#find myself having feels for the terror once again as one does

[haystack-boy]

“Tell us about Bird Shit Island, why don’t you, James? That’s a capital story.”

a little embroidery i did, i couldn't help but think about that line when i saw this postcard. if you wanna see more of my embroidery work you can check it out on my ko-fi !

[janearts]

I couldn't help myself from referencing Highlander. There can be only one [wielder of the Netherstones]!

Proper answer (and some character analysis for Roisia) under the read-more.

Roisia was surprised by Gortash, but pleasantly so. In the first place, as far as Roisia is concerned, Ketheric and Orin recall their respective gods in their appearance: Ketheric is withered, a husk of a person, but indomitable, and Orin... well, Orin looks like a flayed corpse with meat-suit clothes, but close enough. Roisia would have expected Bane's Chosen to be more... physically domineering. Terrifying. Intractable. ...Loud? Instead, here's this charming handsome fellow who is really rather ordinary. If Roisia met him on the street, he'd just be another debonair noble lusting for power. (Join the feckin' queue!)

And neither does Gortash behave as Roisia would have expected Bane's Chosen to behave. She would have expected a Banite to be a tyrant, a Faerûnian-version of the Machiavellian prince, who instils a terror of himself and who rules through fear. Instead, Gortash gently curates among the populace not a fear of him, but a xenophobic fear of The Outsider (whether that outsider is a cult like the Absolute or a group of people like the Coast's refugees).

Roisia—by all accounts an oppositional force to his own—encounters a man who is genuinely, fully, confidently willing to partner with her to achieve a common goal and is willing to swear a divine oath to secure that partnership...

Poor man. What a fool.

You see, Roisia is something of a Machiavellian prince. She would despise to think of herself in that way were she to read Il Principe, but she has within herself some (but not all!) of the traits and qualities that are described within. She is frequently a mirror: where she meets evil, she wields evil with aplomb. ("You desire me to kiss your foot? I think not. You shall kiss mine.") She would very much prefer to offer mercy, but if her mercy is rejected—like when Ketheric imprisons Dame Aylin once again before yeeting himself into the primordial soup—then she will dole out cruelty in equal measure. Most importantly of all, Roisia is a liar and a deceiver, all while appearing compassionate, guileless, and true to her word. Roisia only really keeps her word when it suits her purposes. Were she otherwise, she would have found that Gortash would have been faithful to his word to the last. But as the Machiavellian prince, she betrays and slays him.

Actually, having written all that, Roisia is more of an embodiment of the Machiavellian prince than I originally thought: she is virtuous and good, sure, but she is also intimately familiar with baser behaviours (lying, cruelty, conspiracy, etc.) and wields those base behaviours like a tool when and where she feels it is needed and necessary.

Which is why I was absolutely thrilled when I had her do what was only natural to her and had her speak to Gortash post-mortem. Roisia is a character who believes herself to be godless: damned and/or abandoned by Kelemvor, Lord of the Dead and Judge of the Damned, for being a Necromancer. She had a sliver of hope that she would find favour with Myrkul, but Myrkul thought only of the Chosen stolen from him. She thought, perhaps, that she might find favour with Bhaal because, let's face it, she had slaughtered and bloodied so many in her long journey to Baldur's Gate, but the skull only wept blood and that was that. Bane, however, actually speaks to her, acknowledges her, validates her. She won his favour the moment she betrayed and slayed Gortash. She is in her very nature a stellar Banite. Incredible! And absolutely absurd. Thank you to Larian for programming that opportunity in. 😂

[kapapi-o]

Daddy's Girl (Sukuna x FemChildReader [familial]) HCs

So reader is some little girl that curiously ate Sukuna's finger. This leads to the King of curses accidentally adopting you, --some dumb, fatherless kid. Lmao

Fluff cuz i want soft wholesome sukuna and no, i'm not projecting. Stop thinking that, no one will ever believe you 🔫🙃

Not proof-read but still good, if i say so myself ;>

==================================

-When he first comes into your mind, he's shook for a moment then appalled the next.

-"Out of all the humans in this world, it's this weakling i've coveted."

-rolls his eyes and tries to rethunk how he'll ever come to his true form from a puny girl such as yourself.

-Dw tho, he thinks your funny. As in he thinks you're a dumbass when he watches you go about your daily life.

-Pops in from your cheek to tell you to watch where you're going when you almost walked into a lamp pole, or a bustling street of cars.

-Calls you "brat" and "dumb/foolish girl," followed by an unecessarily berating comment.

-Eventually, that sensitive part of you kicks in at times and his words get to you. You're just a kid after all. So now he's forced to do things he wouldn't usually do:

-"Stop crying, it's boring and the noise is unpleasant." He'd grumble in your head, noting to ease up on his words. For his sake, of course.

-There was a time when you had a nightmare of your father's passing. Your cries were so unpleasant that Sukuna had to make a visit into your little night terror.

-When you see him there, you run to him for a hug. Not thinking twice about wrapping your arms around him securely for comfort.

-Stiffens when he feels your little arms around him. He does notice that your crying stopped so he let's you. He just wants some quiet time, is all.

-When you finally calm, he tries to put your conciousness to rest. Only for you to end up falling asleep with his fingers held by your hand.

-Later calls you things like, "Little one" or "Child," in a stern manner. He's just doing that to belittle you so you always know you're place.

-You accidentally called him "Papa" once, and he's accidentally surprised, and accidentally didn't hate it.

-He did however hate when Gojo found out about you and took you in. Making sure to grumble about every little thing he does for you.

-When you're going about your little elementary day, he reminds you to pay attention.

-Helps you with homework. He says it's because he's proving he's superior to Gojo as a mentor, not because he cares about you.

-Could never find it in his cold, dead beat heart to hurt you. Quite the opposite actually, would rather carry you away securely in his arms as those who even thought of hurting you, burns away behind his back.

-He figures after he returns to his final form, he'll keep you. Only because he tolerates you, his little girl amusing nuisance. Nothing more.

==================================

I'm baaack y'all :D

Winter break is around the corner and i finally have the brain to write again. I've actually never sat and watched the Jjk anime lol

Maybe in the break, I will.

-oh, and anyone has permission to make this into a full fledged fic 👀

==================================

Tags:

[publicenemy212]

Filthy (Lute x fem!sub!reader)

Warnings: smut, dubcon, descriptions of violence, fingering, gagging, choking, knifeplay, degradation, sadomasochism dynamics

crossposted from AO3 under public_enemy_212. requests open for any hellaverse wlw pairings or f!reader

word count: 1280

NSFW under the cut

“You disgust me.”

The angel’s voice hissed, mere inches away from my ear. I groaned in response, my lips sticky and wet with my own blood. Her gloved hand grasped my hair with enough force to make me feel like my scalp was ripping off. Perhaps, at that point, that was the only thing keeping my eyes open. Without warning, she threw my face towards the pebbled alleyway ground.

My skull cracked on impact. The world faded to nothing, but only for a moment. Curse my new body and its resilience.

Sharp pain exploded in my chest as the exorcist sent a flying kick directly at my chest. I whimpered in agony and helplessness.

“Aww, does that hurt?” she purred mockingly. “The little sinner’s regretting her choices now?”

With effort, I painstakingly lifted my head off the filth-stained dirt to face the angel. All I could see was a blur of white and gray against the dark red background of Pentagram City. Extermination Day was almost over. I just had to survive until then.

I opened my mouth to speak and immediately fell into a coughing fit. Fresh blood splattered out, painting the concrete crimson. Hacking and spluttering for another minute, I forced out my words.

“Y-yes, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please—”

I heaved again. Fuck. The angel clicked her tongue impatiently as she stood with arms crossed, watching me vomit up more internal bleeding.

So much pain. So much pain. Hurts. Everything hurts.

I fell over onto my side again, groaning and panting for air.

“Are you done?”

“Ma’am, with all due respect, you’re wasting your time with me…” I rasp weakly. 

If pleading for my life wouldn’t work, I might as well try sucking up to her ego.

I prayed to God, Satan, whoever would listen; if only the exterminator would just move on to find other victims and leave me alone.

To my dismay, she only began to laugh.

Despair washed over my broken body. Was there no end to this torture?

“Wasting my time? No, no. I’ve already killed my fair share of your filthy kind. Now, it’s my turn to have a bit more fun by making you suffer slowly before I eventually kill you too.”

A sob bubbled out of my bloodied throat. I crumbled to the ground once more.

“Lute. Remember this name. It’s the last thing you’ll hear before you die.”

Something flipped inside me as all the pain and terror suddenly turned into indignancy and rage. Gritting my teeth, I summoned all my willpower to drag myself up. Glaring, I snarled, “You call yourself an angel? After making thousands of souls suffer and die a second death, as if dying once wasn’t enough?”

“It’s what you sinners deserve.” Lute brandished her sword, as if challenging me to take another step forward.

I was walking into a certain death, that I was sure of. But she was going to kill me regardless; why not try to fight back?

Claws out, I lunged forward unsteadily. In response, the angel flew forward at an inhuman speed and chokeslammed me directly into a wall. I scrabbled helplessly at her grip.

Lute roared with sadistic laughter.

Leaning closer, she whispered, “Can’t speak? Devil got your tongue?”

Fighting my survival instincts, I let go of her fingers around my neck…

…and sent my fist flying towards her face.

The blow landed squarely, shattering the glass of the exorcist mask.

“FUCK!” Lute screamed in shock. The surprise loosened her grip, allowing me to breathe only slightly more easily for a second. She ripped off the broken helmet with one hand and tossed it aside, using the same hand to punch me in the jaw.

I grinned at her distress. So it was possible to get under these exorcist angels’ skin. I decided, for my own cynical entertainment, to take it a step further.

“There is no way you don’t get off to this,” I croaked.

Lute growled in frustration. “Shut your fucking mouth.”

Her eyes flicked to the entryway of the dingy alley. No one was watching. The only sounds were the occasional distant screaming and the sound of my pained moaning and wheezing.

Her golden eyes slid back to the demon under her control, narrowing as she gritted her teeth.

She leaned in and kissed me with a fervor reminiscent of a starved animal. Her hand slackened again, her body pressing against mine. My blood smeared on her soldier’s uniform, mixing with the various splatters of her other, unluckier victims from earlier in the day. When we finally broke, gasping for air, Lute let go of my neck and stepped back. She drew her saber once more and pressed it against my bruised throat.

I whimpered and pressed my legs together, desperate to relieve the growing need between my thighs.

Lute was absolutely taken aback and scowled in disgust at my reaction.

“ Filthy. ”

Yet, against her own venom-laced words, her other hand slid down my body. 

“ Worthless .”

Two fingers pressed against my cunt.

My eyes screwed shut. I didn’t even know what I was feeling anymore. Pain from my injuries mixed with lust and pleasure at the angel’s ghosting touch. Oh, agony. Pure, sweet agony.

“...Are you serious? Does beat within an inch of your life turn you on that much?”

With that, she shoved her fingers into my mouth. I gagged at the sudden intrusion while she continued to finger-fuck my mouth with no breaks, generously coating her hand with my saliva and blood. Once she was satisfied, she drew her hand out and slapped me so hard my eyeballs shook in my skull. I moaned loudly and Lute immediately smacked her palm back over my mouth.

“Shut the fuck up before somebody finds us.” She hissed dangerously.

Once she was sure no other angels were coming, she sighed and returned her attention to me. Lute ripped off a chunk of my tattered clothes and shoved it in my mouth as a makeshift gag. 

Her hand then returned to my pants, sliding beneath the fabric and between my slick folds. She wasted no time in dipping right into my hole, using three fingers immediately without giving me any time to adjust. I yelped in pain, but the gag muffled any words I had. Lute grinned and leaned directly next to my ear.

“What’s the problem? It hurts? This is your punishment for going against Heaven, so you better fucking take it.”

Drool and tears collected at my chin, mixing together before dripping to the ground. My body threatened to lose consciousness with each brutal thrust. My head fell forward and landed on Lute’s armored shoulder as I continued to babble incoherently, the exorcist pushing me for orgasm after orgasm with no mercy. Only after I finally passed out from the sheer exhaustion of hours of getting fucked up and being straight up fucked did she pull out and toss my limp body aside.

Much to my disappointment, I woke up again to Lute kicking me repeatedly.

“Hey. Get up.”

Her boot pushed my head face-up to check if I was conscious. I stared at her, bleary-eyed. “You’re still alive? Huh. That works for me. I want you to watch me kill you.”

A flash of light. Warm liquid started gushing out of my chest. I looked down slowly to see the divine metal sunken halfway through my chest. Lute then yanked her blade out effortlessly and walked away without a word, leaving me to bleed out in a pool of my blood and cum.

The siren signaling the end of this year’s Extermination Day was the last thing I heard before eternal darkness swallowed me whole.

[hetaherr]

spending habits

:wriothesley modern au!

:fluff, crack, mentions of swearing, gender neutral

i thought this would be pretty funny, a little ooc and definetely self indulgent because i love recieving stupid gifts- hell i love buying myself stupid things from aliexpress LOL. and for those with gift giving as your love language, NO SHAME!! don't feel bad about it, ur deserving of all your cute little presents and trinkets, anyway ily <3 reblog to win ur 5050s

"holy shit"

wriothesley raises an eyebrow as he flips through a few documents in bed, he looks your way with anticipation. he watches you blink at your phone, proceeding to look back up at him, then back to your phone in utter disbelief, eyes wide and mouth agape, he can't help but chuckle.

"i just got some email confirmation, of- hear this, three hundred, three hundred fucking dollars."

you say, shoving the phone in wriothesley's face. he squints at how your phone is set at a level of brightness that put even the gates of heaven to shame. he stays quiet as he barely skims through the email before shrugging.

"yea i know, i paid for it."

as he says so nonchalantly, he sees your face distort into that of pure horror. what does he mean by, he paid for it?

"you really don't remember?"

he laughs. the sound of his voice usually makes you feel various emotions, all dancing around the themes of love and passion, but now you would have to add straight terror to the list as your heart sinks to the depths of your stomach. his big hands let go of your phone, and make its way to cup our cheeks.

"when i picked you up last night, you were pissed drunk-"

he chuckles as he interupts himself. his thumbs caressing your plump and soft cheeks. you await him to continue, dreading to hear what ridiculous scheme you managed to come up with while drunk.

"and though i'm not sure where you got this idea from, you kept insisting that i wasn't spending enough money on myself-"

"no...."

you interupt, gasping as you realise where the conversation was headed. wriothesley smiles at your reaction. clearly he doesn't feel like the situation is that big of a deal and it leaves you baffled at the fact he seems to be taking it so lightly.

"i simply said i'd rather spend my money on you and i really don't think i've seen you look so excited in my life. we spent the evening browsing your wishlist, you certainly had some odd things saved might i add."

he laughs again so unphased, while you were absolutely destroyed and horrified by your actions you were visably shrinking under the covers.

you couldn't bare to look at him, face red and the feeling of guilt was so heavy, not to mention the embarrassment you felt. you were really going through it... once again his warm hands make its way under the sheets and snaked around your waist. there's a soft hum of your name and as relieved as you are that he doesn't seem angry at the three hundred over dollars missing from his bank account, you simple can't bring yourself to look him in the eyes as he joins you under the blanket.

"my my, aren't you cute."

he says in that awfully familiar tone, the one he uses when he knows he has an advantage over you. he looks at your flustered face, the same face that manages to tug at his heartstrings everytime he sees it. you mutter countless apologies and promises that you'll definetely pay him back, as you bury your head into your hands.

"hm? i'd much rather you didn't sweetie, no matter how much money you decided to milk out of me it'll never reach the extent of which, i love you."

bonus: you decide not to look through the list of items that drunk you had insisted on getting and throughout the next few weeks, you and wriothesley would find packages addressed to you on the doorstep. it feels sorta like christmas and you open it together, some items are so ridiculously niche and some even straight up useless. you both have no idea what to do with it but it does do a good job at making the both of you laugh. wriothesley's favourite is when a piece of clothing comes, obviously he asks you to model it for him, spinning you around and even going as far as whistling at you when it's something excessively skimpy.

[delusionalfanficwriter]

nightmare

I jolted awake, my heart pounding, and my breaths coming in ragged gasps. The room was shrouded in darkness, and the remnants of the nightmare still clung to me like a heavy, suffocating blanket. I struggled to catch my breath, my mind a swirling chaos of fear and confusion.

My roommate, Sonnett, stirred in her bed across the room. "Y/N, are you okay?" Her voice was filled with concern, but I couldn't find the words to respond. I was completely out of it, trapped in the grip of the nightmare's lingering terror. When I didn't respond, my labored breaths pulled her out of bed before she was by my side. She sat me up somehow but when she tried to make me look at her I know I wasn't cooperating. Everything is a blur despite the lights she turned on to get a better look at me. When she realized her actions weren't doing anything for me she was at a loss.

Desperation drove Sonnett to action. She rushed out of the room and returned moments later with Tobin and Christen.

Tobin and Christen paused assessing the situation before making their way towards me. They tried their own methods to calm me, speaking soothing words and offering their support, but the nightmare's hold on me was unrelenting. My breaths continued to come in short, erratic bursts, and I couldn't shake the feeling of dread that had taken hold of me. Christen touched my forehead making sure a fever wasn’t making the situation worse. She sighs with relief when it feels normal but doesn't know where to go from here. Tobin tried to guide my breathing but my mind wouldn’t focus enough to actually follow with it. 

Tobin glanced at Christen, her expression filled with worry. "I don't think we're helping. Y/N, is there someone we can call? Someone who knows how to help you through this?"

My mind was a haze of fear and confusion, but one name managed to break through the fog: Jessie. Jessie Fleming, my best friend and former roommate from our days at UCLA, had always known how to comfort me during moments like this. But she was at camp with the Canadian national team, and reaching her wouldn't be easy.

Tobin took out her phone and dialed Jessie's number, her fingers trembling with urgency. We waited in tense silence, the ringing of the phone seeming to stretch on forever. Finally, it went to voicemail. Jessie wasn't answering.

Tobin exchanged a worried glance with Christen before trying again, but once more, it went unanswered. Panic gnawed at the edges of my consciousness, and I clung to the hope that Jessie would pick up.

Desperation forced Tobin to try one last time, and this time, Jessie's voice came through, slightly groggy from sleep. "Hello?"

"Jessie, it's Tobin," Tobin said, her voice filled with relief. "Y/N is having a really bad panic attack following a nightmare, and we don't know what to do. We need your help."

“Put me on speaker.” Jessie says and when she gets the confirmation from Tobin she continues to speak, “y/n, it’s me, Jessie. Listen to my voice. You are okay. Christen is going to get behind you and hold you in a strong hug… Feel her warm arms around you. She is real. I am real but whatever is going on in your mind was from a dream. You are okay, bubba. Tobin is going to squeeze your hands and I want you to squeeze them back whenever she does.”

“There you go, y/n,” Tobin says when I try my best to ground myself through them. I squeeze her hands back and listen back to Jessie’s voice who is now guiding my breathing and I follow her voice as best as I can. 

“I-I’m sorry-y,” I gasp out knowing I have woken everyone up and embarrassed by being so vulnerable. 

“None of that, bubba. How about you splash some cold water on your face and we can facetime until you get tired while the others try to go back to sleep.” 

“We can stay too, if you need it.” Christen also suggests.

“It’s okay. Jessie got me.” I reply knowing seeing Jessie’s face will calm me down and her voice will continue to ground me until I fall asleep. 

[call-me-a-simp]

Heal My Wounds

Your Savior (Part 2)

Rhea Ripley x Reader

Tw: physical and sexual abuse, toxic relationship

Summary: You are in a toxic relationship with an abusive man but manage to run away. A tall, black haired woman picks you up from the streets just in time so your ex doesn't get you. But who is she and why does she seem so familiar to you? As you get to know each other you start to notice weird feelings you never had before whenever she's around.

