#The Sleeping Beauties and Other Stories of Mystery Illness | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

potatoplace · 18 days ago

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So Long, London

Azriel x Archeron!Reader

the 1 (part 1) | betty (part 2)| next part

the 1 masterlist (alt endings) | ACOTAR x reader masterlist

Story Summary: An illness spreads through Velaris, primarily impacting new mothers and their young, and you and your child are not spared. Azriel continues to make questionable choices, even as your life lays in the balance.

Warnings: suicide attempt mentions, illness leading to disability, infidelity, Azriel is as expected for this series...

Words: ~5.6k

Author's Note: So I reaaally wanted to get this out in one part, but I have cute fluffy plans for Reader's future in the Day Court. This should be the last of the full on angst in this ending of 'the 1,' after this installment it should be primarily happy times! Also... Can I just say how sorry I am to Azriel? Because in this series I cannot seem to give him one redeeming quality. He's just a total piece of shit the entire time. Aaaanways. I hope you guys enjoy this part!

18+ only pls

💙🤍💙🤍💙

It was nearly eight months since Nova’s birth when a mysterious illness ravaged Velaris, primarily effecting young children and their mothers.

And you and your precious baby girl were no exception.

Nova had stopped sleeping for longer than an hour, and refusing all solid foods. She was barely taking the milk you tried to ply her with, her tiny mouth refusing to suckle on the bottle you offered her.

You weren’t feeling much better, and by the time you managed to struggle your way to Madja’s clinic, you were on the verge of passing out.

Your mate was nowhere to be found, and no amount of you tugging on the frail bond summoned him to your side, brought him to comfort you and help care for your baby.

You just barely made it inside the door, Madja’s worried face greeting you as she took in your weakened state, the crying babe in your arms, the lack of your mate by your side. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and just before you fell to the floor Madja was able to take Nova from your arms.

When you woke later, your head felt stuffed with cotton, your lungs and throat burning in pain.

It almost felt like the bond was broken again.

“Oh, thank the mother Y/N, you’re awake,” Feyre’s worried voice said, a cool hand running across your forehead.

You cracked your eyes open, squinting at the light above you.

You were back in your room in the River House.

“Nova, is she-” you started to ask, attempting to sit up, but Feyre shushed you and gently pushed you back into the bed.

“Nova is fine, she’s recovering well so far, and she’s even taking soft foods again. You got her here in time,” Feyre said softly, and you let out a relieved breath. Nova is safe. “Madja managed to make a medicine to combat the illness, though it appears to be more effective in children. I was more worried for you, if I’m being honest…”

Feyre’s eyes were watery as she looked down at you, and the situation was so similar to after you had attempted to take your life, the only change being that your other two sisters were missing.

Not for long, though, as your sisters entered the room in the next minute, Nova in their arms.

She looked to be doing so much better than before, her cheeks their normal rosy red and her cute little lips curved up into a smile, which only widened once she saw you, her beautiful hazel eyes growing larger. Her tiny hands reached out for you, wings fluttering as she tried to leave Elain’s arms.

“Can I- is it safe for me to hold her?” You asked, hoping more than ever before that you would be able to. The last time you had held her, she had been so sick, you needed to feel her healthy in your arms again. You pushed yourself up to lay against the headboard, surprised at how tired you were from that action alone. Your lungs and throat felt like they were on fire with each breath, and Feyre quickly gave you a sip of cold water to soothe it.

“I don’t see why not, she won’t be able to get sick again with the medicine still being administered,” Madja’s strong voice said as she entered the room behind your sisters, making her way to your side. Feyre scooted back to give her space to examine you, and Elain quickly placed your precious little girl in your arms.

And everything felt right again, her adorable face staring up at you, hands grabbing at your face. Even as your arms ached from the weight of her, you welcomed it as long as you had her.

Your sweet, guiding light. Your reason for being, ever since you had fallen pregnant.

“Do you know where Azriel is?” You asked quietly as Madja waved her hands over you, examining you with her magic.

You could practically feel the anger radiating off of Nesta at the question, and she snarled, “No. In the night and day that you’ve been unconscious, the stupid bat hasn’t managed to show his face here once. You would think that his mate and child being sick would warrant an appearance from whatever bullshit he’s busy with.”

You sighed, but nodded your head. “It’s alright, I’m sure it’s something important. Nova is the most important thing to him in the world.”

Nesta rolled her eyes and scoffed, but Elain placed a gentle hand on your leg.

“I’m sure you’re right, Y/N. And I’m just so happy that you and Nova are doing better, we were so worried for you,” she said softly, tears in her eyes. “I can’t stand the idea of losing either of you.”

You smiled at Elain. The two of you had gotten nearly as close as you and Feyre in the past two years since… Everything happened, and you were delighted to be her confidant as she pursued the bond with Lucien, loving to hear about how much they actually had in common, including their love for nature.

It was so nice to hear about a happy courtship for you sister, one that you had nothing to be jealous about.

Except… Maybe the way that Lucien looked at her, like she was the sun that his world revolved around.

Azriel had never looked at you like that, not even during the mating frenzy…

You looked back at Nova, her hands now tangled in your hair and a beaming smile on her face, chubby cheeks nearly covering her eyes.

Nova was your sun, that was certain.

“Well, Y/N, I’m going to advise that you stay on bedrest for the next few weeks, I want you to fully recover from this. Your lungs have been damaged by the illness, and I want to prevent any more form happening,” Madja said sternly, leaving no room for argument.

“Damage?” Feyre asked before you could.

Madja sighed. “Yes, I’m afraid there will be long-lasting damage to your lungs, Y/N. You may no longer be able to run, or walk for long distances. You should be able to carry on with most of your everyday tasks,” she added, as if to console you.

“But… I may never be able to run after my daughter?” You pondered quietly, the thought breaking your heart as you looked at her.

“I’m afraid that might be the case. But, once you’re fully recovered from the illness itself, we can start building your stamina up again. I do hope that you’ll be able to play with Nova however you want,” Madja answered, giving a soft smile to your cooing child.

You nodded your head, attempting to process the information. “Will Nova have the same problems?”

“No, the medicine was effective enough to stop any damage from occurring, and you got her here before she was truly in trouble. You did an amazing job of taking care of her, Y/N.”

Tears pricked your eyes at her kind words.

You had kept her safe.

But as you clutched Nova to your chest, your arms started to tire, shaking slightly.

Feyre, eyes tracking your every movement, noticed. “Can I hold my sweet niece?” She asked, and you reluctantly passed her over, though you were grateful for Feyre giving you an out.

“I’ll have you take this medicine once every four hours, and Feyre can charm the clock to ring for you so you can rest as much as you need,” Madja said as she placed a bottle on your nightstand, next to your water glass.

“That won’t be necessary, at least one of us will be with her at all times,” Nesta said, a hand squeezing one of yours. You turned to look at her, and you were surprised to see a hint of a smile on her face as she looked at you.

“Thank you, Nes,” you whispered. “So I just… Lay here?”

“You’re welcome to do anything that doesn’t require you leaving the bed, so anything like reading, knitting, or sewing would be fine, I suppose. Just make sure you get plenty of sleep, alright?” You nodded your head, and Madja gave you a warm smile in return. “Well, I’ll get out of your hair for now, but I’ll be back in a few hours to check on you again."

And then you were left with your sisters and Nova, who was currently playing with Feyre’s necklace, sticking it in her mouth and sucking on the edge of the moon shaped pendant.

“Feyre, has Rhys had any luck finding Azriel?” Elain asked after a few minutes of all of you staring at Nova, each minute more adorable than the last, in your opinion.

“No, Rhys said his mental walls are still impenetrable without hurting him, but he’s doing his best to track him down,” Feyre said quietly.

You knew where he was.

Or, at least, you had a good idea.

Your mate, your husband had a… Habit… Of spending the night at other female’s homes.

Especially since Nova was born.

It had never lasted past the morning, though.

“It’s fine, he’ll show up at some point,” you said with a sad smile, locking your eyes onto Nova. “Could you get in bed with me FeyFey? That way we can cuddle Nova together.”

“Of course, sissy. Nova missed you, even just overnight. She’s such a momma’s girl,” Feyre cooed as she crawled under the covers with you, laying Nova across her chest so she was looking at you. “I hope my little one is as attached to me when they grow up.”

“Oh, you know that will happen FeyFey. There’s no way that little baby won’t absolutely adore you from birth, with how wonderful you are with Nova,” you assured her, bringing a hand up to caress Nova’s face.

“I agree with you, Y/N, you and Rhys will be such perfect parents. Just look at how the both of you are handling your pregnancy so far!” Elain said excitedly, crawling onto the foot of the bed. “And I can only hope that if Lucien and I have children, that I can be as amazing a mother as you are, Y/N. You make it look so easy, and Nova is so perfect.”

You blushed, though it was hardly noticeable with how warm your cheeks already were. “Thank you, ‘Lainey. I know you’ll be a great mother, you always seemed to have the most motherly instincts.”

Elain blushed lightly and rubbed the back of her neck. “Well, it will all start with Lucien and I agreeing to get married and mated fully. But that seems like it’s just around the corner, and I really hope it is. I just know he would be a wonderful father,” she said dreamily.

“Cassian would be good father, I think. Though I’m… Not sure that I would be a suitable mother,” Nesta admitted quietly, crawling under the covers on your other side.

“Oh, nonsense Nes. You’ll be a great mother, too. I didn’t think that I would be the best mother, either, but all it really takes is seeing their face that first time. The first little blink, seeing their eye color, getting to smell that sweet baby smell… Every little moment is so special, you never want it to end. You don’t think you’ll be good at it, Nes, but you will be wonderful. I know you will.”

Nesta leaned into you, her face against your shoulder. You could feel her smile, even as she tried to hide it. “Thank you, munchkin.”

“‘Lainey, get up here. It’s not the same without you snuggled up with us,” you demanded, patting the space next to Feyre.

“Alright, I’m coming,” she said, rolling her eyes as she got under the covers next to Feyre.

Within a few minutes, after taking your medicine and surrounded by your sisters and your sweet Nova next to you, you fell into a deep sleep.

💙🤍💙🤍💙

“Where were you?!”

“I was busy-”

“Oh? With what? What could be more important than your mate and child being sick?! What could be so important you couldn’t answer your High Lord and Lady within an hour?! Let alone twenty four?!”

“They’re sick?!”

“Yes, you fucking imbecile! Why do you think we were constantly trying to reach you?! Why your mate was unconscious?!”

“I don’t know, sometimes she shuts me out-”

“Oh, don’t try that, Azriel. We all know that Y/N is the one who actually cares about the bond, you just saunter around acting like you do while you’re in front of us.”

“Where do you get off talking to me like that?!”

“Where do YOU get off treating our sister like trash?! If you didn’t want the fucking bond, why-”

“Enough! That is enough from the both of you. Y/N can hear you,” Rhys hissed, and the yelling quieted.

“Where were you, Azriel?” Feyre’s voice.

“I got caught up with some surveillance-”

“Oh, don’t bullshit us Az. We all know that you weren’t assigned anything last night, or this morning.” Cassian.

Silence.

“You- oh Cauldron, Azriel. I cannot believe you,” Rhys said, disgust dripping from his words. “Go in there and tell her. Or I will.”

“What?” Nesta asked. You could almost picture her looking between the two of them, a thunderous expression on her face. She always did hate being left in the dark.

You, though… You were in broad daylight, already knowing what Azriel had to tell you.

This would be the first true confirmation you had of his infidelity, though.

The door opened, the soft sound of the knob turning, and the gentle way he shut it behind him.

“Y/N, I…”

“Don’t, Azriel. I know.”

Footsteps, so quiet you could barely hear it. “You… You do?”

You sighed, rubbing at your chest to alleviate the pain that came with breathing. “Of course I do. Do you really think that your subtle? That your Spymaster abilities transfer over to your personal life? Because they never have.”

“Why did you stay?”

Another painful sigh. “Nova. She deserves two parents.” And I’ve held onto the foolish hope that you would one day love me for me.

“I am so, so sorry, Y/N. Really, you have no idea how sorry I am. I have been a horrible, awful mate to you, but I will do better. I will do right by you, I swear.”

You looked away from his hazel eyes, those hazel eyes that you love so much.

Because you love him. You do.

“Okay. Go get Nova and come to bed.”

Azriel blinked at you. “Okay.”

And that was that. Azriel got Nova from Elain in the other room, who had taken her away at the first sign of arguing. He peeled off his jacket and kicked off his shoes, then came under the sheets, snuggling up next to you with Nova on his chest, already fast asleep.

💙🤍💙🤍💙

The next month was spent entirely on bed rest, and still in your room at the River House.

Madja has told you it was fine for you to go back to your and Azriel’s home, but… You felt safer, knowing that your sisters were likely to be around, Feyre especially.

Your twin sister had been… Angered, to say the least, at Azriel’s treatment of you, though you’d calmed her to the point that she was mainly only being passive aggressive to your husband.

But once you were able to walk short distances, and manage a few stairs, you felt you had overstayed your welcome at the River House long enough.

Azriel had carried you home, followed closely by Feyre, carrying Nova in a sling across her chest.

You ached to be able to do that again, to be able to confidently hold your child even while standing.

The one good thing about bedrest? It gave you plenty of time to improve your knitting, sewing, and embroidery skills. Nova now had plenty of clothes for the next three months of growth, all fitted to work around her wings while keeping her as covered as possible.

You had already started on a large chest of clothes for Feyre’s expected child, wanting somehow to repay her for all the grief you had put her through over the past two years. And, it was nice to create something and see all of the joyful possibilities that could come with it.

Not that making clothes for Nova didn’t fulfill that for you too, but… It was more the lack of future that you continued to see with Azriel.

You want Nova to have her father in her life, that was true. Azriel was a wonderful father when he wasn’t busy with work or… Other obligations.

But as a mate…? You were left wanting, and hurt.

He did help you with your recovery, making sure that you got enough movement in every day and pushed yourself just enough to keep making progress.

But three months into you being home…

Azriel didn’t make it back in time for bed.

And you knew that you needed to leave.

Elain had come over the next morning, initially to say goodbye. She and Lucien were officially moving to the Day Court that evening, more than ready to start their life together in the court that Lucien would one day rule.

And so, you came up with your plan. Elain went to fetch Feyre and Nesta quickly, knowing that they would need to be told to make the plan a success.

You were on your bed, Nova in your arms when they arrived, bursting through the door frantically.

“You’re leaving?!” Nesta asked in disbelief.

You just nodded your head, running a soothing hand over Nova’s back.

“What prompted this, sissy?” Feyre asked as she sat down next to you.

You knew that they already knew. Or at least heavily suspected.

“Azriel didn’t come home last night… And I can’t do it anymore. Elain said that Lucien already asked Helion if I could join them when they move back when I first got sick and things were… Up in the air a bit.”

Nesta’s change in demeanor was instantaneous, going from disbelieving to thunderous anger, already prepared to burn your mate alive.

Feyre hugged you tightly and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’m so sorry, sissy. But if this is what you want, I’ll do anything I can to make it happen. Just promise me you’ll come visit at some point? And of course we’ll come visit you and Nova as much as we can manage.”

“Of course, FeyFey, I wouldn’t dream of staying away forever… Just, if Azriel could… Not be over while I am, that would be appreciated.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ll be having a talk with Rhys about possibly banning him from Velaris for all but court duties. I cannot believe that he would do this to you again.”

“Well, we should get packing up the things Azriel won’t notice, Y/N. Just in case he does come home tonight.”

You scoffed quietly. “Unlikely…”

Your sisters helped you pack up most of your and Nova’s clothing, along with all of your crafting supplies. When it became apparent that your mate was out again, tarnishing the bond between you, the four of you quickly finished up, grabbing all of Nova’s favorite things, including the baby blanket that Azriel had painstakingly made for her while you were pregnant.

Nesta stayed behind, having agreed to wait at the town house for Azriel to return, whenever that may be. As disappointed and betrayed as you were by Azriel, you still made her promise to not physically harm him more than a punch to the jaw. Or a kick to the groin.

Feyre winnowed your things first, then Elain, and finally you and Nova, held tightly in your arms as you sped through the fabric of the world for the first time in over two years.

And hopefully the last time, as you had to quickly pass Nova off to Feyre, your lungs on fire from the pressure of winnowing, a long coughing fit overtaking you.

Once you had recovered yourself, you finally had a chance to take in your surroundings.

The hall you had landed in was grand and bright, made of shining marble that reflected the sun's rays beautifully.

In front of you was a male you didn't recognize, but the power rolling off of him in waves and the shine to his skin told you all you needed to know.

Helion, High Lord of Day.

"And you must be Y/N, Elain's sister. Welcome to the Day Court," Helion said warmly as he turned his eyes to you. "And this must be little Nova, Lucien has told me so much about this cutie!"

"Yes, it's lovely to meet you, High Lord. And thank you, truly, for what you've done for us. I... I don't know what I would have done, if not for your generosity."

"Oh, call me Helion, love. And it is no trouble at all, any family of Elain's is family of mine now. Plus... I heard some of what happened, and no person deserves to be treated as you were. I am happy to open my home to you and your little one for as long as you need."

Tears pricked at your eyes against your wishes. "Thank you, Helion."

"Yes Helion, thank you so much for helping our sister out. I am deeply saddened by the fact that I could not provide her with a home where she would be left alone by Azriel," Feyre said, clasping Helion's hands in hers. "And... I know it's a lot to ask, but would you be willing to ban Azriel from your court? I know that as soon as he knows they've left, he'll be out searching for them."

"It would be my pleasure!" Helion replied happily, a bright grin covering his face, radiating happiness like the sun. "I absolutely despise those who do not cherish their loved ones, and if I'm being honest... It would be fun to send him back to the Night Court by the scruff of his neck."

You couldn't help the quiet giggle that left your lips at the mental image you had produced. Nova looked up at you at the sound, her own lips curling up at the edges.

"Well, we should get the three of you settled into your rooms. Feyre, you're welcome to accompany us if you'd like," Helion offered.

Feyre shook her head. "I should be getting back, I still need to explain everything to Rhys. But if it's acceptable, I will visit in the morning and see how the three of you are settling in. Especially you, little Nova," she cooed at your child, who extended her hands to her aunt.

"That would be lovely, Feyre. Send a note ahead of your arrival and I'll make sure there is breakfast waiting for you, or tea if you come a bit later in the morning. Safe travels, High Lady," Helion said. "Oh, and congratulations on your pregnancy! I'll try to keep the news to myself."

Feyre narrowed her eyes playfully at him. "You'd better, High Lord." She turned her eyes to you and Elain, and gave both of you big hugs, and a soft kiss on Nova's forehead. "I'll see the three of you in the morning, alright?"

