but the leggings got away. They took off back towards Harborside. I am glad you're ready, because I certainly was not.

[pm] You still have the shoe? Have you... checked inside of it? What did you find?

You will be next time, this time. I will meet you there. Do you have a net? Bring a net.

#amonstrousdream

9 notes · View notes

eldritchaccident · 1 year

Text

Timing: April 11th Location: The Party Thrifter Feat: @amonstrousdream & @eldritchaccident Warnings: None! It's very cute! Summary: Teddy brings donuts and hot gossip to Leila

If there were more cursed items in her store, Leila was not certain.

Within days, she had to deal with murderous turtlenecks, personality changing gamblers hats, and suitcases that held alternate dimensions within them. On their own, that would be a little much for anyone to deal with. Paired with new friendships and relationships that were still defining themselves? Well, that was just downright stressful.

She was working on a new list of potentially magical items when she heard the doorbell give a cheery little jingle, alerting her that she had company. Leila gave an obligatory glance upward for hardly a moment to voice a “Welcome in,” before ducking back down. Pants from the 70s, no signs of possession, no serious enchantment when worn, simply felt happy and had an overwhelming need to listen to ABBA or Queen. If that was all those pants did, she might keep them for herself for a rainy day. After all, they did fit her quite well…

It wasn’t until after the figure had walked further into the shop that she recognized the shock of pink hair and the easy smile. “Hi Teddy,” Her shoulders relaxed and the painted on grin became more genuine, if a bit tired. Whoever had made it so that mares could not sleep had severely misjudged just how stressful it was to be undead. “Here for your shirts?”

All things considered, Teddy Jones made out like a bandit with that last escapade. No one even got hurt. And Teddy got a new deal out of it. Not a deal-deal but something the Jones family could profit off of nonetheless. If Leila's shop was a beacon for cursed objects, Mephisto's was going to have a whole new section pretty soon. Excellent.

The giddy demon strode down the way, ignoring the way their bones ached with the changing of the weather. Nothing could bring them down. Not then. Teddy was normally a pretty chipper thing, but between the cross store team up and the meddling they were very much about to continue with Leila, it was shaping up to be an amazing week all around. Could even excuse the attempted murderer and subsequent sea monster healing period. It was great.

"Hey there sweets! Shirts, pants, hats, whatever you got!"

—

Teddy Jones was a delight to have in the shop on any day. She couldn’t remember exactly when they had started showing up at The Party Thrifter, but since the store’s opening, Teddy had become a regular and a welcome guest. She pushed herself up from her place on the floor, surrounded by piles of clothing to go properly greet her guest.

“A little bit of everything, got it.” At least they weren’t asking about the chaotic events that transpired the last time they had graced the shop with their presence. At least they weren’t asking about Metzli. Light. Easy. “I meant to mention it the other day, but I really do love the new color.” Leila gave a little jerk of her chin, motioning up towards the top of her friend’s head. “You always look so cool. In my next life, I need to take a page out of your styling book.” If she had to leave Wicked’s Rest and recreate herself again, maybe she’d dye her hair purple. Just the ends, though. Nothing too crazy.

Her gaze fluttered about the shop as if she were trying to locate something before “Ah-”. Leila marched over to a stack of clothing she had been pulling and setting aside, all with the distinct fashion taste of the customer she had grown to know so well. “I saw these, thought you might like to take a look through...”

“Oh! Before I forget, your jelly donuts madame–” Teddy moved closer, rounding the rack of clothing to show off the box of treats they presented as if they were crown jewels. The various donuts were rings of delight. Well. The non-filled ones anyway. Teddy sure was itching to talk about all that had transpired, but they were a good guest and would wait until it was brought up naturally. Always so considerate, that demon.

“Sweets, you’re too good to me. I like to change it up a lot, but the pink is really nice, gotta say it’s in the top three colors I’ve ever worn.” It definitely helped that Teddy didn’t really have to go through the trouble of actually picking, mixing, and applying dye just to get a color that might not be exactly what they imagined. No, they just had to re-build their body from the ground up. Imagining all the bits they’d like to have different this time. Of course, it couldn’t be too different, people might get a little suspicious then. Even in a town like this.