You take a Deep Breath, trying to calm down, knowing he couldn't get you now. At least for some time. You knew he wouldn't stop there, he'd try to find you again and terrorize you until you gave in and come crawling back to him.

You take a look in the mirror outside and see him screaming and raging."Hey, are you okay? What happened out there?" the dark haired woman on the driver's side asked. You wince slightly, as you were so caught up in your thoughts, you completely forgot she was still there. "Hey hey, I didn't mean to scare you" she says, trying to sound somewhat comforting. "N-no.. it's okay.. I'm fine.." you say, your voice barely loud enough for her to hear.

"Who was that" the Woman asked again. You shook your head, not wanting to talk about it, everything was just too much. "Not now, sorry, it's just all too overwhelming right now. Thanks though for stopping, I don't even wanna imagine what would have happened if he got me." You give her a weak smile, and she just nods her head and continues driving.

About 20 minutes later you're still driving, the silence that surronded you during that time wasn't that unpleasant after all. The radio was playing quiet musik and all in all you were just glad you finally got some rest. "Where are we headed?" you decided to break the silence. "home" she replies. "I just came back from a buisness trip and the airport it quite far away from where i live." You nodded, silence filling the car once more.

Some minutes later you decide to finally ask her who she was, she seemed so oddly familiar to you. "Can I ask you one more question?" "sure, as many as you'd like" she said. "Who are you and do we know each other by any chance? You seem so familiar"

She chuckled, "Well, you might know me under my ringname, Rhea Ripley, but you can just call me Demi". And that's when it hit you. Rhea. Ripley. The woman you always admired. for her strength and confidence. You just sit there, stunned at what had just happened. "You okay?" Demi asks with a chuckle. "Yeah, yes I- uh I just didn't expect that" you say. She laughs at your response.

"I- I'm y/n btw" you say, a smile tugging a the corner of your lips. How lucky could you be? The Rhea Ripley was the one so save you. "Nice to meet you y/n" Rhea grins. "Do you have anywhere to stay for now?". You shake your head "No, I don't have any friends around here and my parents live quite far away" you explain.

"Okay, you'll just come with me then, also good cause I know you're protected and don't need to blame myself in case anything happens to you tonight" Rhea says, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

You arrive at her place a few minutes later and you both exit the car. Rhea grabs her suitcase from the trunk before opening the door to her apartment. She puts her suitcase next to a small shelf in the hallway before taking off her shoes. You notice just now that you don't have any shoes so you open your backpack to search for a new pair of socks as yours were dirty from running outside.

You quickly change them and follow Rhea inside. "Are you hungry? Do you want anything to drink?"she asks, as you step into the kitchen. "Some water would be good thanks" you say. She hands you a glass of water and Begins to rummage around the kitchen to gather some supplies for cooking.

"Can I help you with anything?" you ask, putting the now empty glass aside. "You can chop some onions and Tomatoes for the Sauce if you want. I'm gonna make Pasta for dinner." Demi says, handing you a cutting board and a knive. Both of you Standing next to each other, you cutting the veggies and her preparing the noodles.

"Mind telling me what happened?" Rhea asks in a comforting voice. You stop cutting mid way, putting the knive away, and start fidgeting with your hands. You turn around so you were leanig against the counter with your back. You take a deep Breath and exhale slowly before starting to speak.

---------------------------------------------------

This is part 2 on my Heal my Wounds series, hope you enjoy. I've already got plans for future parts but I still appreciate every comment on wishes or hopes etc :)

Taglist: @thatonepansexual2000

[corallapis]

hello!! sorry, i just finished watching new who and i am DYING for more thoschei content. i know classic who has more obviously but i heard there are like also books and audio dramas and comics and infinite other stuff (?) and i was wondering if you could recommend like a list of things to stream in order to get to know more of these two idiots (affectionate) as i am a bit lost in between all the content. or if you could point out a source where i can look that up for myself, it would be great as well! thank you so much in advance <3 and sorry if this seems silly i am v new to the fandom rip

hey anon!! no need to apologize, i'm honored this ask ended up in my inbox! :) and it's not silly at all, there's a LOT of stuff out there. which is wonderful! but can def be a bit bewildering, too.

i'd definitely recommend classic who as a place to start! don't feel like you need to go in headfirst w/ s1e1 tho. just jump in wherever interests you! if you'd like a slightly more curated d/m list:

terror of the autons/the mind of evil/the claws of axos: okay, so it was almost impossible for me not to just rec “all the three & delgado eps,” so have the first three & feel free to continue on if you find yourself loving them (you will)

the keeper of traken/logopolis/castrovalva: a proper lil trilogy of stories that gives us four -> five & beevers -> ainley

survival: the final dw ep! seven & ainley 😼

for some not-really-classic but still on-screen essentials:

the tv movie: aka “the enemy within.” eight & roberts 🐍

scream of the shalka: an animated webcast that at one point rly was the canonical ninth doctor. shalka!doctor (r. e. grant) & shalka!master (jacobi. yes, again. or previously, rather.)

the curse of fatal death: a comic relief sketch written by moffat which features a het version of d/m getting together romantically (now why does that sound familiar?)

for audios, here's a couple that are both standalone & very d/m-focused:

master: seven & beevers. a great audio ft. an origin story that is probably one of the most talked abt things on tumblr, so def check this one out!!

the last line: ten & jacobi. when you're on trial, who do you call for help? your best enemy, of course

blood of the time lords: four & dreyfus. a must-include for me personally bc it has one of my fave d/m concepts ever :)

for books, once you're in the deep end all the novelizations of the classic d/m eps can have great tidbits. some original story recs:

the dark path: two & “koschei.” another origin story that gave us that name for a pre-master master, written by our d/m comrade-in-arms david mcintee

harvest of time: three & delgado working together & confronting the past w/ a lovely dose of master angst

the infinity doctors: infinity & the magistrate <3. don't let these names or its timeline placement intimidate you, just go into it with the idea that this is an au (ish) where the doctor & the master both returned to gallifrey & you'll enjoy yourself!

and finally some comics:

flashback: another origin story which i've uploaded here :)

the eleventh doctor year two: the eleventh doctor confronts the time war ft. my fave lil guy the war child master!

doctor who: missy: aka “the master plan.” missy breaks delgado out of stormcage while pretending to be a version of the doctor he hasn't met yet

hopefully these will get you started! for even more, the main resource i use when looking for d/m stuff is the theory timelines for the master & the master's incarnations on the wiki! i just poke around & click links until i find something that sounds interesting! enjoy!!! :)

[thepaintedlady00]

The Sandman and The Girl Without Dreams

Chapter 10: Fates Tethered Threads

20,430 words (53 pages). This chapter has been an absolute terror to write, I hope y'all enjoy it! TW: Desires rude AF, general distress, depictions of drowning, smut (if y'all liked Soft Dream buckle up), minor angst, confrontations, blood, violence, cliffhanger (I'm warning y'all now 👀)

When Dream entered the library he felt lighter than he had in decades. He felt whole, as did his realm, everything was as it should be for the first time since his capture. Lucienne greeted him politely, pulling out the books she'd picked out and fixing her glasses on her face nervously.

"What have you found?" He asked looking down at the slightly dusty pile.

"I'm not sure," she admitted with a sigh. "When you gave me the name of our lady I looked high and low attempting to locate anything about her here in The Dreaming. As you predicted, nothing."

He nodded. "She does not dream, so it is unlikely we'll find her here."

Lucienne glanced at the book in her hands and held it out to him. "Last night, shortly after the two of you… returned to the palace I found this on my desk."

The book was bound in multicolored threads, glistening in the light as it moved. Penelope Barlow carved into the front. His finger traced over the letters. "How is this possible?"

"I don't know, my lord," his librarian admitted. He moved to open it when she cleared her throat. "Sir, if I may…"

"What is it, Lucienne?"

"I read what was in the book, sir, to be certain it was our lady. What you find will no doubt distress you. And I only wish to remind you that The Dreaming is still weak and in need of you now more than ever."

"Lucienne," he interrupted.

She sighed. "It appears… It seems one of your siblings was involved in our lady being severed from The Dreaming."

His chest burned and he moved to open the book again, but just as his fingers curled around the edge he felt a blinding pain pierce his head. Dreams vision swam, the pain so great he had to steady himself against the table. Lucienne gripped his arm, her startled voice incoherent in his ears. When it vanished along with the heartbeat he'd been feeling beside his own since he’d brought her back to The Dreaming he dropped the book. "Penelope!"

Teleporting to his room the fear turned into all out panic at the sight of the bed in disarray and her bag of trinkets on the ground, the small objects scattered across the floor. He couldn't breathe. The room filled with shadows as his fear gave way to anger. Luciennes warning swirled in his mind. One of his siblings was behind this, and once he found out which one nothing short of his lady's return and their cries for mercy would satisfy him.

***

This was getting ridiculous. They stared down at me with their wide grin unfaltering. "As lovely as you look down there, Petal, I think you should get up."

"You," I said, seething. "You were at the bar that night."

Their hand pressed to their chest as they looked away faking a bashful reaction. "Oh, how very flattering this is! The Lady of The Dreaming recognizes little old me."

"Who are you?" I chose to ask instead of attempting to retaliate against their obvious teasing.

"I am all that you Desire."

Desire. "You're one of Morpheus' siblings."

They shrugged. "But of course."

"Why are all of you so obsessed with dragging me places?" I demanded lifting myself up off the floor.

Desire looked confused, the first genuine emotion I'd seen from them. "I didn't bring you here, Petal."

"What?"

They rolled their eyes. "You don't catch on very quick, do you?"

I'd forgotten how easily they got bored and how rude they were. "What do you mean you didn't bring me here?"

"I did nothing." They said, "Here I was, walking the halls of my realm and then poof a little flower tumbles into my path. You brought yourself here. It's what you do after all."

"What I do?"

"Yes, Weavers are notorious party crashers." They smiled. "Though none before did so as frequently or as elegantly as you."

"Weaver?" It wasn't the first time someone had called me that, but all the times before I'd written it off as some odd term among these beings.

Desire groaned. "What have you been doing all these years? It should be quite obvious what Weavers are by now." I stared at them, waiting. "Good god woman. Fine, I suppose if any of us were to let the cat out of the bag it'd be me."

Did that mean? "Have I met more of you?"

"You've met all of us," they cooed, stroking a long finger down my cheek and squeezing my hand. "Even The Prodigal before he vanished. Though I’ve heard many a rumor that says you were far more intimately acquainted with him than any of the others, even dearest Dream."

“I’m not intimately acquainted with any of you,” I growled. “Do all of you know what I am?”

"Yes," they said, grinning at the victory of their insult striking me. "All except our darling Dream. It would seem he's far too busy with his desire for you to put the pieces together by himself."

Dream. I wanted to cry. He must’ve been so worried, so angry at another sudden disappearance. The ring. I looked down to my finger, a hopefulness unfurling in my chest only to find it gone. Desire tutted in front of me, twirling the ring between their fingers. "Now, now, why would I let you go so soon? After all, we have so much to talk about."

"Give it back," I demanded, a cold possessiveness filling me at the sight of my ring, his gift to me in their hands. 

They laughed. "Petal, that might work in my brother's realm, but here…" They spread their arms wide. "I'm the one in charge."

I sighed. "Please."

"Oh, you do sound so pretty when you beg!" Their golden eyes glowed. "Tell me, is that how it sounded last night when my brother finally laid his claim to you?"

It wasn't embarrassment that made the blood rush to my face, it was anger. "How would you know anything about that?"

They scoffed, turning to walk down the long twisting hallway. "I can feel the echoes of it just swirling all around you. It's sickening. Though I am impressed." I followed beside them, putting a distance between us as they looked over at me with a sly grin. "All my previous attempts to bring my brother to his knees with lovers had failed. All my attempts to twist that smug self importance were wasted. But you… You managed to do all of that and more. You make him weak."

I glared at them. "He's more powerful now than ever. And once he finds me, which he will, he's going to be pissed."

"I'm counting on it," they purred back. "Now, please sit."

A table filled the space in the middle of the room, the same glossy red material that surrounded us. It was adorned with gold and black flowers, candles and every decedent food I could imagine. Lobster, crab, oysters, lamb, caviar. I stopped walking and watched as they sat, throwing their feet up on the table to lounge. "What do you want?"

They rolled their eyes. "Sit, Weaver. I've been nothing but welcoming to you, and while I love the rebellious attitude I'm growing bored of it."

Though their words held the same flippant and disinterested attitude, the flare in their golden eyes prompted me to listen to the threat that the words veiled. I sat across from them and squeezed my hands together in my lap. They gave my ring a final look before setting it beside them. Maybe if I was quick eno- "No games, Petal. I just want to have a chat with my future sister, there's no need for this to be so… Hostile."

"Why am I here?" I asked outright.

Desire laughed and filled their plate with food. "You came to me and yet you think I somehow know why?"

I sighed. "I didn't try to come here. I was just.. I was relaxed and then everything was bright and loud and I was here."

They hummed. "Sounds to me like your little bedroom fun awakened something in you. Kinks aside, you are different you know. Special."

I hated the way they said it. "How so?"

"Not only are you a Weaver, but you're also soul bound to my brother and thus to his precious Dreaming." They indulge themselves in an oyster before continuing. "Who knows what else you…" A smirk. "Milked dry last night."

Clenching my jaw I glared at them. Now wasn't the time to pick a fight but god did they make it hard to keep this civil. "What is a Weaver?"

Desire checked their nails and quirked a brow at me. "Why should I tell you?"

"Because knowing is what I most desire. And that's your job, isn't it?"

"I like you," They said smiling. "And because I like you I'll share my knowledge. For a small price."

"What do you want?"

"Dinner," they said happily. "Just the two of us. We can go wherever you wish, but when I call upon you you'll answer."

I thought it through for a moment. Surely they'd given me enough information that I wouldn't need to resort to a deal. The gleam in their golden eyes told me they knew something more though, something I wouldn't be able to find in The Dreaming library or on my own. "Just dinner? No tricks or games? Just food and conversation?"

"Yes."

"Sorry if I'm having a hard time believing that's all you'd want."

They shrugged. "Let's just say that me sharing my information doesn't just benefit you. So, do we have a deal, dear Weaver?”

With a tense nod I settled back in my chair. “Fine, I’ll have dinner with you when you call. Just dinner, nothing else.”

They clapped their hands together and smiled widely. “Fantastic!”

Silence filled the space and they stared at me, waiting for me to ask my questions? “What is a Weaver and why do you keep saying I am one?”

“I keep saying you are one because you are.” They said simply, “As for what a Weaver is, that’s a bit more complicated and quite long winded.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage to simplify it,” I replied with a barely concealed venom that made their eyes sparkle.

They looked far too pleased at my thinning temper. “Humans, the universe, this whole mess is made up of and bound by threads. I don’t bore myself with all that nonsense, it's all Destiny’s problem anyway. All I know is one day he went into a tisy because his precious book had changed, and with that change the first Weaver was born. The book calls them Fate Weavers, ones that can not only see the threads of this universe and all within it but manipulate them, change them, even make new ones. The divides between realms are thinner for them, which is why you poof away from one place and plop into another. Destiny says that Weavers go where they’re needed, blah blah boring.”

“You said Weavers, as in more than one? What happened to the others?” I asked quietly.

“What happens to all humans, Petal. Weavers are still human. After the first, others followed and it became another natural law of the universe.” They cleared their throat and in a mock voice that sounded like they were trying to imitate Destiny they said, “There must always be a Weaver, only one, or the threads of this world will snap and everything will be plunged into an early grave. Or, that’s what Destiny and his little book claim at least.”

I met their golden gaze. “You don’t believe him?”

They smiled. “Dear, I won’t pretend to care what he does with that book of his. He’s by far the most boring of them all. Your Dream, however, has my full attention.”

Dream always seemed uncomfortable about speaking of his siblings. Death he seemed fond of, but he’d never willingly spoken of the others. When I’d told him I visited Destiny’s garden he was upset, concerned, when there seemed to be no reason for it. Was Desire the reason he was so hesitant to speak of his family? Or was he, perhaps, the reason behind the spiteful gleam in their eyes. “What did he do to make you so angry?”

“Nothing,” they replied, though I couldn’t tell if it was the truth or not. “He’s just so… self important and uptight. Messing with him is quite fun.”

I hummed. “I think there's more to it than that.”

“Do you now?”

“I think he hurt your feelings,” I stated. “I think he made you feel lesser, and I think you’re looking for a way to make him feel the same.”

They scoffed. “You know very little, Weaver. Now, hush up so I can finish telling you about your history, since it’s apparently my job to educate Dream's new pet.”

I let the insult roll over me and nodded. “Fine.”

“Since the beginning there have been plenty of your kind, but the last one got a bit greedy with the power given to her. I don’t know what happened or why, but whatever it was gave way to you, Destiny’s favorite.” Favorite? I wondered to myself. Nothing he’d said or done had particularly stood out to me as favoritism. They continued, “You are soul bound to Dream and you are a Weaver. Those two things alone make you quite special, but the thing that takes the cake is your pretty little starkissed blessing.”

“Starkissed blessing?” 

They gestured toward my head. “Your glow. The reason you’re still alive, petal. It seems our mother dearest fished you out of Death's path and gifted you with immortality, well, for the most part.”

“Mother?” Fuck me, I’d worked my way through his siblings and now I’d apparently met his mother. Dream was going to lose his mind.

“Night, the mother of the Endless.” Desire said in a tone that sounded calm, but held an edge I couldn’t fully understand. “Though her and daddy have never really cared much for this world, nor my siblings and I, they created us. Our father, Time, only ever speaks to Destiny nowadays and even that’s rare and Mother always favored Dream above the rest. She’s… detached to say the least, though she seemed to like you well enough to save you.” Desire nearly scoffed.  “Perhaps it was solely because of your connection to Dream, or some other selfishly motivated idea of hers. I don’t care much, all I know is her little blessing keeps you from aging and your substantial Weaver magic heals up those pretty wounds of yours and your connection to my brother and his realm gives you far more power than you should have.”

“So, I’m part human, part Endless and blessed?” I asked with furrowed brows. “That’s too much.”

“Indeed it is, Petal.” They agreed. “It makes you interesting at least.”

Desire was rude and spiteful and grew bored easily. They were unlikable in nearly every way, yet, I found myself feeling far more comfortable than I had been around most the others. They lied and were deceitful by omission, yet something in me told me they weren’t playing a game now. “Why tell me all this?”

“Because Dream obviously isn’t going to. He’ll do what he always does, keep you in the dark, safely leashed somewhere he can have constant control.” Desire’s smile fell, for the first time during our conversation. “You’re special, one of a kind, but above that you have a good heart. The things you desire are…” They paused, looking down at the ring they’d taken. “They’re good. It’s infuriating, yet refreshing after dealing with centuries of boring people and boring desires.”

“So, you like me?” I asked with a smug grin.

They rolled their eyes, whatever moment of honest tenderness they’d been willing to show me long gone and the gleam back in their golden eyes. “I find you interesting. The others would let you fail right from the start, but I see no fun in that. I’d much rather watch you try first, then fail. Besides, it will make Dream absolutely livid when he finds out it came from me.”

“And asking for dinner in return for all this?” I pressed. “Why would you want that?”

“To gossip of course!” They laughed. “I have so very much I’d like to tell you about my brother.”

“Why not tell me now?” I questioned.

Their Cheshire smile widened. “As I said earlier, we don’t have all day. Your dear Dream is no doubt throwing a fit trying to find you, and once he gets here he won’t want to stick around.”