"We'll see you then, Fey. Winnow safely, okay?" Elain said.

"Oh, I will. Sleep well, and give lots of goodnight kisses to little Nova for me!"

And then she was gone, leaving you in the entrance hall with Helion and Elain.

"Lets get the three of you to your room, hmm? It's been a long night, I'm sure," Helion said softly, and began leading you to your new home for the foreseeable future.

🤍💙🤍💙🤍

Nesta was sat in the darkness of the town house, your former home, stewing in her rage.

How- how had Azriel done this to you again?!

First, you nearly died after he rejected the bond from the overwhelming pain it caused you. And yes, your choice to jump was your own.

But he had promised to you that he would be a good mate. That he would be worthy of you.

Then, you nearly died again while he was nowhere to be found, your child together also gravely ill until Madja had managed to create an effective medicine. And you were permanently harmed by it, barely able to navigate a set of stairs on your own.

And all because he had been out, fucking some other female while he left his mate and child at home during a wave of illness attacking that very population.

To think, you could have been given the help you needed hours earlier, and could possibly have avoided the disability following you now.

And after all that, you had still forgiven him.

You, her sweetest and most caring sister, the one who had never turned her back on any of you. On her.

Nesta knew that she had been an awful person to you, growing up in that rundown shack. And she had ignored you after turning fae, too concerned with her own changed body to bother to apologize to you.

In the time since your fall, Nesta had done her best to do right by you, to be the elder sister that you needed. While she wasn’t the best at comforting others, she was a good listener. She had payed careful attention to you ever since, doing her best to catch any concerning behaviors.

And when you were pregnant with Nova, Nesta had been nearly as protective of you as Azriel, taking the time to walk you to your favorite shops and make sure that you were eating properly.

That should have been her sign that something was wrong.

She should have done something, confronted your bastard of a mate. But there was no changing the past, only the future.

And Nesta would do her damned best at keeping you safe from harm, even a court’s distance away.

And that would start with ripping the Shadowsinger to shreds.

Verbally. You had made her promise to not actually hurt Azriel, beyond a punch to the jaw.

Nesta thought that a punch to the throat would be much more effective. And maybe a knee to the groin.

Just a little something to give him a taste of the pain that you existed in because of his mistakes- if you could even call them that at this point.

No, they seemed to be thought out decisions to betray your trust, to tarnish the bond that he had rejected and forced back to life.

Silver flames threatened to spill from her fingers, ready to burn the male alive, if only she would loose them on him.

Feyre had appeared in the town house about ten minutes after taking you, Elain, and Nova to the Day Court, a soft smile on her face.

“How did it go?”

“Oh, Helion already seems obsessed with Nova, and he was very welcoming to her and Y/N. I think it will be a good change for them. And he agreed to ban Azriel from his court, which solves the possible problem of him tracking them down and trying to force Y/N to come back. I know… I know that she’s serious about this, but she still loves him, even now. I was worried that she might take him back, if he begged enough.”

Nesta scoffed. “Unlikely. The fact that she left without even a note makes me think that she’s done with him, no matter what honeyed words he could try to pour in her ears. The main reasons she stayed after getting sick was to let Nova know her father.”

“I suppose that’s true…” Feyre sighed. “I need to go talk to Rhys, let him know what happened. And honestly, I want to see if he’ll allow me to ban Azriel from Velaris except for his court duties.”

Nesta shook her head, not believing that Rhys would cave to her request. “Good luck with that, Fey.”

“Thanks, Nes. Let me know when the asshole shows up, but I’ll come over as soon as I’m done talking to Rhys.”

“I will.”

Feyre left the house quietly, and Nesta was alone in the darkness once more, rage building a burning fire in her body as she contemplated just what she was going to yell at him.

Five hours later, when the sun had just began to creep over the horizon, the front door opened.

Azriel came into the sitting room, but upon seeing Nesta sitting in the darkness, he stopped in his tracks.

“What are you doing here?”

“I think the better question is where were you?” Nesta hissed, satisfied when a flash of fear crossed the Shadowsinger’s face.

Feyre, he’s here.

I’ll be over in a few minutes.

“I was out in Illyria, making sure there were no wing clippings happening.”

“Liar.”

“Oh? And how would you know, Nesta? Are you might High Lord or Lady? Do you assign me my duties?”

“No. But Feyre had already informed me that you had no work tonight, that you were supposed to spend the week leading up to Nova’s first birthday entirely at home. So. Where were you?”

Azriel’s wings twitched behind him, and he turned his attention to looking for something.

He didn’t find it.

“Where…?” He started, panic flooding his scent. “Where are my mate and child?!” He roared, stomping over to Nesta, who had stood from her place on the couch.

“Somewhere you will never see them again.”

And then Nesta struck, first a knee to his groin, followed up by a satisfying fist to his throat. She relished in the pained noises coming from him, summoning her flames once he had recovered.

“You are lucky that Y/N made me promise not to hurt you more,” Nesta seethed as she backed him into a corner. “You should be ashamed of yourself! Y/N was too kind to take you back, when all you do is hurt her! You never deserved her, you never deserved a mate at ALL! And Nova is lucky to not be raised by such a disgusting person, by someone who only lies and cheats and hurts others.”

Azriel was silent, his head hung low, even as Nesta could scent his rage.

“Azriel.” Rhys’s voice, filled with the authority of a High Lord. “You need to leave. You are no longer welcome in Velaris, except when explicitly allowed.”

Azriel’s head whipped to the front door, where Rhys and Feyre were standing, matching angered expressions on their faces.

“But I-”

“No. You have been given chance after chance to change how you act, how you treat members of this family. And I will not stand for you continuing to live here, even with Y/N and Nova gone,” Feyre snarled. “You can live in the Court of Nightmares or Illyria. But Velaris is no longer your home.”

Azriel’s eyes were wide as he looked between Feyre and Rhys, in disbelief at the situation. “Rhys, you can’t be serious-”

“Deadly. And this is an order from your High Lord and Lady: do not attempt to search for them. Y/N does not want you in her or Nova’s life, and you will respect that. Do you understand?” Rhys asked, but there was only one answer that Azriel could give.

“Yes.” His voice was angry as he gave in to his High Lord’s demand. “Will you at least tell me where they are?” He growled as he glared at the three of them.

“No. You do not get to have any information about them, unless Y/N permits it. You do not deserve to know where they are, what health they are in, anything. Azriel, you disgust me. Y/N has given you so many chances to redeem yourself, but you have disappointed her every time.” Feyre’s voice was deadly calm, but her hatred was bubbling beneath the surface. “My twin has been a saint to you, and you have done nothing but hurt her. The one good thing you have done is give her Nova. And if you ever hurt her again, I will kill you myself.”

Azriel gaped at her, and looked at Rhys.

“You should go. Pack what you want, but by the end of today, you are no longer welcome in Velaris,” Rhys said coldly.

The three of them stayed in the living room as Azriel went upstairs, their ears perking up at the gasp he let out when he saw your shared bedroom, emptied of your effects.

You were gone.

You were really gone.

All of your fabrics and threads, the thimble set that Nesta had gifted you, custom designed just for your birthday last year, the baby blanket that he had made for Nova, all of your clothes- they were all gone.

You had left him!

Surely, you weren’t serious. This was just a ploy to get his attention, to make him take the bond seriously again. His family downstairs must be in on it, just trying to go along with your wishes.

So he packed his bags, taking everything that was vital to him. He went into Nova’s room, where she rarely stayed, but her things were kept, and the pain hit him.

Seeing her room with none of her clothes or toys strewn about, none of the life in it, hurt. It hurt more than seeing that you had left.

He would find you. And he would bring you home.

You and Nova belong with him.

And he would show you that.

General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff @lilah-asteria

the 1 Taglist: @blackgirlmagicforever @historygeekqueen @angelbunny222 @mellowmusings @romantasyreader28

#so long london #betty #the 1 #azriel x archeron!reader #azriel x reader #az x reader #azriel x reader angst #az x reader angst #azriel angst #acotar #acotar fic #acotar fanfic #archeron!reader #angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #tato writes

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gerec · 4 months ago

Note

fairytale style AU? I'm feeling a bit cheesy

There are a lot of great fairy tale aus in this fandom, Anon; here are a few that I hope you enjoy!

The Changeling Prince by Regann

While seeking help to break a magical curse, a soldier named Erik finds himself trying to solve the mystery of a young prince's illness, a task that leads him deeper into the fickle world of the fae than he ever imagined. (Fairytale AU)

Tale As Old As Time by madneto

Charles is a bibliophile living with his stepbrother in a remote village. Erik is a lonely prince with an affliction he doesn't know how to control. Logan is the greatest hunter in the whole world.

Little Blue Riding Hood by Pangea

An extremely serious retelling of Little Red Riding Hood.

Gain Your Freedom by Synekdokee

“Why are you so concerned,” the king asked, voice strained. “You are here against your will. You were gifted to me against your consent. When I die, you shall gain your freedom.”

The Most Powerful Thing in the World by velvetcadence

Charles has been cursed with a pig's nose, and only true love can break the spell.

The Little Polar Bear (East of the Sun and West of the Moon) by kageillusionz

In a Modern, Powered AU, Charles Xavier is a struggling post-graduate student who works part time as a waiter for a catering job. His father once owned the prestigious toy company called The Little Polar Bear, that is until he died in a factory fire and his mother remarried to the Markos who run it to the ground.

As fate will have it, Charles is working the night The Little Polar Bear undergoes a merger with Das Spielwarengeschäft mit der Maus, an overseas toy company that is run by the enigmatic Erik Lehnsherr who always keeps part of his face covered.

This is the story of them falling in love and facing a number of trials and tribulations to stay together. Based loosely from the Norwegian fairytale East of the Sun, West of the Moon and written for Round Two of X-Men Big Bang.

The Sleeping Beauty in the Ivory Tower (- or Erik Lehnsherr is a hopeless romantic) by ximeria

There is a tale, out among the stars, of a sleeping beauty in an ivory tower.

Maze by AuraWhiteFox

The last thing Erik expected to deal with was a child kidnapping King from another dimension. But that’s what happening. When one night became too much and Erik wished his children gone the Goblin King accepted his wish and stole them away.

Faced with a future without his children Erik makes a deal with the King, if he can solve the Maze and make it to the Goblin King’s castle in 12 hours he can have his children back.

If he doesn’t…his children will remain in the Goblin’s hands…as too will Erik.

The Sleeping Prince by Gerec

Erik grew up on tales of the Sleeping Prince, the beautiful boy who slumbers in his castle, waiting for true love's kiss. His stepbrother Sebastian pushes him to go searching for Charles, hoping to wake him and claim a just reward. But when they find the Prince still asleep in his Tower, a simple kiss isn't enough to break the spell...

...so Sebastian suggests they try a little something more.

(A dark, Sleeping Beauty AU).

Erik by jackpack

The Shrek AU nobody asked for. Erik is a mutant living deep in the woods of Genosha, whose land is suddenly invaded by other displaced mutants. Angry, he approaches Lord Stryker, who says that he will only give Erik his land back if he brings him Prince Charles Xavier, the fairest royal in the land and the heir to the Genoshian throne, who has been kept in a tower since his childhood and hidden from the world.

Burn as Blue by ang3lsh1

When the King liberates Prince Erik from the dragon and carries him back to the kingdom, he doesn't realise that Prince Erik feels that he's been kidnapped instead and is determined to make his way back to his dragon.

Love Like Winter by garnettrees (unfinished but amazing and highly recommended!)

"Once, when all the world was green and young, there lived two very different little boys..."

Now these boys have grown, thrust onto a political battlefield filled with long-held grudges and secret motives. Charles has spent the majority of his adult life studying and teaching the finer points of spell casting.

Erik... Erik fights for what is his.

More Than All The World (The Werewolf's Tale) by luninosity

An Erik/Charles story very loosely based on Marie de France’s 12th-century French werewolf tale, in which Erik is the man transformed into a wolf (he’ll get changed back by the end, it’s not that kind of story, though they very definitely do fall in love) and Charles is a king and eventually there’s a happy ending. Also, a villain’s nose gets bitten off.

A Tale of Two Kingdoms by Pangea

The Swan by waitfornight

In 1939 Erik and his sister Ruth are sent to Devonshire, England, during the Kindertransport refugee program to live with Kurt and Sharon Marko as foster children just before the start of World War II. Angry and wishing he could return home on the night of his seventeenth birthday, Erik meets a boy alone in the forest who is cursed to transform each day into a swan, only taking his true form by night.

Swan Lake AU.

Beyond the Brambles by velvetcadence

Erik won't wake up unless Charles kisses him down there. A Sleeping Beauty AU.

The Sleeping Prince by stickmarionette

The King and Queen both came to a violent end, as so many kings and queens of Genosha had before them. A shame, but all tales of this sort need blood to feed them.

As for the Crown Prince, just fifteen years old and full of promise, he fell into a deep sleep from which no method devised by the best healers in Genosha could wake him.

The tale of Erik Lehnsherr and the Sleeping Prince of Genosha.

Till Human Voices Wake Us And We Drown by SharpestScalpel

Charles is a selkie. Erik finds his pelt.

Snow White & Sky Blue by TurtleTotem

In which Mother MacTaggert raises two mutant infants left to die in the forest, Shaw is an evil dwarf, and Erik is a bear. (An XMFC version of the fairy tale "Snow White and Rose Red".)

As They Kept Falling the Way Leaves Do by cm (mumblemutter)

Charles saves Erik.

A Wolf Eats the Sun by SharpestScalpel

For a kink meme prompt:

Charles = red riding hood Erik = the hunter Shaw = the wolf

Can be as vanilla or as smexy as you want given how the red hood in the original parable is supposed to represent a girl's virginity lol

Happily Ever After, My Arse! by ximeria

Fairy Land has had a nice, long run of the show Happily Ever After, but with it gearing up to its 13th season, the previous two years' dwindling viewer numbers mean this might be the last one.

The premise has always been a selection of contestants competing for a happily ever after. No one has ever considered adding a clause specifying that villains can't participate. So what happens when the Master of Magnetism decides to join in on the 'fun'?

The show might turn out to be a total disaster — or a total success if the show’s suffering host, Charles Xavier, manages to come to terms with several things, the pressing one among them being his budding attraction to this impossible man. Not that his co-host, Raven, makes it easy for Charles to stay in denial when she’s in charge of dressing up the contestants.

Add in a tablespoon of Shrek, some How to Train your Dragon and a pinch of Monsters' Inc and your Happily Ever After might just not flambè your arse

#gerec rambles #gerec's fic rec #fic rec #cherik #fairytale au #fairy tale au #long post

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blorbortion · 5 months ago

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happy pride month!

i figured its as good a time as any for me to finally post my gay book recs 😌

theyre overwhelmingly YA as im a young adult and thats what ive been reading, but im widening my horizons, so stay tuned for more mature entries! ill be updating this list as i read more gay lit.

WLW 4 or 5 out of 5 stars

- She Drives Me Crazy by Kelly Quindlen (les/bi, enemies to lovers, sports, set in high school, YA)

- The Falling in Love Montage by Ciara Smyth (great writing, appealing characters and authentic chemistry, i think les/les, YA)

- Not My Problem by Ciara Smyth (also amazing, also les/les, has heavier themes, YA)

- Last Night at the Telegraph Club by Malinda Lo (historical - 1950s, asian american sanfran culture, butch/femme, YA, deserves its popularity. do Not read the spin off its not worth it)

- Cinderella is Dead by Kalynn Bayron (fairytale retelling, feminist focus, les/les, YA)

- This Poison Heart + This Wicked Fate by Kalynn Bayron (urban fantasy, bi/les? i think, poisonous plants, greek mythology, two books, YA)

- How to Excavate a Heart by Jake Maia Arlow (les/les, YA, lots of "reclaimed" slurs, lots of secondhand embarrassment, but if you wanted something seasonal for winter here you go - its not bad!)

- A Spindle Splintered + A Mirror Mended by Alix E. Harrow (fairy tales, lesbian mc, other wlw side characters, fun and short, written for tumblr and its obvious, sometimes depressingly real)

- This Is How You Lose the Time War by Amar El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone (time traveling, enemies to lovers, short chapters, tries to be poetic and sometimes it succeeds sometimes it doesnt)

- Our Wives Under the Sea by Julia Armfield (horrors of the ocean, it doesnt get better - no happy ending, still beautiful though)

- Salt Slow by Julia Armfield (women-focused horror short stories antology, i would call it bisexual moreso than lesbian, definitely worth a read)

- Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe by Fannie Flag (a story that takes decades and focuses on many characters, two of the most prominent are in a same-sex relationship, lovely and bittersweet at times)

- The Well of Loneliness by Radclyffe Hall (set in the early 20th century and quite sad, a very relatable story of a gnc lesbian woman growing up and living as an "invert", looking for her place in the world)

- Affinity by Sarah Waters (historical - late 19th century - mystery, set in a large part in a women's prison, mc suffers from depression, spiritualism is a strong theme)

- Everyone in This Room Will Someday Be Dead by Emily Austin (contemporary litfic about a depressed lesbian with severe anxiety, a tough read if you relate but SO good, and against all odds it has a happy ending)

MLM 4 or 5 out of 5 stars

- If This Gets Out by Sophie Gonzalez and Kale Dietrich (gay/bi?, YA, secret dating, two boysband members, alternating perspectives)

- Boyfriend Material by Alexis Hall (fake dating, cringe but somehow fun when you get into it, very organic writing)

- Red, White & Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston (gay/bi, YA, enemies to lovers, actually fun!, better than the movie^tm, a bit cringe with the ~progressive~ lines and fanficky moments)

- Time to Shine by Rachel Reid (gay/bi, sports romance, there were so many beds and still they chose to sleep in one together, very fun + funny)

- Icebreaker by A. L. Graziadei (bi/gay, rivals to lovers, YA, sports romance, a little internet-y at times, theres a side poly relationship)

- More Happy Than Not by Adam Silvera (NOT a romance, super depressing, a lot of deep homophobia, but also beautiful. i gave it 5/5 on goodreads, YA)

- Masters of Death by Olivie Blake (a fun urban fantasy with a large, found-familyish cast, some slight Harry Potter references and a lot of humor and existential pondering, lovers to strangers to enemies to lovers, bi?/bi)

- All For The Game series by Nora Sakavic (gay/bi m/m, such a guilty pleasure but its SO good, its like a sports anime but 1. the sport is made up 2. its actually gay 3. theres the mafia involved??, very early 2010s with how edgy it is but its worth it i promise. a LOT of trigger warnings though, if its important to you - CHECK THEM BEFOREHAND)

honorable mentions that arent very gay focused but are very good

- If We Were Villains by M.L. Rio (campus novel/dark academia, the m/m is mostly subtext, heavy style of writing but so worth it, shakespeare abound, please read it)

- Graveyard Shift by M.L. Rio (a halloween-y mystery novella about rats, mushrooms, academia and journalism, a Very Slight f/f element but its enough for me to put it here)

- The Raven Cycle by Maggie Stiefvater (YA, fantasy, literally so good, not much of the m/m romance but when it happens it HAPPENS, 5/5 im obsessed with this series)

- The Tusks of Extinction by Ray Nayler (a short sci-fi novel about bringing mammoths back, multiple povs, one of those is focused on a gay couple - which is irrelevant to the story but i loved the book so im using this opportunity to promote it)

- When Among Crows by Veronica Roth (polish folklore inspired urban fantasy, a 3 person found family, very short (160 pages) and reads quickly, if youre polish yourself though be prepared for cringing - language errors abound, a little m/m)

- Several People Are Typing by Calvin Kasulke (a short epistolary novel about a guy with an office job whose soul got sucked into the Slack app. written entirely in Slack messages. VERY funny, quite thought-provoking and at times beautiful! has a small sprinkling of m/m)

less than 4 out of 5 stars but i read them so ill state my opinion anyways

- A Scatter of Light by Malinda Lo (YA, wlw - bi/les, great writing boring story, gnc lesbian compared to a boy later revealed to identify as nonbinary, homophobic slurs "reclaimed", cheating, unfinished sideplots)

- Ash by Malinda Lo (YA, wlw, bi/les i think, fairytales, fantasy, uncomfortable het age gap, moral of the story - love triumphs all)

- The Charm Offensive by Alison Cochrun (YA, mlm, gay/gay?, lots of awkward internet popculture references, slurs, writing mostly fun and engaging but at times felt like an educational PSA)

- The Coldest Touch by Isabel Sterling (YA, wlw, les/bi, marketed as lesbian Twilight - do not be fooled, the author is weird abt race too though, the romance isnt really fleshed out)

- These Violent Delights by Micah Nemerever (mlm, an attempt at dark academia, the start was interesting but then it turned into disgusting fetishization of violence in a gay relationship, written by a tif and you can tell)

- Conversations with Friends by Sally Rooney (the mc is bi and her best friend is a lesbian, the characters are all awful, it kinda felt lesbophobic at times but i dont have proof)

- Hani and Ishu's Guide to Fake Dating by Adiba Jaigirdar (wlw, YA, as you can guess fake dating, also rivals to lovers iirc?, its nice but just didnt catch my attention much)

- A Million to One by Adiba Jaigirdar (wlw, YA, a heist on the Titanic, i dont know why i keep giving this author a chance, you need to suspend your disbelief so much its inadvisable for atheists to read it)

- Honeymoon for One by Rachel Bowdler (winter holiday romance, les/bi ("pan"), lots of grief and conflict and not enough of the romance developing, so many awful mothers??)

