#Specifically. A Visit To The Library and The First Story | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

futurecorps3 · 1 year

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imagine no war!!! remus after hogwarts decides to go to university, meets a muggle and falls head over heels but doesn't think he's good enough for her (w his condition on top of being a wizard and poor) but he brings her to meet the marauders anyway because they keep asking to meet the person he won't shut up about, maybe harry's birthday or just a pub outing or whatever??? he's nervous she'll fancy sirius but it's quite clear to everyone the second they meet that she clearly only has heart eyes for remus and the gang are like are you insane she's CLEARLY smitten with you and it literally takes everyone he knows to point it out for him to think he might even have a chance but is still floored when she's like "remus, i adore you, i've adored you from the moment we met" bc goddammit he deserves to be loved like that!!!

𝐈𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞

Masterlist<3

Summary: The request sums it up, read it hoe Pairing: Remus Lupin x reader Warnings: Alcohol consumption and that's all I can think abt hehe Word Count: 4.5K (i'm sorry) Requested: Yes

A/N: I'm absolutely sobbing. This is so cute!!! I'm using the Reggie was a spy for the order wild card and roll with that. Tysm for this awesome idea, nonnie! And sorry it took so long.

Remus knew magic existed, the type of magic that opens doors, gives you luck or disarms someone. But until he met her, he didn't know there was a type of magic that could be contained in someone's eyes, someone's smile, or even in that little quirk she had of squinting every time she focused.

Y/N Y/L/N. Even her name felt like the sweetest honey when it rolled off your tongue and into the air, he figured. She was a new kind of magic and Remus was hooked from the get go. They had met on a rather peculiar set of circumstances. When Moony first got to college, he had no friends or anyone nearby to help him cope with the abrupt transition. The boys visited as much as they could, but it'd be for about an hour or two before they had to go back to the ministry.

So, as he did when he arrived at Hogwarts, Remus found solace in reading and taking his wolfsbane at appropriate times. He was doing a classics mayor and reading the Plato classics was a convenient way to kill time while doing something productive. The boy spent hours in the library, sitting on the couches or getting some annotations done on the desks; he'd be done with the school's classics collection before the semester was over if he kept that pace.

He would have if he hadn't found those notes. Remus first noticed them in a worn copy of a compilation from a specific period of Plato's scripts, the third page in Philebus. "Socrates is being very reductive. I don't like it. Out of character, I do declare" written in red ink, cursive letters delicate in the ripped white paper.

He giggled at that, his thoughts exactly. Moony picked the piece of paper and examined it to see if it had any indications of who might've written it, but he found nothing. He only knew that the person who wrote it had a ruined red pen; the stains of ink sitting messily on the opposite side of the annotation. Remus was a sucker for mystery stories and he viewed this as an opportunity of having one of his own!

A short-lived one, since he cracked the case when a pretty girl on his history of philosophy class asked around for a red pen. Remus frantically but quietly rummaged through his satchel and found one just in time.

He rushed to her, offering it out “Here” he smiled, looking down at her as she looked up at him. “Thanks… Remus isn’t it? I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure. Y/N Y/L/N”. Y/N introduced herself, offering her hand out. Stained in red. The boy stared shocked at the realization this was the person he’d been looking for.

“Oh shit m’sorry, it looks like I committed a murder or something. My pen started leaking yesterday while I was studying in the library” She laughed and Remus swore he’d faint if he hadn’t gripped her hand. “Actually…” Remus started, searching in his pocket for the piece of paper he kept, when he finally found it, he showed it to her and a smile broke on those pretty lips.

“…I hope you don’t mind! I-I kept it. Been looking for you, it made me laugh” He admitted, handing it to her “You found me then! And, you’re very much welcome to keep it, Remus” Y/N grinned and Remus mirrored her expression sweetly. They met for coffee the next day. The day after that, they studied together. And the week after, they shared lunch.

About two months after they talked for the first time, they had gone on a date every single week. From museum outings to walks around campus if one of them didn't have much time. They also sat together in philosophy and, turns out, literature (which they realized they shared after).

Y/N gifted him a cool rock once, and he kissed her.

He kept the rock in his pocket ever since.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"Come on, mate, you gotta tell us who she is!" James exclaimed, his excitement palpable as he repeatedly patted the worn wooden bar in the cozy pub they had agreed to meet at. Remus chuckled and shook his head, a fond smile dancing on his lips as he took another sip of his whiskey.

"You've been talking non-stop about her since you two met! The last three times we've seen each other, it's been Y/N this, Y/N that. We've gotta meet the missus," Sirius playfully teased, giving Remus a light shove with his shoulder.

