[feverrr]

mark

[Furrydogs12]

Furrydogs12 992378
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Morpheus had lived many lives. He could not remember how many—only that they were all the same, all a repeating echo in the cavern of his mind. Every time he woke, it felt like he was waking again. His eyes fluttered open, and the world around him blinked into existence, just as it always had. There was a familiar hum in the air, a rhythm that pulsed like the ticking of an ancient clock.

Morpheus was not sure when it began. It might have been weeks or centuries ago. Time didn’t matter in the loop that consumed him. What did matter was the waking. The waking was always the same.

The room he found himself in was stark, almost sterile, with high ceilings and smooth, reflective walls. The color was too neutral to be a real color—gray or silver, depending on how one looked at it. The door in front of him was always there, always slightly ajar, waiting. Beyond it, the city stretched like a mechanical beast with no soul, towers rising like jagged teeth, roads winding like veins. The people who moved through it were faceless, their features indistinguishable, their movements synchronized, as if the world itself had become a machine.

He never tried to leave at first. There was no reason to. The door was there, always there, as if it existed simply to mock him. The city, with its hum and pulse, seemed endless, like an old song that played on a record player that had long lost its sheen. But as the years—or was it minutes?—slipped by, Morpheus began to feel it: the weight of repetition.

Something about the cycle gnawed at him. Something about it made him feel like he was watching himself from the outside, as though he was both the actor and the audience. It was a strange sensation. He could recall every detail of his life, yet it was as if none of it was truly his. Every gesture was rehearsed. Every choice was predictable. And every time he turned away from the door, it felt like the city was waiting for him to turn back, to walk out and break free.

But it wasn’t that simple. The cycle had rules. There were moments he could change, minuscule adjustments he could make to feel as though he had control. He could brush his hair differently, drink a glass of water before he left, take a different route to work. But no matter how small, how infinitesimal the difference, everything returned to the starting point: the door, the hum, the same gray city.

And then it happened. For the first time, as he stepped toward the door, something shifted.

Morpheus’ hand, reaching for the cold metal handle, trembled. The door... felt different. The city outside the threshold pulsed in a way that was foreign to him, a discordant note in an otherwise predictable tune. The hum, the rhythm—it was off. There was something, some glitch, some crack in the perfect mirror of repetition. The door swung open before he had even touched it.

Morpheus stepped through.

The world on the other side was not what he expected. Instead of a city, he found himself on a vast plain. The sky was an impossible violet, dotted with swirling clouds of indigo and gold. There were no people here, no structures, no sound except for the wind brushing against the grass. It was a place that felt like a dream, a place that felt alive.

He took a step forward, and the ground beneath him shifted—like it was breathing. His breath caught in his throat. This was new. This was... real.

He could feel it now—the sensation of not being in a cycle, the pulse of a world that could change, that could evolve. The thrill of possibility was intoxicating, and for a moment, he thought he had broken free.

But then, as quickly as the world had shifted, it shifted again.

The ground began to darken, the sky above twisting back into that sterile gray. The air grew heavy. Morpheus’ heart raced. No... no, not again. He turned to the door, which had reappeared behind him, just as it always had, just as it always would. The city was waiting beyond it.

His body stiffened in recognition. The cycle had not ended. It had only altered its shape for a moment.

He closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath. This time, the panic didn’t grip him. This time, he understood. The door, the city, the endless rewind—they weren’t separate from him. They were a part of him. A part of his own mind. His own perceptions, his own dreams and fears and desires had created this loop. It wasn’t the world that trapped him—it was his own mind’s need for resolution, for escape. The cycle had begun because he believed there was a cycle to escape from. And the more he struggled against it, the stronger it became.

Morpheus let out a slow, deliberate exhale. He looked at the door again, but this time, he saw it for what it truly was—not a barrier, but a symbol. A manifestation of his own resistance, his own refusal to accept the truth that there was no escape. There was only the endless journey inward, only the constant rewinding of his own thoughts and perceptions.

He closed his eyes again, but this time, he didn’t look for a way out. Instead, he turned inward, letting the hum of the world fade into the background. He focused on his breath. On his thoughts. On the endless cycles that had built his reality, and the way they crumbled when he stopped fighting them.