Guilt filled my lungs at the thought of Dream. I hadn’t meant to teleport, to leave, and I was certain he would understand that, but it still did little to ease the uncomfortable sensation in my gut. “Will you give me my ring back now?”

“No, petal,” they chuckled. “I want to draw out your visit for as long as I can. The angrier I can make Dream, the better.”

“So what am I to do, while we wait?” I asked, more annoyed with their refusal to return my stolen possession. “Twiddle my thumbs and listen to you bitch?”

With a shrug they pulled their feet from the table, circling it to stand beside me. "What has my big brother shared with you about himself?"

“I haven't asked.” I replied. “He's respected my past and I intend to respect his.”

Desire made an amused face, kneeling down to meet my height. “You'll grow to rethink that stance.”

“No I won't.” I insisted with a cold glare. “When he's ready to open up about whatever it is that’s got you all giddy I’ll be there willing to listen. We’ll work through it together.”

“So confident, yet so naive.” They clicked their tongue, stroking my cheek. “You’re sweet, Petal. So when my big brother fucks you over, which he will, know that my door is always open to you.”

I grit my teeth. “Thanks for the generous offer, but I won't need it.”

“My big brother's past lovers all ended in tragedy.” They said, with a hint of warning. “This will be no different.”

“Do I look like a tragedy to you?” I asked with a lethal calm. I’d survived far worse than a break up. Dream and I were bound together, no gossiping sibling was going to sway that.

The gold of their eyes sparked at the challenge. “No, I don't suppose you do.”

I stood, their eyes following me. “I'm leaving.”

Desire laughed and gestured to the air. "I'll not keep you prisoner. You came to me, I'm certain you can find your own way out." My eyes flashed to the table, but the ring was gone, back in Desire's hands. "I'll be keeping this though, wouldn't want you to cheat now would we."

"It belongs to me." My head began throbbing, a vivid thread woven of red, gold and black appeared wrapped around Desire's neck, disappearing and reappearing at random as I blinked. 

They turned and started walking away. "If you're still here in an hour do come find me for drinks."

The thread trailed behind them, leading back to me. As I looked down at myself, threads of all colors and thickness and brightness covered me and everything around me. Some were solid, others were fraying and tense as if they were pulled too tightly and then there were the ones that moved like they were liquid. They began to glow brighter and brighter the more I looked. 

When I looked back up, the glossy red of Desires realm was replaced by a vast expanse of darkness, shimmering with far away stars. I could still see the outline of the walls and table, but it was dull and devoid of color. On the right was a thick golden thread that glowed and hummed with warmth. It was fluid, moving like a river of molten gold. On the left was a thin silver thread, ridged and unmoving with waves of freezing cold rolling off of it.

My head began throbbing as the lights grew brighter and brighter until I could see nothing else. A ringing in my ears echoed as I curled into myself, shutting my eyes to try and save them from the burning brightness. For a minute all I could do was force myself to breathe, and then slowly the ringing faded and the light went out.

Opening my eyes slowly darkness surrounded me in a dull room, lit by a handful of mostly melted candles. Not again. I stood, carefully, my eyes straining in the darkness. The sound of heavy rain and thunder and waves echoed all around, but there was no window or door in sight. I picked one of the candles up, doing my best to ignore the burn of melted wax and began to move through the darkness.

All around the floor was covered in squeaking rats, they moved when I came close and minded their business, but I could feel their beady eyes watching me. "You shouldn't be here."

I jumped, twisting to look around me for the voice. "Hello?"

"You shouldn't be here, Weaver." It said again, familiar and sad. "No one comes here. No one wants to."

"I'm sorry," I said softly. "I don't know where I am… Or how I got here."

"It feels different from last time." The voice mused, sounding even closer but as I looked no one was there. "You want things now, you've grown and put much behind you, but it's still there. You buried it."

My heart began beating faster. "Who are you?"

The voice chuckled a little, but the sound was strangled, forced, wrong. "Your sister in law."

Sister in law? Desire said something similar. "You're one of Dream's siblings?"

The rats grew restless at the sound of his name. "Yes, he's not fond of us though. Not like he is with others, with you."

"I'm sure he cares for you in his own way," I replied cautiously. "Can you help me?"

"Help?" The voice echoed. "Help you. Oh yes, yes I will help you."

A door appeared in front of me, the rats lining the path forward. A chill ran up my spine. "Where does it lead?"

The voice was in my ear now. "To help."

My feet didn't move, but the door grew closer and closer until it passed over me, opening and closing tightly once I was through it. The dark hallway was lined with mirrors of all shapes, sizes and adornments. I looked into them as I passed, watching my reflection twist and change shape right before my eyes. This place was officially the worst and I wanted out. Now. How did I do it last time? I kept moving, the rats on the floor breaking away to carve a path for me as the small candle in my hand lit the area.

Light, a tiny sliver of it, peeked from a half open doorway at the end of the long hall. Maybe someone was here, someone who could help send me back to The Dreaming. I opened the door slowly, and the more I did the less light shined. A mirror, tall and long, lined in a frame of fish hooks stood in the center of the room. I walked closer.

The reflection was blurred, but as I got closer it cleared until I stood looking into Olethros' eyes. I swallowed a broken sob just as the door behind me slammed shut. When I turned to the noise another mirror blocked my path, the family that had died in the fire staring back at me. I turned again to another mirror, an old lover. Another mirror, another dead friend. All around me were mirrors and every last one of them held the shape and faces of those that had died because of me.

My lungs burned as I tried to keep breathing, tears filling my eyes and spilling with no resistance. Olethros spoke. "Fighting almost always leads to death and destruction. Are you prepared for that?" 

"No," I breathed.

"Auntie Pen! Auntie Pen!" The voices of the children chanted. 

"We're safe, right Penelope?" Their parents asked.

I covered my ears. "Not this."

"Do you love me, Penelope?" My old lover asked.

"Please!"

"Come on Pen, you gotta live a little!" My friend insisted.

"Stop."

"Penelope," they all began to cry out to me, repeating conversations we shared, calling out to me.

I looked up at Olethros. "I'm gone because of you."

"Stop."

His warm eyes went gray. "They killed me because I tried to save you."

I was on my knees now, weeping. "Stop!"

"All of us are dead and it's your fault!" 

"Your fault!"

"Because of you!"

"STOP!" I screamed as loud as I could, my hands slamming down onto the floor, rats scattered away from me as below my hands the ground began to crack. A line of golden light illuminated my right hand, winding around my wrist like a band or… Or a chain and a line of silver on the left, mirroring the gold perfectly. My right hand burned and my left felt frozen. Chest heaving I slammed them down again and again and again until the floor finally gave way.

I was falling, falling for what felt like hours until I hit the cold water that raged below. The waves were too strong, pulling and pushing me under with a force I couldn't fight against. I fought and raged, desperate to break the surface, but I couldn't. Fear seized me, my lungs burning as I tried to scream. The more I fought and raged against the waves the further down they swallowed me. It felt like an eternity had passed before I shut my eyes. I was going to die, for real this time. I was going to die. Dream would blame himself… He would be heartbroken, he’d lost me once already. No. No. NO!

Air stung my skin and the ground beneath me burned. A hand rubbed and patted my back, urging my body to purge the water I'd swallowed. Gasping and clawing at the pebbles beneath my fingers I sobbed. "Breathe, Weaver. You are safe."

"Destiny?" I choked out as the garden around us became clear.

"Yes."

I looked up at him, my body finally finding a way to breathe again as I threw my arms around him. He didn’t return the embrace, but steadied me with a hand on my back. "Will you please answer my questions?"

"Some, yes."

His scent soothed me, filling my body with a sense of familiarity and safety. "Do you have tea?"

He offered me his hand. "Yes. Your favorite."

"Thank you." I whispered.

***

"Dream," his sibling purred as he approached. "I was wondering when you'd show up."

"Where is she?" He asked roughly.

Desire smirked. "She was here some time ago, though she was in quite a hurry to leave."

"No games," he said, the hold he had on his temper losing its grip by the second. "Where is she?"

"Gone." They said, pursing their lips and twirling something on their finger. "She did leave this for you though."

Dreams heart lurched into his throat. Her ring. Why would Desire have her ring? "How did you get this?"

"She gave it to me," they said, eyes glowing, smile widening. "Said if you came looking to return it to you."

No. She wouldn't do that. Fear and nauseousness filled him. Unless… "What did you tell her?"

They gasped, a hand flying to their throat. "Me? Gossip?! Dream I would simply never!"

His hands slammed into the table, the force of the blow cracking the glossy red material. "Enough. What did you say to her?"

Their smile didn't falter. "I may have mentioned your string of tragedy with all those other lovers. Or perhaps it was an implication of keeping secrets? Oh dear, it's so difficult to remember."

Dream stood, slowly circling the table to stand above them. If Desire knew anything about what he’d learned and twisted the truth to make him out to be some villain in Penelope’s eyes… No. He refused to think of the damage they could have done. "Last chance, sibling."

Golden eyes sparkled up at him. "Are you that desperate, big brother? If I’d known she’d finally be the push I needed to get you this worked up, I’d have sought her out years ago." They held the ring up to him.

He took it from their fingers, resisting the urge to break them completely, clenching it in his palm. "What did you do?"

"Nothing. I offered her some information on her unusual circumstances and she left."

Wordlessly he grabbed a handful of their hair and pressed their head into the table. "Where is she, Desire?"

"I don't know." they replied. "Perhaps our brother would?"

Their brother? Dream loosened his grip. If they knew what he did... Had they told her? "What do you know?"

A wide grin. "I've heard a rumor... One that our darling Weaver was not too pleased to hear."

"She wouldn't believe anything you said." Though directed at Desire, the words were entirely for himself. A poor attempt to soothe his fear.

Beneath his grip they shrugged. "I only offer what I've heard, Dream. But, as for the location of your darling Weaver I truly have no clue as to where she'd ended up. I do hope it isn't anywhere dangerous."

His gut twisted even more at the thought. She could be anywhere and without the ring he had no way of finding her quickly. Damn him. He should have noticed it sooner! He should have known what she was the second he saw her! If he hadn't been so distracted he could have kept her safe. And now. He released Desire. Now he might very well lose her again, for certain this time.

"If you attempt to disrupt my personal affairs with my lady with your gossip again I shall free your lying tongue from your mouth." He growled.

Desire's laugh echoed around him as he walked away. "I do hope you find your lady, Dream! She was quite keen on not staying put for long. I do hope she’s not avoiding being found, but you're strong now so even if that is the case it shouldn't be too much of a challenge!"

Had she left? He thought as he felt The Dreaming curl around him. Was his sibling simply trying to goad him on, or was there some manner of truth to their words? Dream sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. If Penelope learned of Nada… If she'd learned of what he'd done to her, would that be enough for her to leave him? He looked down at the ring in his palm. Why would she have given it away? He needed to find her… Now, before it was too late.

***

Destiny had summoned food to go with our tea and for a while we just sat at his table silently drinking. I was starving, thirsty beyond imagining even though I’d no doubt swallowed half a damn ocean. So for a while the safe silence allowed me a chance to eat and recover from nearly drowning. But with each passing minute my head throbbed more and more. “Is it true… Am I a Weaver?”

“Yes.”

“Desire told me they were of your domain.” I said. “If that’s true why am I bound to Dream and not you?”

Destiny took a drink of his tea. “Your bond to Dream is not something that can be changed or influenced by either of your functions. It is because it is.”

My fingers traced over the mark. “So there's no logic behind it? No rhyme or reason?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Don’t you know everything though?”

He was silent. Though that told me what I needed to know. Our bond was something no one would have answers to, not in this life and maybe not in any other. That didn’t bug me, I didn’t care where it came from or why, I was just glad that it kept me linked to him even after all the years we’d been apart.

"Well, I don't suppose you'd be able to tell me exactly what I'm supposed to be doing as Weaver?"

"Your duty is to keep the balance of this world in check." He looked over at me. "How you do that is entirely up to you."

I curled myself deeper into the warm shawl he'd given me. "But if Weavers are of your realm then why don't you just tell me what needs done."

Destiny sighed, setting his teacup back into its plate. "Desire wrongly assumes you are made of my realm and thus I have dominion over you. Weavers are not of any realm, but the whole universe. You are not bound by the laws my siblings and I are, nor are you strictly bound by the laws of mortals."

"So I'm some kind of cosmic wild card?" 

"If that is how you wish to see it." He answered with a smile.

"Why are you answering my questions now and not when I first showed up?"

"Perhaps you are simply asking the right questions this time. Or perhaps it is my duty to ensure you do not knowingly break the laws of the universe nor do you seek out knowledge beyond that which you are capable of understanding.”

"What if I did?" I asked, remembering Desires words about the previous Weaver. "Break the laws I mean?"

Destiny seemed to sit up straighter. "I would be forced to tear your heart out."

Oh. Okay. "Why that specifically?"

"You're resilient creatures, but the heart is where the threads, your individual ones specifically, are most concentrated. It is crude, but on occasion necessary."

"Is that what happened to the previous Weaver?"

"No."

I tilted my head. "What happened then?"

Again Destiny was silent. I couldn't tell if this was one that meant he'd spoken all he could on the subject or if he'd simply not wished to speak more of it. Either way it was obvious that there was a more ominous question hanging in the air, one I had apparently gotten close to. “Does my bond to Dream make me dangerous?”

He tilted his head slightly. “Yes.”

Fear shot through me. “Could it be used to hurt him?” Destiny seemed to understand my true question… Could I hurt him?

“Weavers are perhaps as close to my brother as mortals can get. Reality bends to your will as it does his. In theory any Weaver could use such power to harm him or any of the Endless. Your bond to Dream makes you a particularly unique threat, as his realm will also heed your commands. But, I do not think that will be your fate.” He said calmly. It was the most solid answer I’d gotten from him, and some part of me told me it was his way of easing my worry.

With a sigh of relief I looked around the garden. “So, how do I do this whole… Weaver thing?”

“However you choose to.”

“Destiny…” I grumbled.

“There is no one path, Penelope. How you find access to the threads is your own path, not mine nor any others before you.” He explained softly. 

I rubbed my arms and sighed at him, my head throbbed even more and before my eyes, curled around Destiny’s book and up the chains was a glowing gray thread with small veins of brown. “What do they mean? The threads?”

“They represent the world around us.”

“Desires was red with smaller thinner strings of black and gold. Yours is gray with brown. Are all the threads different?”

“Yes.” He said simply. “Everything is bound with the threads, but no one thread is like another.”

“What do the colors mean then?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “That is something I’ll leave to you to determine.”

"Can you see them?"

"You alone can see them, but in theory it would be possible to show them to others."

I sighed. “I’m going to have to talk to you a lot more aren’t I?”

I could have sworn he smirked as he lifted his teacup back to his lips. “If that is the path you choose.”

“Damn you and your cryptic answers,” I said with a laugh. “So, now what?”

“Now you choose a path.”

We stared at one another for a while, before I asked, “What if I pick the wrong one?”

Last time he’d given me a cryptic reply, one about there not being right or wrong. This time he only smiled and said, “I have faith in you, Weaver.”

I stood and gave his shoulder a pat as I moved past him towards the shrubbery covered in butterflies. “Guess I’ll see you around, boss.”

This path was far shorter than the one I’d walked down last time. The butterflies dispersed halfway through the walk, and before I could call out to them or say anything my head swam again. It was less painful than the other times, the brightness far more bearable as I looked at the threads, every one of them leading back the way I'd come from, all but one. I poked the green thread, watching in awe as the smaller specks of brown, gray seemed to shine beneath the touch. Tiny sparks of red and black lifted off of it, disappearing into the air. 

The green thread led further down the path, deeper into the maze. The smarter choice would be to turn around, follow the other threads and the butterflies, but the thread now between my fingers hummed and sang, the small vibrating tune one that felt familiar, urging me to follow it. With it pressed between my fingers I walked down the path, following every twist and turn for what felt like far too long before the maze opened to another smaller courtyard. In the center a tall half destroyed marble statue stood. It was impossible to pick out any prominent features, but it still held a beauty to it. The thread was wrapped tightly around the sword the statue held at its side, torn threads of red and black peeking out from beneath the green.

I let my fingers glide up the thread, brushing softly against the cold marble that began to shake beneath my touch. As soon as I pulled away the marble shattered, the force of it sending me back so hard my head hit the ground, which was now a cracked and broken foundation. "Ow," I mumbled to myself, pressing my hand to my head.

When I managed to shake off the blow I forced myself to my feet, looking out at the endless sky of debris and metal that floated all around me. As I turned, a tall building came into view, ornate and old, a museum? The tall statues on either side of the steps were cracked away to nearly nothing, the pieces floating in the air around them. Two doors hung loosely off the hinges, creaking softly as the building trembled. Inside looked just like a museum, but it was all wrong.

Marble statues were shoved into a corner, each of them misshapen and cracked. The paintings that lined the walls were terrible, even for abstract works, some were even torn or burned. Every sculpture or wood carving, all of it was wrong. Torn up bits of ink stained paper floated in the large cold room. The further I moved the less art I found, weapons instead lined the walls, hung and polished with broken glass floating around them. Echoes of clashing steel, pained screams and shouting echoed from each one sending chills up my spine.

In the very back was a small oak door, one that opened before I even touched it. The room was small, everything packed and cluttered together. A large bed sat shoved into the far corner, the pillows torn to shreds, feathers still hanging around them, the blanket thrown over something in the center of the room. At the foot of the bed was a small dog house, the roof of it caved in and the name scratched off. The fireplace on the right whistled softly, ash built up at the bottom of it. Paint splotches covered the sleek cracked floors and a broken easel was laying on the ground with paint brushes and ink pens thrown around. 

The humming returned as the world of threads filled my vision, the green thread pulled taut leading to whatever the blanket covered up. With every step I took sliced slivers of red and black threads flew up from the ground filling the air. I carefully pulled the blanket away, revealing a small glass case with an old and tattered paper butterfly in it.

My breath caught. This way my butterfly, the one De had given me and that I'd given to him. My fingers brushed against the glass. "Olethros."

The name shook the building, the glass shattered under my fingers and the butterfly floated up into the air. I had just enough time to catch it before the floor gave way beneath my feet and sent me plummeting down into the debris and shattered void. There was nothing to find purchase on, nothing that did not crumble immediately beneath my touch. All I could do was fall until there was no silhouette of the building, nothing but the tiny butterfly I clung to.

The longer I fell, the less I could feel or see or hear. Even when the debris and glass cut me or hit me no pain stuck. It felt like the world around me had been stripped away as the dark world of threads filled my vision. The green thread clung to the butterfly in my hands, but now a blue thread glowed, silver and lavender veins glistening in it like stars, wound around my finger where Dreams ring had been. I somehow managed to grab hold of it, the mark burning as I held it tighter. I want to go home. Please take me home.

I felt a pull, strong and steady catch me and I fell faster, the debris that surrounded me falling with me. When the ribble beneath me hit the ground black sand scattered all around, I curled up, landing on top of it roughly as the debris followed. With wobbling legs I stood and wept happily at the sight of the ocean. The soft salty breeze wrapped around me lovingly, The Dreaming welcoming me home. I stood on a mountain of rubble, as a voice began shouting, growing closer to me I turned to find Lucienne running through the sand.

"My Lady!" Lucienne cried as she approached the bottom of the rubble pile. She reached up toward me, offering two helping hands.

"Lucienne!" I sobbed jumping down into her arms. The smell of books and berries filled my nose and I breathed out a relieved sigh. I was home. "God I've had the craziest day."

She pulled back at that, looking me up and down before she shook her head. "My lady, you've been missing for nearly three weeks."