- Running With Lions by Julian Winters (YA, mlm bi/gay, the writing isnt that good, a bit of misogyny)

- Don't Want You Like a Best Friend/More Than a Best Friend by Emma R. Alban (victorian era les/les romance, a very light read - dont expect a historical drama, theres a large focus on other m/f pairings. warning: lowkey step-sibling "incest" - read the book description)

- You're the Problem, It's You by Emma R. Alban (sequel to the previous position, victorian era mlm gay/gay romance, dont expect historical accuracy here)

- You're Not Supposed to Die Tonight by Kalynn Bayron (wlw YA slasher horror with supernatural elements, the final girl trope plays a big role, i dont read horror often but this one is not good even though i like the author)

- The Magic Between by Stephanie Hoyt (gay/bi mlm, main character with OCD, an interesting though maybe overdone magic system, overall though just a goofy tumblr romance - nothing special, but good fun)

- The Nightmare Before Kissmas by Sara Raasch (bi/? mlm, holidays with magical royal families, romcom but not a lot of the rom - you can tell the author usually writes fantasy and not romance, fun and silly but nothing amazing)

sekcja polska 🇵🇱

- Noce za nocami i Noce aż po wieczność autorstwa Małgorzaty Wilk (wampiry w Warszawie, pierwsza książka homo m/m druga bi w/m - ale oryginalna parka nadal na pierwszym planie, dużo drugoplanowych postaci lgb i innych par jednopłciowych, nie ma żadnych slurów ani praktycznie nic o trans, lekki i bardzo zabawny styl, bardzo przyjemna dylogia)

- Zanim dojrzeją granaty autorstwa Rene Karabasz (bułgarska powieść o specyficznym stylu, główna bohaterka jest lesbijką i albańską burneszą - zaprzysiężoną dziewicą)

- Pawilon małych ssaków autorstwa Patryka Pufelskiego (pamiętnik geja wyłoniony jako najlepszy w konkursie na pamiętniki osób LGB/T przez co został wydany oddzielnie od reszty, świetnie napisany, bardzo prawdziwy i wzruszający)

- Krew, która nas dzieli autorstwa Edyty Prusinowskiej (główna bohaterka jest bi, jest też istotna postać lesbijki która gra hetero femme fatale ale jest ciekawa, YA, wampiry, fajna lekka lektura, szybko się czyta)

- Córki tamtych wiedźm i Prawdziwe wiedźmy autorstwa Weroniki Łodygi (dylogia wlw, les/les?, middle grade, mało romansu w pierwszej części, Hogwart ale polski i tylko dla dziewczyn, główny wątek rozwija się dość późno)

- Lato w pionierskiej chuście autorstwa Kateriny Silvanovnej i Eleny Malisovej (m/m o gejach na pionierskim obozie w ZSRR, spoko koncept ale słabe wykonanie, diabelsko potrzebuje redakcji)

#my tbr is gigantic but i always welcome more gay lit recs 👀#lgb #c tag #book tag #books #lgbt #bookblr

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mbtiblogfun · 2 years ago

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"The INFP Archetypes"

What makes INFPs different from each other? Well there are many factors. Obviously not all INFPs are the same, and other parts of typology like enneagram, ivs, and socionics do affect this. Some INFPs are also more in tune with their weaker functions (Si and Te) than others. Like the other types, INFPs also have different "archetypes" that are often seen as "general representations" of them. Obviously because mbti is so nuanced and complex, don't fret if you don't identify with any of these! They're very simplified, so not relating doesn’t mean you're not an INFP!

So now let's get into some of the most notable archetypes

1. The Dreamer

The most notable INFP archetype, one could call it "the INFP poster child." The dreamer is a pure, innocent, curious, sensitive, and idealistic INFP. The dreamer looks at the world with wide, starry-eyes, and wears their heart on their sleeve. Usually the dreamer is also very romantic poetic, and/or artistic, and they have a wild imagination. The dreamer sees the good in everyone and might often merge with/be present in tropes like the manic pixie dream girl, or the soft boy. They have a tendency to be portrayed as mysterious or misunderstood.

Examples of the dreamer: Belle (Beauty & the Beast), Aurora (Sleeping Beauty), Amelie, Juliet (Romeo & Juliet), Anne Shirley (Anne of Green Gables), and Celine (Before Trilogy)

2. The Mediator

The mediator shares the same traits as the dreamer (pure, sensitive, kind-hearted, etc.) but plays a different role in the story. Typically the dreamers are protagonists, while mediators usually have secondary roles. The mediator often acts as a voice of reason, to keep the protagonist in touch with their humanity or to just listen whenever someone needs to let it all out. The mediator is typically very quirky and non-conformist. The mediator is empathetic and usually soften-spoken, but they're not afraid to stand up for others or what they believe in.

Examples of the mediator: Silvermist (Tinkerbell), Mantis (MCU), Luna Lovegood (Harry Potter), Ami Mizuno/Sailor Mercury (Sailor Moon), and Lucy Pevensie (Narnia)

3. The Seeker

The seeker, once again, shares the same traits as the other two but has an emphasis on curiosity and imagination. The seeker is not afraid to ponder life's deeper, more complex questions.

As said by @dragonflymage, the seeker often asks themselves questions like

Why do I exist?

Who am I really inside?

How do I fit?

Where do I belong?

They also go on to add this explanation: "A seeker, continuously looking for answers that we never may find, but that we must keep searching for anyway. "

(If you wanna read more from her post I've reblogged it on my page) While they search for these answers, the seeker oftentimes will go on a "hero's journey" in hopes of finding the answer along their quest

Examples of the seeker: Merlin (BBC), Newt Scamander (Fantastic Beasts/HP), Luke Skywalker (Star Wars), Edward Scissorhands, and Frodo (LOTR)

4. The Emotional Villain

As you can see this one is a complete 180 compared to the other three lol. This pattern doesn't exactly have a name, so I just made one up.

Pretty much all INFP villains I've seen are driven by their emotions. Afterall, Fi is our dominant function. The emotional villain is driven by personal reasons and experiences, they're not just evil for the sake of being evil. Typically the emotional villain is very moody, disturbed, and/or unstable. They are usually the direct opposite of their other INFP counterparts: they are selfish, ruthless, and blood-hungry.

Examples of the emotional villain: Wanda Maximoff (MCU), Joker (2019 ver), and Kylo Ren (Star Wars).

5. The Angsty Teen

Another really common portrayal of INFPs in media is the angsty teen. This archetype is pretty self explanatory, an angsty hormonal teenager. The angsty teen often struggles with social anxiety, and/other another mental illness. They also might have trust issues, be really moody, or hurting from unrequited love or some other trauma. The angsty teen often copes through artistic means, like poetry or painting.

I feel the feelings on this archetype are very divided. While a lot of people don't like having that image as a representation of their type, some argue that it's a realistic portrayal of the darker side of being an INFP. I personally feel like the angsty teen represents my inner conflicts, while the dreamer, mediator, and seeker represent my outward behavior most of the time. What are your thoughts?

Examples of the angsty teen: Shinji Ikari (Evangelion), Will Byers (Stranger Things), Cassie Ainsworth (Skins), Kou Mabuchi (Blue Spring Ride), Violet Parr (The Incredibles), Nico di Angelo (Percy Jackson), Charlie Kelmeckis (The Perks of Being a Wallflower), Elio Perlman (Call Me By Your Name), Todd Anderson (Dead Poets Society), Fischl (Genshin Impact), Lydia Deetz (Beetlejuice) and Cry Baby (K-12)

There's plenty more archetypes but I thought I'd just focus on these 5. Also remember that these archetypes don't represent all INFPs as a whole, they’re just like "INFPs in a nutshell."

What are your thoughts? Which archetypes do you relate to? Which one's your favorite? Which one's your least favorite?

#infp personality #infp #mbti types #mbti personalities #mbti #myers briggs #fictionalinfps #fiction #media #mbtiblogfun #infp archetypes #infp relatable #infp media

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caernys · 1 year ago

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i only dream (when i'm lying down)

relationship: spencer reid x reader, romantic pairing (part two)

summary: you're an agent of the violent crimes division of the fbi and you’ve fallen in love with spencer reid.

notes: also posted on my AO3 account, kitkat_katsuki

trigger warnings: vague mention of a dead body, and guns

part one -> part two

spencer reid was an anomaly and he knew it. he was used to being the smartest person in the room, a mysterious kid with an iq that could rival einstein’s– and he loved it. there was a certain rush that came from thinking circles around someone, being able to calculate equations with his mind. there were downsides, of course, but this is how he was put on this earth and he was going to make the best of it.

what was the use of hiding a mind that could remember anything? dumbing himself down to tend to others’s egos and adhere to normal standards? spencer reid was anything but normal, and he knew it.

another anomaly: spencer reid had trouble with women. morgan would tell you that that was anything but an anomaly, but morgan could get a date by handcuffing himself to a table and letting people line up.

contrary to popular belief, spencer reid knows how to talk to women. he knows how to talk to them once he’s comfortable, and then it comes easy, but spencer reid does not get comfortable easy.

he supposes it’s from his horror story of a highschool experience, but everytime he opens his mouth he finds himself on guard, closed off and wary. logically, he knows that there’s an extremely low chance that a random girl he meets at a club with the team will strip him naked and tie him to a flag pole, but he can’t help but worry about it. just a little bit.

the chance is never zero.

(also, he deals with the absolute worst part of humanity for a living, and grabriella kingston and her crazy psychopathic pole tendencies seem to pop up in every third person he meets. he’s allowed to employ a little caution, damn it.)

so when he’s following penelope, who’s tearing out of her apartment and running down the stairs, he can’t help but think about what he’s going to say to the woman on the security feed that penelope had pulled up on her computer.

the women who had shot penelope’s almost-killer, jar of peanut butter cookies in her right hand and a gun in her left, hands steady and eyes cold.

she was beautiful.

spencer had a few issues talking with beautiful women, because beautiful women looked like gabriella kingston, and gabriella kingston lured him to a football field and stripped him naked and tied him to a pole.

and it was exactly because of those ever present issues that the first words he said to you were, “did you know that cows and horses only dream when they sleep lying down?”

[][][][][][][][][][][]

the first thing you did after firing the shot was drop your gun and put your hands in the air. you weren’t stupid enough to keep holding a gun in an fbi building while wearing civilian clothes. your badge was in the back pocket of your jeans, so you slowly moved to set the cookies down and turn around, hands still clasped behind your head.

“there’s a badge in my pocket,” you said, motioning slightly to the left one with an outstretched elbow. “i’m fbi. violent crimes.”

the man behind you, who had pulled a gun from a desk drawer pretty much as soon as you had fired the shot, slowly approached.

“which pocket?”

“left.”

his hand pulled lightly on the edge of the pocket, the cold metal of his gun nosing into the your lower back. you waited while he flipped to your id picture, then flicked the whole thing to the shivering analyst who still looked slightly ill.

he examined it, pecked a few keys on the laptop, and gave a quick, jerky nod to the man. he lowered his gun.

you shifted your weight to your right foot, then solely lowered your hands. the man stepped around from behind you and outstretched his hand. you didn’t take it.

he let it hang there for a few moments before his fingers curled into a slightly exasperated fist and he dropped his arm to his side. his lips pulled slightly down at the corners, and he moved to hook his thumbs in the pockets of his slacks.

“i already know your name, but i’m hotch. you didn’t need to step in back there.”

oh, go to hell.

“yeah.” you step past him, wrap your hands around the jar of peanut butter cookies. your eyes flick over the body laying on the floor. okay— maybe it hadn’t been your finest moment. but for all “hotch” knows, you’d probably just saved his stupid life.

“you just executed a man!” hotch snapped, and you kept moving, not turning around. if he wanted, you could cite the exact bylaw in the fbi regulations that allowed you to take down an armed and clearly crazy man threatening agents inside the building. besides— you’d have to do the paperwork, not him.

you dropped the peanut butter cookies on the nearest flat surface and resolved to text penelope their approximate location as soon as you were downstairs. you took the long way across the room, neatly avoiding the sprawled corpse that was starting to leak on the carpet.

maybe you should stay and clean that up.

hotch was still yelling, and you were still moving. you were halfway out the door and going strong when something collided agasint you.

[][][][][][][][][][][]

the flying object (that you had noted and catalogued while it was still hurtling at the speed of neon colors and boas five feet away) was penelope. you maneuvered her agasint your body and back through the front entrance where she’d come, blocking her view of the body.

there was no need to further upset her.

not that penelope couldn’t handle it, of course— penelope was one of the strongest people you knew. but just becuase she could didn’t mean she had to.

just like you techinically could try austin’s gravy that she had devised from the depths of hell, but you didn’t have to. something which you had made abundantly clear.

the familiar weight of her in your arms was both comforting and refreshing. the assault of colors and the warm hug briefly drew your attention, but you could clearly see dr. spencer reid standing behind her.

spencer reid was your white whale. you say that never having read moby dick and not truly understanding the metaphor, but the sentient was there:

your elusive arch-nemesis.

the little goal that you used to dream of surpassing.

the goal you had surpassed.

the man in the stupid patterned little suit that no self-respecting doctor would wear to a charity ball. (even if it was kind of cute.)

spencer reid.

he’s cute. his fair flops almost frantically around his face, and he has a rather nervous energy around him.

you open your mouth to greet him, but he beats you to the punch:

“did you know that cows and horses only dream when they sleep lying down?”

you can’t help it. you laugh. reid looks minorly crushed for the few seconds it take you to say:

“yeah, i did. but that’s an article from a few years ago, dr. reid. they just published an update with a rather fascinating dissection of the involved rem cycles.”

penelope giggles in your arms and you push them out to examine her. “you okay?”

she looks a little frayed around the edges but nods and leans forward to nip lightly at your mouth. you smile and lean back on your toes, moving subtly out of her reach.

so maybe you wanted to look slightly available for doctor reid. so what?

reid bounces forward eagerly, shoves his fingers out for a handshake, then aborts halfway through and stumbles a little in his haste to return his hand to his pocket.

normally, you would’ve introduced yourself, but the adrenaline rush from the confrontation with the gunman has faded and the restless night you had yesterday is catching up with you.

penelope seems to notice, and starts to guide you to the elevator, looking harshly back at hotch’s cough of protest. spencer waves after you.

“i’ll see you later, then?” he asks, and you look over your shoulder.

“definitely.”

#Spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #no yn #x reader #Spencer reid #im making stuff up again #Spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic

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jenyifer · 3 months ago

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Book List Time!!!

And with that I have 10 give or take books to discuss. Now I’m up to over 30 books since May woooo telling tumblr about each one has been a great motivator so I hope my reviews and list help people out in a non spoiler fun way. Gonna rank these in order I want to reread them.

1. Green Creek the series by TJ Klune 🏳️‍🌈🐺🌶️🌲 Wolfsong Ravensong Heartsong Brothersong I am obsessed. Literally read all four books in 3 days. I have bought physical copies and marked them up. Will make you cry, laugh, and stay in your heart forever. Just……. Go read it. But the quick synopsis is Powerful Humans Wolves Witches have to pay for the sins of their fathers over and over again while maintaining their found family and finding their true soulmates. There is Ace Lesbian non binary rep in here as well.

2. The Warden by Daniel Ford🏳️‍🌈 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩🧙‍♀️❄️🪦truly a fantasy masterpiece the romance isn’t the focus but it’s fucking good. First sapphic book to get a 10/10 for me. About a witch(with a magic system that is interesting surprising) growing up and finding herself a family without sacrificing who she is. I loved her and at first you think ehhh is this going to be boring no definitely not. Was surprising made me laugh and cry. Can’t wait for part 2 cause more of the hot gf in there I hope.

3. A Taste of Gold and Iron by Alexandra Rowland🏳️‍🌈👑⚔️🌶️🌶️ I listened to this book two times in a row I enjoyed it so much. It’s a bodyguard and prince story. The prince’s depiction of depression anxiety panic attacks was so real. The bodyguard is very endearing. The themes of family are strong and interesting. The mystery was easy to solve but I found it rewarding because I wanted the prince to win so badly haha.

