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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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beckleston · 10 months ago

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Nocturne: additional readings on a fantasy novel

Last June, I went to a Taylor Swift themed drag brunch where I met the author of Nocturne. It's a dark book about fantasy and ballet and Chicago - a perfect read for Christmas and Nutcracker season. I read it. I loved it and as I was talking about it to my friends who incidentally were with me at said drag brunch, I said I have so many thoughts I want to write a book report. So I did. And without further ado, since this is the best place for me to share it, below is my essay.

Nocturne by Alyssa Wees

The reader is introduced to the main character, Grace Dragotta, who is initially characterized as a grieving orphan struggling through the Great Depression finding solace in achieving her dream of becoming a magnificent ballet dancer. Early on in the story we meet other characters firmly lodged in this world, a time of poverty, hunger and tragic death. These characters who have also experienced the tragedy of illness and death respond in particular manners. Grace’s reaction is different and drives her story forward, she is motivated solely by her response to the death of her loved ones and how the experience of those deaths affected her. As the story progresses, the audience learns more of Grace’s backstory, and we find that she is not just grief stricken but death touched.

We follow Grace into a magical world of the gods of death and sleep, brothers locked in an immortal battle. She departs our everyday world and steps into a fantasy, a world where magic is real and she must learn of herself and her power. You can read Grace’s story solely as her adventure in this magical world, in that reading she keeps company with countless other fantasy protagonists – Feyre, Bella Swan, Clara Stahlbaum and so many others.

However, I would argue for an alternative reading of the book. Grace’s story is not, in actuality, a magical adventure but a metaphor for her reaction to the trauma she's experienced, her depression, her descent into drugs, the toll it takes on her and her eventual conquering of her personal demons. An equally compelling alternative reading is that this is not a magical story but a story of the veneer Grace herself affixes to an abusive relationship.

The deaths of Grace's mother and brother are the final icing on the cake of an already challenging life set in the aftermath of World War I and the Great Depression, the driving forces which ultimately are too much to bear and send her spiraling.

Grace’s day to day existence in the early parts of the story are straightforward – she lives with several other young women in a boarding house solely for the members of the corps of the Near North ballet. We see her early interactions as something of a baseline – days of training and rehearsals, evenings of communal dinners, Sunday church visits and weekend outings with friends. As her story progresses, all of these activities are affected by her magical adventure/descent into the grip of addiction and depression. We see her feel more and more isolated from her peers, flounder in her performance at the ballet and lose touch with her close friend Emilia.

Master La Rosa, the god of Death, and Mr. Russo, his brother, the god of Sleep are the personification of Grace’s addiction and depression. The first time Grace and the reader meet Master La Rosa, he has claws, is shrouded in darkness and appears incredibly dangerous. As Grace falls under his spell, read falls victim to the addiction, he becomes, in her portrayal, a welcome respite and not the monstrous creature she first feared. She spends her days at the ballet studio craving interactions with him and eventually begs him for more and more time together. Mr. Russo’s smiles seem kind at first and as her descent progresses, he seems more sinister and yet at one point Grace sees his wicked smile and reasons with herself that it cannot be as he was once so kind. She refuses to believe his ill intentions, refuses to believe the negative effects of her actions despite her own personal observations of her altered life.

Grace travels to the temple with La Rosa, dances with him and for him. These episodes can be clearly read as a person in the throes of a dangerous high. Russo lulling her to sleep and stealing large snatches of her conscious time are equally clear, blackouts and long moments lost to the effects of addiction or the comedown.

As Grace fights her way through her story, she meets another young woman who the brothers battle over and has very clearly suffered through the same addiction as Grace. Unlike Grace, this other young woman lost her battle; she is the cautionary tale. Here we have the turning point, Grace sees how her grasp of those things she's held dear - memories of her mother, violin lessons, her friendship/sisterhood with Emilia and she chooses to fight for them. She wrenches back control and reaches out to Emilia for help. The story ends with Grace choosing to conquer her own demons, taking back the crown and declaring she decides now, she makes her choices - not these gods, not this drug, not this darkness.

Once I started seeing a parallel story, I found it hard to stop. Little effort is required to peel back the layers of fantasy draping this story to unearth an additional retelling: the sordid tale of an abusive relationship - a lonesome girl, isolated and struggling who falls prey to the promise of something more.

Grace, orphaned, alone and seemingly abandoned by her only friend, is an easy victim. She longs to feel connected, to be special, and in this she is no different than countless others. Master La Rosa preys upon her isolation, her sorrow and her desire for acclaim. He quite literally locks her away somewhere her friend cannot follow. He allows her access to the outside world only on his terms. He demands behaviors from Grace which are outlandish. Even when her friend reaches out and when she herself looks for escape, he stymies her.

In the ending to this alternative reading, we again see her choose herself, choose control over her own destiny.

Ultimately, there is no one correct way to read this story or any story. Grace's journey is classic - a struggle, a journey, self-reliance and ultimately, a deeper understanding of herself and the world around her.

#nocturne #alyssa wees #meta #fantasy meta #grown up book reports #ballet #ballet dancer #balletcore #chicago

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hadescrow333 · 1 year ago

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As this is my first post, I find it appropriate to start off withe the beginning of creation (accourding to Greek mythology of course)

This portion of the myth will not be dedicated to the gods singular, those will be later posts where each god/titan/etc gets their own post

There are many different stories contradicting eachother, so I’ll try my best to either explain each one or just go withe the one that’s most popular

In the beginning of creation there was only khaos, whom was a great void of nothingness (so very chaotic right?). Then suddenly pop came Gaia, who’s basically Mother Nature earth peep, Tartarus, the deepest pits of the underworld (I love this word TaRtArUs), Eros (but honestly I think it means the personification of love instead of EROS EROS because most versions state Eros is Aphrodite’s child), then Erebus, Darkness (and an amazing name to name a cat), and Nyx, the night (another great cat name) (also the only peep Zeus fears, which I think is pretty cool)

So Gaia (without the help of male productivity) then gave birth to Uranus, who is the sky and I will call Ouranos because that is what I was taught when learning Greek mythology (books my peeps)

Though some accounts state that Gaia and Ouranos were both made from Chaos instead of Gaia birthing him.

Oh and cool little fact, the sky was thought to be a brass dome by the Greeks, and Ouranos was the personification to that brass dome. Brass you may ask? Why brass? Why so specific? That’s the same question I thought to myself, and therefore searched for the answer and actually there was a reason for this. The Greeks did not think of colour in colour, but in scales of brightness. And I guess the Greek thought the sky was shiny, like brass. (Think of that one piece of work where the ocean was deemed wine dark)

Oh I also should probably add that the family history includes Erebus overthrowing Chaos, and then Erebus being overthrown by his children, but that’s a long story I’ll dedicate to another post)

Gaia and Ouranos then became a thAng, and I could go all poetic about how oh the sky and the earth were bound for loneliness so against the odds given to them they became one together, but no I’m not going to because I’m such a good poet. I digress.

Oh and my dude Ouranos decided it would be cool to decree himself supreme deity, cool cool my(😬) dude.

Anyways, Gaia and Ouranos hit it off and had some premeditated children. (Yes. This wording is purposeful. No. I will not explain.)

Now to go into the kids of Ouranos, yay..

(There is no foreshadowing here folks!)

So Ouranos sired children withe Gaia, the first set being six sons. Three Cyclops (one eyed peeps), there names being Brontes, Arges, aand Steropes. And three (insert me staring at the google search of how to spell this) Hecatonchires, named Briares, Cottus, and Gyges. They were dubbed the One Hundred Handed Ones(I’m pretty sure if you’ve read Percy Jackson Briares is in a part of it(?))

Well, Ouranos was awfully concerned about how powerful these giants are, so he locked them away. There is some debate about where he locked them up, but it’s widely believed he locked them in the deepest pits of Tartarus.

Gaias, as most mothers would, did not quite agree withe this, and wasn’t all too happy withe him. This is fine, nothing is bound to happen right? (…)

Oh little fun fact about myself, while doing this I had my big ole mythology book that I love and have no recollection of getting (I just found out I stole it from my father, and he’s never getting it back), but do know it is a good flower press. And very informative (which is good because it’s huge and has a very decient portion that is deticated to Greek myths yay) My delicate dried flowers are falling (I mean, sorta, I would never actually let them fall but they are taking damage and potential destruction so it COUNTS) as I type this out, know I have sacrificed greatly to bid thee information I already know and honestly only need the book for spelling (yes I am proud of my useless knowledge of Greek myths) I DIGRESS.

So as this is happening (or maybe after, it doesn’t directly state, only specifically states that the giants were first created before the titans) Gaia also birthed the 12 Titans. Who are Oceanus, Tethys, Hyperion, Theia, Coeus, Phoebe, Kronos, Rhea, krios, Japetus, Themis, and Mnemosyne.

So Oceanus was the titan god of the great oceanic river that forever circles the world. (I. WILL. EXPLAIN. In another post this is getting long and I’m not even halfway done) His wife is his sister Tethys (if you don’t like it go away because you definitely won’t like Greek mythology, oh and they practically don’t have the same DNA or morals as us sooo)

Hyperion was the first sun god, and his sister Theia was his wife.

(You do not know how hard it is to not digress and spill facts and stories BECAUSE THERES SO MUCH THAT ISNT SAID ON HERE the only thing saving me is that I have other posts I can rant about them on)

Coeus, who isn’t very important other then his offsprings tales, wived his sister Phoebe.

Kronos, the youngest of the bunch, married to Rhea, who was the titan of motherhood, and other foreshadowing things.

Ok this is getting long the rest of them are Krios, Japetus, Themis (goddess of justice), and Mnemosyne (goddess of memory)

So let’s get back to Gaia, as I said before she was livid at Ouranos for ya know yeeting her giant children to the great pits of Tartarus, and then imprisoning her titan children in her womb, so she took her titan children and was all like “oh my dear lovelys please go kill your father for me?” And then committed one of the most famous divorces in all of mythology.

Gaia created flint to make a sickle, then once done making it she told one of her titan children to murder their father withe it. I like to guess all of them looked at her in bafflement, for none of them took the sickle from her offered hand, except for one. (Insert mic drop)

Kronos, youngest and seemingly weakest decided he was worthy and took the sickle.

Then they conspired a plan, the plan being several versions. The main version being; for Kronos to strike once Ouranos and Gaia are settled down to lay, and the some of the other titans holding him down (another post my friends another post). So this is what Kronos did.

Once Ouranos was laying down withe Gaia, Kronos went boo, and castrated Ouranos withe the sickle. He then threw the genitals into the ocean (where Aphrodite was created by the sea foam where the genitals fell, later on but that’s a story for another post) From his blood giants popped up, as well as the Erinyes, furies who tormented the criminal minds later on when humans were a thing, and ash tree nymphs.

It’s not stated clear what exactly happened to Ouranos, some versions state that he died, that he withdrew from the earth, or that he exiled himself to Italy. (Yes. Italy. Very specific right? And there. Is. No. Elaboration.) All that’s known is that as he deported he said the Kronos “you shall be punished” (very original)

Yup ok that’s all I’ll do the gods and that age later byeee

#greek mythology #kronos #ouranos #greek gods #greek posts #myths #factsdaily #interesting facts #fun (fun..?) facts #story #greek titans #cronos #other helpful tags #and some that aren’t all that helpful #greek myth retellings

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devildancing · 8 months ago

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After so many years of walking this exact path, the young witch knows that the trek from the courtyard to the library takes hardly any time at all. So, why does it feel like centuries before the two of them get there? Somewhat hopelessly, Narcissa attempts to focus on things in the here and the now — things like the warmth radiating from James' body or the way his thumb feels grazing over her cold skin. Each time the lion's dark head turns back to look at her with all that concern and all that sad, sad warmth, she wishes she could muster up the energy to just grin and bear it all. Whatever it took to make this wretched feeling in the pit of her stomach go away.

Unsurprisingly, the library is absolutely magnificent at this time of night. Moonlight filters through the stained-glass windows, peeking through the bits of dust and accumulated time in beams of silver and cool iridescence. She watches the way that they dance off the wizard's tanned skin and the unkempt curls atop his head. Narcissa is somewhat glad for the loss of the cloak, if only so she can breathe air that isn't entirely saturated with him. Being so explicitly aware of James Potter doesn't make any of this easier. She's dragged him into this and now, even if she actually wanted to, he won't let her go through it alone.

The touch of his hand is the only thing holding her together right now.