"Three…" I laughed a little. "No. That's… I was…" Oh god, Morpheus. "Lucienne, where is he?"

"Lord Morpheus paid a visit to Desire not long after you disappeared. They told him you'd left and didn't want to be found."

"Why would he believe that?" I asked softly.

"They had your ring, my lady. They claimed you gave it to them to return to Lord Morpheus if he came looking for you."

Fuck. "That fucking…" I shook my head, now wasn't the time. "Where is he?"

Luciennes eyes grew sad. "He's locked himself in the throne room. No one has been able to get in for a week."

"Take me there, please?" I begged, clutching her arm.

She led me through the gates and into the the realm now covered in dark storm clouds. When we finally reached the large doors leading to the throne room they were shut by gnarled back roots. Oh, Dream… He spent all this time thinking I'd abandon him, thinking that I'd run from him. God that fucking asshole was going to get their ass kicked if they ever called in on that dinner. I stepped forward, Lucienne catching my arm quickly. "My lady! I do not know if it's wise for you to approach. I fear it may be dangerous."

I gave her a reassuring smile. "He would never hurt me."

She let go of my arm and held her hands together. "Be careful, my lady, please."

The black roots snapped and curled away from the door as I moved closer, pushing it open just barely enough for me to fit through before closing again. Dreams throne room was pitch black, not even the night sky above could be seen. The marks on my wrists glowed in the darkness, illuminating the swirling shapes that filled it. Nightmares. 

The mark was cold, almost as cold as the silver that lined my wrist. The nightmares moved away from me as I continued forward, searching for his familiar face and pale skin. "Dream?"

The nightmares echoed my voice, but it was twisted and wrong, whispering things into the dark that I hadn't said, that I'd never say. Had he been torturing himself this whole time? I called out louder. "Dream?"

The steps to the throne nearly tripped me as I stumbled into them. I climbed carefully moving until I reached the top and found the messy hair and slim frame I'd been looking for. He was slumped over on his throne, his head hanging low as he stared down at the ring that lay in his palm. "Oh, Dream."

He didn't react to my voice. I reached out to touch him, but he flinched harshly away. "Leave. I've not ordered you to mock her with your imitations."

He told them to do this? I dropped to my knees in front of him, cradling his hands in mine. "Morpheus."

When he finally lifted his head, face set and rage in his eyes, preparing to take it all out on the nightmare he mistook me for, a broken breath left him instead. "Penelope?"

I nodded, smiling through the tears. "It's me."

The pure pain that filled his eyes struck me to the core. "You left."

"No." I cupped his face in my hands. "No, I didn't leave. I mean I did but…" I sighed. "I got lost. Really lost as it turns out, but the whole time I was trying to get back to you."

His hands closed around the ring. "You gave them your ring…"

"Absolutely not!" I insisted. "They took it off my finger while I was adjusting to, well, crash landing into their realm."

"They took it from you?" His brows furrowed and his grip on the ring tightened and his face turned in anger. "I should have known that they-"

I pulled myself into his lap, forcing him back into the seat and clung to him. For a moment he was dazed, sitting still against me, but as my heart hammered against his chest and the mark sparked to life between us his arms moved, wrapping around me and pulling me in even more. "I'm so sorry."

Dream sighed into my neck, his hands squeezing me tighter. "I thought you'd left."

Pulling back I pressed my forehead to his. "I would never leave you, my Dream."

His cold breath fanned across my neck as he held my face. "If you wanted you could go home-"

"You are my home." I whispered, pressing a kiss to his head. "You always have been."

Dream slid the ring back onto my finger and pressed a desperate kiss to my knuckles. "Never take it off again, please."

I kissed him everywhere I could. "Never. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to cause all this trouble."

The nightmares were gone, the starry sky lighting the throne room from above. "It wasn't your fault. I should have recognized what you were."

"You know then?" I asked softly, my lips stilling against his jaw.

"Yes." He sighed. "Forgive me for not seeing it before."

"No," I stopped him. "I'm the one that needs to be forgiven. Even if it was out of my control, I still hurt you." I pressed my lips to his neck. "Let me make it up to you?"

He groaned as I nipped gently at his throat. "I can deny you nothing, my love."

My body slid down until my knees hit the cold floor. Dreams hand curled onto the back of my head as I pulled him free from his pants. "You don't have to-"

"I want to," I said, looking up at him. "It's my turn to worship you, my lord."

I could feel the hot ball of lust curl in him, burning hotter when I took him into my hand pumping him slowly. He clenched his teeth, his eyes smoldering down into mine as I pressed a soft kiss to the underside of his cock before pressing my tongue flat against him. His head fell back against his throne with a shuddering breath and a phantom tingle of pleasure that coursed through to me as well.

Hollowing out my cheeks I took him into my mouth, dragging and swallowing around him as his hands gathered up my hair and gripped it tightly. "Penelope," he moaned breathlessly. His voice rippled another wave of arousal through me as I continued my movements, looking up at him through my lashes and gripping his thighs tightly. God he was gorgeous like this. A true king receiving the worship he deserved.

When his hands tugged at my hair, pulling my mouth from him I groaned, ready to complain when he dragged me back into his lap and pressed his mouth to mine in a sloppy, desperate kiss. He coaxed my mouth open and tangled our tongues together while his hands ripped the pair of shorts off me and pressed me into him.

The tip of his dick brushed against my clit, ripping a moan from my throat. "Morpheus."

He pulled me up, positioning himself at my aching hole. "Promise you'll never leave me," he breathed against my neck. "Swear it."

My hands fisted in his coat. "I swear, I'll never leave you. I'll always come home."

The word caused his hands to tighten around my hips and force me down onto him, sheathing himself all the way to the hilt. My breaths were ragged as my cunt squeezed him. "Home," he said. "You're home."

With a gentle hand on his cheek I looked down at him, tenderness soothing over the hurt. "I'm home."

With one hand on my hip and the other on the back of my neck he lifted me off him with ease, nearly pulling out entirely before sliding me back down. As he slowly began quickening the pace his hand slid down my spine, over my breasts until his fingers settled between my legs. We gasped and moaned and bit at one another, marking each other with teeth and hands. The pleasure building between us both made my head spin, the world melting away and the familiar blue thread enveloping me and Morpheus.

It was him. His thread that tethered us that had brought me home. My heart burned as I gently pressed a finger to it. Beneath me he gasped, moving his hips faster, pleasure etching into the stoney coolness of his face. "What are you doing?"

"I don't know," I answered, fingers running up the thread before stilling completely. "Does it hurt?"

"Fuck, no," he chuckled a little, star filled eyes meeting mine. "Don't stop."

I pressed my lips to his, resuming my movements and basking in the glorious sounds he made beneath my trembling thighs. "Come with me, Dream." I demanded as the coiling pleasure built up tighter and tighter. "Please," I breathed before the coil snapped. My hand closed around his thread tightly as I came and with that motion his release followed.

We held one another close as we both caught our breaths, but eventually he kissed my shoulder and pulled back. "Are you hurt?"

"No," I said softly. "Just a few scrapes and bruises. Nothing I can't handle."

He examined my skin, gently taking note of each mark. "What happened? Where were you?"

I leaned into him with a sigh. "After you left I was relaxing when this god awful headache made me fall out of your bed. When the pain was gone I was in Desire's realm."

His grip tightened. "What did they say to you?"

"Breathe," I reminded him softly running my fingers through his hair. "They told me I was a Weaver, explained it a little, refused to give me my ring back and left."

"Why were you not there when I arrived?"

"I saw the threads," I said, gesturing around us. Something in his eyes and voice made me feel like there was something he hadn't said. That thought gave way to an all too familiar pinch of hurt that I quickly reburied. "And then I was somewhere else. Darker, creepy with a shit ton of rats and freaky mirror tricks."

"Despair." He shook his head. "You certainly have been busy."

With a laugh I nodded. "I'm sorry I worried you."

Dream smiled, pressing his lips to mine. "You're home now, that's all that matters."

"I love you, Dream of the Endless."

"I love you, Penelope the Weaver."

A light knock echoed from the throne room doors. "My lord? My lady?"

"Oh shit, Lucienne!" I missed hopping off his lap and looking down at my bare legs. "Did you have to rip them?"

Dream grinned. "No, but it was far more enjoyable."

"Can I get some new pants then, mighty lord?"

His eyes ran down my legs. "No, I quite like the sight of you."

"Dream!" He waved his hand, a knee length skirt draping over me, no underwear. "Really?"

Standing, his own clothes now clean, he pressed me into his body. "It's been nearly three weeks, I'm nowhere close to done with you, little Weaver."

I'd been hearing people call me by the title for weeks, but the way he said it was my favorite. With a playful shove I followed him down the steps where Lucienne entered the room with a sigh of relief. "My Lord, I was so worried!"

"I apologize, Lucienne, for my dark behavior," he said stiffly, as if we hadn't just fucked on his throne. "But, My Lady is home now."

She shook her head. "Where have you been?"

"A lot of places," I told her. "Which reminds me, do you have any books on Weavers in that library of yours?"

"A Weaver," she smiled. "Of course. I'll gather every volume I can, my lady."

Once she'd gone, Dream set his head on my shoulder. "Let's attend to your cuts."

I closed my eyes, taking in the softness of his hands as he wrapped them around me. "They're tiny little scrapes, Dream. They won't even need band aids."

When I opened my eyes we were already back in his room with the tub standing in front of me. "Tiny or not, I'll see to it they're taken care of."

"This is just an elaborate plan to get me naked, isn't it?"

He nipped at my neck. "I hardly need to resort to such things."

I hummed. "Very true, with that voice you can get anything you want."

"Anything I want?" He asked. "That's quite a powerful thing."

"Says the Endless," I teased. "Are you getting in with me or are you gonna just stand there?"

We were both naked in the blink of an eye. Dream settled into the hot water first before practically pulling me in between his thighs and massaging my tense shoulders with his hands. I didn't remember falling asleep, but when I woke we were wrapped up in the silky bed, his arms wrapped around me, one of his hands was running his fingers through my hair and the other held a book. 

I lifted my head, pressing my chin to his chest. "Good morning, my love."

Squinting I looked out the window at the now rising sun. "How long was I asleep for?"

"A day," he said with a chuckle. "You must've been exhausted after all your traveling."

Groaning, I let my head drop back onto his chest. "I feel like I've been hit by a truck."

The book bounced on the side of the bed beside me as he ran his hands soothingly up and down my back. "Rest then," his lips pressed to my head.

"But you have things to do," I murmured against him.

"I can do them later."

"No," I sighed, pushing myself to sit up. "I've got things to do too. No more lounging around." The soft caress of his hand up my spine brought me right back down against him. "Okay, five more minutes."

Five minutes turned into ten. Ten minutes turned into an hour and an hour turned into three. When I'd finally managed to shake off the stiff tiredness in my body and pull the needy Dream Lord off me I sat up and stretched, all too aware of his eyes on my naked back. "Don't even think of it."

He chuckled. "You're far too beautiful for me to resist, my love."

As he moved from the bed to his wardrobe I bit my lip at the sight of his prominent muscles and cute, tight ass. He chuckled at my thoughts as he picked out an outfit, though from here they all looked the same. "I could say the same to you, my lord. And why are you physically picking out an outfit? You have magic, you know."

"Some things I like doing with my hands," he said, looking over his shoulder at me with a grin. "As you're well aware."

Blushing, I wrapped myself in his sheets and moved behind him, kissing his shoulder. "Do I get a fancy wardrobe too?"

"Would you like one?"

"Maybe," I admitted. "If it's not too much of an intrusion on your space."

With a wave of his finger a second wardrobe appeared beside his own. "Your heart beats in my chest, Penelope, a wardrobe is hardly an intrusion."

I practically vibrated all the way to it, opening it up to find the clothes I'd brought with me as well as extras. Turning to him I smiled. "Did you make me more clothes?"

"Perhaps," he admitted.

"How thoughtful of you, Dream." I kissed him. "Which one is your favorite?"

He said nothing, but his eyes betrayed him with a quick glance to a beautiful gown in the middle. I turned, running my hands along the fabrics before plucking it out of the wardrobe. It was ethereal looking and felt like touching a cloud. I shooed him away and changed into it, feeling his eyes on me as I admired the look of it in the mirror.

The top was sleeveless with two thin straps twining around my neck and leading down into a diamond shaped bodice of silver and lavender with tiny gems detailing it. The bottom was tight against my hips before flaring out with strips of misty blue puffing out like waves. I ran my hands over it. "It's beautiful, Morpheus."

"Far more now that you are in it," he replied standing next to me, dressed in his usual attire, but the stars and midnight of the inside of his coat seemed brighter. I twisted, examining my scars for a moment feeling a quick pang of nervousness… Vulnerability. He turned me into his arms, kissing my scarred wrist. "You are beautiful, my love. Every inch of you."

I sighed against his lips. Kissing him was something I'd never get enough of. My hands wound in his coat, tugging him even closer. "Damn you and your irresistible lips!"

"I can say the same of you." He chuckled, pulling away and offering me his arm. "Lucienne is expecting us in the library. She's found quite a selection on Weavers for you."

We walked at a leisurely pace, Dream was calm more so than I'd seen him in a while. Lucienne had just finished setting the books on the table when we walked in. She smiled, bowing her head a little. "My Lord, My Lady."

"That's a lot of books," I said, moving from Dreams' side to look at the piles. "Are all of these about Weavers?"

She nodded. "Yes, I'm afraid so. There were more, but I picked out the ones I thought would be most beneficial."

"This is going to take forever," I whined.

"My Lord," Lucienne said. "There are a few matters that require your attention. Merv was looking for you."

He nodded, eyes fixing on me with a worry in them that I recognized instantly. "Go, Lucienne will keep her eyes on me."

He sighed. "If you disappear again…"

"I won't." I said. "And even if I did, I have my ring back, and I won't be losing it again. I'll call for you the second something feels off."

"Very well," he said, bowing his head a little. "I'll return soon."

Lucienne and I jumped into reading, all of it both very helpful and not helpful at all. I learned the basic history of Weavers. Learned of all their names and greatest feats before they died, which was fascinating. The world benefited so much from them and no one ever knew. But, all explanation of the threads and their meaning was vague to say the least, and there was nothing on how to access them. Halfway way through Matthew had joined us and had not been helpful but offered up some support.

I groaned, setting aside another book and slumping against the table. "More of the same?" Lucienne asked.

"Yep." I replied. "None of these are going to tell me how to do this."

"Perhaps it is as Destiny told you?" She suggested. "Personal to the individual rather than a science."

"So you think I should ditch the books and try to feel my way through it?"

"Why not?" Matthew asked. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"I could teleport to Hell," I offered up.

He sighed. "Right. That would be bad."

"Perhaps you can practice simply summoning the threads for now?" Lucienne said. "You said it is rather simple, a bit uncomfortable but easy enough to manage."

Nodding, I stood up, moving to give myself enough room to work with. "Okay, here goes nothing I guess."

I closed my eyes, taking deep breaths I willed the darker world up from whatever depths it was buried in, opening my eyes to the threads and the headache that came with them. "Okay, now what?"

"What do you see?" Matthew inquired.

"A shit ton of glowing threads."

"Okay well, touch a few?" He said.

I moved to the flowing gold, watching it move, sparks of it flying off towards Lucienne and Matthews chests. Reaching out my finger barely grazed it before a burning hot sensation shot through me. I yelped, jumping back and rubbing my finger. "Okay… Gold thread is hot as fuck. Do not touch the gold thread! Holy shit."

"Are you alright, my lady?" Lucienne asked softly.

"I'm okay." I said. "Wasn't expecting it to be that hot."

I moved to the solid silver thread, the cold rolling off of it as I reached out. Unlike the gold it was cold and I could touch it. I held my finger to it, the cold slowly sinking into my bones, spreading up my arm. Voices echoed around me, ones I'd not heard in years, and misty visions spilled from inside it threatening to overtake my sight completely. Hands grabbed my shoulders and pulled me back, severing the connection to the thread.

The world returned to normal and Lucienne held my cold hand in hers. "My lady! Are you hurt!"

"I'm fine. Why…" I looked down at my hand, deathly pale and covered in frost. "Oh."

Lucienne sighed in relief as the color began returning to my skin. "Let's stop touching the threads for now?”

Matthew cawed. “Yeah I second that.”

“Just, examine them? If you can describe them to me, I may be able to check the books for specific details.”

I nodded, once again pulling the threads back up and looking at them. All the objects around me looked like they’d been woven of blue and silver and lavender threads. Dreams thread. “The Dreaming,” I said, marveling at the realization. “It’s all made of his thread, all woven together by him.”

“Lord Morpheus is The Dreaming,” Lucienne observed. “It would make sense that his realm is built of him, perhaps even connected to him.”

I turned my head to Matthew, who had perched on the edge of a chair. His thread was thick and white, but the white was covered with winding threads of blue and black that pulsed around it with each breath he took. He himself had a blue and white mist rolling off of him. “Well? How do I look?”

I smiled. “Like a smoking bird.”

I ran my hand through it, hot and cold sensations pin pricking my hand. “Is smoking good?”

“Good, I think.” I assured him. “Your thread is lovely. White wrapped up in blue and black ones that glow everytime you breathe.”

The smoke plumed higher as he puffed out his chest. “That sounds impressive.”

Turning to Lucienne as she jotted down notes I smiled at her bright purple thread, deep and rich with veins of brown that resembled the leather of her books and tan that reflected her eyes. Unlike Matthew hers were woven together, every color touched and mingled into the purple. “Yours is different from his. Dark purple, with brown and tan, but they’re woven, intermingling with one another. Matthew’s threads don’t touch, each one is its own thing almost.”

Lucienne hummed, scribbling away furiously. “This is fascinating.”

As she smiled her thread glowed. “It’s beautiful, Lucienne.”

She blushed, something I only noticed because of the purple glittering that lit up her cheeks, hiding it beneath her glasses. “Thank you, my lady.”

The library door opened and I turned, my eyes widening at the beautiful glowing of Dream. Unlike everyone else he appeared as he always did, no mists or blocked out features. I could see every inch of him. More astonishingly was the beautiful thread that was wrapped around his head, a crown of sorts. I smiled. “Maybe you don’t need a crown after all.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

I pointed. “Your thread, it winds around your head. A crown.”

He nodded with a tiny smile just for me. “You’re looking at the threads then?”

“Yep!” I looked down at the mess of threads that wrapped around him, connecting him to everything in the room. “You’re covered in them. The threads of The Dreaming, I’d assume.”

Lucienne’s pen scribbled in my ear and Dream looked over at her. “Is she writing this down?”

“She thinks if I describe it to her she might be able to find something in a book to help us get a better idea at what we’re looking at, or, well I’m looking at.” I said quickly. “And since touching is a no no-”

“Why is touching them bad?” He interrupted.

Shit. I shrugged. “Some of them are more… potent than others.”

“She burned her finger on one and then almost lost a hand to frost bite on another,” Matthew tattled. 

I turned and pointed at him. “Keep that beak zipped Smokey!”

Dream lifted my hand, examining it. “It’s fine, really. It was like less than a minute.”

“Any other interesting developments?” He asked with a pointed look and a hum of warning down the bond. “Are you being reckless?”

“Nope.” I said. “Me? Reckless? I’m offended, Dream.”

“Please, be careful.” His thoughts caressed my mind, soothing the headache as he pressed a kiss to my fingers. “Have you tried making anything yet?”

“Making things?” I inquired.

He gestured to a book. “Weavers are not just able to see the threads, but to manipulate them and in turn create things with them.”

“Right,” I whispered. “I don’t even know how I would try that.”

Dream motioned me over with a hand. “Come here, hold out your hands.”

"Dream..." I muttered.