4. Spindle Splintered by Alix E Harrow🏳️‍🌈👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👸🏼🥀😢

Short story about a dying girl who has a special interest in sleeping beauty. It does have a…. Debatably Sad ending. I did enjoy it for what it was trying to talk about. I lost a friend when she was too young. I’m glad I read it.

5. Scumbag Villains Self-Saving System series by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu 🏳️‍🌈🚩⚔️😈🕊️🤓🌶️? I’m putting it up this high because besides that scene in chapter 21 that slapped me in the brain I really enjoyed the series. Only Danmei I HAD TO GET THE REST OF THE SERIES IMMEDIATELY Hell I’ve even now written fan fic for the side ship. About a Nerd being put into his favorite love to hate stallion novel (story about a hero who fucks his way to success) but he’s in there as the abusive villain who the hero is destined to kill. The nerd has to save himself and unintentionally builds himself a harem featuring the most red flag the hero who so sololy motivated by the nerd. It’s great easy to read very fun. But 🌶️ scene in book 3 is a definite skip and delete from memory.

6. Case File Compendium Vol 1 by Rou Bao Bu Chi Rou 🏳️‍🌈? 😈🚩🩸🕵️🥼

I did just finish reading this so maybe I’m bias but I really did find it a book I couldn’t put down. I even brought it with me to work to read a chapter during my lunch breaks. Main characters are heavy in their homophobic lifestyles but they kiss and protect each other? True crime and mentally ill characters. MC is has a fatal mental illness that makes him unstable and MIL was his former private doctor. MC is trying to date MIL’s little sister. While getting up to shenanigans they stumble into a corrupt hospital and evil forces are maybe after them?! Idk its exciting fun to read but only if you like 🚩’s

7. The Disabled Tyrant’s Beloved Pet Fish Vol 1 by Xue Shan Fei Hu 🏳️‍🌈🐟👑🎨🖼️ I did genuinely laugh my ass off during reading this book. It was incredibly easy to read I think I finished it in 4 hours. Very cute. I love the inside and outside art. About a nonverbal Prince who has anger issues and his crush on the modern man who is trapped within an ugly little fish. Now yes the Prince is becomes actively in love with the fish. Lucky for us we are stuck in the man who is trapped as the fish’s pov and he is genuinely just trying to get back to his world by obeying the powers that be System’s prompts to go home. Fish is not trying to seduce the Prince or anything. It’s just funny I had a great time with vol 1 probably will read vol 2.

8. So Let Them Burn by Kamilah Cole 🏳️‍🌈👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨🐉🏝️ while having dragons and diverse cast it ultimately falls short of expectations wishing for more depth and clarity. The asexual spectrum representation feels muddled and Jamaican inspired cultural elements are unexplored which is at odds with its rich backdrop that could have enhanced the story. The story’s mystery element lacked cohesion resulting in a frustrating bittersweet ending that suggests a sequel and left me unsatisfied. I won’t read the next book. Won’t suggest it.

9. Faithless Book2 by C L Clark 🏳️‍🌈🚩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩⚔️👑😩 a big let down from book 1 but I’m locked in for life I guess. Luca is back in France navigating a way to get the crown. While Touraine shows up with a priest and Teen to some how get food for her people. Most of the plot feels useless both MC characters are stupid and do no growing. The new teen character was interesting. I disliked the poly romance I didn’t particularly feel comfortable about Touraine and Luca why not add another person in what could go wrong? Luca’s reign as Queen looks to be very bad and you will feel extremely disappointed at the end. I’m going to read the next book but only because I like the characters who didn’t go to France.

10. Self-Made Boys by Anna-Marie McLemore.

I read 90% of this book and I regret it. It’s a trans characters as the leads gay retelling of the great gatsby. I was truly excited to read it I’ve read The Great Gatsby many times. However this book just laughs at the source material. I’m tempted to say maybe the Chat GPT’d the plot and didn’t ask for any over arching themes in the book. I couldn’t do it I’m gonna have to find a better trans representation book in my next set of ten.

DNF’s

Last Night at the Telegraph Club, The Once and Future witches, Gearbreakers, the emperor and the endless palace.

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sanctuary1988 · 6 months ago

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~ Fate's Cruel Hand |9| Gwi

French: /the petals of love/

Pairing: Gwi x fem! noble! Reader

Summary: A heartless vampire falls in love for the first time in centuries of loneliness. Passion, secrets, betrayal and love drown the royal palace. Will your love for Gwi prevail through time or will it wither away like a fallen rose petal? Maybe love was his punishment, maybe love was your salvation. Or wasn't it a curse to you both? Because, who can beat a race against time? Who can love in the dark? Who can love without truth? After all, even the most beautiful flower will wither away and end in ashes of time, remembered only by the one who cherished her the most.

Warnings: strangers to lovers?, fluff, angst, TENSION (again), general vampire stuff, melancholy, mentions of illness, crying, character death, HEAVY ANGST, feelings of grieving and sorrow, power play, secrets, period typical misogyny, age gap (huge), dark romance, conflicting emotions, feelings of lingering and wishing for someone/something, historical! AU, royal! AU?, cannon copilant, (let me know if I missed anything!)

Word Count: 5.1k words

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME & Welcome to chapter 9, darlings! A little treat from me to thank you all for all the love this story I began writing for sheer fun is receiving. Tagging @yumisventingmachine and @my-day6 for their unwavering support for this story. And by @yumisventingmachine wish, I wrote another poem for this chapter as well! Let me know your thoughts in the comments! I'd love to hear from you, loves. Enjoy! 🫶🫶🫶

*A/N: There's a poem I wrote for this story that you'll find in this chapter, I do not allow for it to be used in any other media or to be reposted/translated.

In solitude, I find your voice.

A voice that’s already dead.

My light was consumed by darkness within.

A punishment, a curse that I cannot forgive.

The petal has fallen from the rose.

The nightmare awakened at dawn.

An instinct that comes and goes.

An immense power, yet also my one flaw.

I have killed my heart.

Like poison, my words command.

A demon of temptation,

a monster of damnation.

The echoes of your voice are gone,

I can no longer hear you say my name.

A name from a man that is now dead.

Killed by the claws of my own fate.

With a sigh, you closed the book before you put it aside. Each time you read one of the poems of the mysterious book you grew more and more melancholic. For they were beautiful in their own bittersweet nature. You understood that the author had lost someone or something precious to them. And the thought of it made your heartstrings being pulled cruelly.

It was late at night but you couldn’t sleep. The news of your mother’s illness were still too fresh in your mind. Your heart ached at Gwi’s negation for you to go to her side and be there for her when she needed it the most. Defeated, you stood up, taking up the silver chamberstick at your side, you couldn’t help but observe the intricate design of it. The plate was made with cravings and subtle undulations that resembled a round leaf while the central socket was made into a beautiful rose where the candle stood proudly among the darkness.

You left your room in silence, ignoring the whispers of your soul as they spoke to you about sorrow and grief. The shadows around you seemed to swallow down the only beacon of light you had in your life. You entered the throne room only to find Gwi sitting on the magnificent chair. You bowed down at him, not uttering a word before you continued to walk to the other side of the underground palace, where the library, your sanctuary, was.

“It’s late, petal.”

You stopped in your tracks at the sound of his deep voice resonating across the walls. You gulped, turning slowly to face him while your heart raced within you. His eyes, as dark as the night itself were fixed on you with a mixture of authority and concern in their depths.

“Why are you wandering the halls at this hour?”

You didn’t question why he was up himself. You didn’t question the slight worry that flashed in his eyes, or had it been the candles flickering around him? You didn’t protest about his decision that had crushed your heart.

“I can’t sleep, My Lord. You said I didn’t need permission to visit the library.”

He hated it. He hated how sad your voice sounded. He hated how dull your eyes looked. He hated how cold you had grown to him. And he hated that he had caused all your pain. His expression softened at your words before he stood up and walked towards you, his movements graceful and commanding. Gwi stood in front of you, his presence was both overwhelming but oddly calming as well.

“You have been troubled ever since I refused to let you visit your mother.”

His fingertips lifted your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes that you were so trying to avoid. His touch, that had once sent shivers down your spine, now felt cold against your skin and you missed the warmth that had blossomed between you both before the dreadful letter arrived.

“I know that my decision hurt you, but I will not apologise for it. You belong to me, flower, and I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

“Even if that means breaking my heart?”

Your eyes held a fierceness he had never seen before, the tension rose like a tidal wave. The room spinned with unspoken words that were left to linger in the realm of your thoughts as you lost yourself in his eyes.

“Write to her.”

It sounded more like a command rather than a suggestion. But the softness of his eyes gave him away. His touch left your skin and he straightened back up, towering over your figure with his intimidating gaze.

Gwi avoided your question for he did not want to speak the answer. He looked down at you with a mixture of longing and sorrow that swirled in the depths of his power.

“Words are not compared to one’s presence, My Lord.”

Your answer was said without emotion whatsoever. It lacked your usual happiness, your cheerful tone. Your curiosity. It was flat as it danced through the night.

“But do not deny the comfort they bring. There’s a reason why you are going to the library right now. Write to her, petal. I will see that your letters reach her and I’ll personally hand you her responses. You have my word.”

You looked up at him, searching for any sign that he was deceiving you, that he was making you believe a false truth so that you could move on from your worries and early grief. But you found none. There was not even a spark of lies in his dark eyes. So you sighed to yourself, in either surrender or acceptance you did not know anymore.

You nodded at him, a subtle movement of your head that was enough to calm his heart as it weighed down with guilt for your heartbreak. A heartbreak he knew was necessary. A pain that rooted into the selfish desires of the vampire lord who claimed you as his one and only rose.

You sat in the library, your mind wandering beyond your soul. Gwi watched you as he pretended to read a book, his eyes glancing at you from time to time. Silence drowned the sanctuary of books, the soft scraping of the brush against the paper filled your ears, quieting down the screams from your mind that threatened to pull you down a pit of anxiety.

He watched you write, pour down your heart into the ink and parchment. The rose chamberstick you had carried with yourself rested at the corner of the small desk you were currently working at. The single flame flickered softly and the shadows bathed your beauty in darkness that suited your grey soul.

Time was a foreign concept as you wrote, character after character, emotion after emotion. Word after word until the paper was filled with your handwriting. You sighed, putting the brush aside and waiting for the ink to dry. Your mind was still lost in your own cruel sentiment. Your heart felt heavy within you, was love really such a punishment?

You looked up, your eyes meeting the ones of the vampire lord as he watched you with a certain sorrow in his dark eyes. You could have melted if you weren’t feeling betrayed by him and his decision of keeping you with him.

You broke eye contact, a silent conversation that only you both could understand. A silent testament of pain and regret. A subtle wave of emotions that neither of you were fast enough to grasp. You folded your now dry letter before standing up, your yellow hanbok dress a contrast to your dulled out emotions. With silent steps, you walked to where he sat, his eyes followed your every move until he looked up at you from his sitting position.

“You promised, My Lord. Please make it so that my mother receives this letter.”

Gwi looked at you, his eyes glued to the letter in your hand as you extended your arm to him. Then he looked at your expression, completely ridden of any emotion that had once graced your beauty.

He took the letter from your hold, his fingers brushing yours. With a gentle motion, you bowed down at him before turning around with the intention of returning to the desk and picking up your chamberstick so that you could go back to your room but his hand stopped you as it held yours with a firm yet still gentle grip that sent shivers down your spine. You swallowed, only for then to look back down at your lord and master of the heart.

“You do not love your father at all yet you have an interesting affection for your mother. Why’s that, petal?”

Your hand gripped his subconsciously as the question spoken by his deep voice made you remember things you had long since buried in the depths of your mind.

“Would it make a difference if I told you?”

But he did not answer. Silence was his response. It wouldn’t matter whether you spoke of your burden or not when it came to Gwi’s decision of letting you go and visit your mother. It wouldn’t make a single difference. But his eyes spoke a language of silent compassion that made you sigh to yourself.

“Sit down, flower.”

You obeyed. His murmured order made you act on command as he pulled you softly to the soft cushion next to him and you sat by his side while shadows swallowed the underground palace in its secrets and lies.

“I spent the happiest years of my life with my mother. She taught me many things, even when I was just a mere child, her experience and her love made me survive in the world my father lived in.”

The vampire lord listened to you with his complete attention. His eyes never left your face, even when you broke eye contact and stared into the burning flame of his own chamberstick, lost in your world of memories. He was still holding your hand, and his soft squeeze over your fingers brought you back to reality as you took a deep breath before continuing.

“My father travelled a lot. There were things happening between them, things that I was too young to understand so he took me away from my home when I was twelve. I never saw my mother again.”

“Is that why you hate your father?”

You looked at him as he voiced that question. Your eyes shining with unshed tears at the confession of your soul that you had kept hidden for so many years it felt strange to let go. To speak of the secrecy. Of the past. Of the unchangeable times you had to live through.

“At first, yes. But then I realised he was never a good father to me so I simply did not love him as a daughter is supposed to do.”

It broke his heart to see you so shattered and vulnerable. So sad. For you were his flower, the beacon of light that had suddenly appeared in his life between the darkness he was drowning in. You were his most precious possession, his treasure. And it pained the seemingly heartless vampire to see you suffer like this, more so because your pain rooted to his cruel negation.

“You really miss your mother, don’t you petal?”

A tear slipped down your cheek as you nodded. A lump formed in your throat, killing the words you so wanted to voice out. His other hand lifted in the air, hovering over your cheek as he hesitated for a moment. A second. A second too long before his skin touched yours. Wiping away the tear that slowly rolled down your precious skin.

“Give me a week. Then we’ll go visit her.”

Your eyes lit up at what he said. His words had such power, such command that he was able to either make you sad or give you the world with a couple of sentences. It made your heart skip a beat and your hand squeezed his in gratitude.

“Really? You are not playing with me, are you My Lord?”

Gwi tilted his head to the side, a soft, nearly hidden smirk danced over his lips at your evident change in mood. From sour to sweet. From grey to yellow with just two sentences that left his lips in deep waves of truth.

“I’m not that cruel, sweet flower.”

You smiled. That smile he had secretly missed. That smile that was enough to light up his life. Even when he didn’t voice it out to you. That smile that was your most beautiful jewel.

Ever so subtly you leaned into his touch, his warmth hand cradled your face with such delicacy as if you were going to break.

“Thank you, My Lord. Really, thank you. I can’t express how much this means to me.”

Your words were whispered only for him to hear. The intimacy of the moment grew in your heart like petals that wrapped your soul with feathering touches. His touch lingered on your skin, his hold gentle and almost reverent. He could see the myriad of emotions that swirled in your beautiful (e/c) eyes– the relief, the gratitude and the rekindling of a fragile hope he’d do anything in his power to keep alive.

“Don’t thank me. Just because you serve me doesn’t mean I want to see you sad. Your tears are like poison, flower. They kill the heart of the poet ever so slowly.”

Your heart skipped a beat, losing yourself in his eyes that held so many secrets and so many emotions you couldn’t decipher. So many things were left unsaid. So many things said in silent understanding.

Gwi noticed your change in mood in the next couple of days. You weren’t back to your usual self but his promise gave you hope. Gave you something to hold onto. He watched you with warmer eyes as you poured down his evening tea. The tension as palpable as the robe he subtly fisted as your addictive scent invaded his senses.

“We are leaving tomorrow, petal. Have you packed already?”

His dark murmur made you lift your gaze from the tea you were making, there was a delicate spark in your eyes that had turned emotionless. Grey in its nature.

“Yes, My Lord. I have everything I may need.”

He hummed softly, a dark sound of acknowledgement that made you feel bothered inside at the deepness of it. You handed him his tea and he took a sip, the sweet taste making him sigh softly.

“My tea has turned sweet ever since you came into my life, petal of mine.”

You looked up, surprised at his sudden words that left you both, yearning for more and scared of their true meaning. A meaning you were starting to understand as the silence stretched on between you both. Gwi took another sip before his eyes locked with yours and your heart skipped a beat the moment you met his intense gaze.

“I’m not talking about tea.”

“I know, My Lord.”

He smirked against the cup, sipping the last bit of the sweet beverage as your cheeks dusted in pink at his words and the confirmation you blurted out about your understanding. You didn’t dare say another word because you knew something stupid would be spoken once more. And the vampire lord seemed amused at your flustered state that you could have sworn you heard him chuckle.

“Go and rest, my sweet flower. You’ll need your strength for our journey, we’ll leave at nightfall.”

You bowed down, your eyes meeting his for a split second before you turned around, walking down the steps that led to his throne and across the grand room. Your back towards him as you made your way back to your room.

Gwi watched you go as he held the empty cup of tea in his large hand. The sweet taste lingered on his tongue as he remembered your warm presence. Never has his tea been so sweet. But when he said he wasn’t talking about the tea, he meant it. For the vampire lord referred to his life. A life tainted with power and immortality. Master of the night. Owner of the Crown. Yet drowning in the shadows of his past choices. Darkness was bitter. But your light had sweetened his life in a way he never thought it to be possible. He never allowed it to exist before. But it felt right to have you so close. Almost as if your fates were tangled before he had seen you that day in the gardens. The day he claimed you as his flower among a garden of thorns.

Back in your room, you prepared yourself to sleep, changing your beautiful dress to a comfortable nightgown before you lay in your bedding. A sigh left your lips as you got comfortable, sleep quickly claimed you, stopping the racing thoughts in your mind about your journey tomorrow at dusk.

You were already asleep when Gwi entered your bedroom. His silent steps carried his looming figure across the room before he stood next to you, his eyes, tainted with crimson desire, watched you sleep ever so peacefully. He held your rose-like chamberstick and he couldn’t help but think how it could only belong to you. His flower. His sweet flower. The vampire lord allowed himself that moment of admiration. That single fragment of time of complete lust over your innocent soul, mesmerised by your beauty and enhanced by the nature of your heart.

He returned you the chamberstick before he left you alone as you lived in the land of dreams during his domain at night. The candle extinguished not long after that, leaving you in the darkness of the room while thoughts of you pierced Gwi’s mind without mercy at all.

You waited anxiously for dusk to settle. You sat in a bench at the gardens, the last rays of sun kissed your skin and Gwi couldn’t help but admire your golden beauty from the shadows of his underground palace. You were reading something, he couldn’t tell exactly what it was. The book seemed worn out by time and you were so engrossed in it he almost left you be as you read all by yourself in the last and gentle rays of sun.

But when the sky began darkening you closed the book and stood up, walking back to the underground palace with hurried steps. You walked through the halls, the torches illuminating your beauty as you made your way through the place you now called your home.