A trembling sigh tumbles from the pretty blonde's parted lips, still warm and tingling with the cinnamon of the golden boy's kiss. Even now, his fingers still latch with her own and the weight of his jacket once she takes it with her free hand is surprisingly comforting. She knows what this is; she can read it even behind the sadness and fear that burden his gilded gaze. Affection. It's almost amazing how something that comes so hard to the entirety of her family is as simple as breathing to the boy beside her. She's missed it - missed him - more than she can say.

There's a sad sort of tiredness clinging to the girl as she lowers herself onto the ground beside him, the warmth of the fireplace blanketing Narcissa's shivering frame in an attempt to combat the chill that's taken hold of her. As he speaks, she only feels worse. As grateful as the girl is for James - as much as she desperately wants to cling to him like the lifeline that he is - it also hurts. It's bittersweet. Because, he shouldn't have been the first to say or do these things for her — the only one with the stubborn determination to reach her in the storm.

Gods, she hates this hopeless feeling that has its hold on her! She hates the helplessness of being lost and the isolation that wraps around her, serpentine and crushing. When she looks into James' swirling gaze, concern and warmth so very evident in their depths, it's all the poor girl can do to stop herself from crying like a child. The graze of his mouth against her crown is all too much to bear, wet lashes falling against the crests of her pale, aristocratic cheeks as the fingers of her free hand curl into the leather of his jacket draped over her lap.

I am with you, love. Always.

Was that really so hard for anyone else to say?

❝ Bella — ❞

Her throat is so dry that she nearly croaks out the name and even uttering it feels like a betrayal. Narcissa is the secret keeper, just as she always has been. She's the cleaner of messes and the righter of wrongs. If trust exists in their family, then the small blonde is surely its personification. There was nothing that any of them could do that she would not forgive. But this...

❝ It was Bella. ❞ Whispering the truth doesn't make it any easier, flashes of that night replaying over and over behind her haunted eyes. The screaming and that white-hot flash of light. The hand still firmly held in his shakes with the rest of her, nails biting into the leather of his jacket.

❝ Rodolphus. Lucius. ❞ Her fiance's name comes out angrier than the others, less sad and more disgusted. Had it only been him - if it were just him, she would have gladly told Dumbledore and been free of the burden.

❝ They were all there in that room, but it was Bella that — I...I saw her wand and...that look in her eyes... ❞ Her frightened eyes meet his, the blue of her irises almost debilitating. ❝ I can't — I could have died! ❞

A part of her can't help but wonder if it would all be easier if she had.

The Gryffindor allows himself a sight of relief when she accepts his hand.

James had no idea what he would've done if she had refused, take her over his shoulder and run back inside despite how much she may hate him after. Or stay all night outside with her, in silence or not, do anything as long as she wasn't alone.

“ Here, ” he says, shaking off his cloak to wrap it around her. “ Invisible, and waterproof - dad must’ve gotten a deal. ” He jokes, bringing her closer to him as he guides them back inside.

Walking through the hallowed halls of the castle, James guides them to the nearest place he thinks she may find comforting -- the library. They were high into the night, the library would be empty from prying ears and wandering eyes. But most importantly, it would be dry and warm. James could not stand the idea of Cissy catching something like a bloody cold and spending one more day in the infirmary.

The curly-haired boy is diligent in his silence. He is determined on not vomiting the thousand thoughts and questions roaming through his head. Cissy knew -- she remembered everything. James cannot quite decide what is actually better, because if she knew -- if all this time, she knew what happened to her, it must have been something far more horrific than what his imagination fabricated. The thought alone makes him very much want to vomit and scream at the same time.

His thumb strokes softly the porcelain skin of her knuckles, a natural act as if he could sooth her, and himself, at the same time. Occasionally, perhaps even more times than necessary, he glances over his shoulder to make sure she was okay - to ensure she was still there. And each time his heart roared in agony and anger, the golden of his eyes lingering on the dark circles beneath her own and the frown marking her beautiful face.

They reach the library fast enough, a quick work of his wand opening the locks of the worn-out wooden doors - stepping aside to let her walk in. James glances around them one last time, checking for any sign of soul or spirit near them. Cissy may be a prefect, so her presence would’ve been perfectly normal in her patrolling hours - but she had also been infamously woken from a coma but days ago and James cannot imagine this did not come with consequences. People were looking for her - talking about her, and James has so often now stormed out from the middle of the Great Hall to stop himself from hexing each and every single one of them.

Moonlight sneaks through the tall windows, illuminating the hollow hall and tall stands filled from the floor to ceiling with centuries-old books. Slowly, he takes off the cloak from their hidden figures and lets it rest on a table nearby. James drags in slow breaths, easing the fast pace of his wretched heart and swallowing his worst impulses. To act thoughtlessly was such a Gryffindor trait, and James understood why in this very moment. He wanted nothing more than to act - to hit, to scream, to unleash a slaughter of curses upon whoever did this to his best friend. James doesn't even have a name but he already can picture a thousand ways he could make them really hurt. He drags in yet another deep breath before turning to look at her, and picks up on her scent -- mint lingering in the air and honey on his lips from their kiss. The last thing Narcissa needed was a bloody idiot trying to avenge her.

“ Let’s sit? ” He asks, letting both towards the farthest brick wall to sit right by the fireplace with its lingering, flickering controlled flames - shrugging off his leather jacket, and offering it to the blonde witch. “ We can dry up and get all warm and cozy, but for fuck's sake you're shivering - here, take it. ” James offers her a small, soft smile, and he realizes all this time he hasn’t let go of her hand. Not like he intends to, even as he plumps down to sit in the stone-cold floor.

Golden-sparkled eyes can truly see her now in the clash of silvery and golden light, tracing from the top of her blonde head, to the wet tendrils clinging to the frame of her lovely face, to the school uniform drenched in rainwater. For Godric’s sake, he’d gone insane trying to find her all night, and to have her near him now -- James can’t help but feel an immense sense of gratitude and relief that at the very least, she was here. Tired and drench and it seemed like absolutely heartbroken, but here - alive. And he would be with her - in any and all ways she wanted of him. A doomed man, Remus would say and he would be unsurprisingly right.

“ Cissy, I... ” he begins, continuing a soft caress of her hand, before his free one lands near her cheek - pushing back a few of the golden tresses falling over her blue eyes.

“ I don’t want you to think you need to tell me anything. Whatever you’d like to share... to whatever level you feel comfortable, I just -- I would never ask more than what you tell me tonight or any other time you’d like to talk. ”

James locks on to the sky-blue eyes of the witch, searching her gaze for any indication that she may have changed her mind, for any sign that she understood what he was trying to convey. And his gaze softens then, leaning in to place a kiss at the top of her head.

“ I am with you, love. Always. ”

#. toujours fleur . threads #. thread . atlas lay down your load

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1111jenx · 4 years ago

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❝ ᗯᕼITE ᗰOOᑎ ᔕEᒪEᑎE ❞

~ asteroid h56 on astro.com ❃

Hi beautiful, today I'm SO excited to introduce you guys to a new asteroid that I have been studying intensively, White Moon Selene.

Selene, (Greek: “Moon”) Latin Luna, in Greek and Roman religion, the personification of the moon as a goddess. She was worshipped at the new and full moons. According to Hesiod’s Theogony, her parents were the Titans Hyperion and Theia; her brother was Helios, the sun god (sometimes called her father); her sister was Eos (Dawn). In the Homeric Hymn to Selene, she bears the beautiful Pandeic to Zeus, while Alcman says they are the parents of Herse, the dew. She is often linked with Endymion, whom she loved and whom Zeus cast into eternal sleep in a cave on Mount Latmus; there, Selene visited him and became the mother of 50 daughters. In another story she was loved by Pan. By the 5th century BC Selene was sometimes identified with Artemis, or Phoebe, “the bright one.” She was usually represented as a woman with the moon (often in crescent form) on her head and driving a two-horse chariot. As Luna, she had temples at Rome on the Aventine and Palatine hills

As much as I love my Aries 7H Black Moon Lilith, I was just as amazed to realize that I have my White Moon Selene also in Aries 7H. So the more I learned about Selene, the more fascinated I become.

White Moon / Selene is specific astrological archetype, different from classical Luna / Moon, which we could see on the sky. It is fictious point and it runs approximately for 7 years. White Moon take over the empty space over Virgin Mary archetype (it is as if her cheap esoteric substitute).

Lilith is principle of earnest, integrity, whilst White Moon is related with the idea of fascinating (yet paralyzing) perfection (which does not exist on Earth). Mainly on spiritual base.

"I like to think of the Black Moon Lilith (Lunar Apogee) as a manifestation of the shadow(s) that exist deep within our subconscious mind, and the White Moon as our inner light and the “good” in us. In other words, inner darkness and inner light." (astrologer Susanna Meel)

So while Lilith tempts and destroys, Lilith breaks things down and gives into her darkness and desires, White Moon Selene refuses to fall, she's our highest and most purest form of idealized self. How I see it is your White Moon Selene represents the you at your brightest, most ethereal moments. Getting to know your White Moon is a way to heal your Lilith, to make peace with your trauma and unresolved issues. I have had a lot of you guys that reached out to me asking for ways to calm down your Lilith effect, one of the best ways I can think of is to accept your Black Moon while working with your White Moon.

The many meanings of the White Moon in chart interpretation include: truth, light, positive previous life deeds, white magic, awakened mind, a sense of ultimate meaning or purpose, man’s grace, protection, guardian angel etc.

Just as there are two Liliths, the Mean Lilith (h21) and the True Lilith (h13), there are also two White/Light Moons that serve as the polarities of Lilith’s essence:

Mean White Moon Selena ~h56

True Light Moon Arta

Unfortunately, Arta is absent from most astrological softwares (except ZET Software and maybe a few other Russian ones). Astro.com only lists Mean White Moon Selena (h56), which should not be confused with the asteroid Selene (580).

A strong White Moon in the birth chart makes the person conscious of universal unity and, as a result, feels a higher relation to all and all, working beyond doubt, fear, and separation. A powerful Black Moon, on the other hand, has been found in individuals who fail to adapt, choosing to question the universe into which they were born, and thus this aspect is seen as a separating facto.

And finally, now for the most waited part,,

— 🌙

Selena in the signs/houses

<based off Vronsky's interpretation

Selena in Aries: Selena in the sign of Aries motivates a person to become a warrior for a just cause and justice by making them morally pure, noble, and compassionate. Selena stimulates and excites the individual's psyche in order to achieve this daunting mission, increasing hope, altruism, and affection for children, as well as giving indulgence to others' errors, self-esteem, and the desire to admire and motivate. People born under the sign of Aries have benevolence, a desire to support the poor, vulnerable, offended, and sick, as well as strengthening their spirit, assisting them in overcoming challenges, and widening their spiritual horizon. They are rewarded with inner satisfaction as a result of this.

Selena in I: Selena in the first house of the horoscope strengthens a person’s faith and hope for a better future, gives love to people, nature, animals. It strengthens the will and spiritual strength of a person, his sense of inner dignity, gives self-confidence, courage, penetrative power, spiritual and intellectual abilities, as well as an attraction to the secrets of nature and the occult sciences. People with Selena in house I are optimistic, noble, generous, honest and fair, trying to take care of everyone and help everyone. This position of Selena strengthens vitality, portends a person a long, fruitful life for the benefit of people. Happiness accompanies them to the end of life. Phenomenal or extrasensory abilities are often manifested. Success foreshadows all matters that require leadership skills and organizational talent.

Selena in Taurus: Selena in Taurus makes a person want to give up frivolous and unnecessary material values in favour of moral values that can be directed to the good of others, such as family, neighbours, and the entire community. Selena rewards her wards with increased perseverance, perseverance, courage, endurance, patience, anticipation of the repercussions of a case or act, self-confidence, prudence, friendliness, and goodwill in exchange for this. It promotes a love of people, nature, and animals, as well as art, such as music and singing, as well as everything that is elegant and beautiful.

Selena in II: Selena in the II house strengthens the nobility of man, as well as prudence and a sense of mercy. In this case, a person is not a slave of the "golden calf" and rejects the power of money, leaving himself exactly enough to be able to live peacefully without luxury. Everything that he turns out to be superfluous, he gives to the sick, poor, needy. Money, if easily earned, is just as easy and wasted. The own well-being of such a person is only the result of innate talents, abilities and own labor. Good luck is foreshadowed by activities in the field of applied art, the art industry, the craft, and the general field of art. Selena in the II house promotes successful financial transactions and trade.