"Humor me," he said softly. "Please." Damn his silk voice.

I let him pull me in front of the library table. "Hold out your hands." I did and he readjusted them instantly before he settled behind me. My breath caught in my throat at the feeling of him pressing against me, firm hands gently helping to hold my arms out in front of me, palms facing one another. His breath fanned across the back of my neck as he leaned down and whispered, "Clear your mind."

God, I whined to myself and his pride flared. "That's not always so easy for some people."

"I'm sure you are perfectly capable." He purred, the sarcasm light in his soft rich voice. I tensed my jaw. "Relax, Penelope."

I closed my eyes and did my best to follow his instructions, no matter how seductive they sounded rolling off his silken tongue. After a minute or two passed he hummed behind me. "Good. Now, imagine one of the dreams you wanted as a child."

I imagined the meadow.

"Focus on something, focus hard, examine every detail you can see, every sound it makes. Everything."

I focused on a group of butterflies flitting from flower to flower. Their glistening wings beat softly, the color of them catching in the sunlight. Orange. Blue. White. Green. Yellow. All of them were so beautiful, so graceful as they moved in a rhythm all their own. My fingers felt heavy with the feeling of the threads wrapped around them.

"Now, move your fingers."

"Move my fingers?" I asked with a testing flex of my fingers in the tight strings. "How?"

"However feels natural," he replied.

I resisted the urge to scoff at him as I moved my fingers, testing at first but slowly the uncomfortable tightness eased and the threads moved without resistance.

"Extraordinary," Dream said from behind me. I opened my eyes, a sarcastic question already waiting on my tongue. But there in between the palms of my hands hung five butterflies made of the glowing threads.

"Holy shit. Okay, what do I do now?" I asked, a mixture of awe and nervous tension building in my gut.

"Whatever feels natural," he said again, his hands moving to my shoulders, squeezing them gently. “Relax, my love.”

I laughed nervously. "Natural. Okay."

For a while all I could do was stand there and stare at them. My fingers twitched, tugging the threads a little, and with the pull the wings of the butterflies twitched too. Pull, a thought gently suggested something that hadn’t felt entirely like my own thought, easing my fingers apart and pulling the threads taut. They began to glow brighter until the strings snapped. Five butterflies, real butterflies, fluttered their wings, taking flight right in front of me.

Lucienne gasped at the sight, smiling brightly. "Amazing."

I slowly let my hands drop, eyes following the butterflies as they swirled overhead. Dreams hands rubbed my back as my arms dropped. I turned to him. "Did you?"

He gave me a small smile. "I did nothing."

"I made them?" I asked, returning my eyes to the butterflies.

"Yes. It would explain why the others cling to you," he stated. "You are their maker, they are bound to you."

My eyebrows furrowed. “When would I have made those?”

Dream stiffened a bit, eyes casting to Lucienne who cleared her throat and approached me with her notes. I looked at him curiously, that pinch of raw and painful hurt flaring inside me. No. I told myself, pushing it down. He wouldn’t. I looked over Luciennes notes and made whatever corrections I needed to before we settled into the chairs at the table. I’d been able to make a ball, a pen, a feather, and a small square of fabric. Lucienne suggested I practice more, to help exercise the power and hopefully lessen the pain it caused me to use them.

After a while I began to feel worn out, tired and quite irritated at how difficult it was sometimes. Dream summoned me food and after Matthew and I ate he suggested we take a walk. We walked through a beautiful garden on the grounds of his palace and we finally got a chance to talk about all the things that had happened over the past few days. “Did you send me a dream, after you left my apartment?”

“What?” He asked curiously. “What dream?”

“Everything was frozen and three ladies were in my room, talking in riddles.”

He sighed, annoyed. “The Fates. What did they say?”

“Fates as in Greek mythology fates?” I was a little surprised.

He nodded. “They have many names, The Fates. The Kindly Ones. No matter what name they go by, their troublesome nature is always the same, and they never give prophecy out freely.”

“Well I didn't give them anything,” I assured him. “Maybe they didn’t give me any prophecy. Maybe it was just gibberish.”

Dream shrugged. “Perhaps. As long as they didn’t harm you.”

I smiled, bumping him. “I’m fine, Dream.”

“Now, I’ve been meaning to ask you where all you traveled to in your three week vacation.” He teased me. “I know you saw the twins. Who else?”

“Destiny,” I answered. “Not surprising though since he’s like my boss.”

“What did he tell you?” His voice was calm, but there was a flash of something in the bond, quick and fleeting and not something I could catch quick enough. The pinch grew.

“He explained a few things, not in great detail, but it was helpful I guess.”

With a nod he breathed out a deep breath. “Anywhere else?”

I almost stopped walking at the memory of the museum, and the butterfly that now lay up in Dreams room in my bag of trinkets. “There was this one place I didn’t recognise. A museum?” 

He stopped walking, his head turning to look at me. “You found Destructions realm?”

“Maybe?” I asked. “Who is Destruction?”

“My brother,” he said softly, a pang of guilt and swirls of sorrow and rage filling him. “He… He abandoned his role and his realm.” The words he left out were clear in my mind. He abandoned his family.

My heart pounded faster. “Did he… Did he have another name?”

Dreams' eyes were confused as he answered, “A few.”

“Was one of them Olethros?”

A look of realization passed over his face. “You knew him?”

Swallowing the thick lump in my throat I nodded. “He was my friend. After the river…”

Dreams hands squeezed my shoulders. “Do you know where he is?”

I shook my head. “Until just now I thought he was dead. Thought they’d…” The rest died on my tongue as I quickly pushed the painful memories back down into my gut. 

“I’m sorry.” He said, his grip on my arms lessening. “I am surprised you knew him at all.”

“Me too.” I admitted. “But, that’s all the places I went.”

“How did you find your way back?” He asked, as we stood close to one another.

I smiled up at him. “I found your thread, wrapped around my finger. And I just kept thinking about how I wanted to go home.”

“I’m glad you found your way back,” he admitted softly. We stood there for a moment longer before he moved away a little. “We should return. You need to practice more.”

Groaning, I pulled on his coat and slid up against him. “I’d rather not.”

He pressed a kiss to my head and I felt him smile. “Very well, perhaps we could do something else?

I looked up at him with a grin. “Did you have something particular in mind?”

“A game, if you’re willing to play?”

“Is there a prize?” I asked.

His starry eyes glistened. “You may choose anything you wish.”

I smirked. “I can think of a few things. What’s the game?”

“All you have to do is evade me successfully.”

“Hide a seek?” I asked with a giggle.

“More of a hunt than seeking.” He answered deeply.

A thrilling chill ran up my spine. “You think you’re a good enough hunter to catch me?”

The gleam in his eyes had darkened as he answered. “Of course.”

“Fine then, rules.” I said looking up at the sun in the sky. “If you can’t catch me by sundown I win. No teleporting or power usage.”

He bowed his head, lips hovering over mine. “I agree to the terms.”

I pressed my lips to his. “Good luck, Dream Lord.”

Then I was gone, running quickly through the garden giggling. “I’ll give you a ten minute head start, darling, then I’m coming for you!” He shouted, the words vibrating through me.

***

Ten minutes had passed and Dream had begun his hunt. They were only thirty minutes in, but he was impressed. No footprints marked her path, no obvious signs she’d been anywhere in the palace at all. He widened his search spreading out beyond the palace and into the village where his dreams and nightmares lived. Some had already returned in the short time he’d been back, which gave him hope that the others would soon as well. 

He checked the shops and asked his subjects if they’d seen any sign of their lady. All had told him the same thing, that she’d run straight through the town and headed off in the direction of the beach. So, he followed. It made sense that she’d choose the beach, it was large and had vast hills and mountains that would provide good hiding places. But as he neared the gate a little blue butterfly caught his eye. The insect flew along the path and then turned abruptly down a familiar road. He smiled. Cain and Abel.

Sure enough he could feel her the closer he got, though she appeared to be inside with the brothers. Dream waited, watching the area fill with the butterflies, hovering around the house she was in. When Cain stormed out and she and Abel followed, the tiny golden gargoyle on her shoulders, he wanted to move, but something in her face stopped him. She looked at Cain with a sadness on her face that made every inch of him curl. If Cain had upset her he would-

She set the gargoyle in Abels hands and walked to Cain’s side, the fountain blocking his view. He moved silently, crossing the bridge and finding her again just as she wrapped her arms around Cain’s stiff body. For a moment he was nervous of what Cain would do at his lady's kind embrace. Of the two brothers he was far more irritable and rash. He took a step closer, prepared to intervene if something were to happen, but he paused as Cain returned her hug, crying into her shoulder.

Did she know how miraculous she was? He wondered as he and Abel watched the sight in awe. When the two pulled away, the butterflies in her hair beating their wings softly, Cain wiped his eyes. "Forgive me, my lady."

Penelope shook her head and grabbed Cain's cheeks, speaking so softly he could hardly hear her. "Don't apologize." She pressed a kiss to his forehead. "If you ever wish to see the memory again, don't hesitate to call upon me."

He nodded, smiling at her in a way Dream had never seen from him. "Yes, my lady.

She turned and her smile grew as their eyes met. "I've found you."

A wicked gleam in her eyes sent his heart soaring. "Found me, yes. But I believe the exact word I used was catch me."

"You intend to make me chase you, my love?"

"Oh absolutely," she said, moving cautiously around the fountain, her hands behind her back. "We both knew you'd find me, but I'm not sure you can catch me that easily."

His brows rose. "No?"

"I'm very quick on my feet, Dream Lord."

He chuckled. "Quick on your feet, yes I've no doubts on that. But you forget this is my realm, it bends to my will."

"Ah, but we're equals, you and I." She was just out of reach now. "Whom will The Dreaming be more inclined to listen to, I wonder?"

"First you steal my heart and now you would strip me of my realm?" He joked blandly. "What a wicked creature you are."

Penelope blushed. "Oh dear Dream Lord, I've yet to show you wickedness."

He moved to step towards her but found himself unable to. Some invisible force had wrapped around his legs, pinning him to the spot he stood. Dream looked up at the proud smile Penelope had as she stepped closer, revealing the threads in her hands. "Are you stuck Dream?"

"This is cheating," he said with a barely concealed chuckle.

"I have no idea what you're talking about!" She insisted. Pressing a light kiss to his lips she walked past him. "Better hurry, Dream, the suns going down."

He watched her walk away with a confident sway in her hips. Damn her and her little threads.

***

I sat on the bridge, watching the sun start to set in the distance. Any minute now I'd be victorious and my lovely pouty lipped Dream Lord would be paying me with the view of his pretty head between my thighs. A wave of power rolled over me, bringing every hair on my arms standing up. There at the end of the bridge Dream stood, hands in his pocket and his dark gaze fixed on me. He tilted his head up. "You and I have business, Weaver."

Fuck. I jumped up and started sprinting. If I could get to the library the endless shelves and Luciennes rules on manners would surely buy me just enough time to-

I slammed into a solid black mass, his pale hands wrapped around my wrists and he bent over me with a dark, hungry gaze. "You are quite quick for a little rabbit, but I am a very experienced hunter and I'm set on catching my prey."

Threads wove between my fingers before he pulled my hands away from each other. "None of that now." His eyes turned to the sun just as it disappeared over the horizon. "I win."

"You cheated!" I insisted, not even flinching at the change in scenery as he took us to the bedroom.

Dreams' eyes glistened. "You cheated first. I was merely adapting to the change in rules."

"Damn you," I growled playfully as I pushed my chest up against his. "Well, you've got me, now what will you do?"

"Now," he brought his lips dangerously close to mine. "You practice."

My mouth fell open. He had to be kidding. "What?"

He pulled away from me, summoning a desk and gesturing toward the chair. "That's right, little Weaver. Time to stop running from your studies."

"But I thought… I wasn't expecting you to pick this!" He didn't budge. "Fine. I'll practice, but you're the one missing out, Dream, my idea was far more fun than this."

"I'm certain it was," he chuckled, pushing in the chair as soon as I sat down. Pressing a kiss to my head he moved toward the bed, lounging back with a book. "Have fun, darling."

"Asshole."

He didn't react, which only made me glare at him harder. After a few minutes when it became clear he had no intention of giving into my angry looks I sighed and turned to the desk. I focused, pulling the threads from around me and began twisting them into the familiar shapes I'd been practicing. Ball. The easiest, obviously. Once I'd finished, pulling it free of the threads I tossed it to Morpheus, who caught it without even looking up from his book. Damn that's hot. I could see his tiny smirk.

Moving onto the next I started purposefully letting my thoughts drift. Perhaps that would catch his attention. The first was simple, just an image of him through my eyes while I sucked him off on his throne. No response. Pen. I tossed it over to him again, watching his nimble fingers catch it with ease. The glint in his eye as he peeked up at me told me my plan was working. I flashed him a sweet smile and went back to work.

Time to go off script. I thought, twisting the thread between my fingers until the image of a small letter opener began to take shape. Now I thought of what I'd have done if I'd won our game, pushing all the pent up desire into it and thus into Dream. From the corner of my eye I saw his hands tighten on the book, his eyes going still. The blade gleamed in the light. I threw it right towards his head, biting my lip as he caught it and turned his head to examine it. "Quite the craftsmanship, it seems you're improving." He stabbed it into the nightstand and smiled. "Do stick to the list my love, we wouldn't want anyone to get hurt."

I squeezed my thighs together and returned to my work. Butterflies. The threads were soft beneath my fingers, reminding me even more of the throne room. One last try, I decided as I imagined Dream pinning me to the desk, hiking up my dress and taking me from behind. As I pulled the threads, watching the butterflies flutter their wings and perch in my hands, I didn't even notice Dream get up from the bed. His cold hands pulled the chair back, forcing me to stand, before he pulled me flush against him. "Lovely work."

"Practicing does help," I said. "Speaking of, I'm not finished with my list."

My eyes shut as the sensation of his lips pressing hot, wet kisses to my neck and shoulder spread goosebumps along my skin. "No, but that imagination of yours has me reconsidering what I'd like as my prize."

"Oh?" I squeaked out as he pushed his erection against my ass. "I think that's against the rules."

"Fuck the rules," he growled into my ear. "This is what you were picturing, was it not?"

I pushed back against him. "Hmm, it's close."

Before I could think of another snarky reply he swept the objects off the desk and bent me down on top of it. He ran his hands up my back, moving my hair out of his way as he kissed and bit at my skin. A shudder ran through my body as he grabbed my arms and directed me to hold the fabric of my gown for him. "Keep this up for me, darling."

My fingers burned with effort as he plunged two fingers inside me without warning. He made quick work of building up my first orgasm, but right as I reached the peak he stilled. I groaned, trying to force my hips back into his fingers, but his hand on my back held fast. When the pleasure had died down he continued, the same as before. By the time he denied my would be fourth orgasm I pressed my forehead to the cool wood and gasped as his skilled fingers began working me toward another denied release. "Dream…" I groaned as my legs began to shake. "Please!"

He hummed, removing his fingers from me, the material of the dress vanishing from beneath me. Dream moved my hands until they were flat against the desk. "You were right, this is far more fun."

I whined as he entered me slowly, one hand holding me steady by the hip and the other running up my sweat coated back. "Morpheus," I whispered.

"Yes, my love?" Smug bastard.

"Faster, please."

Leaning over me and pressing a kiss to my spine he smiled. "Since you asked so nicely."

Each of his thrusts were fast and deep, rocking me forward into the desk and reducing me to a limp moaning mess beneath him. He bent over me, pushing unbearably deeper inside me, whispering praise into my ear and kissing every inch of skin he could reach. I came undone once, twice, three times before all coherent thoughts were gone and only his name remained.

Moroheus. Morpheus. Morpheus. The moaning mantra in my head as I whined beneath him sent him over the edge. His body draped over mine, hot breaths in my ear as he gently eased himself out and held me upright. "You did so wonderfully, my little Weaver."

I smiled tiredly. "See? Wasn't that a better idea than practicing?"

"Absolutely."

***

The days followed similarly, Dream worked on fixing the last damaged parts of The Dreaming while I practiced with the threads and spent time among his returned dreams and nightmares. I enjoyed visiting with them, finding their unique appearances and duties absolutely fascinating, and they in turn began to warm up to me. The nights were spent either roaming The Dreaming with Morpheus or tangled in his silky sheets, sometimes both. It felt like home, a feeling I hadn't known since Olethros and the Stewards… A memory that had plagued me since Despair's realm.

Lucienne sat across from me in the library, diligently taking inventory of their books as I practiced. She sighed, setting a book off to the side of her pile, a book bound in glistening multicolored threads. A book with my name on it. "What's that?"

"My lady!" She gasped, her hand smacking down onto the book. "Forgive me! I forgot you were here."

"That's alright," I answered pointing to the book. "What's that?"

"N… It's nothing, my lady."

"It has my name on it." I observed, watching her grab it and hold it to her chest. "Lucienne what's going on?"

She bowed her head to me. "Let me just… Let me go get Lord Morpheus and then we can discuss this matter fully, my lady."

The stomach turning pinch I'd had since my return twisted into a knot settling deeper inside me as I let my hands and the threads I had in them fall watching her hurry out of the library. Something was wrong. Something Dream had been keeping from me. But what? Why?

"Heed our advice, fate touched, do not hesitate to reach out to the cold. For in the frozen depth much truth lies." The Fates words echoed in my ears as my eyes met the thin frozen thread. Could it be that easy? I wondered. Dream said their words most likely meant something, but that they never gave anything freely. And yet the longer I stared at it the more certain I was they'd been telling me to use it.

With one last glance at the door I reached over, curling my hand around the burning cold of the thread and letting my mind fall away into the images within the blizzard. Snow hung frozen in the air, the frozen lake beneath me crackling with every step I took. I couldn't see any other threads, nothing but the ridgid silver guiding me forward.

The further I walked the colder it got until a huge sculpture of ice appeared before me. Destiny, I recognized looking at the book and his cloaked face. He sat across from a child, a child with butterflies in her hair. Me. He'd said we met before, the first time I found his garden, or, I guess not the first time. I reached out and laid my hand against the frozen stone, voices and visions taking shape inside my mind.

A small version of myself walked the hedge paths with Destiny's hand in mine. I was talking, telling him every detail about my day and then some. He listened with a fond smile as he led me down the path. When we came to the familiar opening he set the table while I looked at the statues.

"Who are they?" My small voice asked curiously.

"My siblings," he said simply.

"Will I get to meet them?"

He chuckled. "Perhaps one day."

My tiny hands pet the stone raven at Dreams feet as I looked up at him with a smile. "Does this one have pets?"

Destiny looked up and shrugged. "If that is how you choose to see it, then yes."

"He looks grumpy."

"He often is." Destiny said. "Come Penelope, I have your favorites."

I jumped into the chair across from him and ate everything I could reach. Destiny sat across the table, looking like he always did. After a while I brought my hands together, summoning the threads with ease and weaving the butterflies even quicker than I could now. "Look!"

Destiny studied them as they fluttered around him. "You are improving quickly."

"It's pretty easy. You just have to pull."

"Why butterflies, Weaver?" He asked.

I shrugged. "Butterflies often represent metamorphosis, change and rebirth. They make me feel safe… Like anything is possible." 

Destiny merely nodded and returned to his tea, sometimes looking up and watching me weave the threads.

My hand fell from the statue and I turned to continue down the path. What he said that day were my own words. I knew him. I'd spoken to him. I'd been weaving the butterflies since I was a child, and yet now it was difficult… I had no memory of any of it. The next statue I was perched on Destiny's shoulders, and I pressed my hand to it quickly.

"Higher Des!" I bossed, reaching up toward a large orange leaf.

He lifted me higher. "I do not understand why you need this particular leaf, little one."