Gwi was not in the throne room so you walked directly to your room with haste; you put the book aside before putting on your long cloak that would protect you from the chilly breeze at night. You fixed your hair, arranging your preferred hairpin, the one Gwi gave you, before you walked back to the throne room only to see the vampire lord walking down the hallway opposite from you, his robes moving gracefully with each step he took.

You bowed down at him, approaching him with less quick steps. His eyes never left your figure, feeling how his heart skipped a beat upon seeing you wearing your red hairpin. His gift. His claim over his flower.

“My Lord.”

You greeted, your voice soft and filled with emotions he wasn’t quick enough to grasp as they passed over your eyes in a split second. A second too fast.

“Are you ready, petal?”

You nodded, a small smile dancing over your lips as you both left the underground palace in silent harmony. Gwi watched you from the corner of his eye, how you took two steps while he took one, how you bit nervously at your lower lip, either in desperation or anxiety he couldn’t tell. But despite all that, you were as beautiful as ever. With your dark cloak trailing behind you and the hairpin catching the torches’ light, you appeared next to him as an angel in disguise. Happy after his orders, feeling safe knowing that he was going with you on the long journey back to a place you hadn’t been in years. Back to a place you once called your home.

The sun no longer burned his skin as he stepped outside of the underground palace, the last rays of sun hid behind the mountains and the stars began painting the darkening sky instead. His kingdom began. For he was master of the night. And you, his precious flower, stood next to him.

“Your things are already loaded in the carriage, flower. We’ll arrive tomorrow at night time.”

You stopped walking and he subconsciously mirrored your actions. Your eyes, wide and happy, met his stoic features that softened upon gazing down at you.

“Thank you, My Lord.”

You were looking at him with so much tenderness his heart felt tight in his chest. Decades of living in eternal power only to succumb to you, a beautiful mortal woman that mesmerised a heart he thought to be death, frozen by time and fate.

He sent you a soft smile. Small and rare in his usually dark beauty. The chilly air made your hair fly in delicate strands, you never tied it up. Not like the other women in the palace, you always opted for a half updo, adorning it with beautiful hair pins and jewellery that only made you look more enchanting in his eyes. Perhaps that was one of the reasons he was so mesmerised by you, it was a simple thing to do but you, despite your high status in society, did not abide by its rules.

You bowed to him and only him. And with the small gesture of leaving your hair down, you were different. Just like him. Worthy of your place at his side. As his flower. As his jewel.

His hand grabbed yours, the contact made your breath hitch as your heart skipped a beat. A shiver ran down your spine and you nearly shuddered at the sudden contact. He pulled you with him wordlessly. You were never going to admit it, at least not for now but you loved the feeling of his larger hand around yours. Unknowingly to you, Gwi thought the same thing as he led you through the gardens and to where the carriage was waiting to take you both to your home.

The night was peaceful. There was still some light being reflected from the last rays of the sun and you took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the journey and to be with your mother. You tried to not think too much of the outcome of your visit but the news of her grave illness made your heart sink deeper within your soul every time you thought about it. However, Gwi’s presence next to you grounded your racing thoughts and anxious mind. He remained by your side like a rock to your thunderous life and subconsciously, you squeezed his hand a little bit tighter with that thought.

“My Lord! My Lady!”

A sudden voice interrupted your peace. You tensed ever so subtly but Gwi sensed your change in mood. How the quiet night was shattered as he turned around and you did the same only to see a man walking with hurried steps towards you both.

You swallowed, his hand squeezed yours as the man finally stood in front of you as he panted softly.

“Forgive me, My Lord, but I bring important news.”

“Speak.”

Gwi commanded, his voice lacking the warmth to which he spoke to you and you shivered at the detached sound that came past his lips. The word was spoken so harshly it made you flinch.

“I bring news about your mother, Lady (y/n).”

Your breath hitched in your throat yet you so desperately gripped onto hope. A spark that had bloomed in your soul over the past week. The last straw that kept your heart alive.

“Is she alright? Did she receive my letters?”

You asked, your voice sounded curious above everything else. You have written to your mother for the last week every day. Gwi had promised to send your letters and you trusted in his word. You only hoped this man before you was here to bring you her sweet responses.

“My Lady… your mother passed away last night. My condolences.”

The man bowed down at you in respect. Your heart stopped and your hand went limp in Gwi’s hold. You took a step forward, silently pleading to the messenger to tell you it was false. That your mother was fine. That she was better. That she had written back to you.

“No, it can’t be.”

Your broken whispers tore at the vampire’s heart. Tears welled up in your eyes as you shook your head. It could be real. It couldn’t. You were just going to visit her. You were going to spend the last moments with her. A tightness filled your chest just as a lump began forming in your throat.

“Forgive me, My Lady.”

The pain numbed you. It crashed over you like tidal waves; you weren’t even able to cry despite the need to scream out your agony. You simply turned around without a word.

“Flower, wait.”

But you didn’t. You couldn’t hear him over the sudden ringing in your ears that took hold of you. You didn’t hear Gwi’s voice inside the turmoil of your heart. You didn’t hear anything. Your mind was empty. Blank of any thought. He watched you walk away with a sorrowful expression, your steps were defeated and agonising in a pain he very much understood as well.

“Her Ladyship left a letter, My Lord. For Lady (y/n).”

Gwi turned to look back down at the messenger with silent urgency, his mind screaming at him to go back to you. To comfort you. As a guilt he had never felt before gnawed at his heart. A heart he once claimed to be dead. The vampire lord snatched the letter from the messenger’s hold before he was walking back to the underground palace, his steps in a hurry as he grieved with you.

It wasn’t until you arrived at your room that you finally crumbled. Falling to your knees as a heartbreaking sob escaped your lips. The tears rolled down your cheeks like endless rivers of pain you could no longer contain and you cried. You grieved. You screamed. You died as well as the hope in your heart, extinguishing like a flame at night. Drowning in sorrow as your sobs filled the once happy room.

The petals from the cherry blossom fell over you like a constant reminder of how life goes on. How time will never stop. And the tears came harder, like arrows that pierced your heart; merciless in their nature and poisonous in the darkness that was your pain.

Your heart broke, your chest hurt. How come grief could hurt so much? How could you endure such an amount of cruel pain? How were you meant to go on? There were so many things left unsaid, so many emotions that lingered in the air. So much time that was stolen by fate’s cruel hand.

A sudden presence made you look up, the tears did not stop falling. Gwi knelt next to you, his eyes mirroring your sorrow as your lip trembled. You felt crushed, betrayed. You felt dead.

“She’s gone.”

His hand cradled your cheek with a tenderness that made more tears spill from your beautiful eyes. Your whisper held so much pain within the words that it felt as if you had made him swallow poison coming from the roots of your own thorns.

“I know, petal. I know.”

Your eyes closed as you welcomed the pain as if it had always existed. You felt robbed by fate, stolen of memories you were meant to have. And the next second, he embraced you. Pressing you against his chest and you clung to his robes in desperation. He shushed you, his big hand cradling the back of your head as you mourned for your mother, for a life you were robbed of, for the opportunity of seeing her again and the memories that were now alive only in your mind.

Every sob and cry that escaped your lips pained him profusely. Never in his astonishingly long life had Gwi ever felt such pain. Such worry over a mortal human before. Making your pain his own. Your sadness was his sadness. And your grief was his to embrace as well.

He didn’t say anything. There were no words that could offer you even an ounce of comfort. So he just held you. He pressed you against him, making your sorrow melt his frozen heart. You buried your face in his chest, seeking comfort in his embrace as his arms grounded your screaming and guilty mind. Your broken heart. Your dead touch. He grounded you. He offered you comfort. Perhaps there were no words that could ease your pain but his presence was enough.

If anyone had seen the mighty vampire lord embracing you in your grief they would have fainted from the shock. Because after decades of suppressing his emotions and hiding behind his cold facade, he showed sparks of life in his broken soul. But that revelation was only for your eyes to feel and for your hands to touch. It was you who wrapped his heart in your petals of love. It was you who revived his dead soul.

And even in your heartbroken state, it was him whom you clung to. Him whose comfort was enough to keep you in this headspace. You fisted his robes, crying and whimpering as the pain only intensified.

“It’s okay. Just cry, my flower. Cry, it’s alright.”

And you did that. You held onto his words. You allowed your sadness to spill in the form of your pearls of pain. You cried. You cried until there were no tears to spill. You cried until your soul was empty and only Gwi held you through the darkness that fell upon you by fate’s cruel hand.

In solitude, I find your voice.

A voice that’s already dead.

My light was consumed by darkness within.

A punishment, a curse that I cannot forgive.

The petal has fallen from the rose.

The nightmare awakened at dawn.

An instinct that comes and goes.

An immense power, yet also my one flaw.

I have killed my heart.

Like poison, my words command.

A demon of temptation,

a monster of damnation.

The echoes of your voice are gone,

I can no longer hear you say my name.

A name from a man that is now dead.

Killed by the claws of my own fate.

May/28/2024

A/N: Thoughts? O.O

My inbox is open, darlings! Or feel free to leave a comment! I'd love to hear your thoughts and inputs for the story! Take care, everyone 🫶

~ Masterpost

#sanctuary1988 #lee soo hyuk #kdrama #kdrama series #the scholar who walks the night #gwi #kactor #gwi x reader fluff #gwi x reader #gwi x reader angst #scholar who walks the night #lee soo hyuk characters #vampire #korean drama #korean actor #les pétals d'amour #vampire gwi

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saintsenara · 10 months ago

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sirius black/severus snape explicit read from the beginning here masterpost | chapter summary | moodboard

chapter one: enif

in this chapter, despite everything in his body telling him that he should, sirius black does not go to the department of mysteries.

this decision will, unsurprisingly, have consequences.

more notes under the cut

i was asked by @ashesandhackles about all the blood in this chapter, so that seems like a very good place to start.

blood is - on the one hand - a metaphor for the social context sirius has always existed in. the wizarding world is obsessed with class, heredity, and lineage; sirius spent his youth trying to escape those forces but now finds himself shoved back into his childhood home, made to confront the fact that half of his blood relatives are on the opposing side and compelled to endure his mother’s portrait constantly reminding him that she considers his decision to turn his back on her and his father’s blood-supremacy to be an aberration against nature.

but the blood also serves a more literal role in this story - it shows that sirius’ body is a wreck.

both the canon text and many fan-fiction portrayals of sirius deal sensitively with his mental state during order of the phoenix - with his obvious depression, with his alcohol abuse, with the trauma he carries from azkaban, and so on - but it seems, in my experience, that far less space has been given to thinking about the ruinous physical trauma he must live with after twelve years in prison. all too often, sirius is written as someone who's struggling profoundly mentally, but is still healthy [and really, really hot] while he does it.

partially, i think this can be explained by the fact that the series generally doesn’t care very much about physical illness or disability - all injuries are easily healed; all damage or disability is rendered obsolete by magic. it prefers to focus on the impact of injury or illness on cognitive function - which it understands to connect to magical ability - and it sets up azkaban as something which primarily impacts the cognitive state of its inmates, rendering them unable to exist as functioning witches and wizards because their thoughts are so disturbed, as sirius himself tells us in goblet of fire:

‘He was screaming for his mother by nightfall. He went quiet after a few days, though… they all went quiet in the end… except when they shrieked in their sleep.’

but the prison is also located in the middle of a freezing ocean and canonically poorly maintained. the prisoners are clearly starved - both sirius and bellatrix are described as “gaunt” after their escape - and can be presumed to be sleep-deprived, denied access to healthcare, and plausibly subject to violence and mistreatment at the hands of the prison’s staff [both dementor and human]. these experiences have an undeniable impact on the mental state, but they also have a physical one - and the fact that sirius can be meaningfully described as chronically ill following his captivity [and how much he loathes being thought of as an invalid and why] is one of the key themes of this story.

although what, exactly, is wrong with his leg remains to be seen…

thinking about sirius’ body leads into another theme which will be important throughout the war of the roses: the twin states of beauty and disgust. sirius’ internal voice in this chapter focuses a lot on the aspects of embodiment which many people consider distasteful - shit, piss, blood, sweat - and which he connects mentally with the loss of the great physical beauty which made life so easy for him in his youth [something which even harry, who’s otherwise ready to go with a powerpoint presentation on how fit sirius is at any given moment, concedes during the series].

this symbiotic loss is present in other aspects of his life - grimmauld place is now filthy, bloody, and decaying, where it was once opulent - but one thing which i really wanted to draw out when writing this chapter was the fact that sirius becoming less physically beautiful transforms his relationship with snape. i see a lot in fan-fiction portrayals of snape the idea that he isn’t actually anywhere near as ugly as harry canonically claims - and i think that’s completely plausible; harry’s a bitchy teen boy after all - but i wanted to play with reversing this trope: snape’s just as ugly as harry thinks he is, but sirius is ugly too...

and so to our main lads, our central pairing - sirius and snape. this opening chapter was a great chance for me to indulge one of my favourite things about snape and sirius’ canon characterisation: that they’re absolutely fucking obsessed with each other. their mutual childish sniping throughout order of the phoenix [snape going out of his way to mock sirius about cleaning the house! literally everything which happens in that occlumency scene!] gives me energy, and clearly reflects the continuation of a dynamic they’ve had since childhood [sirius seems to do an awful lot of noticing snape in the flashbacks we see of them as teens].

i know that many fans have strong feelings - in either direction - when it comes to how snape’s treatment at the marauders’ hands should be understood. but something i think is worth noting is that snape canonically appears to be considerably less distressed by the memory of his teenage relationship with sirius than he does with the memory of either lupin or james. indeed, while he seems to be genuinely afraid of lupin - and to do as much as he can to avoid being alone with him - snape goes out of his way to antagonise sirius, in ways which suggest that he derives some sort of satisfaction out of getting his attention, even if that attention is negative.

no wonder, then, that the two of them fighting is so sexually charged…

i also wanted to set out another theme which will play a big part in how sirius and snape’s relationship will be written in this story: that the two of them are willing to speak the truth about each other.

when i re-read order of the phoenix in advance of writing this story, i was really struck by sirius complaining to harry that snape needles him about being under house arrest:

‘Oh yeah,’ said Sirius sarcastically. ‘Listening to Snape’s reports, having to take all his snide hints that he’s out there risking his life while I’m sat on my backside here having a nice comfortable time… asking me how the cleaning’s going -’

which harry later uses as a way to blame snape for sirius’ death when shouting at dumbledore.

but the thing that stands out to me is that snape… is right. sirius is useless to the reformed order [in fact, his membership of the group does nothing but make kingsley’s high-value position as a ministry-based spy all the more dangerous - although i love him misleading the investigation into sirius’ whereabouts in transparently ridiculous ways], but snape - and fred weasley - are the only people who are willing to confront that reality [dumbledore’s refusal to acknowledge sirius’ feelings of redundancy is something we will get into]. while neither of them are capable of communicating this effectively [yet!], i do think it’s important that snape’s refusal to pretend that sirius is doing something significant for the order is something sirius respects. deep down at least.

and i also think it’s important that snape is one of the only people - apart from harry and, it seems, voldemort - who understands that sirius’ sense of uselessness has the potential to boil over into pure recklessness [voldemort must select sirius as the star of his false vision not only because he knows that harry would risk everything to get him to safety, but because he also knows that harry would see sirius tied up in the department of mysteries and think ‘yep. he’s left the house and been captured. that’s plausible.’]. i wanted snape to be genuinely surprised to arrive in grimmauld place and discover that sirius hasn’t gone to the ministry, and for this to be the trigger for him snapping when sirius does try to run into battle with the rest of the order and telling him to stay put for harry’s own good.

this is the part of this author’s note where i reveal that this is not going to be a story which accepts uncritically that sirius is a good godfather to harry. i completely understand why the trope of sirius being the model of a father-figure is compelling to fans - and i have no interest at all in the nIcE oNe JaMeS manchild characterisation of sirius in the films [although i do of course think that sirius fails to appreciate that harry is rather less bullish about what he’s facing than james] - but i think that writing sirius as someone who’s fanatically devoted to harry’s welfare, always makes the most parenting-expert-approved decision in any situation, and is demonstrably the adult in their interactions is… kind of uninteresting.

after all, even though he suggests that maybe they should, sirius doesn’t actually tell harry about the prophecy once his fellow order members overrule him. sirius clearly accepts dumbledore’s explanation for why harry needs to stay at the dursleys’, and recognises that harry miserable experience there - particularly the summer after voldemort’s return, when he’s subjected to an information blackout by the order - is [if you’ll pardon the expression] for the greater good. sirius is remarkably dismissive of harry’s fear that he’s being possessed by voldemort after he witnesses nagini attack arthur weasley. and sirius clearly regards harry’s attempts to protect him as patronising, rather than recognising that his godson would prefer him to remain alive rather than get up to hijinks.

in fact, it’s very striking in canon that sirius’ clear self-destructive streak is a major barrier to his relationship with harry, especially in order of the phoenix. this is the cause of the belief he expresses in this chapter that his purpose as an order member is to die for harry - and, indeed, that this is something explicitly requested of him by james. one of the lines which i think about all the time - a line which will become a key theme in this story - is sirius to wormtail in prisoner of azkaban:

‘Then you should have died! ... Died rather than betray your friends, as we would have done for you!’

because, on the one hand, sirius is completely right. but, on the other, there is a rigidity to him - a belief that dying nobly for a cause is the only reasonable course of action. snape says the quiet part out loud in this chapter - that sirius cannot simultaneously believe that his only concern is protecting harry and refuse to recognise that protecting harry means getting this reckless streak under control; and that sirius has seen before that acting first and asking questions later results in a potter he loves dying.

although, this being said, snape also just wanted to have a fight, partially because it’s hot to punch your rival in the face, but also because his defaulting to physical violence is another manifestation of the fundamental honesty which defines his character. in canon, magical violence is notable for how hands-off it largely is - it requires emotional heft, but no apparent physical power; the vast majority of curses we meet appear to leave no physical traces - and for how it therefore allows the perpetrator to distance themselves from the reality of their violence. there are some exceptions - above all sectumsempra, which clearly requires the perpetrator to feel profound rage [for enemies] but which actually registers that rage on the body.

the same effect can be achieved by snape decking sirius.

alongside the humans of this story, in this chapter we meet a bricks-and-mortar character who will play a big role as the war of the roses continues: number twelve grimmauld place. canonically, this is ten different gothic literature tropes in a trenchcoat, but one which has a huge fanon presence is the idea that the house is literally sentient. i don’t love this - mostly because it’s usually accompanied by lots of pro-aristocracy nonsense - but i do like the house being perceived as sentient by sirius' disturbed mind.

i also like the canonical portrayal of grimmauld place as a metaphor for azkaban - untouched by the happiness of the muggles in the outside world, freezing despite the hot weather; a place in which - as harry says - sirius is literally locked up against his will.

but i also like the fact that, canonically, grimmauld place is a domestic space as well. the order live and eat and hang out together in a quasi-familial way, and the contrast between sirius’ experience of this rag-tag found family and his experience of eating with his actual family will come up again…

this chapter also hints at some of the relationships which will be explored in more detail as this story continues. some of these are from sirius’ past - his relationship with his parents, with regulus, with bellatrix, with kreacher, with the malfoys and lestranges - and some are from his present - his relationship with lupin; his relationship with wormtail, who has escaped him; his relationship with moody, with kingsley, with tonks, with the weasleys, with ron and hermione, and so on.

but one relationship i want to mention now is sirius and buckbeak - i just love these two comrades-in-arms! i love in canon that buckbeak is the first creature harry feels able to uncomplicatedly confess to missing sirius to! i love that sirius’ care for buckbeak contributes to his death in canon, and to his survival here! i love how he spends so much time with buckbeak in order of the phoenix, as his depression worsens, and clearly finds comfort with him; and i like the idea that buckbeak would shed his wildness and dangerousness when around sirius in recognition of sirius’ love for him.

my heart!