For a moment, there was only stillness. The sky above him was not violet or gray. It simply was. The ground did not breathe, nor did it stay still. It simply existed. He wasn’t in a loop anymore, not in the way he had once believed. He was neither prisoner nor liberator. He simply was.

In that stillness, something profound happened. The realization unfurled within him like a flower blooming in the quiet morning. There was no battle to win, no destination to reach. The cycle itself was not a curse, not a prison—it was simply the flow of existence. Every moment was a new beginning, every cycle a new opportunity to experience. The key was not to break free from it, but to embrace it fully, to experience each turn with the clarity of one who understands that there is no "outside" to reach for.

When Morpheus opened his eyes again, the door was gone. The city, the world, the hum—all of it had dissipated, leaving him alone in a quiet expanse.

For the first time in what felt like forever, there was nothing to do but breathe.

He stood there for what seemed like an eternity, yet it was only moments. The sky, the grass, the quiet—everything felt so still, so complete. It was as if the whole universe had taken a breath with him. And then, just as suddenly, the world around him began to change once more. But this time, Morpheus didn’t recoil. He didn’t resist. The cycle began again, but there was no fear in it, no yearning to break free.

Morpheus smiled for the first time in what felt like an age. There was no loop to escape, no world to conquer. There was only the now, unfolding like the petals of a timeless flower, ever-changing, yet always the same.

And in that moment, he understood the truth: the cycle wasn’t his enemy. It was his teacher. And as long as he kept breathing, as long as he kept existing, he would continue to learn from it.

There was no end. No beginning. Only the infinite present, always shifting, always unfolding.

Morpheus no longer sought the door. He no longer needed to leave.
(word cound: 1199)

[FluffyBirdie]

FluffyBirdie - 750079 - Idris


An endlessly repeating world, for what reason?

1143 words, including all unique text (in all paths and the choice text as well) and above text.
loading gif credit

[Griff]

Mark!

[ellyenchanted]

mark

[quiche cat!]

quiche cat! // 430690 // “rayuu”
399 words + 1 art piece

him. the smell of him, the sight of him, the thought of him. the way he acted so nonchalant and unkind, but his pupils would quiver with a feeling so warm, so big and vast, that it seemed almost menacing in its greatness. so great, in fact, that it might engulf her and swallow her whole.
as rayuu stared up into the dark, seductive eyes of the man she had come to know as uuyar, these were the thoughts that came to mind. her heart quivered like a leaf caught in a swift breeze. it almost felt like she’d thought these words before… many, many times. and yet, wasn’t this one of the few times she’d seen this man?
what she was unaware of was that fact that she and him were fated to be lovers in each of her mortal lifetimes, to his immortal lifetime. yet each life she was given, he would deny, deny, deny any feelings that grew for her—in turn, each life she was given, she would try, try, try to disconnect herself from the god.
rayuu knew he yearned for her as much as she for him, but was it not meant to be? why could he not give in to the feelings they each so obviously had?

him. the smell of him, the sight of him, the thought of him. the way he acted so nonchalant and unkind, but his pupils would quiver with a feeling so warm, so big and vast, that it seemed almost menacing in its greatness.
again, unbeknownst to her, rayuu stared up into the dark eyes of uuyar, though this time, she did not know his name. she couldn’t place the strange feeling that bubbled in her chest, like sea foam in a restless ocean.
the man scowled down at her from atop a teetering tree branch. this was where they met each lifetime. they looked at each other for a long time—she, with curiosity, and he, with… hurt? lust? betrayal? a darkness shrouded his beautiful face, and then he was gone.
what they both did not know, was that in each lifetime that she had remembered who he was, rayuu had tried to make it easier to forget him in her next. she never knew why. all she knew was that she existed for…

him. the smell of him, the sight of him, the thought of him.

