#withink

in a small corner of the dreaming, soft shadows from the slow moving leaves danced across the plains of fiddler’s green. just as they did everyday, day after day. endlessly. peacefully. this was a realm where anything was possible, and one of its many wonders was an always trustworthy friend. there for you when you needed it. comforting and welcoming, warm and serene. gilbert, as he called himself in the waking world– revealed by the former dream vortex rose walker. even beautiful views and clear waters can contain multitudes in the world of dreams. like has been said– anything was possible.

gentle footsteps entered the field at the edge of the dream, muffled slightly by the sweeping tail of a black coat moving in the breeze. the dream lord took care when moving about his kingdom, but especially here. dreams like this were as close to sacred as he would ever be able to make. morpheus dared not disturb or scar that which he created, for it was just as much his job to watch and protect them as it was to keep the order. he would be much more careful now, after lessons learned over the past century. he would watch, he would protect, and he would keep the order– but no longer would he do it to the detriment of those he was meant to look after, mortal or not. he needed to do better, to be better. this was his new beginning, one that he wasn’t quite sure he deserved.

once he reached the tree line the shadows flittered across his features, turning his pale skin to ashy white– like porcelain not touched in lost years, dust gathering as it remained there forgotten and unneeded. in the fleeting moments away from the light, his blue eyes turned black and glittered with the cosmos as they stayed glued to the ground with each step. in his hand, enclosed by a fist, dream of the endless held the entire potential of a new entity– a nightmare that once escaped his grasp, and a mistake he was eager to correct. though alone when he entered, dream was determined to leave fiddler’s green with a new creation by his side. something he had done more times than any could fathom– and yet today he found himself uneasy. nervous. for this was not just any nightmare. this was the corinthian. and there was no room for failure this time around.

dream stopped once he reached the water and the silence surrounded him. slowly he adjusted to the sounds of the forest– the wind rustling through the trees, the water finding its way around the rocks it traveled over, songbirds calling to one another. it was a kind of silence and peace that dream heard too little of. what was the human expression? it was important to stop and smell the roses? he noted that there were no roses here in fiddler’s green, but perhaps that wasn’t the point. dream thought he understood humans but he had been shown that he had much to learn. and much to learn about himself, as well.

after a few moments of reflection he held out his closed fist in front of him, then unclasped his fingers. revealed beneath them was a small skull, balanced on the center of his palm, looking back at him with eyes permanently frozen in a scowl. it was the only thing left after taking apart the corinthian– an unexpected souvenir, curious and strange and unique. morpheus had set it aside, kept safe by lucienne until he was ready to face his failure again. 

“i am sorry for keeping you waiting.” dream spoke in almost a whisper, head tilting slightly as he spoke to the relic in his hand. “but i did not want to bring you back until my intentions were clear. you were a failure, but the fault was my own. and you.. you deserve better than that. we have all changed.” the words briefly caught in his throat, but he continued. “i regret that i did not change sooner. for your sake. and for humanity’s.”

there was a moment of pause, and then dream set the corinthian’s reincarnation into motion. the skull lifted from his palm and a cloud of gold began to form and swirl around it, glittering in the sun like sand and metal, cut through with smoke. the new dream formed from the ground up, and morpheus took a step back as the new corinthian appeared before him.

the entity remained motionless, eyes closed and body still, as dream looked him over. so familiar, yet so new. the beginning of a smile pulled at one corner of dream’s lips, happy with his work.

@withink​​ asked : big ope vibes

"hey, so... like, i know you... sell... out here and stuff, but... do you think we could...? maybe during lunch period, could you eat out here? with me? um..."

chrissy bites her lip, looks away, before huffing out a little breath and looking back up at eddie, features caught somewhere halfway between hopeful and embarrassed.

chrissy doesn’t know why and she doesn’t know how, but suddenly she is free. her body is unbroken, her mind restored, and she runs. she runs away from wherever it is she’d been stuck until she’s in this sick, twisted version of hawkins again and she could cry with how happy it makes her. whatever this is, anything is better than where she was. the ground is hard beneath her feet again, her lungs burning as she pumps her legs, wind (if you can call it that) blowing through her hair. if asked, chrissy wouldn’t be able to tell you if it was chance or choice that brought her to forest hills trailer park, but she stands by the sign, breathing hard, scanning for the place that she died. 

she died in the munsons’ trailer. so why isn’t she afraid? something’s happened here–– the house looks different than she remembers... built upon, and destroyed, in part. she starts to walk towards it when she notices a shape on the ground, not too far away. no, not a shape. a person.

“oh my god.” chrissy starts to run again.

they're curled up on the couch in eddie's trailer, just sitting quietly. the sun warms chrissy's skin and she sidles up closer to her boyfriend–– her boyfriend!–– listening to the soothing thump of his heart. it hadn't been an easy road for them, but they were here now, together and safe. "it's so pretty out," she murmurs, tilting her head to look up at him. "we should go lay in the grass." blue eyes roam his face with affection before lighting up. "i wanna braid flowers in your hair!" before he can say anything, she's sitting up, beaming at him. "please, eddie??"

When she comes to, it’s like Chrissy is swimming through an ocean of tar. Her lungs burn and her head feels thick with fog–– it stinks, reeks like something dead. Until it doesn’t. Until she’s sitting bolt upright on the floor of Eddie’s trailer, sucking in air like it’s the last chance she’ll ever get. More aptly, it’s the first in a long time, but she doesn’t realize. It’s light out now, and no one seems to be home. Not Eddie, not his uncle. The clock in his room reads about 2:45. School should be ending soon. Maybe he’ll come home. Maybe he’ll tell her that the Special K made her pass out and she was too heavy to lift so he had to just leave her on the floor. That wouldn’t be so bad, would it?

Chrissy can’t understand why, but she has a feeling it’s going to be something much, much worse.

The papers say she’s dead. She doesn’t go home, doesn’t want to–– she has to find Eddie. Even if his picture wasn’t splashed next to hers, he’s the obvious suspect. Showing up at a police station alive would be enough to clear his name, she imagines, but she wants to hear everything from him. It’s clear she didn’t just pass out–– if they’d found her body they would know she was alive. And she’s starting to get flashes. Something light a nightmare, dark, blood-soaked... But even in her memory it feels real.

It takes some doing, but Chrissy tracks down a couple members of the Hellfire Club without being noticed. Half terrified, half relieved, they agree not to call the cops and point her toward Reefer Rick’s. She isn’t proud to find that she feels kind of... free. Suddenly there’s no pressure on her; no expectation to be perfect, no fake smiles and barely held-in tears.

There’s only one thing: finding Eddie, learning what happened. For now, at least, there’s no grades or cheer practice or basketball games. For the first time, Chrissy’s life feels like it’s about her.

Reefer Rick’s house seems empty, but she can hear something skittering around in the boathouse nearby. Chrissy flattens a palm against the door and swings it open.