Rolling his eyes playfully, Remus glanced at his friends, grateful for their persistent curiosity but also hesitant to share too much. "Oh, Pads, don't call her that! We're not even official yet, and I doubt we'll ever be. She'll find someone, alright, but I'm just good old Remus," he replied, a hint of wistfulness shadowing his gaze.

It was true; good old Remus had learned how to stop caring about what other people thought of him, but that didn't mean he was entirely confident about who he was.

Navigating the Muggle world presented its own set of challenges for Remus. He knew that at some point, he would have to confront the whole "Hey, I'm a wizard, and there's this whole other world you don't know about, hope you don't mind!" situation with Y/N.

Then there were the lingering money issues that weighed on his mind. College was not cheap, but he had managed to secure a decent scholarship, which alleviated some of the burden. He hoped Y/N wouldn't care about his financial situation. And, of course, there was the delicate matter of revealing his true nature as a literal werewolf. How would she react when she found out?

Yeah.

He was good old Remus: poor Remus, monster Remus, scarred Remus, wizard Remus. If he were honest with himself, he was surprised they had made it past the first day, considering he had stupidly worn a short-sleeved t-shirt without anything to conceal the telltale signs of his condition.

But she noticed the perceptive and kind-hearted soul that she was, and she chose not to mention it. In that moment, Remus couldn't help but imagine the possibilities, but he also knew that reality had a way of reminding him of his limitations. Moony knew he would never be able to claim her as his own. Not in this lifetime, not in the next.

For now, he chose to cherish the moments they shared, basking in her laughter and marveling at the way her hair defied gravity with its radiant beauty. She was his bit of magic in a world that often seemed devoid of it. Deep down, however, he couldn't shake the nagging certainty that good things didn't last for boys like him—boys with tragedy coursing through their veins.

"Yeah, no. We're not doing this shit again," Sirius declared, shaking his head in disagreement. Remus's best friends had grown accustomed to his self-deprecating tendencies and were determined to lift his spirits. Remus might have been a mysterious figure to some, but to the Marauders, he was an open book, their brother.

"That's why she likes you, mate. You're good old amazing, lovely, smart, hot Remus!" James proclaimed with a boisterous cheer, pulling Remus into a tight embrace. "Tell you what, bring her to Harry's birthday party this weekend! I'm sure Lily won't mind," he suggested, his mischievous grin widening. Sirius enthusiastically chimed in, nodding in agreement. "Just ask her first and let me know, okay? I don't want Harry to have a bad time becaus-"

"Oh, Moons, the party is more for us than for him! He'll be out like a light by eight, and we'll get wasted like we always do," Prongs interjected, his infectious laughter filling the air, causing Remus to join in, his worries momentarily forgotten in the camaraderie of his friends.

There was no way out of this one, not that he sought an escape. Remus couldn't blame his best friends for their eagerness to meet Y/N. They knew him better than anyone, and they could see the spark of happiness she had ignited within him. Moony did little to hide his excitement, his heart fluttering with the hope that maybe, just maybe, things would work out.

Now, he just needed Lily's approval so he could gather the courage to ask the girl who had captivated his heart to accompany him to the birthday celebration—a step that held the promise of a new chapter in his life, one filled with both joy and uncertainty

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Remus nervously fiddled with the corner of his book, stealing glances at Y/N across the library. The soft rays of afternoon sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows, casting a warm, golden glow on the rows of ancient tomes and the elegant wooden shelves that lined the room. But in that moment, all Remus could see was Y/N, a radiant presence amidst the tranquil surroundings.

Summoning his courage, Remus took a deep breath and approached her table. The scent of old parchment mingled with the delicate fragrance of her perfume, creating an intoxicating blend that filled his senses. As he neared, he couldn't help but notice the way her eyes sparkled with intelligence and curiosity as she immersed herself in the world of words. Her hair cascaded down in gentle waves, its hue reminiscent of auburn leaves in autumn, and he found himself captivated by the way it framed her face, enhancing her natural beauty.

"Hey, love," Remus greeted her with a warm smile, trying his best to appear at ease. "Mind if I join you for a moment?"

Y/N looked up, a surprised yet welcoming expression crossing her features. Her eyes met Remus's, and a playful glimmer danced within their depths. She gestured to the seat across from her, her voice laced with gentle humor. "Well, if you insist. But only if you promise not to distract me from my riveting studies."