(art by persimmon @ cs)

[Cheeb]

marking this!! even if i end up being too busy w work to enter, would love to see who wins this gorgeous kalon ~

[Amplify]

username + number: amplify (#426059)
name: nerine
prompt: 400 words + art

Collecting never seemed bad until it was terrible. To anyone else, it was abundantly clear when it became a problem again, with minor inconveniences spiraling into an outright overcrowded space within weeks. The same tells every time: look at this cute thing—, so I’ve been thinking about finally buying—, guess what I just got in the mail? And yet year in year out she finds herself in the same predicament: an overstuffed house needing to be cleared, herself one step away from not throwing away receipts, or containers, or food that isn’t really expired until a few years post its expiration date. She’s never gotten that far, but it runs in her family; she knows this. Her friends know this. Her cousins who it somehow seems to have skipped know this.

But what she hasn’t been ready to accept until now was that she has it. A minor itch beneath the skin, barely noticeable, that she can’t let anything go to waste; her mind plagued by what if I need it, what’s wrong with wanting it. A minor itch that quietly turns into a fire under her skin at the thought of getting rid of anything at all. Just because she has managed to catch herself before buying, keeping, collecting one too many things each year does not mean that she doesn’t have a problem.



“Ooh that’s so cute! Why not? Hmm… What if I need it one day? I can make room for it…”

She doesn’t want to be this way, but in accepting that she is, she has also come to accept that it’s not her fault. Not only that, but it’s not her family’s fault either; it just is. This year when she clears out her home, she’s determined to make changes. She’s signed up for therapy, and reached out to her friends to ask for their help. The weight of this falls on her shoulders, that much she knows, but knowing how easy it is to fall into it she’s asked her friends to be blunt with her. It eases her heart that they’ve known and been friends with her anyway, but she clearly can’t fully hold herself accountable just yet, and she’s ready to listen to them as she wishes she would have sooner. Ultimately, while this isn’t something she can just move on from, she wants to be better, and that’s the first step.

[ 380 + 20 in art = 400 ]

[Ucanthandleme]

Username: Ucanthandleme
Kalon name: Lei
But what if it’s all a dream?

“It’s time for dinner,” he spoke in a gentle voice.
Walking out from the kitchen he held two platefuls of steaming food, placing each down next to each other on the table, he once again entered the kitchen bringing out two cups of water. He kindly pulled out both chairs then sat on his own, scooting in ever so slightly. Lifting his water he took a sip before placing it back down, grabbing his knife and fork he began to eat. Turning his head to the untouched plate next to him he gave a sigh. “I know you don’t like vegetables but please try just a little,” he mumbled, only to be replied with silence. ‘Tsking’ he carried on with eating his food.

The clang of his utensils on the plate was quite noticeable within the deathly silent room, only the sound of the clock on the wall was constant. Tick, tick, tick, the sound seemed to heighten in the quiet room, tick, tick, tick, it got louder and louder in his ears. Abruptly he stood up, his chair scraping along the wooden floor followed by the clattering of his utensils that had been abandoned to the floor. Taking a deep breath he gave a self deprecating smile then picked them up the floor, turning his head, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make such a mess.”

He packed up the dishes on the table, the water in his cup sloshing about with each step. Entering the kitchen he scrapped off the remaining food into the bin then placed the dishes in the sink to wash later. Turning on the tap he watched as the water trickled out, drop by drop it fell onto the plates the sound of impact seemed to be amplified. Putting his hands under the tap he cradled water in his hand then splashed it over his face letting it soak the neckline of his shirt. Composing himself he left and headed to the lounge, letting his weight sink into the couch.

Turning on the tv he flipped through the channels, “Ah look we watched that movie not too long ago, should we watch it again?” Taking the silence as compliance he chose the channel and leaned back further into the soft cushions. The yellow light on the tv illuminated his body casting a shadow into the surrounding. Every once and a while he would chuckle along to the jokes or make snide comments of the bad acting, time seemed to trickle slowly as the movie finally reached its end. Turning it off he stood up patting the imaginary dust from his clothes.

He moved into the bathroom placing toothpaste on both his and others, letting the minty fresh scent envelop his mouth. Giving a quick spit and gargle, he used a damp towel to clean his face then headed to change his clothes. When finished he nestled in the bed a warm glow coming from the lamp beside him. Making himself comfortable he turned the light off and closed his eyes. Darkness took over his vision yet he felt peaceful and calm, he cleared his mind in hopes of falling into slumber quicker.