Selena in Gemini: Selena instils in you the need to love your neighbour as yourself. The same is true for fathers, mothers, neighbours, and coworkers. A individual may serve them faithfully without being greedy or self-interested, and without expecting anything in return. Selena in Gemini is a medium for high human thoughts, acting as a mediator between human needs and God's command. Selena improves these people's physical and mental mobility, performance, quick wit, quickness of mind and sleight of hand, ability to adapt to others, love of nature and animals, and gives them the desire to support those in need for this cause.

Selena in III: Selena in the III house promotes good, good relations with brothers and sisters, neighbors and work colleagues. People with this position of Selena on the map instill hope and faith in people who have lost it, help patients recover, weak-willed people gain self-confidence, and bring those who are hesitant to a state of peace of mind, helping them to "get on their feet." Such people attract to themselves all the necessary information, which after processing and filtering is passed on to others. Relations, contacts, agreements, unions, contracts, contracts, any partnership, cooperation or co-authorship bring them success and sincere satisfaction. Success here is possible in all “paper” affairs, journalism, pedagogy, and translation activities.

Selena in Cancer: Selena in the sign of Cancer makes a person obey the laws of his state, the traditions of the people and ancestors, the parental home. Good luck is possible only in your native land, home. Here, Selena also gives love to the past, antiques, and also gives a person a sense of duty, an obligation to loved ones, relatives and loved ones, which he will strive to take care of until the end of his days.

Selena in IV: Selena in the IV house patronizes her family home and her own home. This position of Selena creates a harmonious atmosphere and emotional warmth in the parent and family circle, turning the home into a refuge from any weather. It guarantees the help of parents and family, a long, fruitful life, secured old age. Free professions, work at home, occult sciences and art classes can bring success. Selena in the IV house favors the acquisition of land and real estate. May indicate good heredity and the possibility of inheritance.

Selena in Leo: Selena here enhances the creative spirit, self-esteem, nobility, generosity, kindness, generosity and gives love to life, people, art and mass entertainment. For such people, conscience and justice come first. They, as a rule, take care of others, take care of them, direct all their strength and energy to helping those who need it. Success is expected in everything where you can show administrative talent, organizational skills, leadership skills. The greatest success awaits those with Selena forming a connection with the star Regulus.

Selena in V: Selena in the V house increases the potential of pure, idealistic love and the ability to resist temptation, protects from seduction and falsehood. Here happiness is foreshadowed in children and offspring, to which a person is ready to give himself completely. He will strive to convey to them all his creative heritage. Good successes are possible in the sciences, pedagogy, wherever a strong spirit of entrepreneurship and entrepreneurship is required: in trade, medicine, financial transactions, public speaking, in the art world, especially on the theater stage, stage and in all kinds of entertainment enterprises.

Selena in Virgo: In the sign of the Virgin, Selena strengthens intellectual abilities, while simultaneously promoting exaltation of the spirit, deepening and expanding the spiritual horizon. Here she increases diligence, capacity for work, a sense of duty, caringness, endows modesty, conscientiousness, honesty, decency. A craving for self-sacrifice and self-restraint may also occur.

Selena in VI: Selena in the VI house helps to get rid of diseases. If they come, they will be easily overcome. Here Selena enhances hard work, hard work, a sense of duty and responsibility both for her work and for the fate of other people, for example, her servants, subordinates, and patients. Selena in the VI house promotes the profession of a doctor, healer, astrologer, although success is also possible in science, finance and banking, wherever exact calculation, planning, logic, analysis, methodology, pedantry and pragmatism are required. An important role is played by love for nature, animals, rural lifestyles.

Selena in Libra: Selena in the sign of Libra gives its owner humanism, altruism, the pursuit of justice. Such people dream of a bright future for all of humanity. The owners of Selena in Libra strive for harmony and harmony, they are decent, sociable, friendly, courteous, polite, diplomatic, they strive to smooth out contradictions and seek a compromise in any tense situation. Selena contributes to success in the art world. Selena gives particular success to people in whom she is in conjunction with the stars of Spica and Arcturus (23-24 degrees of Libra).

Selena in VII: Selena in the VII house brings joy and happiness in marriage and consent to a business partnership, creates favorable conditions for successful cooperation and co-authorship, contributes to an excellent microclimate in the work team. Partnership and public opinion plays a big role in the life and destiny of a person, much more than his personal desires and aspirations. This position of Selena often indicates a long, fruitful life, high social status and good material base, contributes to the achievement of popularity and fame. Success is foreshadowed in the world of art and work related to social activities.

Selena in Scorpio: Selena in Scorpio smoothes out the manifestation of animal instincts, passions, sexual claims, replacing them with pure human love with a pronounced dignity and inner pride. Selena in Scorpio gives a tendency to selflessness and sacrifice for the benefit of any sublime idea or loved ones. Here Selena promotes spiritual rebirth and evolution. Successful can be an activity in which you can apply organizational talent, leadership skills. Selena in Scorpio contributes to the implementation of ideas and plans. Such people succeed in the military field, in forensics, detective bureaus, the fight against crime, as well as in the sciences, especially the occult, in medicine, surgery, herbal medicine.

Selena in VIII: Selena in the VIII house gives her wards the potential vitality and inexhaustible energy, protects from serious illnesses and accidents, contributes to a good inheritance. Selena in the VIII house is a mediator between man and the higher forces protecting him from occult influences. This position of Selena promotes creative activity, the accumulation of spiritual fruits that should be given for the benefit of future generations, favors areas of activity related to science, technology, occultism, military affairs, criminalistics, and finance.

Selena in Sagittarius: Selena in the sign of Sagittarius promotes the growth of spiritual qualities, the expansion of the spiritual horizon. A distinctive feature of such people is their cosmopolitanism. They are distinguished by strong optimism, altruism, physical and spiritual mobility, the desire for personal and spiritual freedom, independence and independence. The owners of Selena in Sagittarius are balanced, noble, generous, hardworking, efficient, merciful, compassionate, love nature and animals. Selena helps all their affairs related to other countries, foreigners, as well as theology, missionary work, philosophy, religion and the natural sciences.

Selena in IX: Selena in the IX house engenders a desire for knowledge, an interest in culture, traditions, cults and rituals of other nations. Happiness awaits a person away from their native places. Successful can be trips, travels and relations with foreigners. Such a position of Selena awakens in a person a craving for missionary activity, enlightenment, encourages to engage in charity. Occult knowledge, healing abilities may be useful. Here, Selena activates the desire to direct her abilities for the benefit of society, gives the favor of the powers that be and fate.

Selena in Capricorn: Selena in Capricorn highlights prudence, thoughtfulness, sobriety, logic, hard work, hard work, tenacity, stability, endurance, endurance, self-esteem and inner pride. Often such a person shows self-denial and self-sacrifice. Selena in Capricorn contributes to labor and life success, a social upsurge, but only if a person gives his energy and strength for the benefit of other people. Successful can be public service, the political arena, service in the security organs, in the party and trade union apparatus. The spheres of activity are architecture, construction, agricultural policy, national economy, as well as agriculture and forestry, mining, work in mines and mines.

Selena in X: Selena in the X house favors a career and contributes to the achievement of her tasks. She creates the appropriate circumstances, opens the right doors, directs the right people to help. As a result of active and disinterested activity, deserved rewards, fame, and popularity come to a person. Selena here gives a person the motivation to become the leader of society, the party. Success in life will bring those professions that are indicated by the zodiac sign, in which Selena has her location in the radix.

Selena in Aquarius: Selena in the sign of Aquarius strengthens the thirst for freedom, independence, independence. A person is characterized by altruism, a tendency to patronize friends and congenial people. All of them receive moral and material assistance. People with Selena in Aquarius are usually the soul of the community or company they are a member of. They try to promote original ideas for saving the world and humanity and pave the way for their implementation. These are fighters for humanism, all new and progressive. Selena in Aquarius contributes to such professions as psychology, sociology, parapsychology, psychoanalysis, occult sciences, and also helps researchers, rationalizers, and innovators.

Selena in XI: Selena in the XI house of the horoscope brings joy and happiness through true friends and loyal like-minded people. It gives honest guardians, good patrons, the favor of the authorities and government officials, the opportunity to receive patronage, recommendations. Selena here protects from false friends, makes it possible to choose the environment of her own free will. It is easy for people with this position of Selena to gain spiritual freedom, independence and independence. Selena in the XI house favors the realization of ideas and plans, helps in professions related to scientific research, technology, electronics, cybernetics, bionics, occultism.

Selena in Pisces: Selena in the sign of Pisces gives a person abilities in the field of occult sciences. Meditation, mediumistic sessions and other occult experiences here will not do harm, but rather help to understand yourself and the world around you. Such people have a strong and subtle intuition. These are humanists and altruists endowed with the ability of foresight. They grasp a lot and guess with their inner instincts. People with Selena in Pisces are compassionate, merciful, ready to help those who need it. They voluntarily go to self-denial and self-sacrifice for the good of others, prone to forgiveness. Love for nature and animals is also strongly manifested. Selene in Pisces promotes medicine, psychology, occultism.

Selena in XII: Selena in the XII house helps her wards to avoid the insidious intrigues of secret enemies, helps to expose them. It is also possible that the former enemies will eventually become his friends and voluntarily move to his camp. We protect people from seduction, falsehood, temptations, disappointments and delusions. The closer to the Ascendant is Selena, the more favorable an omen for a person. Success is possible in professions related to medicine, healing, extrasensory perception, psychotherapy, the world of art or the occult.

So thats my masterpost for Selena in the signs/houses along with its explanation, I'll continue to take in questions and asks about Selena in the comment or in my submission! Like I have mentioned before, astrology to me is a world of endless possibles and we have only scratched the surface of it. Please let me know if you guys do have any questions or fun facts about the aspects your Selene makes🥰 I'll be linking the sources and recommended read I think you guys should check out below<3

love,

saint jenx🪐

sources:

Black Moon Lilith&White Moon Arta by Susanna Meel

Tsagaan Baavai on White Moon Selene

Vronsky S. Classical astrology. Volume 7. Planetology. Part IV Pluto, Chiron, Proserpine, Lunar Nodes, Lilith and Lulu. - M., 2005 .-- C. 204.

The Three Faces of The Moon

#astrojenx #astrology observations #astro notes #astrology #astrology notes #selena #selene #white moon selene #asteroid selena #white moon #black moon lilith #lilith #asteroid astrology #astro basics

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umbralundertaler · 3 years ago

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The concept of Kris and Spamton friendship is so good you guys have no idea.

Of course, they both lack free will, but it's so much more than that. Spamton is essentially worst case scenario Kris; his possession was so bad that not even his thoughts were his own, driving him insane. And once he was finally given freedom, he immediately broke. Just like Kris, who can remove the SOUL, but they still cannot live without it. Just the thought of Spamton existing frightens Kris so much because of how similar they are, Kris is afraid of becoming like him.

There's also the fact that the dark world is a projection of the one who created it. Spamton as a character might be a representation of how Kris feels like they're playing second fiddle for Asriel, and the only reason Kris was liked by the town was because of their connection to Asriel. But when Asriel left, they were suddenly all alone, just becoming "The weird kid". Spamtons rise and fall from fame due to circumstances out of his control... his creation is based on that part of Kris.

Spamton is the personification of a lot of Kris' fears, made even worse by how personal and friendly he acts with Kris the second he meets them.

But despite all this, Kris pushes through their fear. Despite the fact that they want to leave Spamton and never think about him again, they saw someone else in a position similar to themselves and the chance to be merciful, and they took it. I LOVE KRIS GUYS

Spamtons side of the relationship is... more out of desperation than actually liking Kris. But he does feel a bit the same way that Kris does, in that he knows Kris is being controlled and feels sympathy. But really the biggest thing is that he's desperate for someone to relate to and who shares his experiences. (Kris is just as desperate, and it's one of the only reasons why they can bear to keep him around at first.)

This guy is clinging to any hope that he could get better, which is why I like his character so much. He never gives up even though he's been beaten down so much.

After a while though they start to genuinely enjoy being around eachother, rather than just being together out of necessity. Kris goes from tolerating Spamton to liking him and thinking he's funny; Spamton gets to know Kris' actual personality and he thinks they're funny too and he wants to protect this kid (even though he'd do a horrible job of it).

Idk I just think their relationship is a lot more complex than most people give it credit for. It means a lot to both of the characters.

#I just like the concept of a middle schooler and a 37 year old man being besties its sooo funny #and it makes for some unique situations that you don't see that commonly #Deltarune #Kris #Spamton #Deltarune 2 #Deltarune chapter 2 #spamton g spamton #kris dreemurr #kris deltarune

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lizajane2 · 2 years ago

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A/N: So, this is my first time sharing my writing with others on here. Wow, I'm really nervous about this good god... okay. If you would like to be tagged just let me know and I'd be happy to! And updates will not be weekly, I wish I had that kind of time for this story because I love it so much! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy reading this just as much as I did when writing it!