The pile of neatly folded clothes immediately drew Teddy’s eye the second it was brought to their attention. The demon melted into a gleeful dance, quickly finding a stable enough surface to lay the box down so they could start rifling through the selections. “Leila! You’ve outdone yourself.”

A whole dozen donuts sat in the box, sugary and fresh and delicious. She had smelled them when Teddy waltzed through her door, but hadn’t said a word. Smelling a box of donuts from that distance would have been strange to say the least, and while she was fairly certain that they wouldn’t hold a little strangeness against her, Leila wasn’t in the mood to chance it.

“Have I told you lately that you are the absolute best?” The mare chirped as she took the box and practically danced it over to the counter. Lemon meringue donut first. She plucked it up as if it were the most precious thing in the world before taking a bite and letting the sugary rush akin to dreams crash into her. “God, that is good…”

Leila perched herself up on the counter’s edge, kicking her legs with childlike glee as she happily munched away at her donut. “I do try… otherwise, why would you keep coming in? Consider this an apology for yesterday’s chaos.”

“I could always stand to hear it more.” A kind of sing-songy lilt carried the words from the scrounger at Mt. Clothing. Doing their damndest to act like a miner combing through the valuable ore for the diamonds. Only it seemed the entire pile was rare and shiny goods. Rather than just a few. Really took all the work of going to a thrift store out of it, which was excellent. Teddy liked shopping, sure, but this seemed so much more personal. Like a hug from the store itself. Collaborative.

The demon smiled, turning with a swish as they held up a paisley number that looked straight out of the 70’s. Long and kind of a tunic, kind of a dress. That beautiful androgynous style that the hippies co-opted and went wild with. “This one might be my favorite of the bunch. But they are all perfect” Teddy grinned, this one was absolutely going in regular rotation. Maybe with that little belt and– Oh right. C’mon Jones. Pay attention.

“Well I’d come in for the lovely company and your impeccable taste in music.” Teds laid the clothes down (with a great amount of reverence) and waltzed over to the counter. Draping themselves on their elbows and plucking up one of the other donuts to munch on. “Nah but, you are so sweet. It’s no wonder Metz likes you so much.”

She swore she was in donut heaven. The lemony, fluffy thing she was trying not to cram into her face in three large bites. Leila had always had a bit of a sweet tooth, but ever since her change from life to death, desserts had become a survival mechanism. The sweetness of the sugar was the closest thing in terms of mortal food to a dream. When she couldn’t (or wouldn’t) dine on dreamers, she turned to the nearest candy store or bakery.

Leila raised food-dreamy eyes to look at Teddy, who had found the paisley piece she’d snuck into the middle of the pile. A grin blossomed across her face at their joy. “I thought you might like that one. Plus, it compliments your eyes.”

She damn near choked on the last of her donut at their mention of Metzli. If she were alive, her cheeks might have gone scarlet. The mare could only pray they didn’t start shimmering like a diamond. Leila gave their arm a playful whack and shook her head. “They do not like me, Ted.”

Teddy hummed into their choice of pastry, apple, just like they’d said online. Getting a little of the good good goo on their mustache in the process. A snack for later perhaps? Or just something to be noticed by a good friend. Or as close to one as Teddy really had. There were a number of folks in town Teds considered friends, but that wasn’t like capital F ‘Friends’. Something they weren’t sure they’d ever really achieve. But Leila was lovely, and a pleasure to be around. So they’d enjoy it while it lasted.

“Aww, charmer. With or without the glasses?” With a waggle of their brows, the demon leaned in. Peering over the lenses just enough for their eyes would still look big and brown rather than the strange dark inky color with a bright teal pupil at their center they normally were. Occasionally when the mood struck, they did shift enough to actually hide their more sea-worthy bits. Enough to go out in public and dissuade people from thinking that they had something to keep secret.

“Oh yeah? Survey says otherwise.” They were close enough now for a wink and a nudge. “Trust me, I know these kinds of things. Also in addition to Spanish, French, Ancient Latin, Korean, and a bunch of others, I speak the language of loooove.”

“Both. I am the master of pairing people with clothing for all situations, sweetheart.” She chuckled and wiped at the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. If she wouldn’t look entirely ridiculous, Leila would have immediately snatched up another donut to bite into. Patience, it is a virtue… she heard her mother’s voice chide in her mind in a long ago echo. “Heads up: You’ve got a lil apple, there…” She motioned with her thumb to their mustache.