I plucked it off the tree and held it right in his face. "Because this one has glowing threads! See?!"

He lowered me to the ground. "I do not."

I lifted my tiny hand to the leaf, revealing the pulsing gold threads within it and showing Destiny. "See? It's still alive. All the ones down here are dead, so I couldn't show you how pretty they are."

Destiny patted my head. "It is beautiful, little one. Now, tea?"

My hand was aching now as I continued forward with frozen tears in my eyes. "Destiny..." I said moving to the next statue of him embracing me.

I sat beneath a large tree, one that felt familiar… My parents yard? Destiny approached slowly. "Weaver."

The young me turned, letting the butterflies take flight as I released them from my threads. "Des!" The young me leapt into his arms, hugging him tightly. "I've missed you!"

"I am sorry, little one." He whispered.

Destiny's hand pressed to my small head, and something swirled around it before I went limp in his arms. He laid me on the blanket, the butterflies I'd made swirling around him angrily. "Until our next meeting, Penelope."

I squeezed the silver thread, snapping it under my hand. The ice gave way beneath my feet and the freezing water cocooned me. As I slowly began to come to the blurred face of Lucienne and Mervs pumpkin head hovered beside me. Dream held me, his embrace warm against my frost-covered skin, but the hands that should have felt comforting felt like knives. As soon as I moved he sighed with relief. "Penelope! Are you alright?"

I groaned, forcing my stiff body to move away from him, the fear and pain that lingered in me burning hotter every second. "Did… Did you know?"

I felt the pit in his stomach tighten and saw the guilt in his eyes. "Penelope…"

Now on my feet I braced myself on the library table and turned to him with tears. "Did you know?!"

Dream nodded. "Yes."

My heart dropped and a wave of nausea filled my stomach. I’d been lied to, betrayed so many times before but none of it felt like this. "How long?"

"Not long after you disappeared."

A strangled noise escaped my tight throat as I turned away from him, pressing both my shaking hands onto the table. Everything was too bright, too warm. Lucienne and Merv stood on either side, exchanging glances at one another. Matthew hopped to my side. "Penny, maybe you should sit down and we can talk about this."

"No." I bit out, turning my head back toward Dream. "You've known for weeks… You kept it from me."

"I was trying to protect you."

"From what?" I demanded. "From knowing what he did?!"

With a sigh he moved to touch me. The hurt in his eyes almost made me feel guilty about taking a step back. "Please. Let me explain."

I shook my head, my fingers curling around the book, my book. "No. If anyone's going to explain this to me I want it to be him."

"Penelope, you can't just-"

"Yes I can,” I cut him off with a cold look. “I'm a Weaver, crashing the party is what I do." Without another word I walked away, book in my hand and anger filling my lungs.

I ignored Dreams' voice, Lucienne and Merv as they called out to me. The last thing I heard before I disappeared through the door was Matthew, "Fuck this is bad isn't it?"

The hedges greeted me, butterflies swarming instantly. "DESTINY!"

There was no answer as I stormed down the path toward the center of the maze. He stood next to the table, everything set as though he'd been expecting me. "Hello, Penelope."

I said nothing, just moved forward and threw the book at him. He caught it easily. "You asshole!"

"You have found your lost memories then."

"Yeah no thanks to you!" I yelled, raising my fist at him.

He caught my hand and held me, keeping me from moving back or forward. His head tilted slightly. "You have every right to be angry. I expected this much."

I scoffed at him. "You were my friend and you stole my dreams, my memories! Why?!"

"To protect you."

"From what?!"

"Yourself."

"I don't understand," I sobbed, the anger finally beginning to subside, revealing the raw hurt it covered up.

Destiny let my hand go and wiped my tears. "You were growing more powerful every day, far more than any Weaver before you. The book revealed to me that should you continue on that path you would be consumed by the power of the threads. The only way to stop this was to sever you from The Dreaming, from my brother's power."

"But why? How did my dreams harm anything?"

"You and my brother are equal. You are as much a part of The Dreaming as he is. So, in your sleep you drew power from it, that power fed the growth of your own. It festered an inevitable corruption and so I had to erase you from that world, and it from you." He sighed. "I left echoes of it... Your favorite places within his realm, an attempt to ease the loss. A poor one, I now realize."

"Why didn't you tell me when I came to you last time?" I asked through my sobs.

"You and Dream needed to face your pasts, mistakes and fears. He needs to come to terms with you choosing him and what that means for himself. You need to come to terms with the knowledge that he will not abandon you because of your past and free yourself from the torment you hold to."

"So this whole thing was just one big trust exercise?" I asked with a hoarse laugh.

Destiny smiled. "If that is how you wish to see it."

"I'm so sick of you saying that," I replied, nearly falling over.

He caught me, setting me gently into the chair. "You have exhausted yourself by coming here. Rest. Dream shall come to retrieve you shortly."

I laid my head down on the table, catching his hand and squeezing it as he turned to leave. "I'm still pissed at you… But thanks, for keeping me safe… I guess."

Destiny's hand squeezed mine back. "You are the Weaver, it is one of my duties to ensure your safety."

"Are we friends, Destiny?" I asked softly.

"If that is how you wish to see it."

"Asshole." I grumbled with a grin.

"Rest, Weaver."

I’d only closed my eyes for a minute, or at least that's how it felt before the sun had set and Dreams familiar presence filled the maze. His cold hands brushed my hair behind my ear and he smiled down at me as I peeked up at him. “Dream.”

“Come, love.” He whispered, pulling me into his arms. “Let's go home.”

The hurt I’d caused him still held in his chest, heavy. As soon as his bedroom materialized around us I wiggled until he set my feet on the ground and leaned into him, looking up with watery eyes. “I need to show you something.”

"You need to rest," he said softly.

"I need to do this first," I replied. "I need to show… I need you to understand."

Lifting the silver bound hand I squeezed it tightly, letting the cold fill my palm before opening it and blowing gently. Frozen snowflakes with the memories of them filled the air, their voices surrounding us in a light haze. Dream looked at them like they were beautiful, in a way I suppose they were, before he turned and looked at my sorrow filled gaze. "What are they?"

"These are all the people that died because of me." I answered. "Because I put my trust in people that didn't deserve it."

I caught one in my palm, willing the memory of the family that had taken me in play out in a small storm in my hand. "These were the Stewards. They took me in, gave me a home." Tears spilled down my cheeks. "One of the doctors most trusted associates learned I was staying with them from someone thought was a friend. When he came I wasn't there." Pain filled my chest but I kept going. "He tortured the parents in front of their children. And then he lit the house on fire with them still inside."

I gently lifted the snowflake back into the air, moving to grab the other. Olethros. "Your brother. He was my friend. The first one from after the river. The night the Stewards house burned he took me to a boat and disappeared. Later one of the white coats told me he led them away from the docks to buy me time." I grit my teeth. "They said they'd killed him and hung his body from a tree and let the birds pick at him until there was nothing left. Until recently, I thought it was true, thought that he'd died because of me."

The next I smiled a little at. "This was David. He was one of the few people I was able to be with, without thinking of you the whole time. He was kind and funny and accepting." I sobbed a little. "They found him and left him to die on the floor of our apartment. With his dying breath he asked me if I loved him… And I couldn't tell him yes." I exhaled a hot heavy breath. "He died knowing I didn't feel the same as he did."

Dream was deathly still, his eyes watery as he watched me grab another snowflake. "Isabel. Before Pierre and Johanna she was my best friend. She wanted me to live my life, even with the white coats and the bullshit. I was always resisting. One night she had somehow talked me into going dancing with her." I sighed. "It was one of the best nights of my life. When we were walking home they came. I told her to run but she didn't, she refused to leave me. One of the white coats, the same one from the Stewards, broke my spine…" I paused, forcing myself to keep breathing. "She tried to help me and he slammed her against the pavement until her head was split open. I only got away because someone had called the cops."

I met his eyes and shook my head. "I've been lied to, betrayed and used for so long… I've lost so many people because of it. I know you were just trying to protect me. I know you weren't hiding it to use against me or anything like that but…" I closed my eyes tightly. "But in the moment all I could feel was this. The echoes of these faces…"

Dream had moved, enveloping me into his cold embrace so quickly I hadn't noticed. I clung onto him and sobbed. "I'm sorry, Morpheus."

"No," he said. "I'm sorry. I should have told you from the start. I never should have forced you to turn to the thread, never should have made you feel this way."

He lifted his hands to my cheeks, wiping away my tears gently. "Just, promise me? Promise me you wont keep things from me."

"On my honor as an Endless, as King of this realm, as your soul bound, I swear to you that I shall never withhold anything from you again." He said, pressing his head to mine. "Forgive me, Penelope."

"I do," I whispered. "I forgive you." Curling into his chest as the ice around us melted into soft drizzles of raindrops. Dream chuckled. "Sorry, I didn't expect them to melt."

He shook his head, pressing a long gentle kiss to my lips. "I don't mind the rain. Now, rest my little Weaver."

We curled into each other on the bed, foreheads pressed together, our breaths shared and every inch of us touching. I felt the warm safety fill my chest once again, washing away the ache. He was my home, more than that he was my heart. Dream was my heart, the last, small piece of it that remained untainted by the institution's drugs and cuts. In his chest, safe and secure my heart beat, broken and scarred but not any less beautiful.

***

Dream fixed the collar of his coat for the third time as we neared Hob Gadlings house. “Relax, I doubt Hob’s going to care if your collar is out of place.”

He glared at me for a moment. “I’m perfectly calm. Though I do not understand why all this fuss is required.”

“You’re watching a movie and having drinks with your friend, I’d hardly call that a fuss.” I said with a wide smile.

He rolled his eyes at the mention of friendship. “Our original agreement was perfectly acceptable.”

"Everyone needs a friend, Dream,” I said cheerfully. “One they don’t just see every hundred years is preferable.”

"Do you have friends then?" He questioned with an arched brow.

I shrugged. "I have a Constantine."

"Is she not a friend?"

"She's more of a feral street cat, but I suppose it's close enough." My smile only widened. “I also have Pierre.”

Dream ground his teeth together. “Yes, the Frenchman.”

Laughing, I kissed his cheek. “He didn’t upset you did he?”

We’d stopped by the apartment before heading to Hobs. Pierre had been lounging in my bed, fully nude. When we appeared he stood up and gave me a hug and a big smoke filled kiss before introducing himself to Dream with a lazy handshake and a puff of his cigarette smoke. 

“Of course not.” He said, but the tense tone of his voice said otherwise. I couldn’t exactly blame him. When I asked Pierre where Johanna was he told me she was out of town, on business looking for a certain doctor. Then he’d not so subtly implied he and I would get plenty of alone time for the week.

“He’s an asshole,” I admitted. “But I promise he won’t try anything.”

Dream’s eyes had softened as he looked down at me and squeezed my arm. “I trust you.”

A bubble of joy filled my chest. “I know. I just wanted to reassure you, there's nothing to worry about.”

Hob opened the door and greeted both of us with a wide hug. “Come in! 

His home was very cluttered in a tidy way, not a Johanna way. Antiques collected over his long life hung proudly on the walls, he made sure to point out all the interesting ones and give long speeches for them. Dream was hardly paying attention, but I found it very interesting, getting this look into Hobs life. His living room was all set up for a movie, a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, assorted snacks set out and drinks readily available and an array of old DVDs set in a neat pile on the small table at the end of the couch. 

I grabbed the movies and opened my mouth. “You have a DVD player?”

He nodded, moving out of sight into the kitchen for a moment. “Of course I do! A few years ago before all the fancy technology I was convinced they’d make a comeback so I collected everything I could for them.”

Dream looked so out of place. His black attire clashed against the warm earth tones of Hobs home. He looked around with a mildly displeased look on his face. Human things were still very new to him. “You live close to the New Inn,” he noted looking out the window to the brick building just down the road.

Hob returned with a bowl of chips. “Well I had to get a place close by. Saves the planet a bit and saves me money.”

“Your home is lovely, Hob,” I said, admiring the old tapestries on the wall. “It’s nice to finally meet a fellow antique collector.”

He wiggled his brows and smirked. “Beautiful Penelope, I am an antique.”

My face scrunched up. “That was your worst one.”

“Oh I’ve said much worse,” He argued.

Hob and I took our seats on the couch while Dream awkwardly stood by the window. I patted the seat between us and smiled. “Come on.”

He settled in uneasily. “You just sit here and stare at this screen?”

“Yep,” I answered, catching a popcorn kernel in my mouth.

“After the movie we’ll head down to the Inn and have some drinks.” Hob added, starting whatever movie he’d picked. “A perfect night out.”

The dream king looked far less convinced by the idea but settled into the couch with his hand resting comfortably on my thigh. Hob's choice of movie was fine, something I’d expect from an old man trying to impress his immortal god friend. Halfway through as the sun started to set out the window I laid my head on Dreams shoulder and snuggled into his side, a flare of want echoing between us as he squeezed my thigh.

Hob was completely engrossed in the movie, munching on all the snacks he’d laid out and making commentary about the time period. As he spoke my mind had the, apparently loud, thought that Hob Gadling had a nice voice. Beneath me I felt Dream twist a little to look at me. “So now it’s Hob Gadling whose voice you swoon for?”

I scoffed. “That’s not at all what I thought.”

“What else of Hobs are you drawn to?” He teased.

Leaning over a bit I took in the wide eyed excited gleam of the man beside Dream and smiled to myself. “He is quite handsome.”

“He looks like an ordinary man.” Dream insisted.

“Most men look like ordinary men, Dream. Not all of them have the perks of being you.”

Hob stood and excused himself to the restroom and the instant he was out of sight Dream turned to me with a grin. “You find him handsome then?”

I shrugged. “I wouldn’t be disgusted with the thought of sleeping with him.”

“Oh?” He leaned forward a little, lifting my chin. “Do you wish to sleep with Hob Gadling, my lady?”

"I'm sure he isn't a poor lover," I teased him as he dragged a finger down my arm. 

"But he's not me."

"That sounds a bit egotistical, Dream, even for you."

"It isn't ego." He leaned closer, tilting my head back more to expose my throat to him, his cool breath flaring across my neck as he whispered, "It is a fact. As is this," His lips skimmed across my throat, coaxing the quiet moan from it. "You would not be satisfied by Hob Gadling, not when we both know what it is you truly want."

"Oh?" I breathed out as he straightened up and though he'd pulled away there was less distance between us than before. "So tell me, O great dream king, what is it I want?"

The stars in his eyes were impossibly bright as they bore into my own. "To be worshiped."

"And what would a king... An Endless, know of worship?" I pressed tilting my chin up at him. He could kiss me with a simple tilt of his head if he wanted to, but we both knew Dream was far to much of a tease for that.

"I could show you." He said, his voice sending a thrum of power and want through me. "We both know that's something else you want."

I smiled at him. "I'm not admitting to that. You have a big enough ego as it is."

"Is that a challenge little Weaver?" He breathed as darkness swirled in his eyes.

"Perhaps,” I replied, “Later.”

We returned to our normal position as Hob returned. Dreams hand on my thigh squeezed tighter now. After the movie ended, Dream made an effort to assure his friend that he’d enjoyed himself, though Hob and I both knew the movie was not something he found fun. So, we’d all walked over to the Inn and Hob made everyone drinks. We sat at the table we had just a few days ago and talked. I could tell by the way they spoke to one another that Hob was relieved to have his friend back, and Dream felt the same way.

A hand clasped on my shoulder and the familiar scent of Pierres cigarettes wafted around me. He pulled up a chair and sat down with a grin. “There you are, Ma moitié.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I demanded as the Hob and Dream sat up straighter in the presence of a stranger.

“There’s been a bit of trouble, I’m afraid.” He answered by taking a long drag of his cigarette and blowing it at Dream. 

“Trouble I’m assuming you’ve brought with you.”

He shrugged. “They would have found you either way.”

Tension pulled at the base of my spine. “How many?”

“I counted 5.”

“So more then?” I responded looking over my shoulder at the windows. “Which ones?”

Pierre tapped the ashes off his cigarette, not meeting my eyes. “Giselle and her lot.”

The pain that filled me was one I was far too familiar with. Giselle had been one of the first to betray me in return for the doctor's immortality. Though she wasn’t the one that had set fire to the Stewards home, she was the one that led them there. I clenched my fists. “Great.”

He pulled the box from his bag and slid it to me. “I think it’s time to let the beast out, Ma moitié.”

Hob was the one to speak first. “I can grab one of my pistols.”

“No,” Dream and I said at the exact same time. I looked at him and sighed. “Thank you, Hob, but this is my mess.”

At that Dream nearly scoffed. “You’ll have me sit here then?”

I glared at him. “Do you think I'm weak, Dream?”

“No, you know I don’t.” He answered.

Grasping his hand from over the table I smiled at him. “Then let me handle it. Please.”

With a tense stare he nodded. “Very well. However, should you get hurt I cannot promise to remain off to the side.”

“Fair enough.”

Pierre looked at Dream with a curious look. “Wait… Has he not seen your moves?”

“No, he hasn’t.” I replied looking at the wooden box.

“Oh, then sit back dear lover and enjoy the show!” He cheered as the bell on the front door chimed.

I opened the box, moving the red fabric off of the blades and sighed. So much for no bloodshed.

***

Dream was fuming as Penelope turned to face the group of people that had filed in the door. She should just let him handle this, she should have from the start. Holding her hands behind her, she kept them close to the blades. “Giselle, been a long time.”

The woman at the back lifted herself up onto the bar, something Hob had quietly complained at. “Pen, good to see you. Pierre, not so good to see you.”

The Frenchman laughed. “I’ll take it as a compliment coming from such a frigid bitch.”

Penelope cut through the pleasantries. “We don’t have to do this. You could still walk away.”

The woman laughed. “We’re past that, Pen. Elias isn’t fucking around this time.”

“Things are that bad then?”

The woman jumped down and moved into the light, revealing the face of an old crone. “The best of us are rotting away.”

He could hear the smile in her voice. “He must be pretty upset about that.”

Giselle scoffed. “Enough. Just come with us, make this easy.”

“I don’t think so.”

The woman's eyes slid to Dream and she smiled. “Is that the sandman from old Roderick’s basement?”

Penelope’s hands wrapped around the daggers, steel singing. He watched the blades glisten with what looked like fire, the red gems in the hilts glowing softly. Destruction. Dream felt his brother's power wash over him, but before he could fully allow himself to recognize what it meant Penelope spoke again, her voice darker. “Leave him out of this.”

“Maybe we will go and let Elias know that you’re getting the higher powers involved in our business.” She sounded far too smug. “We’ll trap him right back in that glass cage of his.”

“You sure this is how you want to end this?”

“Don’t sound so confident, Pen. You’ve been out of the game for years.” Giselle shook her head. “You won’t be enough to beat us all.”

Penelope’s anxiety that had slowly been building vanished. As Dream looked at her straight back and relaxed shoulders all he could feel from her was an unnerving calm. She said nothing as the first two men, tall and well built, moved forward towards her. She said nothing when they’d gotten far too close for his comfort. And she’d made no sound as her blades vanished from behind her back, embedding deep into their throats as she tossed them back onto the floor, the fire inside the steel burning brighter as their blood dripped off it.

As he watched her rage through the crowd of enemies, the glint of her blade the only thing that could be seen as she moved with speed and ferocity, he saw his brother for a moment. The way she moved, the way she twirled the knives in her hands and struck quickly, all was reminiscent of him. He'd been wrong to write her off as not a warrior, he saw that now. As Penelope stood, covered in the blood of her enemies staring down Giselle, Dream saw her as she was. His queen. A warrior in every sense of the word, and above all else his equal. 

Giselle smiled. “You never fail to impress.”