Also, why is Morpheus so hard to write even when it's a close platonic friendship? This man frustrates me in all aspects of my life!

Adularescence

Summary: For over a century, Adina has been completely lost about who she is or, more to the point, what she is. With Lady Johanna Constantine as her companion, she meets a stranger that immediately catches her eye.

Chapter 1:

Humanity always left Adina in awe. She appreciated, even slightly envied, the way humans deeply fell in love with one another and grew old. How they persevered and overcame fear with their courage. Even when all seemed lost. It was more difficult to see that they could become murderers, and rapists, and have an overwhelming need to achieve power at the expense of others. More than humanity, Adina adored the beauty that nature provided here. All the darkness she had seen gave her more reason to love all life. But as she stared out of the carriage, looking upon the rundown tavern, Adina was reminded that she was not human. That she felt completely and utterly out of place here.

"Hurry now, or we will miss our chance," Johanna ushered as she flung the door open, “with their help, we can finally understand what you are."

"This may not be your best idea," Adina told her.

"Are you not curious? They might be able to provide you with answers," she argued, "they may even be older than you are."

"You certainly have a point, but perhaps there is a reason they meet in secret. Not to mention, we are uninvited guests. I fear it's not wise."

"You've spent the last century wondering what you are and now that you're closer to the truth you wish to run? Are you afraid?"

"I'm terrified," Adina admitted, "and thinking that maybe this is a question better left unanswered."

Johanna then grasped both of Adina's hands and held them tightly, "Remember, I am here with you. It's you and me, yeah?"

Adina sat in silence for a moment, leering at the Inn. There was something else stopping her and made her hesitate. A presence that she could not decipher, one that was ancient, powerful, and dangerous. It was an odd sensation; it was unknown and yet it brought her comfort. Little did she know that just inside an anthropomorphic personification was acutely aware of her arrival as well.

A gentle smile formed from her lips, and she linked her arm with Johanna's, "Shall we head in then?"

"There's my girl."

Morpheus could feel the warmth and light that her presence radiated. He was overcome with this insistent need to follow it, allow it to lead him to her. There was an oddity about the woman that sparked his curiosity. Except he remained rooted in his seat, with the notion that he would find her another time, and redirected his attention back to the conversation at hand.

"There's a new system where they take English cotton goods to Africa, get a cargo of negroes, pack em' in like sardines. Same ship takes them back across the Atlantic," Hob explained with a sense of pride, "then comes back here with raw cotton, tobacco, and sugar... What?"

"It's a poor thing for one man to enslave another," Morpheus's tone had been even but to Adina, who was now listening intently from the catwalk above, it sounded as though he was looking down at the other man's success. With every right.

She reached out for Johanna's wrist and whispered,

"Wait, but for a moment,” Adina pleaded. Her dear friend nodded reluctantly and leaned back against the rail as they both continued to eavesdrop on a conversation that did not involve them.

Finally, Adina let her gaze fall upon the man... no, that didn't sound right, he was more than that. Throughout her time here she has never met nor seen a being quite like him. He was not human, that much she knew. With hair that was black as night and porcelain skin, making him look ethereal, as though he did not belong here like herself. But what truly drew her in, was the color of his eyes. They were a bright cerulean blue and deeper than any ocean she could drown in.

"I suggest you find yourself a different line of business, Robert Gadling,"

"You're giving me advice? After four hundred years," He chastised, "What happened to ‘live your life as you choose?"

"The choice is yours. But would you take that choice away from others?"

Adina was enthralled by the way he spoke. His words were chosen carefully and held meaning. He did not need to over explain, there was no reason for him to. And the timbre in his voice sent chills down her spine.

Robert looked down in shame, knowing that the being across from him was right, "I will consider your advice."

"I saw a production of Mrs. Siddons as Goneril. The idiots had given it a happy ending."

"That will not last. The great stories will always return to their original forms."

"That lad, Will Shakespeare. He turned out to be a half-decent playwright after all. You made some kind of deal with him, didn't you?"

"Perhaps."

"What kind of deal? His soul?"

"Nothing so crude."

"I have always found that some need more inspiration than others," Adina added, the words fumbling from her mouth before she could stop them. "My apologies, I know I should not be here."

"Yet you are," Morpheus quipped, a playful remark that held no annoyance. Instead, he found himself rather curious about the woman and asked, “Why?”

"I might ask both of you that same question, gentlemen," Johanna pipped in, "Please, please do not trouble yourselves to rise. These are Michael and Tobias."

"Johanna, what are you doing?" Adina was not one to resort to violence unless she deemed so, and this was not the time for a display of such acts.

“Leave the rest to me, darling. These two gentlemen are smugglers by trade. Although they’re only too glad to augment their earnings by slitting throats,” Johanna threatened, “if you move, they’ll slit yours.”

"That is entirely unnecessary and barbaric," Adina tried to reason, "I only came here hoping the two of you might help me, but I understand if you refuse to speak with me now. Johanna, come, we should leave them be."

"If you want answers, then this is what must be done,” Johanna pressed.

"Threatening their lives is not the way to approach this situation."

"No. No, I think not," Morpheus agreed. Adina noted the way his tone had changed, gentle but still commanding as he addressed her. A smile graced her lips that did not go unnoticed by him, and the King of Dreams was completely enamored.

He was unable to look away from the blonde woman standing before him, who met his gaze with respect and kindness. Her eyes were a bright green and gentle, filled with an honesty that most humans did not possess, not even Robert Gadling. Her golden hair fell past her slender shoulder in natural waves, and he imagined the strands feeling like silk between his fingers. He could not deny that she was stunning, blessed with beauty that no goddess could match.

But the spell was broken as Johanna’s voice rang through the air, "There is a tail in these London parts, that the Devil and the Wandering Jew meet once every century in a tavern. Two years passed, and sewn into the shirt of a dead man, I found this."

"Is that meant to be me," Robert asked baffled and Adina walked over to the table to view the sketch for the second time that day,

"Yes, it doesn't seem to capture your features at all. The nose is even all wrong."

"Oh, I look terrible," Robert glanced up at the man who sat across from him, "You look worse."

“It certainly doesn’t paint either of you in a good light.”

"Perhaps he or she needs more inspiration then," Robert remarked, and the sound of her soft laugh filled Morpheus’s ears, his attention now fully directed at her. But his eyes narrowed in on a pendant that fell out from under her white cloak, a moonstone. How odd, he thought. If such a stone was ever used by a wielder of magic it could absorb power.

“I’m afraid this artist is a lost cause. And it seems my manners have escaped me. My name is Adina.”

“Robert Gadling, a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

Morpheus quietly observed how Adina easily connected with humans. As though it was second nature for her, and it was a trait she shared with his dear sister. He could feel a slight smirk tugging at his lips, secretly admiring the fact.

“Do not bother asking his name,” Robert added referring to his old friend, “he still has yet to tell me.”

Adina raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the information, “You meet with a man every hundred years and you have yet to know his name?”

“He dodges the personal questions.”

“Enough,” Johanna barked, “as I was saying you return to this pub every hundred years, striking bargains with men, sharing gifts, immortality, which you now share with me. Well, have you nothing to say?”

“I am no devil,” Morpheus answered slightly annoyed with the brunette, who had dared to command him.

It confused him to watch the two women, who were vastly different in personality, be close friends. Yet he could not help but feel as though something was off between the two. One was hiding a rather dark secret and he was quite determined to figure it out.

“I am not Jewish,” Robert added.

“Fine, well if you do not wish to answer, perhaps they can persuade you.”

Michael and Tobias stepped forward as Constantine retreated back to a secluded corner but before Robert could react, Adina smashed a teacup into Tobias’s face causing him to stumble backward, giving her a mere moment to pick up a knife. Michael had thrown a punch in her direction, but she quickly stepped aside, reversed her grip on the hilt, and plunged the blade deep into Michael’s chest then pushed his corpse to the floor with a heavy sigh.

“Bloody hell,” Robert mumbled in awe, as she then tossed the knife aside, metal clattering against the plate, and picked up a cloth to clean the blood from her hands.

Adina could feel eyes boring into the side of her face and she dared to glance over at Morpheus. There in his blue irises, she saw the swirl of the cosmos and it felt as though the air had been sucked out of her lungs. Her anger was coming to a simmer as he looked upon her with sympathy. He could see that it had pained Adina, that guilt weighed heavy in her heart, and he had to push away the urge to reach for her hand, to somehow provide comfort.

With caution, Johanna then approached Adina to comfort her with words, but shame rose from her chest and formed a lump in her throat. She did not dare speak. She knew that it was not easy for Adina to take the lives of others and always preferred to be a voice of reason between the two.

“I am sorry,” Johanna told her sheepishly.

“I know you mean well, and I love you dearly, as though you are my own sister. But this is not the way I wanted answers,” Adina hissed, not taking notice of Tobias slowly coming to and struggling to stand.

Robert had sprung from his chair, his fist colliding with Tobias’s cheek and the smuggler was out cold before he even hit the floor. Robert then stepped towards the brunette woman who immediately pointed a blade of her own at him. Adina had taken a step forward to stand between them and hopefully disarm Johanna until a commanding voice stopped her,

“Wait,” Morpheus spoke up as he stood and reached into his jacket pocket. Adina furrowed her eyebrows together in question, watching the man as he held out his hand and with a soft blow of air, gold sand traveled over to Johanna. She immediately dropped to her knees, eyes turning white, and quietly mumbled to herself.

“Well, that is one way to keep her from making things worse,” Adina commented, “This is not what I had in mind when I sought the two of you out.”

“Her actions are not yours to bear,” he reminded.

“Quite true. Maybe you can teach me how to do that, it could be useful in the future.”

“I’m afraid such power resides with me alone.”

“What a pity,” she jested with a smirk.

“What did you do to her,” Robert questioned Morpheus.

“She has old ghosts that I have shown to her. She will recover,” Morpheus assured and took a step toward Adina, “And you did not need to come to my defense.”

“Yes, well, her behavior was unwarranted. As was mine, I sincerely apologize for interrupting such a private occasion.”

“Perhaps you should keep better company,” He suggested and was rewarded with a small chuckle from the blonde woman.

“You are not the first person to say such a thing. She has only ever been trying to help me.”

“Care to explain what exactly she is helping you with,” Hob wondered.

“A little over a century ago Johanna’s great-grandmother found me unconscious but my memories before that are gone. I have nothing more to go on, unfortunately.”

“You’re like me then unable to die,” he concluded.

“Not quite,” Morpheus corrected still keeping eye contact with Adina who was now standing only mere inches away from him. A sense of ease washed over him as the sweet smell of lilies filled his lungs and it assured him that he would not be wrong to trust her. “You are not human.”

“Neither are you,” she pointed out, seeming to find relief in the common ground they shared, “I was thinking you might be able to help me but given what has happened I would understand if you were hesitant.”

Adina was not wrong, nonetheless, he was insanely curious about her. It was not her beauty that Morpheus felt enraptured with it was her kindness. How she addressed others with such a soft tone. That display earlier, he did not expect it to come from someone of her nature, yet violence was not something she shied away from. He truly wanted to know more about Adina. He wanted to know her fears to keep them away at night. He wanted to know her hopes and dreams.

“I cannot help you restore your memories but as to what you are,” he leaned in a bit closer, “perhaps you and I can find out together, without your… friend.”

“Is that your only condition?”

“Yes, will that be an issue?”

“Of course not, but I have no intention of keeping it a secret from her.” Adina glanced down at Johanna and with a defeated sigh, she poured herself a glass of wine and suggested, “Robert perhaps you should disappear for the time being. Johanna will not stop trying to find you, she is stubborn that way. I know of someone who can get you out of the city.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“She is right,” Morpheus added, “Constantine may have told others about our meeting. It will not be safe for you.”

“I’m perfectly safe. I can’t die, remember?”

“Even so, Johanna will not give up on her quest for power. You may live on, but I’d prefer it if you weren’t hurt or captured,” Adina implored. “Meet me at the docks tonight. I will buy you some time, until then you must be cautious.”

“Tonight then,” Hob agreed and leaned in placing a chaste kiss upon Adina’s cheek, “Thank you.”

“It is the least I can do, now go on both of you. I will deal with this mess.”

However, Morpheus stayed behind for a moment intently watching Adina as she kneeled down next to Tobias and poured a type of liquid onto a cloth. She then put it up to the man’s nose, and within mere moments Tobias was sitting up coughing heavily and frantically looking around.