The mare rolled her eyes and shook her head. Nope, no, impossible. Teddy may have been a master of several languages, even love, but Leila wasn’t someone who got a romantic happy ending. Or even a little romance. She was a nightmare: she fluttered about from place to place in an attempt to preserve herself, and that was that. Metzli called her ‘friend’. That was enough. Besides- she had seen their post. They didn’t want to ruin a friendship, and there was someone they already liked.

“The Survey of Teddy? Total number of surveyors, one?” Leila sighed a little and bowed her head. “They are my friend, and that’s all…” She pushed away the disappointment that followed that statement. “Besides, there’s already someone they’re fond of.”

The apple remained, as it would until the matter at hand had been settled. Teddy rolled back into their shoulders, bobbing with the sudden laughter that overtook them. “Stars in the sky– You two are exactly the same.” Once again, shared in that oldest of tongues. Only a Jones could understand the words, but the tone and exasperated smile were enough to convey the meaning. The giggling fit that shook them soon subsided, leaving a friendly gaze with just a hint of loving judgment.

“Lei, hun, I wouldn’t be bringing this up so much if it wasn’t so obvious. It’s you. You are the one they like. They are just too scared to do anything about it ‘cause they think they’re gonna ruin something somehow. You guys gotta communicate, babe.” Teddy took a finger full of jam and booped Leila on the nose. The bright red mark as clear to Ted as the emotions both the (probably) undead dears ‘tried’ to keep hidden.

“Both of you are so worried about making the first move. You like them don’t you? And I know they like you. Verbal confirmation. Scout’s honor.” Okay so the demon had never been a scout, but Leila didn’t need to know that. “I could set something upppp if you don’t wanna???”

Teddy shook with laughter in a language unknown to her. She felt a bit silly, though she knew their laughter held no malice in it. Just a tiny hint of judgement tinged with friendly love. While it was obvious to Teddy that Metzli was supposedly in love with her, it wasn’t obvious to Leila. She sighed heavily and head drop back to stare at the ceiling.

“Impossible,” she muttered under her breath. Because it was. It simply was. “They only want a friend.” She said, a sad certainty settling over her. “Why in the world would they be inter-“ Teddy booped her nose, promptly shutting her up. The smell of strawberry jam was utterly intoxicating.

Did she like them? As much as she didn’t want to admit it, Leila was slowly coming to the conclusion that Teddy was right. She did like Metzli. At least, probably more than a friend should. “Right, they like me as a friend, Ted.” They had to have misconstrued… right? “What if they go out with me and then don’t like me, and I lose a friend?”

Sometimes, to put some good out in the world you had to work at it. Sow the seeds so you could reap the reward when the harvest came. Other times you had to chip away at a mountain of self doubt and almost willful blindness to something that was clear as the waters in the Bahamas. If Teddy didn't like Leila so much, if Metzli hadn't been to fun to poke around with, maybe they would have lost interest by now. But at this point it was starting to feel like a personal sleight that neither was taking the hint.

"Leila." Teddy straightened up, placed a hand on either of the woman's shoulders and looked her dead in the eyes. "I would not lie to you." To many others, sure, but not her. "So listen to me when I say, Metzli had the exact same worry. Cares about you in the exact same way." Their expression softened, a tinge of concern and the weight of experience giving their smile a more wistful tone. "Even if it's scary, I think it's worth it to try. You are both adults, and I know you aren't the type to leave someone in the dirt just because you aren't compatible like that. You won't lose a friend, I promise."

With a twist and a hop, Teddy joined Leila up on the counter. Grabbing another two donuts and handing one off to her as they took a small nibble out of their own. Marmalade, delicious. "Life is too short to get caught up on the what ifs. Sure, you could play it safe. But don't you think it would eat at you never to know? You deserve that kind of sweetness, Sweets." The demon offered a playful nudge, almost almost admitting they knew something about Leila's lifespan. How it might be longer than normal because of a certain condition. It wasn't too hard to guess that the strange wanderer wasn't exactly human either. It didn't matter if you were immortal, life was still too short. "Plus you two would look just so cute holding hands and kissing. They're like twelve feet taller than you! Metzli would have to swoop you up in their arms, it'd be like a fairytale!" One where the monsters had a chance at love too.