Remus chuckled, grateful for her light-hearted response. He took the offered seat, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. "I'll do my best to behave, I promise," he replied, a twinkle in his own eyes. "But I do have something on my mind that I wanted to ask you."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. Her curiosity piqued. "Oh, really? Well, go on then. I'm all ears."

"There's a little someone's birthday coming up this weekend," Remus began, his voice filled with playful anticipation. "Harry, James' adorable son, is turning two years old. And, well, I was wondering if you'd like to come with me to the party."

Y/N's face lit up with a mixture of surprise and delight, her smile contagious. "Are you asking me to crash a toddler's birthday party? That sounds like a dangerous proposition," she teased, her tone lighthearted.

Remus laughed, his nerves easing with every moment of their easy banter. "Well, I can promise you that the party will be more entertaining than dangerous," he quipped, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "There'll be cake, balloons, and probably a fair amount of chaos. It's a chance to embrace your inner child if you want to look at it that way."

Y/N pretended to consider it, her finger tapping against her chin. "Hmm, cake, balloons, and chaos? You make a compelling case," she replied, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "How can I resist? Count me in, darling. I'd love to celebrate with you and your mates."

Remus couldn't contain his happiness, his relief flooding through him like a warm wave. "Brilliant!" he exclaimed, a genuine excitement coloring his voice. "I can't wait for you to meet everyone, t-they insisted I brought the girl I don't shut up about to the party"

Y/N smiled at that, holding Remus's hand over the table. "So you've talked to your friends about me?" "Oh shut it" He smiled, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. Right before those grey clouds of self deprecation repeating "this won't last" and "enjoy it before she realizes what you truly are" clouded his mind.

He shoved the thoughts away, holding to Y/N's smile against his lips as if it was an anchor saving him from drowning.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Bad idea. Bad idea. Bad idea.

He really did try to plan it all neatly. From what he'd wear to how he'd introduced her to his friends. Remus even asked them to keep the magic discreet since it was all too soon for that conversation, but for fuck's sake; it all got thrown out the window when he saw her in low waisted flared pants and his Bowie shirt. "H-hey!" He smiled, almost yelling, but she just laughed at his enthusiasm.

"Hi Rem," she sighed, leaving a kiss on the corner of his lips which she left lingering a bit too long. "Ready?" "As I'll ever be!". As Y/N and Remus walked hand in hand, the excitement in the air was palpable. However, beneath her playful demeanor, Y/N couldn't shake the nerves that fluttered in her stomach. Meeting Remus's best friends felt like stepping into a new world, and the fear of not fitting in or being accepted gnawed at her.

She stole a quick glance at Remus, hoping he wouldn't notice the physical manifestations of her anxiety. The last thing she wanted was to burden him with her own inner turmoil. But even as she tried to compose herself, her voice wavered slightly as she spoke.

"Remus, I can't deny that I'm feeling a bit... off," she admitted, her words stumbling over her nervousness. "My heart feels like it's racing a marathon, and there's this knot in my stomach that just won't loosen. I hope it's not too obvious." Remus turned his head towards her, a reassuring smile playing on his lips. His eyes sparkled with warmth and understanding.

"Hey, I get it," he said, his tone comforting. "Meeting new people can be nerve-wracking, and our bodies have interesting ways of letting us know. But you know what? You're doing great, sweetheart, and I'm here with you. We'll take it one step at a time, and I promise we'll have a good time together. So, let's embrace the adventure, nerves and all, and see what the night has in store for us, okay?"

Y/N nodded thankfully, the knot loosening up a little. “Thanks baby”. The world stopped in Remus’ perspective at the pet name but he just nodded and kissed her cheek. He helped. He was a warm blanket after a long day even when moments like those weren’t happening. Comfort.

They eventually got to James’ place; the loud music coming from the two floor house making Y/N feel even more at ease. It radiated a warm, welcoming energy even before stepping in. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad.

“Deep breath”. They both took a breath before approaching the door and knocking, the wine Remus’ plus one brought close to breaking with the force she was holding it with. A bright smile opened the door, hugging Remus immediately. “You have no idea how happy I am you’re here Moony”.

Y/N smiled sweetly at the nickname the boy had for his best mate. She didn’t know where it came from but James seemed to be the sun reflecting on the moon. On Moony. The girl knew Remus’ light was enough to outshine the sun itself, but the comparison seemed cute.

“You must be Y/N! He can’t shut up about you. Can I hug you? It’s okay if not, Sirius says I need to ask before hugging people but I just love it so much I cannot help myself” He rambled, making her giggle as she uttered a small ‘It’s okay’ and hugged the boy. She noticed Remus staring and just winked at him. “Is that cake I smell?” Y/N grinned, peeking inside before James stepped aside to let them both in.