“Easy now, love. Slow down,” she spoke gently, “Do I need to remind you what will happen if you breathe a word of this?”

“No,” he answered shaking his head.

“Then here is your pay and I would advise you to find a different line of work, Tobias. I see you anywhere near this Inn, you will suffer a fate worse than your brother.”

“Adina-.”

“It’s all right, and I am sorry about Michael.”

“I know. Everything was going to catch up to him eventually.”

“Go on now.”

“I won’t forget this,” he exclaimed before rushing out the door.

“You are letting him go,” Morpheus wondered aloud, and Adina jumped slightly at the sound of his voice, forgetting that he had been there the whole time. “I did not mean to frighten you.”

“You didn’t,” she assured, turning around to face him, “I thought you might have left by now.”

“There is something I would like to discuss but you have yet to answer my question.”

“I see forgiveness is not your strong suit,” Adina teased with a smile only he did not see the humor in her words, “but forgiveness is not about the person who has wronged you, it’s about being able to heal. Tobias had more reason to leave the smuggling business behind. He has a wife and two children; a desperate man will do anything to provide for his family. While Michael enjoyed the suffering of others.”

“You had no reason to help us.”

“And yet you have every reason to give me the same punishment as you have given Johanna,” She moved closer to him and her gaze did not waver as she explained, “Simply doing something that you feel is right does not need a reason. I do not expect anything from you in return.”

“Except for my help,” he corrected.

“I was hoping that would be given willingly not because I chose to do something out of kindness.”

“Can I trust you to keep your word then?”

“About Robert? I assure you he is safe with me. Johanna will never know where he is if I do not.”

Morpheus has existed for eons, and no one had approached him with kindness, at least from anyone who did not want anything in return. Taking that single step left between them, he whispered,

“You are an oddity., Adina”

“You speak as though you are not one yourself,” a shy smile played on her lips as she avoided eye contact, “You show people their nightmares and have yet to tell me or Robert your name. I would argue that you are the peculiar one.”

“Is that what you want in return,” he felt a smirk tug at the edges of his mouth, “To know my name?”

“Only if you are willing to give it.”

His lips curled into an amused smirk, even now she was giving him a choice. Perhaps she had manipulated this from the beginning and if that were true, he did not mind. So, without a second thought, he gave her what she wanted,

“Morpheus.”

“Morpheus,” she repeated, and he found himself enjoying the way it sounded, softly spoken as though it was a whisper in the wind. “Well, it was quite a pleasure meeting you but if Johanna did in fact tell anyone else, this is not the place you want to be.”

There was genuine concern in her tone that made him believe that she might actually care, but she cares for all life. He was not special to her, and yet he longed to be, he desired to mean something to her. Whatever form that took.

"Until we meet again," he tilted his head slightly bidding her farewell, and headed towards the door.

"Wait," She called out, and Morpheus glanced at her from the corner of his eye, "When will I see you again?"

"Say my name, and I will come find you."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

taglist:

@pavlovianfuckery; @fiercenpippin; @chasivas; @loving-enemy;

#the sandman #sandman #lord morpheus #dream of the endless #dream x platonic!oc #morpheus x platonic!oc

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everysongineverykey · 2 years ago

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Hello you-can-always-come-home,

For the past day or so you have been making your followers cringe with a hypothetical Deltarune MCU adaptation. In front of you is a computer currently displaying your tumblr account. You have 24 hours to write a cringeworthy mcu fandom-esc selfship fanfic with Berdly. Should you fail, your followers will instead fill this fandom ship niche with their own fanfic, almost certainly resulting in something far worse than whatever you could come up with. Will you succumb to the awful awful idea that you have unleashed, or will you finally get a taste of your own medicine? Live or die, the choice is yours.

christ alive. it's done. i really tried to write from the voice of a 13 year old mcu fan back in like 2014 and i really hope it doesn't come off as mocking anyone in particular. anyone who reads this i Promise you this writing style is put on and that i am a better writer than this actually

After the roaring knight turned out to be a personification of the fun gang's insecurities and was defeated by the power of friendship and also Triple Spamvil Neo 5000, the almighty fusion between Spamton and Jevil that had two laser cannon arms instead of one and flossed a lot, the heroes and all their friends decided to live together in Ralsei's castle in Castle town 2.0, a haven for all darkners and Lightners where everyone could live together and be happy since it was made of a different kind of darkness then all the others. Susie and Ralsei were now King and queen (Author's note: can be romantic or platonic depending on what you like best but all im gonna say is i LOVED the scene where he saved her from falling off a cliff and then said "I think you just fell for me" >_<) and Kris was Crown Prince(ss) (Author's note: haven't decided on a gender for Kris yet LOL). They were all roommates and everyone was happy.

Well, except for one person. Berdly, even though he was the reason the gang got out with their lives when he said "It's spammin' time" to summon Triple Spamvil 5000 (a.n: who else LOVED that morbius reference🤣), was still alone, his room in the castle was just a broom closet under the stairs and all he was ever fed was bread crumbs twice a day. Both Susie and Noelle had rejected him even though he was such a nice guy because they said he wasn't their type. Berdly's life in Castle Town 2.0 was TERRIBLE and he wished he had never helped them out at all.

Then one day he met someone who changed his life forever. She was half Darkner, half Lightner due to being born from one of the last Dark fountains to be sealed and her name was (Y/N). She first met Berdly when she was seeing King Ralsei and Queen Susie in the throne room to discuss her new job, the Lightner-Darkner ambassador.

Susie, Ralsei and (Y/N) were walking through the castle halls. "Well (Y/N)" said Ralsei, "I am very glad we got to meet you. It seems like you will be a perfect fit for the job of ambassador."

(Y/N) beamed. "Thank you your majesty. I will do my duty with pride. Being the only Lightner-Darkner hybrid in the world isn't easy, but I know it'll give me a special insight for this job."

Susie yawned loudly. "UGH," she complained, "Ralsei, didja HAVE to drag me along with you to talk to this priss? You know I hate di- di- diplodicus."

"Y-You mean diplomacy." Said Ralsei.

"Ugh, what-EVER," Susie groaned. "If I don't get to break something right now Im gonna explode" She turned suddenly and smashed an expensive vase sitting on a column. (Y/N) and Ralsei jumped back, (Y/N)'s kalidoscope orbs shining with fear.

"S-Susie!" sputtered Ralsei, terrified. "Y-You have to stop breaking vases! They're expensive!"

Susie roared with laughter. "Whatever toothpaste boy. Hey!" She looked around, snapping her fingers. "Where's Nerdly? He'll clean it up for me. Nerdy!"

Berdly came skittering quickly over from around the corner. "Y-Yes your ma-"

He stopped in his tracks, eyes landing on (Y/N). She was beautiful, there was no doubt about it. Her striped whitr-and-black hair humg around her shining skin like a halo, and she wore a gorgeous floor-length gown that glittered with every color of the rainbow.

Forget Noelle, this was the first real angel Berdly had ever seen. He suddenly realized hed been staring too long and cleared his throat blushing

"Uh... yes, your majesty?"

Susie motioned to the mess on the floor. "Clean that up. And don't take so long this time, I don't wanna see your ugly face stilll here in half an hour again."

Berdly looked miserably at the broken mess om the floor. "B-But your majesty, you said I could have a day off today-"

"Berdly" Ralsei said sternly. "Listen to your queen."

Berdly sighed sadly and dropped to the floor, and (Y/N) suddenly felt terrible for this boy who seemed like he just wanted to live a nice life in Castle Town.

"Excuse me," she touched his wing and he froze, blushing, "Don't worry about that. I'll clean it up."

She snapped her delicate fingers and in a second, the shards had disappeared. Leaving the floor clean again.

Berdly blinked in surprise. Susie's eyes narrowed. "Aw, c'mon, wheres the fun in that?! He always does the cleaning here! It's fun to watch him suffer!"

Ralsei tried to intervene, "Susie, please-"

"I don't care if you don't like him," (Y/N) challenged the dragon, stepping closer adversarially. "It's wrong to treat anyone this way. He obviously only wants to be friends with you and you're being very unfair."

Susie, not used to being told she's wrong, glared at (Y/N), smoke flowing out of her nostrils. "I'm Queen here!" she yelled. "I should be able to do what I want! Ugh, i'm gonna need some chalk for this" She stormed off, stomping down the hall. Good riddance, (Y/N) thought, though she was too polite to say it out loud.

Ralsei hurried after Susie meekly. "S-Susie, calm down-" Leaving (Y/N) and Berdly alone in the hall.

Berdly couldn't believe what had just happened. Someone had stood up for him! Someone cares how he feels! No one not even Noelle had ever tried to challenge the way he was treated ever since he moved to Castle Town 2.0 and now this gorgeous girl was leaning down and smiling at him.

"Are you alright?" She asked kindly, holding out her hand for him to take. "I'm sorry that happened. What's your name?"

"B-Berdly," he stammered taking her hand and quickly getting to his feet. "W-Who are you? I've never seen anyone like you before."

She blushed at that, and Berdly's heart skipped a beat. Her orbs turned bright pink, the color of happiness... and love?

"(Y/N)," she said quickly. "I'm the new darkner Lightner ambassador. Please to meet you Berdly!" Her face turned sad all of a sudden. "Do they... all treat you like that?"

Berdly's blue orbs turned dark with sadness as he looked down, muttering "Ever since I moved here. I helped them defeat the Roaring Knight too. And yet even my old friends seem to hate me now..."

"That's so sad!" (Y/N)'s eyes turned a deep blue to show her sorrow. "I'm sorry Berdly. You don't deserve this."

Berdly blushed again, shrugging. "Not much i can do"

Suddenly, (Y/N) reached out and took his hand, something that no one had done in a long time "Well I'm going to do something about it. Mark my words Berdly, no one'll treat you like a slave again as long as I'm here. Now, tell me about yourself."

She took his wing and they set off down the hall, walking and talking and laughing and Berdly could feel that this girl was going to change his life.

fucking. there. chapter one of The Reason I Should Not Have Internet. chapter 2 coming never because i've done enough

#not fucking tagging this #what if we all blew up and died. what then #anyway. time to continue writing the fic i actually like and am proud of. thanks for this anon.#banning you from my inbox permanently💙 /j

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yandere-sins · 4 years ago

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The Exception

My friend let me try playing Hades on her switch and well... I kinda liked it. Namely, I liked all the characters, so my brain went like “what if they were yandere” and I had an idea for this story that I threw together this morning before working on the Fox Wedding (: The latter isn’t done yet, but this sure is, so who knows, mayhaps some of you will enjoy it! Just tried to answer the question how we could get Thanatos to whisk us away.

Characters: Yandere!Thanatos x Reader Warnings: Yandere, Blood, War, Wounds/Impaling, Major Character Death (???) or well dying, I read into greek history for almost an hour but if I gotten something wrong then so be it

Thanatos had seen enough of the world to know that he didn't want to stay on the surface forever.

The current battle spreading before him was a mere reason to sigh deeply as he watched bodies fall left and right, their souls soon leaving to a better, or perhaps worse, place. It was mandatory he stayed, but Thanatos was well aware of which side was winning and which was losing. It was his duty and his work to know these things, even though it didn't make the fighting any less futile in his eyes.

Letting his gaze wander over the battlefield, he watched the red splatters on the ground, heard the crushing sounds of iron against iron and the cacophony of fearful and devastating screams. He still couldn't believe Zagreus would want to come to such a place. A place where there was futile fighting and too much light, but perhaps, it was a world that fit the Prince of the Underworld, as he was the same, even if Thanatos only recognized this fact bitterly.

Finally, the battle was closing in on its end, just like the hundreds of people that found their death because of it. The ones who weren't dead yet slowly but surely started to hesitate and retreat. Even as the personification of death, Thanatos reckoned that a pointless death was scary, even though so many humans chose it over desertion. Their death was inevitable, preordained by Thanatos sisters. Still, he had seen many hold on to the last sparks of hope that they could escape Thanatos' grasp.

And then, on the other side of the coin, were those that practically would have offered their life to Hades and fought to the end.

You weren't an exception. Yes, your quest and pride were your downfall, and by the gleam in your eyes Thanatos could tell you knew. You knew and recognized that you'd die. However, as if you were spiting him personally, you still continued to fight ahead of everyone else, gaining questioning glances from your comrades and contempt from your enemies, which you pulled to the ground one after another and sending them to hell.