#asenora fics #starprince #snirius #sirius black #severus snape #the war of the roses #twotr author's notes

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luxe-pauvre · 6 months ago

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The psychiatrist Laurence Kirmayer uses the concept of looping to consider how complex illness behaviour can emerge and then become amplified over time. In Kirmayer’s words, ‘the ways that we narrate our experience influence our interactions with others in the social world and this, in turn, reshapes our experience.’ [...] Functional neurological and psychosomatic disorders are often a manifestation of a maladaptive response to the mistakes made by the human system of perception. The brain can only express itself through the body and can only learn through the body’s interaction with its environment. We develop by trying things out and responding, seeing how that works out and then doing it all again based on what was gleaned from the first try. Our brains are so clever, we don’t even know what they are up to. The signals that bombard us are so complex and tricky, they are very hard to read. I am more surprised that we get it right so often and continue to learn than I am by the times we get it wrong.

Suzanne O’Sullivan, The Sleeping Beauties and Other Stories of Mystery Illness

#Suzanne O’Sullivan #The Sleeping Beauties and Other Stories of Mystery Illness

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from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras · 1 year ago

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Tolkien Family Week, Day 4: Cut Ties (aka Éomer and Théodred trauma bond)

The Day 4 @tolkienfamilyweek prompt of “cut ties” covers everything from disagreements to separation and death. I went with death in order to revisit one of Rohan’s biggest tragedies, the death of Théodred. I absolutely love Théodred and have built up a fair amount of head canon about him, though you don’t need to know any of that for this story.

My inspiration here was Théodred’s last words as he lay dying by the Isen (as recorded in Unfinished Tales): “Let me lie here to keep the ford until Éomer comes.” There’s obviously a practical take on that line–he wants to hold his position until Éomer can bring more men to secure it. But I decided to read it from an emotional perspective instead–he wants to be left where he is until Éomer can get there because that is who he wants and needs to see in what he knows are his final moments. So I wrote a little history of the relationship between Éomer and Théodred and the way that grief, in particular, bonded them, starting with their shared love for Théodwyn (Théodred’s aunt and Éomer’s mother). Pour one out for Théodred, because he was a real one!

**********

“Let me lie here—to keep the fords until Éomer comes.”

There had always been Théodwyn.

When Théodred searched his earliest memories, her face is what he found. Her sunny smile welcoming him back from sleep each morning. Her soft hands soothing his hurts when he fell or injured himself. Her high, clear voice telling him stories as they went for walks in the fields or while she led him around the training ring on his first pony. She was barely more than a girl herself at the time, but she was there, stepping into the breach left by his mother’s death and his father’s retreat into the depths of grief.

Over time, his father found a way to heal, to separate the birth of his son from the death of his wife and to embrace his little boy without hesitancy or reservation. But even then, his aunt remained the biggest figure in Théodred’s young life. He started and ended each day with her, took his lessons from her, asked her all of his questions and told her all of his feelings. And she gave him hugs and kisses and laughs and the occasional scolding. She taught him all the best bad words and made him special cakes on his birthday. She showed him how to take a handful of simple little seeds and turn them into beautiful flowers with nothing more than water, soil and sunshine. She was magic.

He knew she couldn’t stay at Meduseld forever. She had her own life to live, and when he was ten she met and fell in love with a man from Aldburg. He missed her terribly when she married Éomund and left for the Eastfold, but they saw each other when they could and exchanged letters when they couldn’t. Long years passed, but she was still the first one he thought to tell whenever he had good news and the first he wanted to turn to for consolation when things were hard. Though he had always called her Aunt Théodwyn, she was the closest thing to a mother he would ever know, and he cherished her.

But in the summer of his twenty-fourth year, it all went wrong. First Éomund was killed during a poorly planned orc hunt, riding off too hastily without waiting for the additional numbers he would need to protect himself. Then Théodwyn suddenly came down with a mysterious fever. A stronger constitution might have overcome the illness, but Théodwyn, weakened in spirit by the shock of Éomund’s death, didn’t have the heart to battle. Just three weeks after the loss of Éomund, she went to bed early and never woke up.

Now Théodred found himself on the terrace in front of Meduseld, waiting to greet the cousins who were being entrusted to his care, and that of his father, to try to salvage any possible happiness that could be wrested back from the unthinkable turn their young lives had taken. As he waited, he took his own overwhelming sorrow, the enormous grief weighing on his chest and pressing the breath from his lungs, and he pushed it down. He pressed and he pressed until his vast, shapeless misery was just a hard little knot in his stomach that he could quietly tolerate without outward expression. He would not show this grief to Éomer or Éowyn, whose burden was heavy enough without the sadness of another to manage. He would follow in Théodwyn’s example and step into the breach for them, whether he felt ready or not.

The arrival of Éomer and Éowyn changed everything about daily life in Meduseld. Éowyn, all of seven years old, spent much of her time with Elfhelm’s wife, who was called into service to provide a small girl with the maternal presence she longed for, but Éomer became Théodred’s charge. They spent their days together, riding, hunting, or swimming in the Snowbourne, anything to keep Éomer’s spirits up and give him more to think about than what he was missing. Théodred wondered at the boy’s resiliency in the face of his losses. While his demeanor was solemn and his face grave, he never cried or expressed pain, and he even managed to offer himself as a source of comfort to his little sister when her own pain overcame her. Théodred couldn’t help but admire this strength, and it motivated him further to keep his own grief private, to match his young cousin’s mastery of his feelings.

Instead, Théodred saved up his grief for a few stolen minutes at the very end of each day, after the rest of the household had gone to sleep and no one else stirred except the occasional guard on patrol. Then, under cover of darkness, he would quietly steal outside to sit in the little garden at the south end of the hall. It had been Théodwyn’s garden. She planted it when he was a boy, and when she departed for Aldburg he had taken over its care, tending dutifully to her blossoms and herbs and adding in the ferns and fruit trees that he favored. There was nowhere else that he felt closer to her memory, and he would sit alone under her moonflower vines, unclench the knot in his stomach, and allow himself to cry at last. When he had released enough of his sorrow to feel that he could go on for another day, he would dry his eyes, push his feelings back down again, and head off in search of a few hours of sleep.

A week or so into this new routine, a sudden nighttime cloudburst drove him from the garden and his grieving sooner than expected. He raced to the closest door, a side entrance he seldom used, and quietly let himself in. The corridor was hushed and dim, and he kept his steps soft as he slipped past the closed doors of the hall’s sleeping residents and headed toward his own room. On the walls beside him, the faces of his ancestors looked down from their portraits. Brave Fréaláf. Sad Folcwine. Noble Thengel. He paused when he came to Théodwyn, intending to spend just a minute under the warm and gentle gaze of her likeness, when he heard something unexpected: the slightest of sniffles coming from somewhere in the darkness at his feet. Stooping down, he suddenly found himself face to face with Éomer.

His cousin was tucked up against the wall, knees under his chin and arms wrapped tightly around his shins, staring at the portrait of his mother. Tears streamed down his cheeks and dripped onto his shirt, creating a large, dark stain just over his heart. He looked up, lower lip quivering and brows drawn tightly together, and for half a moment it seemed as though he might force back the tears and reclaim his typical mask of calm solemnity. But all his effort, all of his rigorously guarded self control, finally failed. Under Théodred’s eyes, Éomer began to sob, as he had been doing here alone each night, hidden away from family and strangers alike.

Théodred’s first decision was easy. Indeed, it wasn’t even a decision, it was just instinct. He dropped to the floor at Éomer’s side, wrapped his cousin in a tight embrace, and held the little boy as he wept. The second decision was harder, a reconsideration of everything he had planned for managing Théodwyn’s death, but he knew in that moment it was the right thing to do. He allowed his own tears to return, and for as long as Éomer cried, Théodred cried with him.

When at last their tears came to an end, Théodred was surprised to feel a little lighter, relieved of some portion of the weight he had been carrying through each day. Éomer, too, looked less grave, if perhaps also a little embarrassed. They walked back together to Éomer’s room and, though they didn’t talk directly about what had just passed between them, they agreed to meet again by the portrait the next night at the same time. And so they made for themselves a new routine, coming together each night to reduce their suffering by sharing it with one another. Sometimes they sat by the portrait; other times, they went to the garden. No matter where they were, they thought of Théodwyn and allowed themselves to let out the sadness that they otherwise kept locked inside.

As the days passed, they cried less and talked more. They learned not only how to grieve her loss but also how to celebrate her memory and, in time, they could each think of her and feel happiness alongside the pain. They traded treasured memories and stories, and some days they even laughed, fondly recalling her terrible singing voice or her deadly accurate impression of Théoden. Eventually, they even came to talk of other things entirely, their nightly meetings providing an opportunity to confide in each other the fears, hopes, or concerns that they would speak to no one else.

By the end of Éomer’s first season in Edoras, the seeds of their shared sadness had grown and transformed into an unshakeable bond, one more blossom in Théodwyn’s garden. That bond would last through happy times and further tragedy, changing circumstances and stages of life. It lasted all the way to that rainy night at the fords many years later, when Théodred himself lay near death. And alone with his pain, his body spent and his spirit facing imminent separation from everything he knew and everyone he loved, Théodred did the only thing he could think to do when confronted with grief. He called for his cousin.

#tolkien family week #cut ties #eomer #theodred #trauma bonding #let me lie here...until eomer comes #sob #lord of the rings #lotr fanfiction #forth eorlingas

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rainbowmoonstonestories · 2 years ago

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Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings | Chapter 3

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: The Sandman (Netflix 2022, minor content from the Comics) Rating: Explicit Relationships Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x F!Reader Characters: Dream of the Endless/Morpheus, Lucienne, Matthew the Raven, Mervyn Pumpkinhead, Hob Gadling, Death, Rose Walker, The Corinthian, other minor Sandman characters, Original Characters. Warnings: 18+ content (upcoming, minors DNI), explicit sexual content, POV switching, very long chapters to read (you can skip parts if you think it is too much). Summary: You always dreamed of becoming a successful Fashion Designer, sharing your creations with the world and making your father proud. But with him being very ill and so many costs solely weighting on your shoulders, things didn’t go as planned and you had to take a different path instead. An interesting offer led you to the elder Alex Burgess and you were hired as a new housemaid for a very good pay. However, your kindness and outstanding empathy convinced the man to give you an additional task for a doubled compensation; gaining the trust of Dream Of the Endless, held captive into the basement for over a century. Despite the shock of finding such an ethereal entity stripped of all his clothes and contained into a confined space, you had to accept for the sake of your father. But the more you got to speak to the mysterious anthropomorphic personification who didn't utter a single word, the more you were lost into his eyes that, conversely, seemed to contain the entire universe. A deep connection formed between the two of you, separated only by a thick layer of glass.

Little did you know, what started like a simple housemaid job was about to change your life forever.

Credits: The moon dividers were made by firefly-graphics.

Chapter 3

You couldn't dream at all. Or so you thought.

Your first encounter with Dream of the Endless went better than you had foreseen. The apprehension you felt when you walked into the basement had soon faded away, as you came up with your own makeshift plan to do what Mr. Burgess had requested without giving up your honor code. For all you knew, Dream didn’t believe a single word you said, but he didn’t look displeased when you volunteered to offer him your companionship.

Admittedly, there wasn’t much that you knew about him or what his magical presence in the world signified. There were many different stories that portrayed The Sandman in various ways and none of them seemed to be accurate with how they had been transcribed. In 1818, a German author named Ernst Theodor Amadeus Hoffmann created a horrific version that described Dream as a monstrous mythological figure throwing sand in the eyes of children, which would fall out if they couldn’t sleep. On the other hand, there also was a much lighter fairy tale written by Hans Christian Andersen, displaying him as an entity who made the little ones drowsy and sent them off to sleep, only punishing the bad kids with no dreams at all. Modern myths and folklore were crafted to answer any child’s question about why people have grit in their eyes upon waking up.

The beautiful tale you loved as a little girl represented Dream of the Endless as a bringer of stories, maintaining the balance of humanity intact. However, most parents had twisted that concept and turned it into a pretext to keep their kids under control. They wouldn’t act badly if they knew The Sandman could come at night to stain their dreams with darkness and fear.

You hadn’t read that volume in a long time, cherished once and forgotten over the years. The urge of going through those pages again was growing within you, eager for knowledge and a trip down memory lane.

The following day, Mr. McGuire inquired how your meeting with Dream had played out. “It’s quite early to speak about trust,” you told him, “But I can assure you that he listened. I might need a bit of time to get through him properly though.”

For his part, he appeared to be satisfied with the little progress you reported. “Take all the time you need, we do not expect you to succeed in a day.”

The second time you talked to Dream, it was during your lunch break with no guard on duty downstairs. Alex and Paul were expecting their usual guests in the afternoon, so you knew you would end up being too exhausted to pay the Endless a visit after a chaotic day.

As usual, Dream was a sight to behold. The encaged physical entity was very attractive and that could not be denied, but the way his marble-like skin glowed under the dim light of the platform made you feel strangely calm and secure. You perceived an invisible force drawing you to him since the first time you met him, a magnet that was glued to your heart and accelerated it, pulling it out of your chest whenever you got lost into his eyes.

“I wish I knew how it feels like to have dreams.”

He stared at you in silence, but he was considering and processing your words.

“I guess I will find out soon, huh?”

Your smile dropped the moment you saw him clenching his jaw. You mainly wanted to be encouraging, reassure him that sooner or later, one way or another, he would get out of that prison as you promised. To him, those were just volatile words with no real foundation, because you didn’t have any tangible proof to give.

You sighed. You were getting goose bumps from the lower temperature around you, and while you tried to contain your shivering since you arrived, your uneasiness could be well spotted along your arms. As soon as you finished your meal, you rushed down the stairs and into the basement without the sweater you had strategically prepared into your room and the skin along your limbs was once again left unprotected due to your forgetfullness. The tights you were wearing had a thin fabric that could barely warm up your legs, the humidity seeped into your bones, stiffening your muscles and almost giving you a running nose.

Dream moved, unfolding his own lean, yet strong legs and pushing himself up from the sphere floor. You looked away from his body Instinctively, now practically fully exposed in front of you. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed that his right hand was raised in the air, fingers grazing the glass and requiring your attention back.

(gif by aceofwhump)

You quickly glanced at his face, perplexed and inquisitive. Dream waited, looking at you with his beautiful, deep blue orbs. You followed his lead, brushing your fingertips on the cold material of the bowl and meeting his indirect touch. You were captured by the intensity (and intimacy) of the moment, before an incredibly warm sensation washed over you. Your skin returned to its normal state in an instant and, as if by magic, you weren’t cold anymore. The warmth that embraced you was like delicious honey, coating your chest with its remarkable sweetness. Your entire essence melted into that feeling of comfort and relief, the tension in your shoulders was also gone and your bones no longer felt heavy.

You were left speechless. Amazed. The tips of your fingers were on fire, but the kind of fire that didn’t burn. If he could do such a thing without the majority of his powers, you could only imagine the greatness he would be able to achieve without any binding circle blocking his capacities.

But there was more. Your whole hand felt electric and you sensed a connection between your bodies despite the glass separating you. Dream noticed it too, his eyes widening and watering as his breathing came to a halt, it was something so powerful that it travelled farther down to your toes.

Then, the way it came, it stopped abruptly when he jerked his wrist back and your palm was left alone, empty, pressed against the sphere. You didn’t know how to react, what to think of it… and clearly neither could he. All you knew was that Dream noticed your discomfort and somehow he managed to dissipate it.

You were about to thank him, when the indistinguishable hammer sound of a Revolver echoed behind you and made you turn in shock.

“Get away from there, Missy!”

The now familiar guard was pointing his weapon at Dream in a fighting stance, looking up and down between the two of you in alarm. You put your hands up in a placative manner, walking away from the cage and breathing out. “Sir, you can put that gun down. He wasn’t doing anything, I assure you.”

“Didn’t look like that to me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Seriously? He’s locked into a fucking cage! What do you think he’s gonna do?”

The guard hesitated, but he adjusted his grip around the gun. “Don’t care, don’t want to know. Just gotta do my job.”

Your arms dropped along your sides in exasperation. “Yes, you are oh so big and scary, we got the message. I’m asking you again Sir; can you please put that thing down?”

The guard nervously licked his lips and stepped forward. “You should get away from him, this instant.”

“What is it, you’ve been confined to this house for so long that you miss the action?” You inquired. The anger was bursting inside of you, thundering and exploding like a firework. “If you want to pull the trigger that badly, then you’ll get a lot of explaining to do. Because I’m not going anywhere, just so you know.”

You took a step back, grazing the cage with your knuckles. Dream slowly knelt down, you could feel his presence close to your shoulder as he approached the glass once more.

All the blood was rushing to the guard’s face. The man grunted and put his gun back into the holster when you stayed true to your word, standing firmly onto the platform. “Bloody hell.”

You responded with a triumphant smile. Your nails were absently drawing patterns on the sphere, your back against it felt tingly and heated.

The guard's eyes were boring into you.“I’ll have to report this,” he said. “Just so you know.”

Oh, such a bad game he wanted to play. “The cage and the binding circle are fully intact. What is there to even report?”

You could hear the guard growling from the other side. His fingers were twitching in irritation, but he decided not to argue further and bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from responding in kind.

In the end, he tried to get rid of you the easy way. “Shouldn’t you get back to work, Miss?”

As much as you disliked it, you had to admit that he was right. You were only supposed to be there for a few minutes, but you probably already exceeded the time at your disposal.

“Yes, I should,” you confirmed. Turning to Dream, you lowered your voice so that only he could hear you. “Will you be okay alone with that prick?”