She was very distracted by the strawberry jam that was still on the tip of her nose. Leila quickly swiped it off with her finger and stuck the jam-nose-evidence in her mouth. It was a good distraction from the thoughts that were now barraging her mind due to Teddy’s observations… But a short-lived distraction. Teddy’s hands were on her shoulders and they were looking her dead in the eye as they all but promised all they had said was true. There was a sudden weight in her chest, her heart rising into her throat. They were right. It was scary. A better word was probably terrifying. Absolutely utterly terrifying. The irony was not lost on her that she was a thing made of terror. But being cared for by someone she cared about was so utterly foreign, that Leila feared that despite Teddy’s words, it might not really be true.

The mare’s shoulders drooped a little, the weight of her newfound knowledge pulling her in on herself. And then, just like magic, a donut was hovering in front of her nose like a promise that everything would be alright. A little sweetness in her life. Her. She almost folded and told Teddy why that didn’t make sense. That life was entirely too long for her. That she was a destroyer of sweet dreams. But none of that mattered… what more, Leila knew that none of it mattered to Metzli. Look at the brights, Leila…

A crooked little half smile crept onto her face as she took the donut out of Teddy’s hand. Blackberry. Another favorite. She savored that bite she took, and she swore that for just a moment, it made her feel a flicker of hope. Like maybe telling Metzli what she felt wasn’t such a bad thing. Leila laughed as Teddy continued on, talking about how cute they would look and other things that didn’t seem to matter as much as the truth that Teddy had shared with her. Another bite of blackberry jelly. She would tell Metzli. Soon. When she’d figured out how to say it. And she’d say a prayer to the moon that they might actually feel the same way.

#wickedswriting #amonstrousdream #eldritchaccident #short and sweet

11 notes · View notes

faunandfl0ra · 4 months

Text

@amonstrousdream replied to your post “[pm] Hi! Are you the florist?”:

[pm] Do you do standing orders? Like, if I wanted flowers delivered every few weeks or so, is that something you do? Especially if you had free reign on arrangement style?

[pm] Absolutely. Do you have a budget ? If you want permanently fresh flowers, I would advise once every 10 days with proper care, once a week if you don't want to bother too much.

#amonstrousdream #faun and flora | interactions

3 notes · View notes

mortemoppetere · 1 year

Text

TIMING: late at night. PARTIES: @amonstrousdream & @mortemoppetere SUMMARY: leila has a late night snack at an all you can eat buffet. CONTENT WARNINGS: mentions of parental death, mentions of sibling death, ptsd.

Ravenous was the only word Leila had to describe her current state of being.

She hadn’t fed since the Kurt incident, not really. The idea of going into honey-sweet dreams every single evening and souring them until they were bitter and dark with fear was something that the mare could not bring herself to do. Even when every instinct that had taken hold after her death demanded it. Leila had held off for as long as she could, and now she was paying the price. Everything hurt. Ancient bones and blood-turned-glittering-dust were screaming for a dream to cling to.

She gave in. Eyes closed, and up, up, up into the astral. And she went to hunt a dream.

There was a loud thing that evening. Even if she hadn’t been so hungry, she would have caught a whiff of it. Loud dreams, loud memories, they were like a feast that demanded to be attended. There was a seat waiting for her, and all she had to do was pull up her seat. A guest of dishonor to pull at the weave of their mind until Leila had had her fill, until everything in her no longer cried out for something she could no longer have on her own. She would hate herself tomorrow when she replayed the nightmare she had woven in her mind. But for that evening, when hunger ruled over reason, she would be a monster.

Leila descended, a bit of shadow on a midnight breeze, into the dreams of a stranger.

Slayers didn’t need to sleep quite as much as most people did. It was one of those things that came with the territory, like the night vision and the toxic blood. It was a means of protection, a way of giving them at least some semblance of a fighting chance to make it to forty. Sleep was still necessary, but not as often. And even those limits, Emilio liked to push.

It wasn’t as if it was without reason, of course. Emilio knew what was waiting for him when he closed his eyes. It was the same thing, every time. A cruel time loop, a tape stuck replaying the same scene of a movie over and over and over again.