Many before you had this overzealous compulsion to make that best out of their inevitable demise. Thanatos would admit that yes, most had a good reason for it, like saving their family or fighting for their own life. Others simply lucked out on the gift of pride and ignorance, forcing themselves and occasionally many more lives with them into the deep, dark pits of death.

What was your reason? Thanatos wondered.

He still had time before he needed to take action, he could allow himself a short - minuscule, really - different thought than his upcoming work, and you presented yourself so nicely to him as the incarnation of death waited for the end of today's battle. It wasn't often that he had the leisure to let his thoughts wander, so Thanatos intended to use these few seconds, which would fall under the radar, to still his curiosity.

By the looks of it, you weren't an inexperienced fighter. Or perhaps, you were just a farmer judging by your muscles. Surely, you seemed enthusiastic about your task, so were you fighting for something more significant than the glory of your country? Family? A loved one? Thanatos couldn't help but be curious about what your drive was, as he had seen so many reasons, yet they were all the same. Perhaps, yours was new?

Even so, you were graceful as you swung your sword around. What did he know about footwork, but at least, yours seemed to pay off as you weren't dead yet. When one of your foes managed to smack off your helmet, Thanatos believed that was it, but alas, you regained your strength, charging at the very same attacker.

In a way, fighting was like an elaborate play. The only difference was that neither of the parties knew the other one's move. The person reacting better was the winner. He couldn't find joy in watching wars, but even Thanatos had to admit that it was a joy watching you. Even if you lacked the enthusiasm as the heroic shades that lingered below, like Theseus, had, you fought a fight worth mentioning in the books as well.

Every move you made, Thanatos could see the calculations in your eyes, that keen shine reflecting in them. The sun seemed to break through the clouds just to reach out to you, making your armor sparkle in its rays. Yes, you were a formidable human, and Thanatos caught himself thinking that it was a shame you were fighting even if you looked so beautifully while doing it.

Taking another deep breath, he could see the swirls in the air left by it. While the winter wasn't affecting him, no matter how little clothes he wore, Thanatos felt a second of pitiful understanding for everyone who had to fight in those conditions. Undoubtedly, the cold armors, freezing hands and weapons, and frozen ground were another nemesis for every soldier out here. Even if their bodies stayed warm from adrenaline and running, it certainly was another reason many of your human bodies gave out quicker, merely submitting to their fate. It was fair enough for Thanatos. It meant his work was over faster, and judging by you being circled and the other soldiers at your side beginning to see the end coming towards them with long spears and sharp swords, it was all over soon.

You had fought bravely, that much he could give you. Perhaps you had impressed him enough to put in an unusual good word for you with Hypnos, who'd pass it on to Hades himself, granting you a shot on being put into Elysium. But your fate had long been decided, and as you fell to the ground, the battlefield erupted in victorious screams, announcing your time of death.

And also, his start of work.

As the winners retreated one after one, happy whenever they found a friend that survived too, Thanatos passed by them and onto the battlefield instead. Unseen by the human eye, he began his duty of reaping, one soul after the other, as mangled and frustrated over their death as they were, following his orders as he shushed them away. Usually, some pleaded and bargained with him for another shot of life, but even if Thanatos had wanted, there was no way for him to help them. But that day, everyone seemed awfully aware that there was no negotiating nor mercy waiting for them as they looked at his figure, frightened and frustrated. A pointless battle, with meaningless deaths, brought forth the self-pity in them, but this wasn't the first battle Thanatos tended to, so he felt nothing akin to that. It also wasn't his duty to take care of the souls gathered here, as it was Hermes' job to lead to them.

He had something very different on his agenda. You.

It was unfortunate for both of you, but when he reached you, you had yet to breathe your last breath. One eye slowly and in pain, opened, the other one damaged from the blow to the head you had received. However, as you looked at him, serene clarity laid in your gaze, and you recognized him, mayhaps by the giant scythe he carried around. Your stare was clear and less afraid than he expected you to be when acknowledging him, but you closed your eyes as a cough overcame you, hot, red blood dripping down your lips.

"Guess that's it," you croaked, and Thanatos could only stare. Conversing… wasn't his strong suit, and there wasn't exactly a reason to talk to you.

"Are you going to kill me?" you continued, undeterred by his silence, and Thanatos weighed his actions. "No, of course not," he eventually spoke, shaking his head slowly, the hood on his head shifting along to his movement.

"Ouch, that's cruel. You'll just wait until I die like this?"

Your words were nothing he hadn't heard before, and he didn't feel offended by them. However, he didn't expect your lips to briefly curl into a smile, adding a jesting notion to what you said. Even that wasn't new, but… it struck a chord inside the usual stoic bringer of death. "I can't end your suffering," Thanatos explained, hoping you'd simply know about the unspoken rule that he couldn't harm you.

"I think, I get it," you heaved, feeling worse by the minute. "You are just making sure I know I am supposed to die here."

That assumption wasn't wrong, even though there had been more playing into his service than just that. Too many kept trying to escape their fate, and sort of, Thanatos was just checking and cleaning up what would be left. You still had some time before your organs would fail and finally take you to the grave, different from the other souls that were already leaving for their new home.

"No, you will die here," he retorted firmly.

"I could," you chuckled, followed by another painful cough.

"Don't test me, Mortal."

In between deep breaths, you allowed yourself a short laugh. Just like him, you were probably aware that there was nothing worse that could happen to your situation, so his threat was just a way he hoped to shut you up with. In silence, he watched over you, until eventually, your eye opened up again. This time your gaze was searching for him - or something really - but your sight had already begun to cloud. No matter how proud and achieved you are in life, in the face of death, everyone looked the same.

"I think I did a good job. You know, fighting. Thought that if I already had to do it, I might as well give it my damn best."

More coughing. Thanatos watched the puddle of blood around you grow by the second. The spear inside your body must have been stirring up your insides the more you talked. Thanatos had expected something like this, you, young as you still were, had been led by the belief that doing your best could make up for the fact that you'd die. "But in the end, it was worth nothing, right? We lost after all."

Thanatos could only stare as he wondered what you expected him to say. He came here, knowing your life would end here, so really, the hope you had put into yourself didn't have the same disappointment to him now as it did to you. And yet, as he listened to you, seeing your body battered up with cuts and bruises, for the first time in centuries, he felt something akin to pity for you, and you specifically.

"Why did you fight then?" he asked, perhaps against your expectations.

"Why? Because they told us too. The King ordered us to fight this battle, and only he could have known how many soldiers our opponent would bring."

"You could have run." Thanatos tried to stay as detached from you as possible, though it didn't quite work, your words taking their influence on him. "Can you?" you retorted before letting out a long sigh. Death was near, literally as well as figuratively.

"Can you run from your duties? You don't have to do this either, do you?"

"I do--"

"Really?"

There was no immediate response this time, your question justified, despite your little mortal soul undoubtedly never understanding the burdens on the shoulders of Gods. The world would stop if they all decided to not continue their work and fulfill their duties and expectations. If Thanatos stopped, no one would die anymore, and but the suffering of everything would never disappear too.

"Dying sucks," you whispered, turning your head away.

"I reckon," he muttered indifferently. Not like he could talk about it from experience. It must be painful, dreadful, and, depending on the circumstances, frustrating too. Right now, though he couldn't imagine the extent, you must have felt so hopeless and so, so scared. There wasn't much other reason for your banter.

"Thanatos… I always thought it was a pretty name, even if everyone feared it." Regaining his attention after finding himself momentarily lost in thoughts, he looked down at you again, watching as your eyelid closed slowly. "Say what you want, but you can't blame them for fearing death, and alas, me."

"Perhaps if they talked to you, they wouldn't be so afraid."

"Meaning you don't feel so afraid anymore?"

A smile danced over your lips once more, a truly unusual sight for a soul so close to their end, and especially after talking to him. Hypnos often teased Thanatos with being too formal and dutiful to be amusing, and Hades beware, comforting. Though he didn't care for his twin's words, yours did make him feel... happy.

"Let's go then," you whispered, and Thanatos kneeled down, his hand falling to your wrist, listening to your pulse. Even with the feeling of your heart still desperately pumping blood through your body, only to lose it through your wounds, you didn't utter another word afterwards. You undoubtedly were dying, but perhaps, for now, you were merely unconscious as your lungs didn't stop reaching for air, and your heart used all your strength to function.

Once more, the sun broke through the clouds, shining down right at you two, bringing Thanatos into the predicament of being blinded as it reflected off your armor. Perhaps he understood it now. Understood how unfair it was that someone like you, innocent and kind, was doomed to die out here. How awful his job on this day was, forcing him to take you to Tartarus and put you before the judgment of the god residing there.

So what if... he didn't.

He couldn't heal your wounds, nor make you feel better. But what he could do is battle the fate, earn the scorn of many, but at least, even if he took out the spear from your bloody body, you'd live. You'd live to tell your tale, and who knew, even he could apply some bandages, so maybe you'd recover some.

It was a risk, and one Thanatos did not like taking, nor found pleasure in executing. But you couldn't refuse to come to this battle, whereas he, perhaps, after all these years, could refuse to do his job once. For your sake, and unbeknownst to him at that time, for his own even more.

His scythe disappeared in favor of Thanatos grabbing for the dreadful spear. Never before had he experience the kind of sound a wound could make from so close, and by the gods, he hoped he never would again. It was just your luck that you were unconscious, or the pain would have perhaps killed you faster than your wounds.

Leaning down, he scooped you up, his hand sullied with your blood and the dirt on the ground. The snow wasn't cold when he touched it, but your body was warm in his arms and still alive. Your threat of fade wasn't cut yet, and he wouldn't do it. With you in his arms, he stepped back, looking into your sleeping face before he retreated from the battlefield with a quiet, "Let's go."

No, the surface wasn't a place Thanatos liked to linger. It was too loud, too wrong, and too bright. But to see your smile, lively and happy, one more time, he didn't need to stay above ground. Where you were going, it was dark and, at times, lonely if you weren't a being born there. But you'd also be safe and alive for as long as you wished to.

And Thanatos would be with you, even if everyone would turn against him and his decision, for all eternity if he must.

#thanatos #thanatos hades #yandere thanatos #yandere!thanatos #hades #hades the game #yandere hades #yandere!hades #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

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themurphyzone · 3 years ago

Text

PatB Oneshot: Poor Unfortunate Soul

Summary: Brain doesn’t think Pinky would be a very good villain. Pinky decides to prove him wrong (but mostly he wants Denny's).

AN: I’ll be honest, Dark Pinky isn’t for me. So how to compromise writing a villainous Pinky with normal Pinky? Well...you’ll see.

AO3 Link

Pinky gasped at the TV, crumbs of popcorn falling out of his mouth. Brain stopped chewing and looked away from the screen, unable to stomach the scene of Lupin and Sirius forcing Pettigrew out of rat form as he attempted to flee the Shrieking Shack.

No matter how many times he’d seen Prisoner of Azkaban, Brain always found it uncomfortable to watch Pettigrew transform into a pathetic, sniveling human who acted like he hadn’t sold his own friends out to a homicidal madman.

Sure, Voldemort was the villain while Umbridge was the personification of government corruption, but there was just something downright insidious about Pettigrew.

Pinky’s eyes were blown wide open as Pettigrew pitifully tried to plead his case. The simpleton was always so surprised about this plot twist no matter how many times he’d seen this movie.

The more he pondered, perhaps Pinky was the exact reason he found Pettigrew worse than the larger threats of the Harry Potter world. The man played into the worst of rodent stereotypes with his cowardly and backstabbing nature.

But Pinky?

Not a single disloyal bone in his body. It was a lesson Brain had taken to heart after his disastrous second birthday. Pinky was far too sweet and simple to even think about betrayal.

Tears flowed down Pinky’s face as Lupin transformed into an emaciated werewolf, so Brain discreetly nudged a pack of Kleenexes his way. Pinky flashed him a grateful, wobbly smile, then reached for a tissue and blew his nose.

Pinky always cried at this part. And while Brain found the scene emotionally gut-punching too, he considered himself above displays of crying during movies.

Mufasa’s death didn’t count. Dirt always lodged in his lacrimal ducts whenever he watched that scene. That was all.

Brain’s fists clenched as the cowardly Pettigrew abandoned everyone to die.

Though his escape was an essential plot point for the rest of the series, Brain wished the protagonists could’ve caught Pettigrew and delivered justice for betraying those who called him a friend.

He knew how the movie played out, but Pinky acted like he was watching it all for the very first time. Sometimes, watching Pinky when he didn’t care what happened on-screen was much more interesting. Especially when Pinky insisted on not skipping Order of the Phoenix.