Dream nodded at your question, almost imperceptibly.

“I’ll be back soon.”

When you left the platform, you looked at the man taking his usual place next to the table. He was unfolding the daily newspaper, complaining under his breath.

“Try to be a little nicer to him,” You told him, to which he answered with a tight smile that looked more like a twisted grimace.

He didn’t like you, clearly, and the sentiment was mutual.

Dream’s attention was fixated on you as you left and he didn’t look away from the open gate not even when you disappeared behind it.

(gif by stephendorff)

“I want to be a friend for you, if you will allow it.”

The words you said had been lingering in Morpheus’s mind since the night you visited him alone. He wanted to believe you, to trust your promise, for you seemed to be the most sincere and honest human to walk into that hellhole in a century. Still, his doubts about you could not be fully dismissed; it would be so easy for you to betray him, defy him, go back on your word when more profitable opportunities presented themselves. You had all the incentive to keep him where he was, while your reasons for doing as you were told could be understood, trust was definitely a hard thing.

But then you had returned and something unexpected happened.

Just like the night you first met, he could see the coldness you were suffering from on your skin and in the shivers you did your best to hide. As you talked to him about all the little adventures you were living in the Waking World, Morpheus found himself captivated by your stories, considering your narrative skills quite compelling. You spoke with such vividness and humor, the way you described the general hardships you faced and the challenges you overcame was bizarrely entertaining.

You provided a good companionship in the little time you spent in front of his cage, something he was not used to after 106 years of loneliness. A mortal had come to him with kindness and understanding, with no demands and no desire to get something out of him. You were there to do a job, but you simply wanted to talk and he was comforted by it. There was something different in you, he could see your sincerity and the will to stay despite your physical uneasiness.

Morpheus couldn't leave you like that. While his magical tools had been taken by Roderick Burgess the day he was captured, he was still left with a fragment of his power, so he stood into the sphere and reached out to you for the first time. It was surprising that you looked away to respect his state of undress. To him, clothes were just a form of expression, not a way to stay covered or warm. He wasn't concerned about being naked in front of others, but you were, again, the only one showing him a bit of decency.

When your hand met his over the glass, Morpheus could see the relief spreading onto you as the coldness disappeared, but the little contact he enstablished ended up affecting him as well, contrary to what he had predicted. As you closed your eyes and let yourself lull by his warm energy, Morpheus saw through you in a way he didn’t think possible. He had always known everything about any living being, their name, their story, their wishes and their dreams, but the binding circle had prevented him from exploring your background, so you remained a partial mystery from the beginning.

He saw it all and more that day. He searched into your heart and found nothing that would taint it. There was no darkness, no lie, no deceit. He could only see light, a brilliant and beautiful light, that seemed to fill every corner of your being. He saw the gleam forming around your figure, as bright and calming as a shining star in the sky. Your fears became his own and he felt the love that resided in you, a love so strong and so true it felt almost overwhelming. You had the purity and innocence of a Goddess enclosed within your delicate human form.

Morpheus was inspecting his hand now. The tingles in it were dissipating, yet his chest was still burning hot. The guard was watching him from his seat, but Dream’s thoughts kept wandering back to you and the way you glowed, the way you smiled, the way you bravely challenged that man to protect him.

Morpheus came into existence once lifeforms capable of dreaming appeared in the universe. He had seen it all, gained and lost a lot, discovered and learnt everything there was to know about mankind. Never before had he encountered a mortal such as yourself, not even when he got acquainted with Nada, his fragile human lover from a very distant lifetime.

You were undoubtedly speaking the truth about your intentions, your unwavering determination to save your father was undeniable, but you didn't want to do it at the cost of Morpheus's freedom. He couldn't help but believe you.

He was intrigued by your strength and courage, by your gentle spirit that exuded from you. Morpheus wanted to know you, to see more of you, to understand you. You were like a fresh book that he couldn’t wait to leaf through.

Curiosity killed the cat, he knew that proverb very well. But he could not refrain himself from wondering what other marvels you had to show him.

For a very short moment, you made him forget about his captivity and the eagerness he had of being set free.

As it turned out, the guard wasn’t just babbling about and effectively disclosed whatever he thought he had witnessed into the basement. Mr. McGuire came looking for you that same day, curious to hear your version of the story and to make sure your safety with Dream wasn’t compromised. Nor was theirs.

You told him about your haste and distracted mind. You described the way Dream had placated your discomfort, but left out the rest as you wouldn’t even know how to explain it. And you didn’t really want him, nor anybody else, to know how powerful it was and how good it made you feel.

Mr. McGuire blinked a few times, analyzing what you had just said. “That’s it? Is that what he did?”

“Yes, what else? He’s not the monster you all think he is.”

“It’s not that, just… he didn’t try playing tricks with your mind or controlling it, did he?”

“No. If that were the case, I doubt he’d be still locked downstairs.”

With the guests arriving at the mansion, the amount of work on your side had magnified and you had to incessantly run back and forth throughout the evening. Paul’s interruption and interrogation only served to slow you and your tasks down, so you reminded him of the importance of your deal and the fact you couldn’t have him looming over your shoulder whenever the guards felt like reporting every single change in Dream’s demeanor. Thankfully, Mr McGuire agreed with you and he guaranteed that he’d personally have a talk with those two to soften up their rigid attitude. He also highlighted the peculiarity of Dream’s action, or rather spellcast, addressing it as the very first contact he ever had with a human in over a century.

When Alex was young, Dream had tried to break into his mind in a similar fashion. The young boy managed to snap out of that hazy state and regain full control of himself before touching the glass, but he described it as an incredibly strong pull that clouded his judgement, enchanted him to the point he no longer remembered his own name and almost made him fall into Dream’s clutches.

He had the perfect chance to try the same trick with you. Maybe two private encounters were barely enough to define you as his friend, or anything relatively close to that… but you could tell with absolute certainty that he wasn’t concocting any sort of evil plan to harm you. In fact, he did the exact opposite.

In the evening, you poured drinks and brought an unimaginable quantity of food to the guests in the living room, lost in their various conversations with Mr. McGuire and Mr. Burgess who had finally come out of his room. The man didn’t talk much. One would think he would relish the company after so much time spent by himself, but even though he was looking at everyone, it was as if he didn't really see them. He was lost in his own world, listening without catching any of it.

Mr. McGuire was sitting at his side, participating in the random, boring talks taking place. One of the men, sprawled in front of them on the leather couch, raised a glass full of wine and let out a satisfied sigh. You lost count of how many drinks he had since he arrived, saying he looked nasty would be an understatement. “My word Alex, your house never ceases to amaze me. Cheers! Your hospitality is appreciated, my friend.”

Mr. Burgess showed the hint of a smile, but did not respond.

“I was thinking, is it true what they speak about ol’ Roderick? About here? I’ve been hearing a certain rumor for quite a while, you see.”

Your ears pricked up and your motions slowed down. You didn’t like where this was going.

“They say you hold the bloody Devil into your basement, that he is granting your family riches and longevity.”

The empty bottle of Whiskey you were holding slipped from your grip, but you promptly catched it before it could fall and shatter on the floor. Paul’s eyes met yours for a moment and you quickly adverted your gaze, the guest continued with his investigation without paying attention to your mishap. “Tell me, is it really just a rumor or…?”

Mr. McGuire let out a nervous laugh. “I’m afraid that’s all it is, just a rumor. Nothing more.”

The man eyed the couple with a look of barely-concealed contempt. He drank more of his wine and emptied the glass in one fluid movement, like it was some kind of competition. “Ah. That’s a pity."

Mr. Burgess was feeling increasingly uncomfortable, wanting to be anywhere but there. “Miss Y/LN, “ he said. “Can you refill his glass, please?”

The man's eyes lit up at the prospect of more wine and he extended his hand to you. His lack of coordination almost smacked the glass right into your cheekbone and you dodged it in time. “Thank you, thank you!” He exclaimed.

You complied, putting on your mask of innocent and condescending housemaid. “Right away, Sir.”

You were exhausted, more strain on your emotions than on your physical body. You didn’t hate your job, you had grown accustomed to it and you had to admit it was keeping you in shape, which was a benefit you were thankful for. The most draining part was having to listen to the obnoxious speeches of the drunken guests every single week and it was taking its toll on you.

Mr. Burgess and Mr. McGuire were apparently as frustrated as you were. It was astonishing that people could show such a lack of interest and respect in their home and you couldn’t understand why they were so keen to socialize with a bunch of total morons. It was easy to see their intentions when the man mentioned the rumors about Dream; they were only driven by their own opportunism, taking adventage of the Burgess family’s financial abundance, quality drinks and expensive meals. Chances were they also hoped to make a deal with Mr. Devil, gaining power and gold for themselves. You could taste the vitriol on your tongue at the thought of Dream locked into that cage and mistaken for a filthy demon. The Endless deserved better than that.

The night felt as if it would last forever. The mattress beneath you was very soft and comfortable, yet your eyes couldn’t remain shut for more than ten seconds. Your insomnia had kicked in like it did practically every night, leaving you distressed and impatient with your throat getting dry.

You turned on your back, then on the other side. You sat on the edge of the bed and took a walk around the room, careful to not make any noise. Back and forth, left and right. You paced around for a while, the darkness of the night was enveloping your senses and the lack of sleep weighting down on your mind.

You climbed back to bed in a fetal position, same ritual and same result, every damn time.

Eventually, you tired yourself out so much that your eyelids finally started to get droopy. Your breathing became slow and steady, your body slowly sinked further and further into the mattress. You pulled the bedsheets to your neck and let yourself drift off into a dreamless sleep.

Or so you thought.

(gif from here)

Everything was dusty, gloomy, hazy. You were standing in a field of sand, stretched out as far as the eye could see. You had no idea where you were and you felt disoriented. The wind howled around you, blowing into your face. You pushed your hair away as you attempted to look ahead. You made out the shape of something big and white in the distance, it was calling your name, silently and strongly, beckoning you forward.

You walked into the unknown, one hand cupped on your forehead to protect yourself from the sandstorm. The dark fog began to subside, the wind died down and you could see what stood in front of you more clearly. So high and imponent, so beautifully made.

Everything was appearing a little blurry and you had some trouble putting it into focus. You could feel the warmth of the blazing sun rising behind you, but its comforting presence was mixed with thunders reverberating through the menacing clouds. As you stepped close to the large object, your curiosity grew and you noticed it was a stoned barrier. It was the entry of something you were feeling attracted to, but you were not yet allowed to discover it.

You squinted, inspecting every carving that had been masterfully created on those gates. There were complex ornaments, symmetrical sections and birds of prey on both sides, a weird alien-like mask built at the top and reflected like a mirror. But what truly captured your attention was the detail in the faces of someone imprinted into the stone, illustrating what you perceived like a distant memory, a heartbreaking love story. One of the faces was strangely familiar, although your mind was all fuzzy and you could barely think straight.

You reached for one of the two doors, feeling the hardness and roughness of the stony material under your skin. You hoped to see it moving, opening at your touch, but something about that whole situation was somehow completely wrong. You stared at your fingers in utter confusion, as you suddenly counted more digits than you were supposed to have in one hand. It was like watching a glitchy monitor with an out of focus slide where things looked overlapped, your eyes couldn't adjust and your overall awareness had considerably started to fade.

The gates blew away, slipping between your distorted fingers in a handful of grains. The wind picked up again, swirls of sand engulfing you and dragging you into an expanse of pitch black before you woke up.

You opened your eyes and stared at the ceiling, your mind lingering on the images of the mysterious land you had just visited. You tried to remember every detail, but with each passing second the memories dissolved, until all that was left was a sense of wanting and nostalgia. It was all gone and forgotten, sent far away and locked into a remote corner of your brain, never to be recovered.

You didn't have the key to access that again. It was lost, gone, evaporated… and you remembered nothing. To you, it was as if you never dreamed.

You turned from side to side a few times more, fixing the pillow and slowly falling into another restive slumber.

It was a foggy morning and the birds were just starting to sing their songs in the still air. You discended the stairs to the basement, eager to check on Dream again before taking your leave for the day.

The guards snorted when they saw you arriving, but your visit to the Endless would be a brief one, which is why you allowed them to stay without paying too much attention to their mockeries and the derision emanating from their throats.

Somehow you felt more confident now, striding to the platform without any hesitancy in you and focusing on the task ahead.

“Good morning Dream,” you greeted him with a newly formed smile. “How are you holding up?”

Dream’s back straightened as he looked at the guards and you followed the rapid movement of his irises. “I know, poor choice of the personnel right there,” you scoffed.

Dream pouted, his lips so plump and pink, so soft-looking and totally kissable. You stared shamelessly, your teenage attitude bubbling beneath the surface. You gulped it down and touched the glass, your fingers gliding along the smoothness of the sphere.

In that moment, you thought about all the fingerprints that had been etched onto the surface.

“Just hang in there for a little while longer,” you murmored softly. “It’s going to be okay, I promise.”

His staring shifted onto your hand, but he didn’t reach for it this time. A part of you wished he would. You ignored it.

“Take care, Dream. I’m in a hurry right now, I’ll come back to see you again tomorrow.”

Your heart melted when you noticed the slight desperation in his altered posture, looking at you like a pleading child. Not a single word came out of his mouth, but his glistening eyes and stiffen shoulders spoke volumes about the frustration he was feeling.

You wished you could have stayed, but unfortunately you had matters to attend to. The temptation of postponing your plans just to be with him for the entirety of the day was poking your head, but your father was expecting you and so was your friend who you promised to have lunch with.

You gave him an apologetic smile and waved your goodbye. Your boots resounded into the basement with each quick step over the brick floor, you went back up the stairs in a haste, grabbed your bag and scurried out of the silent house, the cab already waiting for you in the morning haze. The sun was just beginning to show its first light over the horizon, the thin rays peeking through the trees and brushing against your cheeks.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the Endless all the way back to town. And even after that.

Upon arriving at your father’s place, the man came running at the door to welcome you inside. The physical boost he was proudly showing off since waking up had the nurse’s hair standing, only 72 hours after the first administration. Doctor Mills happened to be as astonished as you were, watching him dancing and singing in the living room on the notes of Ring of Fire by Johnny Cash. He had calculated between 20 to 30 days of treatment before noticing a proper sign of recovery, but the fatigue had considerably reduced, his appetite was going back to normal and his blood pressure was no longer displaying alarming values. Doctor Mills clarified that three days were purely indicative and a relapse wasn’t feasible to exclude. He preferred to stay with his feet planted on the ground, monitoring the entire progress without feeling overly excited ahead of time. Still, he praised the strong willpower that your father clinged to since the first diagnosis, considering it a huge factor playing in his favor.

Trying to convince him to stop jumping around like a spring and follow the doctor’s guidelines made you feel as if you were handling a disobedient toddler. He was still a little underweight, but the color had returned to his face. You had hoped to see him going back to his old self for a very long time and almost stopped hoping for the failed attempts. None of the medicines he took in the last couple years produced a similar effect before.

The rest of the morning continued wih the two of you catching up and chatting about your everyday lives. The poor man didn’t have a lot to tell beside the summarized plot of his favorite TV shows, so you did most of the talking and carefully avoided anything that could accidentally lead to the basement and what it contained. Your father snorted when you talked about your job, reiterating how disappointing it was to see you wasting your talents for his sake. You couldn’t yet decide to drop your fruitful position for something else, something that you could hardly see happening. And most importantly, you couldn’t abandon the Endless to his fate, a fate that you wanted to change with all your might by giving him the freedom he deserved.

You reached The New Inn to meet a special friend you hadn’t seen in a long time. The place had an antique style, the smell of wood mixed with freshly brewed coffee was always a combination that never failed to inspire you and make your creative juices flow whenever you wanted to work on your Portfolio.

You missed that immensely. Coming back after over a month of absence was refreshing and that sense of familiarity was something you were seriously lacking in Wych Cross (except maybe when you found yourselt in Dream’s presence. Why were you thinking about him again?). Your father was right about one thing; Fawney Rig would never be a place you actually belonged to.

You could already hear clinking glasses and the loud buzz of conversations coming from the door with people entering and leaving. You stepped inside, glancing at the table your friend liked to pick to enjoy some peace and quiet. And there he was, distinguished and composed, bent over a pile of grading papers. He took his teaching job very seriously, always carrying work to do wherever he went.

(gif by seniorinternaut)

You smiled brightly upon seeing him, waving at the waitress and walking past a group of customers cheerfully drinking at the bar. He looked up, meeting your eyes and smiling back with equal excitement. You could barely reach the table before you had his strong arms around your smaller frame, drowning into his cologne as you were pressed against his chest.

You returned the hug tightly, squeezing away the time and distance that had separated the two of you. “Hob! It’s so good to see you!”

You both let go, stepping back to take a good look at each other. “It’s good to see you too, Shortcake! How have you been?”

“All good! Work is keeping me busy though. Sorry for going MIA.”

It’d been far too long since you had the chance to properly talk to Hob. With you now living in Lewes, you were always unable to spare time to meet up despite all the good intentions you had to reconnect. You were determined to make up for lost time now, so you eagerly took a seat in the cozyness of the Inn.

He collected the papers partially marked with notes and grades in red, placing them into his leather bag to make some space.

“Don’t worry about it, I find you well! How’s your new job?”

“It’s average, really. And my insomnia is as bad as it could be. Have you seen my freaking eyebags?”

Hob shrugged. “You look great to me. Even more beautiful than usual.”

“Ever the gentleman!”

He winked at you from the other side of the table. “I hope they are treating you well in there. Did you find out if those rumors were true?”

Here we go again.

“Definitely not. If they had a demon locked somewhere in the house, I would know. I clean that place literally from top to bottom almost every day.”

Hob chuckled, giving your hand a light squeeze. “But they are treating you well, yes?”

You nodded. “Yes, I must say they are.”

When the food arrived, its delicious aroma immediatly filled your lungs and the first bite was even better than you remembered. Hob took your orders while waiting for your arrival, knowing all too well what your favorite meal was. He poured some quality fresh beer into your glasses, taking a quick glance at the entrance with a mournful expression. You saw him kicking down the disappointment and couldn’t really brush it aside.

“Still waiting for that friend of yours?” You asked.

Shaking his head, Hob looked defeated. “I probably won’t see him again.”

“Don’t say that.”

“The last time we were supposed to meet, he stood me up. I’m afraid that what I said back then has offended him greatly. I ruined it.”

“Hob,” you spoke softly. “It would take a lot more than a small fight to destroy a real friendship.”

He sighed. “I’m afraid this ‘real friendship’ as you call it had a completely different meaning to him.”

You put down your fork. “Look, you told me you have seen each other for… how many years again?”

He hesitated. “Too many to count.”

“Even if this guy is a very busy one, he always remembered about you, didn't he? You don’t know what happened, maybe something came up and he couldn’t make it for whatever reason.”