It wasn’t always exactly the same; things got muddled, sometimes. Changed based on what was happening in his life, where he was. But the feeling was always the same. The white hot dread. The heavy grief. The acidic taste of failure coating his tongue, metallic like blood.

There was the living room, the one from Mexico. Always bigger in his dreams than it had been in reality, as if his subconscious needed a larger space to hold the depth of what had happened here. There was the blood on the walls, the floor, the ceiling. There were corpses on the ground, more than there had been in this room in reality but less than he was probably responsible for. And there, in the middle of it, was a shape so small, so wilted. His heart was in his throat. He was…

He wasn’t alone. It struck him all at once, like a jolt of electricity. He wasn’t alone, and it wasn’t one of the monsters his subconscious usually allotted him. It wasn’t a vampire wearing his face, or Lucio with the knife in his gut, or his own bloody hands. There was someone else here, and they weren’t supposed to be. Wild eyed, Emilio whirled around. “Who’s there? Who the fuck are you?”

Leila could already feel the ache of the hunger that clawed at her starting to vanish as she settled into the stranger’s dream as an unwelcome guest. Sometimes the dreams were not so sweet when she entered them, their own subconscious tormenting them in their sleep. Those were the easiest dreams to settle into when Leila was ravenous simply because she didn’t have to think too much. The fears and pains that she would have to manipulate were already right there at the forefront of their mind. All it took was a little tug at their thoughts and suddenly she was an actor in a ghastly play.

The living room was grotesque. Blood was splattered across every imaginable surface in a room that seemed to be rapidly expanding… make it grow… feel small… It was routine. She would hate herself tomorrow for it, but for now… bodies. Limp limbs in strange angles and… The small one at the center made her feel guilty. More than guilty. Monstrous. But the stranger’s heart was beating so fast, and the fear of the dream rolled off. Hunger vanished, dreams taking and replacing the emptiness that lived inside her.

And then, something else. Something she’d never really experienced before. The dreamer knew she was there.

Quick as anything she became nothing but a shadow in an already murky dreamscape, the scene swirling like ink in water only to replay again, forcing this man closer to the things he wished not to see. I’m sorry, she wanted to say. I’m so sorry, it will be over soon… But dreams felt interminable for those dreaming.

The room reformed itself, the play started back from the beginning, look at the living room, look at the gore, look at the center of this macabre scene.

His heart was pounding in his chest, beating against his ribs like a prisoner beating against the walls of their cell. The room was disappearing, somehow, the walls shrinking around him as the bodies got closer and closer. His foot bumped against Juliana’s head, and it lulled to the side to face him, eyes wide and unseeing and accusatory. Emilio thought he might be sick, taking an unsteady step backwards.

Flora was in the center of the room, getting closer. The wall was at his back now, pushing him closer to her. It was sticky, tacky, and he knew why even if he refused to turn to look at it. “No,” he muttered, pushing back against the wall. “I can’t do it again, goddamn it, I can’t —”

There it was again. That presence, that tingle up his spine that didn’t quite belong. He’d been distracted from it with the changing of the scene, pulled back into the pile of bodies with familiar faces all surrounding that unimaginable thing in the center of the room, but it was there.

He clung to it, a little. This break in the monotony, this strange new aspect of things, this quiet change. It didn’t matter if it was a good thing or a bad one — it only mattered that it was different. It only mattered that it was something that wasn’t that too-small body in the center of the room, only mattered that it might keep him from having to look at it for a second longer. He didn’t care if it was something that wanted to kill him. That was far more preferable than this, any day of the week.

“I know you’re here.” His voice was hoarse, somehow, even though all of this was happening inside his head. “Are you doing this? Why? Para, por favor. Just make it stop.”

As the pain of hunger subsided a bit, it provided a clearer mind for the hungry mare. She hated the moment of clarity that came as she fed, always trying to force her to look and see what monstrosities she had created without abandon. Look for yourself, some hellish part of her begged. See what you’ve done? Make more. More would take Leila’s pain away, but as she watched the man stumble away in the shrinking room that she forced to grow smaller and smaller for just a moment more of sustenance, she wished that she hadn’t entered the dream at all.