Pinky hugged his knees, tail draped tightly around him as the Dementors attacked Harry and Sirius. The rest of the movie would be loaded with those undead abominations. Brain had learned from unfortunate experience that Pinky would have nightmares if he didn’t cut off the fear before it took root in his subconscious.

Slowly, Brain moved towards Pinky, careful not to make a sound lest Pinky catch him in the act. He took a deep breath to steel his resolve, placing a hesitant hand on Pinky’s back.

Pinky turned to look at him.

“Eyes on the screen,” Brain commanded. It was easier to do this when Pinky wasn’t watching him.

Pinky obeyed, humming softly as Brain patted soft fur. A long, flowing tail wrapped around a crooked one. Pinky sat up a little straighter.

The Dementors wouldn’t haunt Pinky’s dreams tonight. Not as long as Brain had something to say about it.

o-o-o-o-o

“-and I’m so happy Sirius and Buckbeak got away! D’you think I could ride a hippogriff? Why are they called hippos when they’re not hippos anyway? I don’t think wizards know their animals very well, Brain.” Pinky’s chatter continued into the ungodly hours of the morning. Only the people unfortunate enough to work early morning shifts on Saturday would be awake at this time.

Brain rolled onto his stomach, covering his ears with his pillow to block out all the extraneous noise. One con about taking nights off from world domination was that his body just didn’t want to sleep even when he was tired, and Pinky’s exuberance only amplified the issue.

“Troz! Prisoner of Azkaban is my favorite out of the Harry Potter movies. But my favorites are also Sorcerer’s Stone and Chamber and Goblet...oh! And Order has Luna Lovegood of course! Love her! What’s your favorite, Brain?” Pinky asked. “Ooh, you shouldn’t lay like that. You need to breathe!”

The pillow was completely ineffective as a sound buffer. Brain was sorely tempted to keep up his current position out of pure spite, but he had to give up and lay on his side so he wouldn’t suffocate.

“No favorite. Hippogriffs are fictional. Hippo is Greek for horse and does not refer to a hippopotamus in this context. You think cows cluck and chickens moo, Pinky. Now go to sleep,” Brain sighed, squeezing his eyes shut.

Perhaps he could trick his exhausted mind into believing Pinky wasn’t there if he couldn’t be seen.

He had an urge to stay awake though. If his subconscious latched onto hippopotamuses, he’d just have that nightmare with the rich hippo couple and Rockefeller baby all over again. He shuddered at that memory. The pain and humiliation from that hippo-sized booster shot had been oddly vivid.

“Okay. G’night, Brain.” The bed shifted as Pinky flopped onto his back.

All was quiet.

Brain curled into a more comfortable position, ready to drift off to a dream world where he was an emperor on a golden throne, Pinky was dressed in royal finery while leading a resounding chorus of We are the World, and all knelt before their authority.

“Brain?”

And there went the dream.

“What?” Brain snapped. Part of him wanted to knock Pinky out himself, but that would require moving his arms. He didn’t want to move out of his current position.

“Just pondering. Poit,” Pinky yawned. “Before sleep ponderings. Those kinds are the best, Brain. Cause they get weird and tangerine-y. Bet you get those too.”

It was true. When his plans weren’t derived from Pinky’s inane ramblings or current events, they were often the product of pre-sleep thoughts. While he wrote down all he could remember afterwards, the plans pulled from those tangents tended to be the craziest and illogical in hindsight.

He tried not to rely on them too much, but if his conqueror’s block was high or creativity levels were low, he didn’t have much choice.

“Yes,” Brain confirmed.

But his curt answer wasn’t enough to deter Pinky.

“Cause I was pondering about villains,” Pinky said. “Like Pettigrew. Cause what if I had something that makes me a villain?”

As much as Brain wanted to dismiss the idea of a villainous Pinky due to the sheer absurdity of the concept, he supposed it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility either.

But Pinky as a villain? A mouse who gave up his soul for the sake of Brain’s desires and argued against promoting harmful cigarettes to children?

It was just ludicrous.

“Pinky, you lack many prerequisites for proper villainy,” Brain said. “Except for the dramatics. That’s the only trait you have in common.”

“Oh. Well, I could certainly try,” Pinky replied.

Yes, and someday pigs would evolve and develop flight capabilities.

If he were in a clearer state of mind, he would’ve argued out of obstinance. But right now, it was incredibly early on a Saturday morning and he wanted nothing more than to sleep. Discussions on villainy and world domination could wait a few hours.

“If you can prove me wrong, you can select the next restaurant we’ll go to,” Brain yawned.

Pinky rarely got to choose the restaurant, given Brain’s sophisticated palate, but at this point he was willing to try anything to get Pinky off his back.

Then Pinky went from figuratively being on his back to pressing against it, his tail curling around Brain’s. Pinky’s jaw rested against the back of Brain’s head. The added pressure released a tenseness around Brain’s shoulders, one that he’d been previously unaware of.

“Denny’s,” Pinky murmured, nuzzling the back of Brain’s ear. The sensitive appendage flicked. Nobody was around to witness that involuntary reflex, so Brain let it pass. “A Grand Slam with pancakes and syrup and bacon n’ eggs…”

Within seconds, Pinky was out like a light. He wouldn’t remember this conversation, too busy thinking with his stomach instead of properly pondering with that fluffball of a mind.

With Pinky’s warm fur against his back and soft narfs against his ear, Brain’s thoughts gently trickled away and yielded to peaceful sleep.

o-o-o-o-o

Though it was probably noon by now, Brain still didn’t want to open his eyes. Why bother? No scientists to pester them, no leftover plans or materials to hide away so they wouldn’t be discovered, no tedious mazes to run on Saturday.

Pinky had gotten up sometime before him, and the space beside him was empty, giving Brain room to stretch out in whatever way he liked.

Then he heard a harsh scraping noise, like someone was dragging something heavy across the counter. That wasn’t unusual for Pinky if an object caught his short attention span for some inane reason.

However, there was also the sound of laughter accompanying the noise. Pinky was giggly and bubbly to a fault, but this brand of laughter was different.

Almost malevolent.

A chill ran up his spine, but Brain ignored the feeling. Pinky’s evil laugh was still firmly in Saturday morning cartoon villain territory, he told himself.

Even if he sounded a little too good at being evil.

Apparently, Pinky had remembered the bet after all.

Brain slowly opened his eyes, about to find Pinky and tell him to knock it off, only to find that it was much darker than it should be for daytime. But it wasn’t dark enough to impede his vision. When he looked up, he found a sheet had been pulled over the entire cage. He couldn’t see anything outside the cage.

Pinky being secretive would surely spell disaster. And it hadn’t been there last night, so Pinky was the only culprit.

The wheel stood empty, a fresh oil can beside it. Brain rubbed his eyes, partly to wake himself up and partly out of disbelief. He was normally a light sleeper, but if he hadn’t heard Pinky maintain his wheel at all, then he must’ve had a deeper sleep than he thought.

He climbed out of bed and marched towards the unlatched cage door, though the corner of the sheet was pulled over it. He would’ve swept it aside, but an unopened cup of Rice Krispies with a half-empty bottle of milk, napkin, and spoon conspicuously placed next to the door gave him pause from leaving the cage.

His stomach growled.

“Well played, Pinky,” Brain admitted. A breakfast barricade to delay him? It was rather creative, not that he’d ever let Pinky know.

The Rice Krispies made satisfactory snap, crackle, and pop noises as Brain poured the milk inside. Then he scarfed down the cereal, half-expecting Pinky to come in and drag him outside for whatever he planned.

But Pinky seemed content to let him eat first.

Once he finished eating, he dragged the empty cereal cup and milk bottle behind him. But even his simple two-step plan of throwing his current load into the garbage and finding Pinky were laid to waste the moment he set foot outside the cage.

For Pinky had unleashed his inner interior designer and completely transformed the room in such a short timeframe.

Large, sweeping blackout curtains covered the windows, even the skylight. According to the digital clock atop the TV, it was 12:30 in the afternoon. But if Brain didn’t know any better, he would’ve believed it was midnight.

No wonder he’d been so inclined to sleep in.

Long strands of Christmas lights hung on each dark blue wall, which was otherwise untransformed. Other than the digital clock, they were the only available light source. But rather than their usual festive association, the unblinking reds, greens, and blues lent a rather ominous, otherworldly quality to the room.

Brain dispelled the fear. It was irrational when he’d traversed the dark lab at night a million times before.

Perhaps he was focusing too hard on dumping the leftover milk into the sink. With absolute concentration, he pushed the empty cup and bottle over the counter’s edge and into the garbage can below.

As he backed away from the edge, he saw a large mixing bowl with a stepladder set by it. Wisps of steam rose from the inside of the bowl. This must’ve been the source of the scraping sound he’d heard earlier. Curious, Brain climbed the stepladder and peered inside.

It was just warm water though.

He tried not to feel too disappointed. But even if it was mundane right now, surely it had to be here for a reason, right?

Or Pinky didn’t have any reason at all and he just wanted to fill a mixing bowl with boiled water. Both options were possibilities.

As he continued his search for Pinky, he walked past rows upon rows of test tubes filled with brightly colored substances. Electric green, dreadful purple, deceptively calm cerulean…

He wasn’t sure what kind of chemistry experiments they were running, but he wished someone had enough sense to label the test tubes.

Beakers and tubing distorted his reflection, a prickling sensation traveling down his spine and forcing his fur to stand on end. He smoothed it down so he didn’t bear a passing resemblance to a cotton ball. The slightly colder than normal temperature wasn’t helping.

The distortion was simply a natural refraction of light passing through liquids. That’s all. There was no reason to get worked up over natural phenomena.

That didn’t stop him from leaping back when a wide, smiling human face suddenly appeared as he navigated a sea of flasks.

His heart threatened to leap out of his chest, his breaths growing heavier.

There weren’t any humans in the lab right now, he reminded himself. And the smiling face was frozen and unmoving. It wasn’t real.

Brain cautiously poked his head around the flask, keeping it as a buffer between himself and the unknown threat.

Against the wall, several of Pinky’s Barbie and Ken dolls sat in a row. The one whose face appeared on the flask was on the far left, her blonde hair in a ponytail. All of the dolls were in colorful swimwear. One of the Ken dolls had a pair of sunglasses perched on his head.

The dolls were normal. No creepy alterations or missing body parts.

But as Brain approached and inspected the dolls closely, their positioning seemed...odd.

Yes, their plastic visages displayed smiles as if they were en route to a Miami beach party, but their arms were stretched above their heads or out to the sides in warning. Their legs laid flat against the ground. Duct tape trapped their legs to the ground and wrapped against their torsos, sticking them firmly to the wall and preventing them from falling over.

An interesting choice for decor, to say the least.

But enough was enough. Time to find Pinky and force a coherent explanation out of him.

One of the Barbie's arm pointed to the back of the room, so Brain followed her instruction. It led him straight to Pinky’s dollhouse, and Brain cursed himself for being so taken in with the environment that he’d neglected to check one of Pinky’s favorite toys.

The pink plastic door was wide open, a deadly invitation into danger. Brain’s ears pricked as a song floated through the air.

“Things are working out according to my ultimate design,

Soon I’ll have that little rodent and the planet shall be mine!”

The melody was accompanied by a sinister cackle.

Brain wanted to barge in and demand Pinky to cease his foolishness immediately, but his fingers curled against the doorframe instead, urging him to heed caution.

“I can hear you!” Pinky singsonged from behind a section of dollhouse that was curtained off with jingling Mardi Gras beads. “Won’t you come inside so we can talk properly?”

Brain rolled his eyes, sweeping the bead curtain away. “Pinky, I’m aware of our deal, but this is rather excess-”

Then his mind registered the scene that lay before him.

Pinky perched on a stool in front of a mirror as he applied a red coating of lipstick. That wasn’t unusual for him.

But he was also clad in a backless floor-length dress with thigh-high slits. The dress was dark as night, leaving his shoulders and arms exposed. His fur was dyed a light lavender, save for his messy white tuft, which was gelled so that it stood straight up.

A small seashell necklace sat just above the low cut dress, purple earrings hanging from each ear. Pinky didn’t turn around, blinking coyly at Brain in his reflection, which sported heavy blue eyeshadow.

He set the lipstick down, and Brain stared at the enchanting movement of manicured, polished red nails as deft fingers picked up a small brush and dipped it into a makeup kit. Then Pinky applied a beauty mark next to his lips.

The next thing out of Brain’s mouth was a very intelligent ‘um’.

“You shouldn’t lurk in doorways,” Pinky purred, his voice low and sultry. “It’s very rude. Didn’t your mother teach you manners?”