“I do hope you’re right, but even so, I have no way to contact him. To apologize for being a bloody idiot.”

“You don’t have his number?”

“Let’s say he’s not exactly the tech type.”

“Mh.” You resumed your eating. “Wanna bet he’ll come through that door in no time?”

He raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn't really bet on that.”

“Okay then. Call it a gut thing.”

“Again?”

“Was it ever wrong?”

“Now that you mention it…”

Your conversation moved to different topics as you consumed your lunch. Hob shared some funny anecdotes about his students, who all seemed to adore him and deeply respect his historical knowledge. It wasn’t surprising, he always knew events and facts that nobody ever taught you in class and you often joked about how he might easily come from a different century. You could listen to his lectures for hours without feeling even remotely bored, he just had a certain way with words, so polite and sometimes old-fashion, that a part of you wished you could be a student again.

When you told him about your father’s unexpected recovery, he was delighted to hear the news. The day Doctor Mills revealed his stomach conditions and general physical failure, your entire world collapsed over your shoulders and Hob was there to sustain you as you gasped for air. He held your hand in his to keep you on your feet, refusing to let you fall into that void of darkness and sorrow. Hob never told you much about his family and personal life, but losing a loved one was something he went through different times. He couldn't allow you to face that anguish alone, gulping down your despair and pretending it wasn't happening in front of him. He was such an incredible friend that, you were sure, nobody would have the balls to let someone as amazing as him slip out of their life.

You were so engrossed in your chat with Hob that you completely lost track of time. Before you knew it, you walked out of the New Inn in the chilly air of the late afternoon, a considerable contrast with the pleasant warmth you got accustomed to inside.

Since you were planning to make a stop at your place before returning to the Burgess mansion, Hob kindly offered to give you a ride, driving down the busy roads, passing trees and houses lit by the fading sunlight. You had to admit you were missing your town and old habits more than you had anticipated. The hustle and bustle of the city life, the bright lights in the night sky, the smell of freshly baked bread from the local bakery. All of those things you had taken for granted and now you were pining for them. Sitting down with your best friend, sharing stories and jokes over lunch and a cup of coffee, simply reminded you of how much you were lacking in favor of your financial benefit.

You knew it was worth it, especially now that you were finally seeing the results you were hoping for.

It was worth it, yes, but your father’s words continued echoing in your head.

“Do you know what else I’ve noticed? That you are so dishearteningly unhappy, my dear. You have dreams and an enviable creative talent that is literally going wasted.”

You never regretted your choice, truly. You’d do the same thing even if God decided to give you a second chance and send you back in time, willing to face the same hardships and give it all up again. But you often found yourself wondering about the life you could have lived if things went differently, imagining an alternative universe, or more planes developing at the same time, with just another You facing multiple outcomes.

Hob pulled over, stopping the car and parking in front of your apartment building. As the gentleman that he was, he stepped out of the vehicle to reach the passenger side and pull the door open for you, holding your hand until you were out of the car and fully standing. You thanked him with a smile and he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear in a fondly way.

You adjusted the bag over your shoulder. “I’m glad we could meet today, I really missed you, you know?” You told him, tears already threatening to form at the thought of departing from him once more.

Dammit.

“Same here, Shortcake. I’m so glad to see you in such a good shape.”

“Thank you for caring. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He grinned. “You would be lost as hell.”

Snickerig, you hit him lighty on the arm. “You’re so full of yourself, Mr. Gadling.”

“Aye, sweetheart,” he puffed out his chest. “Come on, have you seen me?”

Again, you burst out into a wholehearted laugh, so carefree and full of joy. The kind of joy you hadn’t felt in a very long time, the kind of joy you had almost forgotten. The kind of joy you thought you didn’t deserve anymore, the kind of joy you missed tremendously and needed like oxygen in your existence. The kind of joy that twisted into sadness, a sadness you felt expanding from your chest along your entire being.

Hob’s own laugh subsided when he saw your smile fading, narrowing his eyes in confusion. In that moment, your emotions started to run wild, it was as if someone had pressed a switch and flipped you over like day with night, light with dark, hot with cold.

Hob was aghast at your sudden breakdown. “Hey hey, what happened? Why are you crying…?”

Everything you kept buried into you was overflowing, bursting into an outpouring of tears. You tried to stop it, but the moment Hob embraced you and stroked your back with both hands in a soothing manner, you clutched the sides of his jacket and surrendered to your burning pain. The feeling came on gradually, like a wave, starting out small and slowly building until it was overwhelming.

He hugged you tightly, whispering soft words into your hair. “Shhh, it’s all right Buttercup. I’m here.”

Cracking in front of your best friend was definitely not something you had put into account. You wished you could have waited to be in the silent comfort of your private quarters before opening the floodgates, releasing all the vulnerability you didn’t know you had mounting to that extent. The worries, the tiredness, the anger, the piled up frustration… even the feelings you were most certainly developing for Dream. But there also was something else, something amiss from within you that you couldn’t quite decipher. You let all that out, flowing through loud sobs and heavy gasps. The responsibilities crashing onto you were suffocating and the fear of failing the ones who were counting on you, believing in you, had you screaming in agony.

Hob didn’t speak, he let you vent against him, keeping you between his arms until you started to calm down. It felt like an eternity, but eventually the tears slowed down, your chest felt empty and a sense of calm washed over you as your strength and resilience started to come back. You pulled away, drying your soaked cheeks with the heavy sleeves of your coat.

“I’m sorry, Hob. I don’t know what’s gotten into me all of a sudden.”

He smiled, using his thumb to brush away the teardrops at the corner of your eyes. “I hope it’s not a guy. Do I need to break someone’s nose? Because I’ll do that.”

His gentle words caused a new rush of tears, so you took a deep breath and shook your head. “No, it’s not that. The thing is, I’m already lost, Hob. Do you know that feeling of constantly walking on thin ice, as if it could break at any moment and suck you underneath?”

He let out a pained snort. “I may know one thing or two about that, yes.”

“What did you do?” Your voice was shaking.

He let his mind drift, letting the memories of his past come back to him. As he searched his mind, images and thoughts came in. “I’m afraid I don’t have a real answer, Y/N. I just knew I still had a lot to live for, so I endured. And then, it was finally over. “

“Which means, after the rain comes a rainbow?”

“It may not look like it, but it always does.”

You shoved your hands into your pockets. “I don’t know. The past couple years have been a living nightmare. I just want it to be over, I want to live the dream.”

Interesting choice of words you picked there…

“Y/N, If someone can rise of the shitty storm, it’s you.”

You let that sink into your heart, using it as the motivation you seeked to move forward without teetering. You were tempted to tell him everything about the basement in Fawney Rig, about Dream of the Endless, about your intention of setting the entity free. You knew that Hob would never doubt your words and the secret you were carrying with you was consuming your thoughts, growing too big for you to handle on your own. You let it roll on your tongue, seething in anticipation as you were about to spill it, you had it coming closer and closer to the edge, you wanted to say it, you needed to.

But no. In the end, you drew it back with resignation, as you didn’t want to involve anyone else in Mr Burgess’s affairs. It wasn’t the right time, you figured, to reveal something you were still trying to process yourself.

The last rays of sunlight disappeared, painting the world around you with beautiful orange and yellow hues that blended with purples and pinks, creating an ever-shifting canvas of beauty. The birds flew through the sky, their feathers catching the colorful lights. The trees swayed in the gentle breeze blewing through your hair, their leaves rustled and reflected the glowing tones from above. For a moment, all your worries were forgotten, taken away by the sun dipping lower and lower behind the buildings.

“Hob, about that thing you said before, that you still had a lot to live for…”

“What about it?”

You spotted a few twinkling stars, marveling at the artistry of the lively sky shaping into different colors and forms.

Almost like a dream.

“Do you see how beautiful it is?”

Hob looked up as well, the golden tones of sunset were framing his chin and jawline, highlighting their sharpness and masculinity.

“Witnessing things like this with a good friend by your side… these are the moments that I consider worth living for.”

Hob smiled to himself, supportively patting you on the shoulder and keeping you against him with a tight, reassuring grip. It was his way to let you know that he would always be there for more sunsets, more sunrises, more storms and more rainbows forming into your life.

“You’re right. It is beautiful, isn’t it?”

When you crossed the threshold of your apartment, an awful stale smell filled your nostrils and you rushed into opening the windows to let the air flow. The plastic covers you placed over your furniture prevented the dust from forming onto their surfaces, but the amount of dirt you found lying around was too much to bear and it had to go.

You rolled up your sleeves, watered the plants, took broom and mop out of the storage room, washed the floor and dusted everything off with impeccable precision. Your muscles were now accustomed to the physical exertion, allowing you to do more in a shorter amount of time.

You dropped onto the couch, feeling mentally exhausted from the emotional outburst you had earlier. The lingering headache was pressing against your temples, which you gently rubbed with your hands in a circular motion.

Hob made you promise to be more communicative in the future, either through a text or a call every once in a while. You were still trying to figure out what triggered such an exponential reaction in the first place (after an incredibly positive and fun day at that), but you both assumed that the past couple years, along with the most recent events he knew very little about, had put a toll on you and ended up breaking the camel’s back.

You looked around, enjoying the familiarity of your home. You inspected each polished decoration, all the immaculate furnishing you meticously positioned to build the perfect den for yourself. The monthly rent was not on the cheap side, but every cent you were spending for that apartment was solidifying your independence.

The fact you couldn’t spend enough time in there anymore since you moved to your workplace was bothering you to no end.

Your eyes stopped on the bookshelf, filled to the brink with books of different genres. One volume in particular immediatly crossed your mind, but you didn’t see it while dusting the library off. You bolted on your feet, scanning the titles in search of the one you were looking for. Your fingers brushed along the spines of the books as you looked high and low, only to consolidate the fact that it seemed to have vanished.

You thought back to the last time you had seen it. You took all your favorite books with you when you left your father’s house, but you couldn’t remember seeing that one at all when you opened the boxes to unpack. Since you most definitely didn’t put it anywhere else, you concluded that it probably never left your old place, so now you had more than one reason to visit your father again on your next day off.

You gobbled down the disappointment and returned to the couch, using your coat as a blanket to cover up your legs. In the deep, deafening silence of your apartment, the faint sounds of the city outside seemed to be intensified. You could hear the cars honking, music playing in the background, people talking and laughing in the street and the occasional bark of a dog. It was like an orchestra with no conductor and it made you feel a little less alone.

The city was a tapestry of lights, of people and places, of stories and dreams.

Dream…

You could almost feel the energy radiating out of the town, a sort of magnetic draw that pulled you in, as if you were part of something grand and extraordinary.

Dream.

You loved to bury yourself in nature, but you could not deny that the magic of the city was equally extraordinary. As someone who grew up in London, it was hard for you to imagine a life somewhere else. Although you didn’t want to bite the hand that was feeding you, the more time passed, the harder it was to live secluded in Ashdown Forest.

But Dream…

Yes, Dream. The one who occupied the majority of your thoughts now. If you said that you weren’t attracted to him you would be in denial and shirking away from the reality of things would only bring you to a standstill. You were determined to ignore it, to push it away and pretend it wasn’t there. You’d been telling yourself that it was all in your head, that you didn’t feel the spark when he was near, that your heart didn’t beat a little faster, like it was doing now, whenever his face appeared into your mind.

You didn’t know what he effectively did when your hands indirectly touched through the glass. He used his power to relieve you from the coldness, but you felt him delving into your deepest thoughts and fears. His eyes looked past your physical form and into your innermost being, you felt his energy flowing through you as your worries faded away and you felt cared for. He didn’t speak, but his presence alone was louder than words. That touch was a connection that went beyond any explanation, it gave you a sense of peace and belonging you never experienced with any of the men you dated.

From a realistic and objective point of view, the feelings you had for Dream weren’t safe for your heart in the long run, but your inner voice wanted you to pursue with them, to explore them and let them flourish.

You closed your eyes. His perfect, beautiful face was the last thing you saw before succumbing to your weariness.

The air around you was eerie as you awoke on a cold floor. You were surrounded by rubble and scattered pieces of colorful glass, in what looked like a destroyed Cathedral room. You stood up on your feet, but you struggled to keep your balance with your legs feeling weak and unsteady. Your mind was fuzzy, all you felt was confusion and disorientation in a place you did not recognize.

The room was a strange mix of gothic and ancient elements. Stone pillars rose up from the large tiles and they were crowned with Greek busts that seemed to look at each other with deep contemplation. A long and curved staircase, only partially broken in places, led up to an empty throne. It was a seat of power remained vacant over a scene of destruction.

The stained glass windows behind it were in a state of disrepair, but the light streaming in through them (or coming from them, you weren’t sure) was so bright it was almost blinding. The colors that remained were casting their deep blue, vibrant green and fiery orange over the surrounding devastation.

The ceiling was completely missing and the sky above was unlike anything you had seen before. It was dark, almost inky and full of blinking stars. A red nebula was crossing that infinite black expanse, dancing in its own cosmic rythm. When you took a step back to admire its galactic beauty, something cracked loudly under your foot. You looked down, noticing a triangular piece of blue stained glass next to a smaller fragment that you had just accidentally pulverized with your boot. You knelt down to take the fragile chunk in your hand, it was oddly warm to the touch and you saw your face reflected on the smooth material as you turned it over. For a second, you bizarrely saw someone else flashing in it, glowing eyes appearing in place of your original iris hue and going back to normal.

“Who are you?”

Suddenly, you heard a gentle, yet startled voice speaking behind you. You nervously turned to its source with your fingers tightened around the fabric of your shirt, jolting up so fast that you almost fell backward.

A brown-skinned woman with a shaved head and pointy ears was staring at you with a mixture of curiosity and surprise. She had a pair of round glasses perched on her nose and she was wearing an elegant black suit that made her look like a cultured librarian. She wasn’t threatening at all, but she seemed cautious and kept a certain distance from where you were standing.

She was clearly waiting for an answer, but your mind was still hazy and it took you a moment to even remember your name. So you racked your brain, drawing it from the depths of your memory. “I’m Y/N. Y/N Y/LN.”

She tilted her head slightly, her expression softened as she studied you intently from head to toe. “Do you know where you are?”

You thought about it, taking another look at the disheartening wreckage. The world around you was unfamiliar. “No. And I don’t know how I got here, either.”

The woman steeled her nerves and took a step foward, her hands moved from behind her back and crossed to her front. “You are a dreamer.”

Your eyes were drawn to the galaxy above, each star seemed to held a story of its own. “I never dream though.”

“You’re here now, are you not?”

Her voice was soothing, echoing in the vastness of the room.

“Define ‘here’.”

Her lips twisted into a half-smile. “The Dreaming. This is Lord Morpheus’s castle, or rather, what remains of it.”

She gestured to the ruined structure in front of you, the walls crumbled as you heard a distant crunching sound.

“The Dreaming… Lord Morpheus…”

The more you searched for any clue, any piece of information that could help you understand, the more questions you found instead. “I don’t understand… what happened to this place?”

The woman lowered her eyes with a deep sense of distress. She breathed in deeply, her chest rising and falling as she adjusted her glasses. “Lord Morpheus left many years ago. Without him, The Dreaming has started to decay and it continued deteriorating ever since. Even the Waking World is suffering from this change, in a way.”

There were pieces of the palace everywhere you looked, as if the aftermath of a war had been spread across the entire floor. There was no deniying the darkness of it all, yet you could still see the beauty in it. The colorful lights emitted by the windows made your heart swell with hope and even in the chaos you could sense the energy that had been left behind.

“I suppose it cannot be fixed in any way?”

She shook her head. “Without Lord Morpheus, The Dreaming is beyond repair.”

“Will he return?”

“I know he will.”

You carefully placed the glass piece you were still holding back on the ground. “I still don’t know why I’m here…”

She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Neither do I. I did not expect to see a dreamer here. Especially not in the palace… and not in the throne room.”

You stayed silent, listening to the far thunders and collapsing noises. Her dark brown eyes shone with kindness and knowledge, giving you a feeling of peace.

And then, everything began to fade, darkening and disappearing. The woman’s features became unclear as she got shrouded in a thin layer of mist, you could barely make out the shape of her lips, moving as she spoke to you. “You are waking up.”

The urge of closing your eyes and let yourself go into the forming void was traveling along your body, but you resisted it. “Wait!” You exclaimed. “I don’t know your name!”

You looked for something to hold on to, as The Dreaming was literally capsizing now. You felt her warm hand grasping yours to hold you there for a moment longer, your head was getting heavy and you couldn’t stand properly anymore.

“It’s Lucienne,” she replied. “Perhaps one day I could show you my library, I am sure you will love it.”

“Lucienne… will I remember you? And this?”

You were now suspended between two different dimensions, the sounds of the city outside your windows was mingling with the echo of her voice. “You may. Or, you may not. Until we meet again.”

You tried to respond, but you no longer felt her touch and the black abyss enveloped you in its nothingness.

Your eyes snapped open and your heart raced as you franctically took your phone from your pocket. You groaned seeing the time, massaging your aching neck and shivering for the cold air of the evening, the sun now completely set.

“Did I just doze off? That’s new.”

You grabbed your coat, took one last look around to make sure that everything was in place and closed the windows, muffling the sounds of the outside world.

You heard the click of the door lock while twisting the key, feeling a pang of sadnass for leaving your home behind yet again. Your comfortable couch, the city skyline that you enjoyed admiring from the living room, the small balcony you had spent so much time sprucing up, the bathtub in which you could relax in in a sea of foam and then your bedroom, transformed into your own personal studio for your creative works.

There was only one thing you were looking forward to: Dream. You wanted to see him; his eyes, his face, his beauty and his comforting energy.

Stepping out of your apartment building, you looked up and down the street. The taxi was already on its way, lights flashing in the darkness and illuminating the empty road. When it halted, the driver opened the back-door and you got in, giving him the address for Wych Cross and letting him take off again.

You glanced out the window, watching a few stars twinkling dimly through the forming clouds in the sky. You took in the sights, the streetlights casting a soft glow on the buildings and the people who hurried along the sidewalks.

An odd feeling was tugging at your heart and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. It was an unexplicable sensation, like you had lost something important and yet you didn’t know what it was.

You had no memory of Lucienne, The Dreaming or the crumbling palace you had seen in your dream - a dream you didn’t know you had.

Thank you for your patience and my apologies for the delay. I struggled a bit with this one because I wanted it to sound just right and I also took some time to do some more research (plus working and irl stuff keeping busy).

For more notes and info, go check the final notes on AO3!

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 (currently reading) Go to Chapter 4 ->

#the sandman #the sandman netflix #dream of the endless #morpheus #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x reader #the sandman fanfic #story: let your dreams be your wings

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