The figure at the center was so small, so very small. The dreamer was forced closer still to her little frame, seeming to try to do all they could to look away from the scene. But that was the worst part of dreams. There were no eyes to close, no refuge to take from the story that unfolded in the mind. Look, look, see what you did? See what you couldn’t defend? His fear and grief were too much. Fear was a powerful elixir, one that broke the minds of mortals and fueled creatures of ideas, things that clung to life with a simple emotion.

The little body’s face was more visible now. Leila moved closer, instinct moving her while empathy screamed away in her mind to let the poor dreamer go. They were suffering. Go away. Leila… What she wouldn’t do to give them a dream- a nice peaceful dream where these figures that littered the room were happy, what she wouldn’t pay to let this stranger relive the happiest moment of their life, whatever that might have been.

Leila didn’t like to speak in dreams. The words usually became a part of the dream somehow, twisting and warping themselves into something to fear more in order to feed the mare. But as the shadows closed in around the man and the figure at his feet, she finally spoke. “I’m sorry,” The words were hoarse, hardly more than a whisper, but the voice was not her own. It was several unfamiliar voices joined together in a chorus- voices she did not know, but voices this stranger was all too familiar with. “I’m so sorry…”

The room kept getting smaller and smaller, pushing him further and further towards the center of it. He wondered if it would shrink down until the walls crushed him between them, wondered if the floor would rise up to meet the ceiling and grind him to dust with the rest of the corpses. In a way, he thought it might come as a relief. Physical pain had always been far simpler to deal with than whatever this was now, after all.

There was no avoiding that body in the center of the pile anymore. Emilio didn’t know if the spinning of the room forced him to his knees or if it was his mind that couldn’t handle it anymore. The knees of his jeans quickly soaked through with blood. If he were conscious, this position — him, on his knees in the floor — would have been painful. His bad leg would have been screaming, protesting the weight on it. The fact that it wasn’t served as another clue as to what was happening, but Emilio didn’t need clues. He knew a nightmare when he was in one. That had never been the problem.

He looked at her, at last. Her tiny features warped in death, eyes wide and unseeing just as her mothers had been before. He couldn’t remember if this was what she’d actually looked like, when he found her; grief had such a funny way of twisting things. There were moments of that day that he remembered as clearly as if they’d happened only seconds before, and there were moments he’d lost just as soon as they were over. It didn’t matter much, though, how accurate it was. This was the closest he could ever come to seeing his daughter again either way.

“Flora,” he said quietly, reaching a hand out. He touched her hair, and he didn’t know if the blood was coming from her or from him, only that it was there. He didn’t know if she was still bleeding or if it was all already over, only that he’d failed her. It was all he ever did, these days. Maybe it was all he’d ever done at all.

Everyone’s voices rang out at once in an apology. His mother, his siblings, his nephew, his daughter. They were all distorted, all far away. And the apology was worse, somehow, than the accusations. It hurt more. Flora’s mouth was moving, even as her face remained blank and her eyes remained empty. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It was Lucio’s words in her mouth, he thought. Hadn’t his uncle apologized when Emilio found him? Hadn’t the guilt and the grief said everything that needed saying? It was especially cruel, putting those words in the mouths of the corpses he’d betrayed.

“Stop,” he begged, unsure who he was speaking to. Was the presence he felt real, or had he imagined that, too? “Please. Just make it stop. I can’t look at her anymore.”

Flora…

Leila felt sick, half from gorging on a meal she had not wanted, half from the knowledge of the pain she was causing. The more she ate, the more lucid she became, the more she came face to face with the pain she was causing. Flora, the girl’s name was Flora… She wanted to pull this stranger far away from the gory scene that was playing out in his mind, but the closer the mare got to the man, the more the shadows pulled close and focused on the girl, the blood, the voices that echoed an apology that did nothing. These people were gone, and this man was alone.

The mare knew alone better than most people. In dying and being thrust into an eternal existence, she had outlived everyone she had ever known. She had stayed away from humanity as much as she could. But there was something about being confronted with a dead past that hurt more than anything. While Leila had been the one to die, this stranger was surrounded by death and yet still lived. A survivor in a sea of loss and tragedy.