She didn’t have time to teach him a lot of things, given his kidnapping at an early age, but that wasn’t the point.

“Why in Ptolemy’s name are you Ursula out of all villains?” Brain asked, once his voice came back.

At least it explained why Pinky had redecorated the room to resemble an underwater cavern that doubled as a villainous lair. It was an excellent use of space.

And the Barbies and Kens...those were the stand-ins for the helpless sea polyps.

Pinky must’ve been deriving a lot of satisfaction at seeing that realization dawn on Brain.

“Why not?” Pinky shrugged. He puckered his lips and kissed his reflection, leaving a red lip-shaped mark behind. “Besides...isn’t there something you’re after? Something you want oh so very much, but haven’t been able to get?”

Brain scowled. “You know perfectly well that I’m trying to rule the world, Pinky.”

Pinky snapped his fingers. “And that’s what I can help you with! The only way to get what you want...is to become a human yourself.”

Well, he’d never considered that before in the pursuit of world domination. There was something about manipulating his genetic code and changing his species that didn’t sit well with him, even though he detested the challenges that came with being a lowly lab mouse.

But it made sense.

Humans only respected humans. Becoming a member of the dominant species would be an asset for sure!

But Pinky didn’t have the means to make that happen...right?

“You don’t know how to manipulate mouse DNA into a human one,” Brain said.

“Oh my dear, sweet Brain,” Pinky crooned as he stood up, slinking over to Brain. Brain crossed his arms, forcing himself to stare Pinky straight in the eye and not show any signs of yielding. He made a point out of not watching those sashaying hips and tail. “Helping poor, unfortunate mice like yourself is my one passion in life! Why, without it, I’ll have to slink away and become a crazy cat lady! And then who will those poor souls turn to?”

“A glass of alcohol, I presume,” Brain replied.

Pinky’s tail came to rest around Brain’s shoulders. The tip tickled Brain’s nose, and he held it away from his face as Pinky pulled him out of the dollhouse and back to the tied up Barbie and Ken dolls. “Maybe, maybe...but a real person they can lean on, I mean. One that knows a little...magic.”

He flicked his finger at a beaker filled with a lavender substance. The beaker sailed through the air, dumping its contents into the mixing bowl. A purple haze rose from the bowl.

“That’s telepathy, not-”

Pinky gently pressed a finger to Brain’s mouth to hush him. “Oh, ye of little faith,” he scolded. “It’s true that I did some rather — how would you phrase this gently — unsavory things before. But I’ve repented! Turned over a new leaf! Seen the light! And now I use my talents for those lonely and miserable enough to seek my services.”

Then Pinky moved away from Brain, flicking his tail against Brain’s nose to direct his attention to the wall. Pinky wrapped his arm around the Barbie with a red polka-dotted bikini. “You see, Barbie here grew up where she didn’t have much opportunity. Poor girl had to work two jobs to make ends meet, and hardly a cent to show for it! So I offered her a chance to get away from it all...and she took it.”

Brain gulped as Pinky moved onto the Ken doll next to Barbie. He was awfully convincing, even when the subject in question was inanimate. Pinky played with the ascot around Ken’s neck. “And this young man? Well, he wasn’t having much luck with the ladies. So I gave him a few pointers, maybe a knickknack or two to help speed things along. However…”

Pinky indicated the tape that bound the dolls to the wall. “I wouldn’t worry about this too much, since you’re a mouse of your word, but sometimes...they couldn’t pay me back in time. So I found a different way to collect their debt.”

“Yes, I’m sure you have much to gain from restraining children’s toys,” Brain said, tilting his head up to hide his uneasiness.

They looked less marketable and more like hapless victims wallowing in despair, despite their smiling faces. He chalked it up to the wall’s resemblance to a dimly lit marine cave.

“Oh, I get some odd complaints every now and then,” Pinky shrugged. “But alas, that’s what happens in this business.”

He plucked a purple sash from Barbie and wrapped it around his head, fluttering his eyelashes innocently.

Not that he was fooling Brain.

But he didn’t have time to process that nonverbal gesture, for Pinky threw the sash around Brain, his tail looping around Brain’s waist. With the sash locking his arms against his sides, he was helplessly corralled to the mixing bowl. He dug his feet into the surface beneath him, but it was no use. Pinky was far stronger than he.

In physical terms of course. He tried to keep his eyes on Pinky’s face and not his...well, he was a male mouse...he didn’t have...unless he padded...

Stop, Brain.

A finger slipped under Brain’s chin, tilting his head up. “Not to worry,” Pinky purred, and the room suddenly went from cold to sweltering. “I have your solution right here.”

To emphasize his point, blue and green test tubes poured their contents into the bowl. The colors melded together, the resulting haze forming a rough image of the world.

“Here’s the deal. I’ll make a potion that can turn you into a human for three days,” Pinky declared, dragging his finger along Brain’s chin. Now that Pinky’s grip had loosened, Brain ripped the sash out of Pinky’s hands and threw it aside.

The stroke of Pinky’s finger along Brain’s fur was enticing, and he pushed it away exactly for that reason.

“Before sunset on the third day, you’ve got to find someone of royal blood,” Pinky said. A golden liquid swirled out of a beaker and formed a crown in the center of the world. It was an image of which Brain had dreamed of for so long. He tried to touch it, but it was far out of reach for him. “Then this charming person has to fall in love with you.”

That sounded...feasible. Three days was a rather generous deadline. Most of the time, they were on a time crunch between eight to twelve hours.

Pinky produced a pink felt heart and held it between two fingers. “Then you have to seal your love with a kiss. And not just any old peck on the cheek, but a kiss of true love.”

A what?

Brain huffed. Of course this plan would have such a ridiculous stipulation. He’d gotten his hopes up for nothing.

...and why was he treating this like it was real?

Because Pinky.

Yes, that was the only explanation. And not even a rational one.

“Oh dear, don’t pout so,” Pinky smirked. The expression was fogging up Brain’s mind. “What else is there to seal amour but with true love’s kiss? It’s a tried and true method, after all.”

He chuckled at his own joke. Brain rolled his eyes.

“If this certain someone kisses you by sunset on the third day, you’ll have the world permanently. But if they don’t, you turn back into a mouse.”

Pinky tossed the felt heart into the mixing bowl, the solution emitting a pink puff of smoke.

“And you belong to me.”

A dangerous edge crept into Pinky’s tone as he whispered into Brain’s ear, and the appendage fluttered uncontrollably until Brain forcefully snatched it to cease its movement.

Pinky tossed a hair tie, penny, and eraser nub into the mixing bowl, then leaned against a long pencil case as he awaited Brain’s reply.

“Suppose I agree to your deal. What then?” Brain asked.

“Well, there’s the matter of payment,” Pinky admitted. He stretched his lower limbs and tail as he rolled onto his stomach, exposing his long lavender-dyed legs. Brain tried not to watch the motion too closely for fear of hypnotism. “If you want something so badly, something of equal value has to be given. Equivalent exchange, as they say.”

“And what exactly do you want?” Brain asked, though he knew the answer.

He’d seen the movie.

“Your voice.”

Pinky’s smile was too wide and manic for Brain’s comfort.

“In other words...” Pinky hummed as he leaned forward, his nose was just an inch away from Brain. “...no more talking, singing, zip!”

He popped the consonant and mimed zipping his mouth, throwing away an invisible key.

It was so warm that Brain couldn’t feel his face.

“Now, now. Don’t be alarmed, Brain.” Pinky stretched luxuriously as he stood up. His tail slinked around Brain’s waist again. “You have your pretty face. And you shouldn’t underestimate the importance of...body language.”

Pinky’s hip bumped into Brain’s, his leg sliding all the way out of the slit of his dress. He batted his eyelashes and blew a kiss to an invisible audience.

Brain covered his face, ears flat against his back. He was fine. Just had to think about...something. What was he trying to picture exactly?

No mathematical formula could save him from the horror that was stupid, sexy Pinky. Curse those mathematical miscreants! They abandoned him in his time of need!

Pinky climbed up and down the stepladder, tossing chemicals and liquids and all sorts of things inside. The bowl rocked back and forth dangerously, bubbles spilling down the sides.

Brain didn’t dare get close. The inside of the bowl surely were an unholy abomination.

But that didn’t stop Pinky.

“Now a dash of zort, a sprinkle of poit! Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble! Fire burn and cauldron bubble!” Pinky cackled, throwing his arms up in the air. “Abracadabra troz! Bibbidi bobbidi narf!”

The mixture now to his satisfaction, Pinky flicked his finger at a notepad and pen, sending them hurtling towards Brain.

“Just sign on the dotted line, you poor unfortunate soul,” Pinky said.

Well...playing along couldn’t hurt. Even when there was a biohazard right in front of him.

And no, the bowl’s contents weren’t the biohazard here.

Brain took a deep breath and signed his name.

The moment he finished, the notepad and pen flew out of his hands and into the bowl.

Pinky wiggled his fingers over the bowl, green smoke rising to the ceiling and seeping past the edges of the blackout curtains to the outside. No smoke detectors went off, though Brain wasn’t surprised. ACME was rather lax on safety protocols.

“Beluga sevruga, come winds of the Caspian Sea!

Larengix glaucitis

Et max laryngitis

La voce to me!”

With a wide grin that spread from ear to ear, Pinky climbed down the stepladder and placed one hand on his seashell necklace, the other tickling the base of Brain’s neck. Brain ducked his head instinctively to stop the ticklish sensation, trapping Pinky’s hand under his jaw.

“Now sing.”

It was rare that Pinky commanded. Brain hated taking orders, yet something compelled him to obey.

Those coy blue eyes demanded, so Brain willingly gave.

And he sang.

Though he was hoarse from surprise at first, Pinky’s finger traced the outline of his neck, up his chin, to the corner of his mouth. Brain imagined his voice growing stronger...could see his voice taking physical form, flowing out of him and into Pinky’s seashell necklace.

Pinky doubled over in laughter as an explosion rocked the counter. The bowl sparked and smoked, its base clattering against the surface with loud metallic bangs.

Brain broke out of his trance as a sludge-like wave with various melted objects slithered down the rim, creeping ever closer.

He wasn’t taking any chances.

Grabbing his maniacally howling companion by the arm, Brain quickly bopped him over the head to halt the laughter, then dragged him over to the window for a quick escape. Pinky recovered from the bop and shimmied past the blackout curtain. Brain took a moment to collect the ACME credit card he’d pilfered from an employee several weeks ago, then followed Pinky onto the windowsill.

Pinky jumped first, safely landing in the bushes below. Holding the credit card above his head, which was no easy feat since the card was about the same size as him, Brain jumped as an explosion rocked the building, and his ears flattened instinctively to shield him from the worst of the noise.

As predicted, he landed in Pinky’s arms.

And it was somewhat mortifying now that Pinky’s eyes had gone from coy to blindingly innocent, even with the heavy eyeshadow. Shoving the card between himself and Pinky’s face, Brain climbed out of his arms.

“Narf! So how’d I do, Brain?” Pinky asked. “Was I convincing?”

Brain dusted off a bit of lavender dye that had rubbed onto his arm. He hoped it was fur-friendly. “You created a dangerous biohazard, toyed with my perception of reality, and overall you were a flirtatious nuisance.”

Pinky’s tail stopped wagging.

“So yes. You were indeed a convincing villain,” Brain said. He tapped the credit card. “And to fulfill the conditions of our original deal, I shall now treat you to Denny’s.”

He was a mouse of his word.

“Hoorah!” Pinky cheered. He twirled around in excitement, his black dress swirling around him as he danced all the way to the sidewalk. “Let’s go, Brain! I wanna look at all the lovely pictures on their menu!”

“You’re going like that?” Brain called after him. Didn’t he want to change out of the Disney villainess ensemble?

“Well you’re naked! So there!” Pinky stuck his tongue out at him.

With a sigh, Brain joined his companion on the sidewalk. Pinky skipped over to a patch of white flowers blooming next to the sidewalk, gently cupping the petals and cooing at a ladybug which landed on a blade of grass next to his foot.

Truly a convincing villain.

And Brain’s poor unfortunate soul was helpless under his power.

End AN: I deny selecting Poor Unfortunate Souls over other villain songs specifically for the body language line. You can’t prove anything.

I HC that Brain would hate Pettigrew more than any other Harry Potter character. I was trying to write a villainous Pinky...somewhere along the way he turned into Pinky Suavo. I don’t get it either XD

There's some folks taking care of the biohazard the mice left behind. Don't worry, the lab's still standing. It's just their problem while the mice get Denny's.

#patb disney #patb fanfiction #pinky and the brain

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