Still she said nothing as Giselle leapt forward, swinging a golden ax down toward Penelope’s head. She stepped to the side, and slashed Giselle's shoulder with her blade. The woman growled, moving with a quickness that did not suit her appearance. Her ax sliced through Penelope’s thigh and he stood. She moved back a bit, holding her hand out to keep him from moving. “I’ve got this.”

His body ached with the effort it took to keep from intervening. Giselle made a few good moves, but nothing that matched the pure power of Penelope. When the first dagger stuck into her side he knew it was over, so did Giselle. She swung her ax again, a strangled cry leaving her as Penelope’s dagger sliced through the underside of her arm. Giselle collapsed onto the floor with retching breaths. Penelope stood over her, one dagger still in her hand. Giselle smiled up at her and spat at her feet. “Finish it then.”

Kneeling down Penelope finally spoke. “I hope you find some manner of peace in whatever afterlife is waiting for you.”

The blade sliced her skin and Giselle choked on a few blood filled breaths until silence filled the Inn. Even in battle his queen was merciful. She retrieved her blades and turned, walking back to the table. Everyone was silent, even the frenchman as she cleaned them and put them back into the box. 

Her hands were shaking, but before he could reach over to console her, the frenchman had done it. “You know what I’m going to say, no?”

“What you always do.”

“You did what you had to.” He spoke, his eyes looking up at her like she was a goddess. “Ma moitié, you did good.”

Movement in the background put his hair on end. The Frenchman spotted it too, turning with a French curse leaving his lips. Hob stood, backing away a little. “What in God's name is that?”

Penelope turned and every inch of her froze as she looked down at Giselle’s body, twisting and curling in on itself moving until it stood before them again. Pale eyes stared at her as the gnarled hand fumbled for something in Giselle’s pocket. Dream prepared himself to move, but it was a softly ringing phone that was pulled out and answered.

“It’s so good to see you, after all these years Ms. Barlow,” an old faintly familiar voice filled the room. Penelope’s stillness twisted into absolute terror and she moved to step back, trying to flee the voice, running into the table. “It has been far too long, my dear.”

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[imagineitdearies]

not a Perfect Slaughter question but Astarion one. you remember that scene in goblin camp where a Loviatar priest and PC can do an impromptu bdsm session? Astarion's reaction always confused me. he seems to be strangely into it for a person who experienced a lot of non consensual sex with physical violence sprinkled on top. like yes, he could be faking it (it's act 1 after all) but he gives a lot of approval points for it.

is it just a case of him being his usual gremlin self? or is he more amenable to the show now when he isn't the one on the receiving end of a whip? also at this point in a game i doubt he cares too much for PC (reminds me abt his remark "i don't like seeing you hurt" or smth along the line).

and more generally, what do you think is his stance on pain play and d/s stuff in the bedroom? anyway would like to hear your musings on this, ciao <3

Hey anon!

I'm no Astarion expert compared to some in this fandom, but this is a scene I've thought a lot about the implications of myself so I'll offer my two (very long-winded) cents. I'd love to hear others' thoughts as well!

I agree that Astarion's big approvals should be isolated to the context of when in the game he's giving them. Based on his smaller approval points in Act I, when Astarion starts out this journey he seems to like watching people get treated how he once was. Just a few really early examples:

Tav* making Lae'zel say please (Astarion begging Cazador)

Tav making Zorru bow (Astarion having to bow in Cazador's presence)

Tav prodding Nettie's injured bird till it dies (Godey flashbacks)

Tav telling Mayrina's brothers they won't help (no one ever helping Astarion)

Tav terrorizing Lorin/entertaining his delusions (☹)

So we could argue Astarion is just leaning into this sadistic trauma response in the Loviatar scene as well. He finds satisfaction, however temporary, in seeing others endure what he once had to, and reassuring himself that he's on the winning/powerful/in control side this time. AKA not the weak pathetic person he feels like he was before. The self-loathing is subtle, but not far under the surface.

Considering he often disapproves of Tav being self-sacrificing and weak in other instances, however (usually when it's on behalf of others), why does he highly approve in this certain instance of Tav submitting to pain and injury for seemingly no good reason?

I think the timing of this scene in Act I makes a big difference, considering it's deep in the goblin camp where the party is usually at least a couple levels into their adventure. So in that case, Tav is the established leader, Astarion's vampiric nature is revealed, and they've survived quite a few encounters together already. Some trust has been built. Astarion is more assured of Tav's strength, competency, and willingness to keep him in the group....but that assurance of Tav's strength could be crossing over to feeling unsafe again.

There's plenty of other chaotic, less-sadistic things that he likes (BAAAA!), but almost** all of his big +5 or +10 approvals come from Tav agreeing to something that makes Astarion feel safe and/or powerful. So perhaps Astarion wants Tav to say yes to the Loviatar pain ritual because he views it as a show of strength. He might feel safer knowing that his leader can not only handle pain, but is so entirely unafraid as to welcome it even in the midst of a dangerous goblin camp--something Astarion's 'weak' past self never would have done (cue the self-loathing again).

Based on how eager he sounds when encouraging Tav, though ("don't you dare say no!"), I like to think that he's playing it off as sexual but in reality wants to assure himself he's not with another Cazador. While Astarion is likely to follow Tav regardless, I think he's more interested in being intimate with Tav--if he hasn't already--after seeing that Tav is okay with not always being in charge and assertive, in control. I think, especially at the start, Astarion craves control after not having it for so long, and this kinky display tells him Tav wouldn't mind him taking over for a little while.

Which, at last, gets us to your question about Astarion's views on "pain play and d/s stuff in the bedroom." I think it's telling that Astarion has a +5 approval during the first sex scene if Tav rolls over and lets him bite, and no matter which final romance scene you end up with in Act III, he's depicted as the top. If he ascends, he quickly jumps into what I'd call a permanent d/s dynamic with spawn!Tav where's he's the one in control, made all the more evident with the new kissing animations for patch 6. Plenty of implications to be had, about his preferences.

Now (and these are entirely my headcanons/opinions from here on out), Astarion just isn't in a place for what I'd consider actual healthy d/s dynamics in the bedroom during or immediately after the game timeline, as his mindset is too rooted in fear, self-loathing, and desperate grabs for control. It's been days, weeks at most since he was tortured and controlled on the regular--a lot of this stuff could be triggers and provoke flashbacks, or at the least reinforce the idea in his head that sex is a tool of manipulation and control. Truly safe, sane and consensual d/s acts just don't seem on the table--he goes through a period of not wanting sex at all, much less intimacy where so much trust is required.

But post-game, with enough time? I could see spawn!Astarion*** eventually enjoying some light bdsm in either role, maybe pain play beyond bites if he was the one giving, not receiving the pain. Which all could be a healing experience for him, with trust and aftercare involved. He wouldn't make it on my list of 'top three kinkiest companions' though 😂

Anyways, this is all very much my personal opinion!! Astarion is a fascinating character with so much nuance, there's endless ways to interpret him. And maybe he was just feeling extra chaotic and kinky that day 🤷‍♀️ "Ah, drink it in - that sweet, sweet chaos. Not that I approve of goblins, of course - filthy little beasts - but I do like a good den of debauchery."

Thanks for the question anon. If nothing else, I hope these ramblings entertained! 💙

*Tav represents Tav, Dark Urge, and origin characters in this post

**The one exception that I can think of is the +5 approval for letting him interrupt during the bugbear/ogre scene. Chaos gremlin indeed.

***Ascended!Astarion's characterization and lore is just a bit too inconsistent and vague (in my opinion, of course) for me to analyze a future for. Press (x) to doubt that he can eventually practice safe, healthy bdsm on the side with spawn!Tav while he does his evil stuff and tries to take over the world, but maybe??? Lol he doesn't make sense to me.

[a-lonely-dunedain]

(hi sorry yes I'm writing this trope again bc no one can stop me. I need Margim hurt/comfort like I need air ok. she's literally everything 2 me. I'm normal about them. I'm sooo normal about the traumatized berserker lady and her soft healer husband <- *lying*)

------

Blades cut, bones crack, orcs and men die screaming.

There is horror in the familiarity of it all, how readily it comes back, the sick feeling in my stomach, the deafening noise, the smell of sulfur and death, little rivers of blood before my feet, dripping from the hands of this monster they call the Executioner of the Pit. There is horror in how, almost, natural it feels to be here. How the life I built for myself in the north now feels so distant now, like a foolish dream, one that I have now awoken from and found myself back in the Pit of Thorzhaf.

At some point, I wake up from that nightmare. It does little to help. Ah, so it’s going to be one of those nights.

I sit up and rub the sleep away from my eyes with shaking hands. I shouldn’t expect to get any more of it now anyway, not when my sleeping mind has seen fit to torment me so every time I close my eyes. The house is mostly black, with only a dim trace of light emanating from the dying embers of the firepit, but I can still see clearly enough that it is my home in Lhan Tarren. I turn to see Celeair sleeping soundly in the bundle of blankets next to me, I’m relieved I did not wake him.

I can hear the rain outside, I try to find it comforting, for there was no rain in Mordor. The sound is usually a boon in quieting those memories, yet I do not think anything will drown them forever. Especially not tonight. 

I take deep, steady breaths, like Celeair told me to, but my heart still thrashes in my chest like a caged animal.

I know I am not in Mordor, I know I know I know, I am safe here, but the memory is so strong now, it drowns out all other sensations. I listen to the rain, I still hear screams. I grip the blanket with white knuckles, trying to feel its softness, but I still feel blades beneath my skin. A low rumbling of thunder becomes the uneasy murmurs of Orodruin, for a moment I can taste ash in the air, feel its heat on my skin.

This isn’t working. Unnamed and irrational terror grips my heart once again, and it will not let go so easily.

I consider waking Celeair. He could help. I want to let him hold me again. I need his soft voice and gentle hands to drive away this… this madness.

But my throat tightens and my hands tremble, my eyes burn with uncried tears. An all too familiar fear seizes my heart now. I could not speak without my voice breaking, I feel weak and pathetic. I cannot let him see me like this. I stand up, quickly and quietly as I can, and head outside. 

The rain pours down in heavy, loud sheets. The cold water shocks my skin as I walk further out. That’s good. Cold is good. It’s far away from Thorzhaf. I lift my face to the black sky and let the water wash over my face, quenching the burning in my eyes. The rain is loud, everything else seems quiet. Finally. I stand there for a long while, letting the rain be the only thing I feel, hear, and think as it soaks through my hair and clothes. I finally feel like I can breathe again.

I do not know how long it's been, but I guess I should head inside soon, although I am reluctant to leave this cold reprieve, everything I came out here to escape is all too likely to come back then. Maybe I can stay out a little longer.

I thought I heard someone say something, that’s odd-

“Margim…?” Celeair’s voice almost makes me jump, how long has he been out here? I see him standing nearby with his cloak drawn tightly around him, straining his eyes to see me in the darkness.

“Yes, I’m here,” I answer quietly, barely being heard over the rain.

“Are you alright?” A rhetorical question, for he already knows that the answer, if not an outright ‘no’, is most certainly not ‘yes’. I think that normally— and I will fully admit my point of reference for ‘normal’ is shaky at best— most people do not stand out in thunderstorms in the middle of the night when they’re having a good time. Suffice to say, I’m in no position to lie to him. But I hesitate, the worry in his eyes fills me with shame. “I… do not know,” I mutter in response.

He steps forward and gently takes my arm in his hands, “let’s go back inside,” he says softly, “I think this rain will do little good for either of us.” he takes a step back towards the door, and I wordlessly follow him back into the house. 

He wastes no time in stoking the firepit and providing it with fresh logs, and soon enough the room is lit up with an inviting orange glow. I stand nearby, half expecting an interrogation as to the reason I was seemingly trying to catch my death of cold, but Celeair asks nothing of me. Instead he just sits down in the small pile of furs near the fire, leaving plenty of room for me beside him. 

“Well, you’re not going to get very dry over there” he looks at me expectantly, but I can still detect concern in his voice. Reluctantly I sit down next to him, the heat from the fire feels soothing, and I try not to let it remind me of anything else.

“...I’m sorry,” I murmur, “I did not mean to wake you.”

“You’ve nothing to apologize for,” he says plainly, stretching out his hands to the fire to warm them “Truly, I think being awake is the least of my concerns at the moment.”

“It was only a nightmare, I did not mean to trouble you over it,” I look away from him, ashamed “I just… needed to clear my head.”

“You know, you don’t have to worry about waking me up next time, if you think it could be of any help. I wouldn’t mind.”

“I know… I wanted to but I… I don’t know why I couldn’t," the words come haltingly from me "It’s just… I felt so weak, on the brink of shattering, I couldn’t… I didn’t want you to see me like that.” my brow furrows in frustration, I make it sound like a matter of wounded pride, but that is not what I’m trying to say to him. I am not a prideful woman, I think there is little for me to be proud of. It’s just that Celeair is not a fighter, he knows not how to wield a blade nor has any desire to, so to a large extent he relies on me for protection. I don’t like letting him see me so weak. I want him to feel safe around me, like I can protect him from all harm, but how can he when I cannot even protect myself from myself? When I can be broken by a mere memory? I hate the thought of anyone seeing me in such a state, especially him.

Celeair reaches for my hand and gently holds it, his fingers slotting perfectly between my own. He says nothing, merely offering a simple gesture of comfort as he sits in thoughtful silence.

“In my line of work I see everyone at their lowest,” he says quietly after some thought, “rendered helpless by sickness or injury. I’ve tended to everyone from the common man to the mightiest of warriors, and never thought any less of them for it,” he gives my hand a gentle reassuring squeeze, “because no one is untouchable. You aren’t weak for being hurt.”

“I certainly don’t feel very strong either,” the slight tremble in my voice betrays that fact all too well.

“No one does, not when they’re in this much pain." his thumb gently bushes mine in a soothing motion, "It’s nothing to be ashamed of, especially after everything you’ve lived through.”

I just look on into the fire, not knowing what to say. I know he’s telling the truth, I know he is the last person in the world who would ever think less of me for even a display as pathetic as this, but it still feels pathetic nonetheless.

And, I do not think it’s just that… the thought of allowing myself to be so broken, openly, for someone to see -even someone I trust as much as Celeair- just feels so wrong. Terrifying, actually. Weakness and fear go hand in hand for me, where one is the other follows closely behind. If I am weak I am afraid, weakness meant death in Mordor, and it is an instinct that is not easily unlearned. I know that no harm will come to me here, but my heart never seems to believe it. 

“I am not ashamed, I’m just afraid.” I finally croak out, wishing my voice would not so readily betray the fact that I am on the brink of tears. I swallow hard and squeeze my eyes shut, desperately trying to bury the sorrow welling up in my eyes. To my credit, after a few shaky breaths, I manage it.

“Is there anything I might do to help?” he asks.

I pause in thought, I don’t know if there’s anything he can do to make this go away, but… “a hug couldn’t hurt,” I reply sheepishly.

Swiftly but gently Celeair puts his arms around my waist and pulls himself close to me. I instinctively return the hug, wrapping my arms tightly around him desperate to feel his warmth.

…and forgetting that my clothes have not yet had time to dry. “Oh. Now I’ve gone and soaked you too…” I mumble apologetically.

“Oh noo, how horrible,” he says with a soft laugh, laying his head on my shoulder as he snuggles closer to me, completely undeterred by my sopping wet clothes “I suppose we’ll simply have to huddle for warmth then, nothing else to be done about it.” I cannot help but smile slightly at his words. It’s a good thing he doesn't mind, because I do not plan to let go of him anytime soon. It's hard to think about much else when I'm holding him like this.

Everything is finally quiet again.

[no-side-us]

The Invisible Man, Ch. 20 - At The House in Great Portland Street

The whole beginning section of this chapter is really just emphasizing what little attachments Griffin has left before he ultimately turns himself invisible.

"My mind was still on this research, and I did not lift a finger to save his character. I remember the funeral, the cheap hearse, the scant ceremony, the windy frost-bitten hillside, and the old college friend of his who read the service over him—a shabby, black, bent old man with a snivelling cold."

For one, his father's dead, not that Griffin seems to have cared about him anyways. He doesn't say any words nor does he put much care into organizing anything. The funeral is described as "cheap" and "scant," presumably because Griffin wasn't going to spend a majority of his new found money on his own research.

"I remember walking back to the empty house, through the place that had once been a village and was now patched and tinkered by the jerry builders into the ugly likeness of a town. Every way the roads ran out at last into the desecrated fields and ended in rubble heaps and rank wet weeds. I remember myself as a gaunt black figure, going along the slippery, shiny pavement, and the strange sense of detachment I felt from the squalid respectability, the sordid commercialism of the place."

Second, the village Griffin once recognized has been turned into the "ugly likeness of a town" by "jerry builders," people who apparently built cheap homes of poor quality for quick profits. I like the visual description of Griffin as a black figure on shiny pavement to highlight how much he doesn't fit into this new area.

“But going along the High Street, my old life came back to me for a space, for I met the girl I had known ten years since. Our eyes met." "Something moved me to turn back and talk to her. She was a very ordinary person."

I've always been curious by this seemingly ordinary girl Griffin once knew. It seems like the last gasp of Griffin's "old life," the very last thing that might make him feel something for the world around him. The fact he is the one who tries to talk to her makes me think Griffin also understands this a bit. Instead though, he just finds nothing.

"It was all like a dream, that visit to the old places. I did not feel then that I was lonely, that I had come out from the world into a desolate place. I appreciated my loss of sympathy, but I put it down to the general inanity of things. Re-entering my room seemed like the recovery of reality. There were the things I knew and loved. There stood the apparatus, the experiments arranged and waiting. And now there was scarcely a difficulty left, beyond the planning of details."

And finally Griffin enters the small world he does care about, with its experiments and apparatus. I love that one of the few things which brings Griffin joy is all the science and study and experimentation he does.

I don't have much else to say about the rest of this chapter that other people haven't already said, so here are some random thoughts:

“For a moment he gaped. Then he gave a sort of inarticulate cry, dropped candle and writ together, and went blundering down the dark passage to the stairs. I shut the door, locked it, and went to the looking-glass. Then I understood his terror.... My face was white—like white stone."

I don't really understand Griffin's reaction here because if he's an albino shouldn't that mean his face is already very white? I'm assuming that his face is now somehow even more white, or his albinism was more partial and now it's complete.

"Then I slipped up again with a box of matches, fired my heap of paper and rubbish, put the chairs and bedding thereby, led the gas to the affair, by means of an india-rubber tube, and waving a farewell to the room left it for the last time.”

I like that Griffin physically waves farewell to his room before he commits arson against it. Not only is it kind of cute, it also shows how much he cares about both it and all the work he did while he lived there. This is also in contrast to the line earlier during his father's funeral, where he "did not lift a finger" whereas here he'll lift his whole hand.

[fishermanshook]

Hello! Might I ask for yang! Eli Clark with reader who is a mirror? Like man lives inside the mirror and can't get out, the reader can travel from any reflective surface to another. How does Eli Clark feel when the reader ask him to smash the mirror so she can go out to the world?.

Hello Annon! I'd be more than happy to do that for you! (I apologise for how long this took me to write, I had a crap tone of school work I had to do 🥲)

Glass Prison (yan!seer x gn!reader)

choujinxanime on Pinterest

The Seer was know to be intelligent and kind with his own dash of mystery. He was someone who stayed loyal, still wishing for one day to be reunited with his one true love.

But all those thoughts and ideas would come crushing down the second you entered the picture.

—

He found you in a unused room in the manor, deciding to take a walk one day and stumbled soon it. His curiosity piqued and here he is, talking to someone trapped inside of a mirror.

He thought it was strange at first when his reflection didn’t show. It wasn’t until your upper profile replaced what should have been yours. Eli jumped back a bit at surprise, before letting his curiosity get the best of him.