She did the only thing she knew how to do. Leila pulled the darkness in so close it surrounded the man, wrapping him up in an embrace of nothing. It didn’t make it better. She knew that. Hell, it was a risk to do- the mortal could catch a glimpse of the waking world and she would become nothing but red-hot eyes in an eternal shadow rather than endless dark. But she was careful- so very careful… Slowly the faces of those the man had loved were obscured with shadow until they faded from vision completely. The words she had uttered were still a faint echo in the astral, apologies from long ago from voices long gone.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry… so sorry…

He barely registered the way the light seemed to fade out of the room. Even when the darkness overtook him entirely, it was like it was all still right there. He still saw his daughter’s body laid out in front of him, even when it was too dark to see his hand in front of his face. It was like the bodies were etched into the backs of his eyelids, there no matter what he did. There was no escaping them, no comfort in the darkness that blocked them off from view. Especially not when their voices continued to echo.

“I’m sorry.” His own voice joined the echoing chorus, hoarse and unsteady. “Mija, I’m sorry. I should have…” Should have what? There were a thousand things he should have done, and none of them made any difference now. He should have saved her, he should have stopped this, he should have at least had the decency to die for his sins. He should have done a thousand things, and he’d done none of them. What good would sorry do now?

He leaned forward, no longer able to feel the body or the blood or even the carpet beneath his palms. And was that better, or worse? To exist in a room full of corpses or to float in a black hole so empty that it felt as though you no longer existed at all… which was the real Hell? Emilio let out a shuddering breath, curling into himself. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “Please, just — I’m sorry.”

Many people thought that nightmares vanished in the night once the lights were turned on. That the tricks of the mind were wiped away, to return some other time. Even if the thoughts lingered on for a while, it was just a dream. Just a dream. Leila did not have that luxury. Each dream she fed on, each nightmare she created, they were a part of her. They were etched into her memory like carvings in stone. They were as much a part of her as the fine granules of glimmering dust that pretended to be stagnant blood in her veins.

So when the dreaming man’s mind called out the word Mija into the endless darkness that was Leila trying to reach out to comfort, something broken in her shattered completely.

His daughter. His family. The bodies were painted in crystal clear perfection in her mind, and there they would stay in some morbid archive of dreams that did not belong to her. Filed in a box somewhere in her mind. Tucked away as far as she could. But she’d still fed upon the dream. She’d still fed on that grief… And it was only a piece. Only a little piece, when this man had oceans of pain locked inside of him. Not oceans… planets. Galaxies. Infinite pain.

A gentle, shaking hand made of nothing but smoke brushed over the man’s head as she prayed that this stranger might forgive her. The most comforting that the nightmare could offer. Wake up… Wake up now, just a dream, just a dream… The thought she left behind in his mind was the softest whisper as she wrenched herself away from the dream as quick as she could, tearing herself back through the astral plane and back to safety, lurching back into a corporeal form with a ragged sob.

It should have been a kindness, the waking up. It should have offered some sense of relief, some quiet reprieve. To open your eyes in your own home, to realize that the horrors you’d seen existed only within the confines of your unconscious mind, it was supposed to be a good thing. For Emilio, it felt empty. He opened his eyes, sweat soaking the twisted sheets around him and clinging to the air in the dingy bedroom, the words just a dream echoing through his head, and there was no relief to it. There was no peace. Because it wasn’t. Not really.

The reality hadn’t happened exactly like the dream, of course — there was no echoing chorus of an apology, the bodies hadn’t all been stacked together in one neat little pile, there wasn’t a strange, off putting presence he swore he could feel in the back of his mind — but there was still a reality to it. His daughter’s body was a tangible thing rotting back in Mexico. His wife’s empty, accusatory stare existed in memory as much as it did in dreams. What relief could you really hope to find when your nightmares were things that had already happened to you? Where was the release when your waking life was just as empty as the one that haunted your dreams?

He leaned forward on the bare mattress, putting his head between his knees and breathing in, the ache of it vibrating through his bones. It was just a dream, but it wasn’t. That was the worst part.

After a moment, he got to his feet. The sun wasn’t up yet, wouldn’t be for hours, but he knew there’d be no more sleep tonight. He’d get a drink, he’d have a cigarette. He’d pretend any of it made him less empty than it was.

He’d see if he could convince himself it was just a dream after all.

#amonstrousdream #leila: bad dreams & screaming meemies #wickedswriting #parental death tw #sibling death tw #ptsd tw #s1 writing #season 1

11 notes · View notes