Yet when he drifted off he had no dreams, only nightmares, his brow creased and a cold sweat dripped down his back, his own nails embedding into his skin. The pain seemed to wake him up as he sat upright gasping for breath. Flicking on the bedside lamp he patted to the side of his reaching for the other. Yet he was met with thin air and nobody lay beside him. “Where are you?”, he whispered into the darkness. No reply came and he became more and more anxious. Scrambling out of bed, his feet placed on the cold floor as he rushed out of the room flicking on every light switch that he saw, “Where are you?”. His voice got louder and louder and movement became more and more erratic, “Where are you?” he screamed into the night.

Slowly the strength drained out of him, his limbs were cold and soft as his knees crumbled to the floor, he mumbled over and over again, ‘where are you’, and no reply came. He looked up into the light on the ceiling his vision slowly became hazy as tears sprinkled down his cheeks. Then he started laughing. A sad, lonely kind of laugh, the desolating and loss very clearly heard. He turned his head to the wall. A small picture frame hung up neatly, and two people framed smiling with great happiness, it seemed as if he saw this photo in his dream, yet it was really a nightmare stained in blood. Yes, he knew all too well, no one had really been there. He had been alone at the dinner table, the food to his side cold from neglect. No answer to the movie choice, the child had hated that movie, he did too. It was him by himself in the house. Going to sleep, waking up he cycle of pretending was over.

He had made them a dream, one he had woken up from, but so wished he didn’t.


If wishes could be granted...

If wishes could be granted, you would wish for more
A childish action, yet I would grant all your wishes
If wishes could be granted, I would give my life for yours
However I know you would still not accept, for the life was not yours
If wishes could be granted, we would be hand in hand
Your eyes would curve up, and smile would be bright
If wishes could be granted, I would show you the world
But only by my side you may see it, I cannot let go
If wishes could be granted, I would hand you my heart
Handed it to you on a platter, you would turn away
If wishes could be granted, I’d hide you by my side
Yet you would gladly stay, no complaint in your heart
If wishes could be granted, we would be eternal together
A selfish thought of my own, I would not care for your opinion
If wishes could be granted, you’d not be a memory
Alive and well by my side, I cannot resurrect the dead

[kaisisles]

hi everyone! thank you so much for waiting, i underestimated the word cap T-T but i was super excited to read all the stories with the help of some outside judges :D

i want to shoutout some of my favorite parts for each entry 😭💖 everyone gets an hm (save for the winner)!

justamindset> "Oh, my little Hankou of the Red River, you'll go far."
aeryn> "...the flowers of death bloomed inside our own home while the poison of greed runs inside our veins"
mirrormask> "...how if life was a painting her hands would surely be stained blue with every wipe of his woeful eyes"
zero.two> this one was all throughout the story- but i loved the bond between vivienne and her second-in-command, strong women pushing through to win a war for their homeland
furrydogs12> i loved the vibe of this world! a monochrome, monotonous city. and the door to a vibrant escape—but it's just the same reality, repackaged.
fluffybirdie> "Do you like the worlds I made? They're beautifully... empty, right?"
quiche cat!> "...a darkness shrouded his beautiful face, and then he was gone." another fated pair! i love the push and pull of their relationship
amplify> "A minor itch that quietly turns into a fire under her skin at the thought of getting rid of anything at all." honestly, i felt this. can't throw anything away because what if you need it later
ucanthandleme> "If wishes could be granted, you’d not be a memory; Alive and well by my side, I cannot resurrect the dead"



i loved reading the worldbuilding and environments you've set up for this kal, and their interactions within it! in the end we agreed that the character who resonates the most with the design should claim it, so congratulations aeryn for winning this kalon! the angel trumpet's colors match them so well, and the poisoner family's endless cycle of destruction was really visually suited to the ominous markings & wine red. guilty of the same crimes, stains that will never wash away, but choosing to cut it off at the stem.

staff kalons don't have RUs but in their place i want to offer my myo slots to mirrormask and furrydogs12's entries so that you can make your characters (or any other design really) real, if you'd like! if you'd want them to be matisse and morpheus, i'm also happy to sketch a loose concept of how i visualize them for you! let me know and i can set up the gift forms right away

thank you guys so much for participating!