He awoken you the second he started to speak, and it was as if it was love at first sight. (lol) You two immediately started conversation, with him asking you a bunch of questions. Like how long were you in there, how old you were, what’s your name, etc.

You asked him many questions as well. As to what year it was, what was this place, and his name.

You two became fairly aquatinted. And when your friendship continued to blossom, it wasn’t long until he was racing to his room as soon as his match finished just to speak to you.

Many would ask what the Seer was up to, why he would get terror shocked at the start do the match, why he would continue to lose despite his winning streak. He would just say he had more important matters to attend to, not ever daring to speak your name.

“No one else deserves to know of you my love, no one would treat you as kindly as I do. Everyone in this manor is harsh and cruel. Seeking unjust for those other then themselves.”

Eli would most certainly take the advantage of the fact that you don’t know how long it’s been. He would corrupt your mind, tell you false truths and never once mention others to you. All you need is him and him alone, right?

—

“Eli, my dear, I have something to propose to you.” You say, uncertainty seeping through your words.

“I know you’ve told me of the cruelty of the Survivors and Hunters of the manor, but I’ve been locked away in here for so long. I was thinking, maybe if you smashed my mirror hard enough, I may be able to break free.”

You spoke to him, as you did all those times before. But all he could do was look in disgust, how could you ever wish to be free? Not when he treats you so nicely, no. That just won’t do.

“My love, how could you ask of such a thing? Don’t you know what I’ve told you? These peo-things are terrible! You wouldn’t survive a day here let alone a year! And, my dearest, what if you don’t escape? What if you disappear? What if I can never find you again? What would happen to me? I’d lose myself to madness all over again! I love you my dear, but I’m afraid I can’t have you doing that. Don’t leave this mirror, don’t leave me.”

You shouldn’t have let him find you.

So take your breath, for it may be your last.

note: YOU GURS THUS IS SYCH ASS IM SORRYV

©️2023 fishermanshook — do not steal, translate, plagiarize, or repost my work on any other platform

[xxladyballadxx]

Fire Fairy

Clive Rosfield x (Fire Fairy) reader

PURE ANGST!!

WARNING: MENTIONS OF SUICIDE, SELF HARM AND ABUSE!!! DON’T READ IT IF IT MAKES YOU FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE!

My dead, abusive mother once told me that I have the potential to be one of the most powerful fairies, she had no doubt about it. 

I was not to reveal my powers to anyone, my mother believes that I could hurt someone with it. I broke that promise when someone I know from Rosaria saw me using my magic. A boy named Clive Rosfield, I ran away from him worrying that he might expose me to someone. Somehow he managed to catch up to me. 

He wasn’t going to harm me or anything like that. Clive wondered why I was running away from him. I explained the reason and had to tell him my name, that I’m a fairy. 

‘Beautiful..’

The surprising part of when I showed my wings of flames, Clive said they were beautiful, unique and warm. I didn’t want to believe what he said. Those words that slipped out of his mouth, I wish he was lying. I really wish he was…but he didn’t..

So we talked and sat by the lake, we became friends. Even though my mother warned me to stay away from everyone. I never had any friends. Never in my life.

Until I met Clive…

We became close…

We see each other every single day whenever we have the chance to…

On the day where I’m supposed to see Clive after his training, he wanted to tell me something. As I stood by the tree, waiting, I heard screams of terror and I saw flames coming from where Clive is…

Rosaria…

So I headed there to see what was happening and spotted dead corpses lying around as I got there. Slaughtered. There I’ve witnessed two eikons battling against each other. Phoenix….and Ifrit. I couldn’t find Clive anywhere. Everyone was running away and screaming. I felt my wrist being grabbed by someone. I thought it would be Clive. It was my mother and she was not happy with me heading to Rosaria. She dragged me  back home, yelled at me and I told her that I went to Rosaria to save someone. Her anger grew high when I told her about me and Clive. She slapped me across the face as I dropped to the floor. Calling me a disgusting harlot and other names similar to that. 

She gave birth to a monster…

I ignored my mother and rushed back to Rosaria once again and never looked back. As I got there, everything and everyone was gone. The whole place fell to pieces and some were in flames. The fire eikons were gone too, they must have disappeared when my mother took me home. 

So I walked back to the cottage and witnessed my mother’s dead body on the floor. She stabbed herself in the chest. My mother killed herself because of me. I buried her corpse and said horrible things to her. She was never a real mother, never once cared about me. She can fucking rot for all I care.

Here I am…all alone…

But it didn’t bother me so much…

I’ve moved on and walked my own path…

13 years later, I got so used to being on my own. No one to bother me, no one to hurt me or anything like that. 

“Take that, you fucking twat.” I stabbed a bandit that was trying to rob me. Set the body on fire afterwards using my fire magic.

 I became the most wanted woman in Valisthea. Oh yes, I fucking have a bounty on my head. Every single stupid man tried to take me down. They failed. Throughout these years, my magic grew stronger. 

I learnt how to wield a dagger by myself, I don’t use it a lot though. I always depend on my magic and all. 

I was scavenging through the dead bandit’s corpse and while doing that, I  heard footsteps coming towards me from behind. I swiftly turned around and revealed my fire wings, getting ready to fight.

I was going to take him down until…

“(Y/n)..?”

How the fuck does he knows my name?

This man…why does he look so familiar?

He said my name again, walking closer to me as I took a step back “(Y/n)…it’s me…it’s Clive..” 

My heart felt a hit of shock when I heard that name, I magically put my fire wings away and took a closer look at him. 

 He’s…alive…

Clive….is alive and he’s here…standing right in front of me.

“I thought you were dead…” I spoke softly, feeling a sting of tears forming in my eyes “I’ve looked for you in Rosaria…when that incident happened…you weren’t there anymore..”

Clive embraced me into his arms, I leaned my head into his shoulder and hugged him, “I’m so sorry, (Y/n)…”

I pulled away from him for a second, “Tell me what happened in Rosaria.”

Clive agreed to it, “Alright, (Y/n), I will tell you everything.”

-//-//-//-

We leaned against the tree and sat together on the grass. Clive began to talk about the invasion in Rosaria, about his family being killed and everything that has happened. He lost his dear little brother, Joshua, the dominant of a flamebird Phoenix. Clive did mention it to me in the past, about Joshua. I never got the chance to meet his younger brother. Clive had to witness Joshua’s death, being killed by Ifrit, another fire eikon that appeared out of nowhere.

I felt very sorry for Clive, he lost his family, his home. Everything. I couldn’t imagine what he’s been through after losing his loving family. Clive is seeking revenge, he told me that he’s trying to track down the dominant. The man who killed his little brother. 

Clive asked me where I’ve been all this time and what I've been doing with my life, he got shocked when I surprisingly told him I have a bounty on my head, that people were after me, “I’ve been killing, stealing and all that. That’s what I do for a living now. Even hiding in the shadows from people trying to look for me.”

Clive found it hard to believe me, he never saw me as the type of person to do such a thing. Stealing, of course. Well, people change for a reason or without a reason I guess. “What happened to your mother?” I knew he was going to ask me that.

I heaved a sigh, “Dead, she killed herself by piercing a knife through her chest. All because of me…”

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be, she never cared about me.”

Clive actually thought I had a loving, caring mother. He was wrong, “She was a horrible mother, she abused me and even manipulated me. My mother gets aggressively mad when I get out of the house. She often made me sleep outside whenever I disobeyed her. She treated me like shit…” my damn harsh mother gave me bruises, beat the shit out of me but only when I got into trouble. 

“I can’t imagine what you’ve been through these days, (Y/n). How come you never told me about your mother? Why did she treat you like that?” Clive wailed, wondering why I never mentioned the terrible thing about my mother to him. I lied to him in the past that my mother is a loving woman. Among other things too…

“I didn’t want you to worry or get involved with my own problems.”  I took off my arm gloves and put them away since my skin were sweating so fucking much from the warm weather. Clive noticed my old scars on both of my arms, he gently held my arms into his hands as he examined them, “(Y/n), did you-” Before he could ask, I snatched my arms away and tried to walk away. He grabbed my wrist and looked at me with that sad-worrying face, his blue orbs showing signs of concern, “(Y/n)...”

I growled in annoyance, snatching my wrist away from his strong grasp and looking at directly with anger flaming over my face, “Clive, I want you to stay away from me. Far away from me!” 

Those words cut him deeply, Clive felt a wave of hurt crashing onto him, “I can’t do that, (Y/n)...”

“Why?!” I bawled out, tears coming out of my (e/c) eyes.

“....Remember I said I wanted to tell you something? In the past?” 

I stayed silent, sobbing and weeping. “...I love you, (Y/n).”

No…

This can’t be true…

“You can’t love me, Clive.” I wept, flames of red glowing into my (e/c) orbs, “You could never love someone like me…” he deserves someone better than me. I can’t be with Clive Rosfield. I just can’t!

“I mean it, (Y/n), I love you. I’ve been in love with you ever since the day we met.” I truly wish those were lies. Damn you, Clive Rosfield…

“I’ve struggled so much in the past, I wanted to take my own life so many fucking times because I couldn’t handle this cruel world anymore. Never once in my life I ever had anyone to love or anyone to love me!” I shouted in a cry of pain, “I realized that I don’t deserve that love, I don’t deserve it…I don’t deserve to be loved!!” 

Clive felt the urge to hold me in comfort, I pushed him away and turned around, looking away from him. “(Y/n), you don’t have to be alone anymore. Come with me…we can go through this together.” 

I magically slipped out my wings of flames and looked at him directly one last time, “I will never forget the moments we cherish, the old days we spend time with each other. You were the only person who never judged me for who I am. We can’t be together, Clive. I love you but we can’t be together.” it felt so hurtful to admit that. It truly does…

I ended up hurting him by what I said, even breaking his heart, “(Y/n), please..” Clive walked over to place my hand into his, he looked like he was about to cry. I held my hand up to touch his face, caressing the side of it, “You can either keep me in your memories or forget about me, your choice. I decided to keep you in my heart because…I chose not to forget you.” 

Please know that we can’t be together, Clive…we truly don't belong together..

And it’s best we keep our distance…

“Goodbye, Clive Rosfield…” I took a few steps back and turned around, flying towards the blue sky without looking back. “(Y/N)!!!” Clive called out as loud as he could, his voice crying out. He kept calling me out my name and chasing me until I disappeared through the clouds. 

I continued to soar among the clear white clouds…with tears of pain stinging into my eyes. Feeling my heart shattering in such a hurtful way, very painful that it made me cry even more…

I mumbled the words that poured from my salted bruised lips, “I’m so sorry…”

It’s better to be alone…

That way no one can hurt you…

That way…I don’t hurt anyone…

(A/n) - I feel like I’ve rushed this because I was having a lot of things in my mind. :-;

[glisten-inthedark]

Drarry Time Travel AU

Yes, another one. Yes, I couldn't help myself.

I think I might devide into parts (?), who knows.

In this one Draco dies in the OG timeline and somehow ends up in 11 years body (oh the horror!) and remembers everything that happened before. But once he realizes that he's indeed not dreaming nor dead, he decides he'll do everything differently. Starting with befriending Harry fucking Potter.

But because it's magic™ somehow Draco's death in the OG world triggers something in the second timeline and Lucius starts having dreams he can't explain and that feel like memories. In book one, he stars with just small snippets of Draco's childhood (that mirrors the second timeline) but that interwoven with things that didn't happen, things that couldn't possibly happen.

Meanwhile, Draco manages to befriend Harry and not to say something to offend him and decides his role is to ensure Voldemort doens't rise again or that if he does, he can keep him from killing these many people.

At Hogwarts, Draco still ends up in Slytherin because I think that despite of it all, he's still cunning and smart and fiercely loyal to his family (which he's also trying to save), so yeah, Slytherin. And while Harry would no longer have that much of a bias against Slytherin and would do quite well in it, I just think he's too much of a hothead, impulsive, doesn't think through little shit to belong to any other house other than Gryffindor.

So first year happens in a similar fashion with Harry befriending Ron - who hates Draco and the feeling is mutual - and Hermione. Their friendship strikes everyone as odd but no one questions it.

But Draco also suffers through the frustration of convincing everyone Quirrell is the bad guy because no one fucking listens to him, but eventually when he turns out to be right (duh) he'll rub it in Harry's face for the rest of eternity.

Second year comes, Draco manages to convice Dumbledore to allow Harry to spend the summer with him and the Malfoys and while Lucius scares the hell of out Harry, everything turns out fine. (Screw blood wards, if it were up to me I'd kill the Dursley's but it'd be too big of a change).

Lucius' dreams become more and more real with each passing day - agonizing, terrorizing dreams of death, torture and war, of his son dying, of Voldemort rising, of him shackled in Azkaban.

He can't give the Weasley girl the diary, he can't. But someone else does.

But at the same time, Draco and Harry become closer and closer and he tries to think of how he'll handle the Sirius Black ordeal next year, because he really, really needs Harry to b happy a fact which he refuses to examine too closely. Lockhart is still an lying, incompetent ass and Ginny is still posessed by Tom Riddle's evil spirit.

The four of them go and try to save the day and everything happens pretty much the same.

Next summer has Lucius struggling with dreams that are being confused with reality, he grows more weary and protective of Draco that notices something is off with his father but can't say for certain what it is.

Sirius escapes (yay!), Harry starts noticing people more and Draco is the first person he finds pretty meanwhile Draco is already a pining mess.

Harry finds out the truth, drama ensues and a time travel within a time travel takes place. During all the confusion, Pettigrew escapes and Sirius has go on the run.

Forth year has Lucius freaking out because he realizes his mark is getting darker. Draco meets Cedric and it's irrationally jealous of him, but does everything he can to stop him from putting his name on the cup, to no avail.

Harry names also get's called, Ron still acts like an ass and Draco feels left out as he constantly would. His own deep insecurities and fears making him see ghosts where there are none.

But then, then Ron is the one down the lake and Draco is so fucking tired. He's tired of all this bullshit, thinks it would be best if he did die instead, and Harry will always care more about anyone else, he'll always be the one he doesn't really need.

Angst ensues.

Draco stops talking to him and Harry is miserable and sad and angry and he needs Draco to see that he does care, so much!

While still giving Harry the silent treatment, Draco tries to hurt Cedric so he won't go into the maze, but it doesn't work.

Harry comes back - and so does Voldemort - but Cedric is dead.

He and Harry finally start talking again.

The screams of his father haunt Lucius at night, mixed with dreams and fantasies and memories he can't understand. So for the first time, he makes a choice and strikes a deal with the lesser devil (Dumbledore) to keep his son safe.

Another summer spent with Draco's parents, the awareness of Voldemort's return leaving everyone on edge, his parents whispering quietly when they think he can't hear them.

Draco starts to train Harry in Occlumency, Umbridge is still a thing, but both Draco and Harry start Dumbledore's Army and help train the kids from the school.

This time around, Lucius does show up at the ministry and his head and his hurt at seeing the look of betrayal in his son. Draco should've know better, his father would never change.

Sirius comes to the rescue, but Draco manages to fight against Bellatrix with the help of his father of all people and Sirius gets to live.

The Malfoy family stays hidden in a place that no one knows about and this time around Dumbledore is the secret keeper because we all know that's what makes logical sense.

Harry finds the HBP diary, the sectumsempra scene never happens but Draco still gets hurt somehow and the Malfoys and Harry freak out. That's when Harry realizes he's in love with his best friend.

The convient person we pick to take Draco's place in this timeline fixes the cabinet and the death eaters get inside the castle. Snape kills Dumbledore, and it's one of the hardest things Draco had to do - watch someone he cares about be called a coward, a murderer -. Snape wasn't a good person, but he was so much more than what he used to be.

They finally go horcrux haunting and Draco has the leverage of knowing what some of them were. (Don't ask how, he just does). Harry and Draco finally get their acts together and kiss.

They fight. Harry finds out the truth. Harry dies. Harry lives. Neville kills Nagine, the war is over.

Sirius and Remus make it, Tonks doesn't and little Teddy will grow up without a mother. Lavender still dies and so does Fred.

And after some hard earned rest and years upon years of therapy, everyone lives happily ever after.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

Rgrgh Ok, the last one! This was super fun to do with you! I can't wait to see how the platonic yans seeing all their kids again is gonna play out.

So knowing how Raven is, I imagine she'd be similar to Hank in the sense of her change, she becomes grim, hollow in a sense. She doesn't act the same around the other kids, and she's quieter. Her guilt guides her to a dark part of herself, she might be be good at hiding it sometimes, but it can't be helped, two of her kids are gone, and she made sure that those parasites died in terror, knowing that what they'd done to them, their actions decided the next course of events.

I feel she might be the one to have the most doubts about whether this was what their kids would've wanted, divided on if they'd approve or not, if they were here, they might've liked the peace and calm, but what they had done to achieve it... but they aren't here, thats the point isn't it? All of this, they'd done for them, and her other children aren't fairing very well either, they have a hard time grasping with the fact that they'd not only lost their friends, but their siblings too, nothing could be done or said to fix it.

Lamb Anon

I'm enjoying this too, 🐑 Anon!!!😊 Of course, once you've read this, I want to know... Who are your top three, out of the seven platonic yan adults, you would like the most as Reader's parent? (I said three because I figure it would be hard to choose just one person, and I myself have my favorites, but I want to hear your thoughts as well😊)

Raven had seen better days.

The feelings inside her... they hurt. They feel poisonous, venomous, dangerous.

The ones who caused them find out how it feels in full.

They'd taken them.

It wasn't fair.

Punishment was given, sharp and stinging and drowning in red. It was only fair. They'd- she- had lost someone. Multiple someones. And there was a price to pay. The problem was... who was paying that price, ultimately? The writhing, bleeding parasites, who caused this whole disaster? Their masters, their bosses, who were soon brought to heel and forced to resign, then joined them in death? The people, fearful and anxious, soon made to accept this new peace? The mutants, who now had the peace, but at a price? Or... perhaps it was them, who lost their children... Or still...

Their children who paid that price... Each and every bleeding drop of it. They would never know the peace they'd made because of them, the peace they made for them, and others like them... They wouldn't be with them, to joke or fight or laugh or cry.... They were simply...

Gone.

And it is a hollow feeling, with a hollow reward.

She'd lost a child that day, only to find out it wasn't one. It was two.

Her two flesh and blood children, both gone, one bleeding profusely and faded before anything could be done, the other quick to follow and crying, for all of them...

Reader had been her's. And she never knew. They never knew. And that would never be known outside of their group, because the only others they'd share it with were gone, cold and buried and resting. She does her best, to be there for her remaining child. For the other children. But most days all she feels is a bitter, burning bile inside her. A venom to be used against their enemies. A weapon that keeps others in line. She accepts what comfort is given... but it doesn't do much besides justify their actions.

They'd lost their own. And that was unforgivable.

Her daughter, Rogue, doesn't fare much better. She can sense the bitterness, the guilt, inside her. She's her mother; she knows this the same way she senses it in all the others.

Self-hatred. Loathing. Guilt. Anger. And always that burning, righteous rage, that helped bring about the world they now know.

What they've done... she doubts they would understand. But it doesn't matter if they would understand it or not. The way things were before allowed their fates to be sealed, to be carried out. Now, it would never happen again.

So, no. Maybe it isn't right. Maybe it's wrong. But it is a necessary evil, one that has only kept safe those who've suffered, those who would have met their fate eventually. So even if it's wrong, it is better this way...

(She'll miss them: she always will. But for now, she has to uphold the new world, the new order, they've made. And even if it's hard, even if it makes them wrong... Then that is a price they'll pay, if only to stop the past from happening all over again...)