“Yes, come inside! My wife, Lily, has just finished baking her chocolate cake recipe. It’s bloody brilliant! Harry’s favorite in his short lived culinary experience. You gotta meet him too!” Moony stayed behind, cherishing the way James’ warm welcome made Y/N feel a little more comfortable; her shoulders relaxed as well as her grip on the wine bottle.

He stepped in, hanging his coat on the rack he helped Lily choose when his best friends bought the house. Rapid steps came running down the stairs, and before he turned around, the smell of cigarettes and leather filled his nostrils. “Hello Pads” he smirked, hugging his friend tightly.

“Hey Moons! Did the missus come?” “Yes, she’s outside with James and Lily-“. He was cut short when his best friend, (his eyeliner wearing, muscled, rocker, tattooed, charming best friend) ran all the way into the garden to greet the girl. He was head over heels over.

A new feeling settled into his chest. An unpleasant one. Sirius was a dream. Remus was just good old Remus. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! He sighed heavily, ran a hand through his hair, and then covered his mouth. Y/N was not one to be too forward, but the way Sirius looked and acted could easily make her reconsider.

It got worse when he heard her loud laugh coming from the garden, followed by a chuckle that unmistakably came from Sirius. His best friend would never do it on purpose, but then again, his charm was never used on purpose. It just sort of happened. Remus sighed and walked outside to find the girl saying hi to Harry.

The toddler had his tiny hand wrapped around the girl's fingers, babbling incoherencies, as Y/N had a full conversation with him. "Are you sure?" she asked and Harry answered nonsense as the girl nodded back. She looked up at Remus coming through the sliding door. "Remus, he's the cutest thing I've ever seen!".

He laughed and walked over to her. The girl immediately wrapped her hands around his arm and hugged him tightly. James winked at Moony and went inside as the conversation ensued, Sirius teasing Remus about the girl he "brought home".

Soon, Y/N was well adapted to their friend's sense of humour and was joking around with Lily about how dumb they could all be. Despite Y/N's worries, it all went by smoothly. The one he got along with the most was James; he loved asking questions, and she loved answering them.

Remus had always loved her laugh; Seeing his best friends being the cause of it made it even better. "I'm telling you, he's insane!" Sirius laughed, bouncing his leg up and down as Harry sat on his lap giggling. "He's an absolute sweetheart" Y/N answered, kissing Remus' cheek as his best friends tried putting dirt (rightfully deserved dirt) on his name.

"Wait until you know him just a tiny bit better. You'll get to see his menacing self... got us in a shit ton of trouble back in school" James chuckled, making Remus roll his eyes and trying to divert her attention by asking if she wanted a bit more cake.

During their evening, Y/N kept a tight grasp on Remus’ hand while smiling at his friend’s jokes. When it was his turn to laugh, Sirius noticed how the girl looked intently over at Remus with a grin on her face. His eyes looked gorgeous in the sun with those little wrinkles when he giggled, she thought.

In that moment, she realized she wanted Remus to say her name as you’re supposed to say it; sleepily, with a mouth full of food, between laughters and in tears. Y/N saw the specks of brown in the amber colored lake that his eyes were and fell completely. Sirius saw it, James saw it, Lily saw it.

Even more when he turned to look down at her and wipe a bit of chocolate off her cheek, and she kept that look of utter adoration for him. “He’s gone” Lily mumbled to her husband. “She’s too” he agreed. Sirius smirked, getting up to get Harry to bed as he fell asleep on his uncle’s arms as the sun set.

James and Sirius were at the center of attention, regaling the group with a hilarious story from their time at school. Their voices were animated, and they gesticulated with enthusiasm, drawing everyone into their tale. Remus stood nearby, a mix of amusement and mild embarrassment evident on his face.

"And then, there was this one time at Hogwarts," James began, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "when we decided to prank the entire Slytherin common room! We turned all their robes into neon pink ones!"

Sirius chimed in, laughter bubbling in his voice. "Oh, it was epic! They all looked like walking flamingos! The look on their faces was priceless!"

Y/N was thoroughly entertained by the story, but she couldn't help but notice Remus's subtle blush. She leaned closer to him and whispered teasingly, "Remus, were you part of this grand pink robe conspiracy too?"

Remus grinned, shaking his head. "I plead the fifth," he replied, trying to hide his amusement. "Let's just say those were wild times, and I may or may not have been an innocent bystander."

Y/N laughed, enjoying the playful banter. She was captivated by the camaraderie and genuine friendship between the group. As the evening continued, she found herself drawn into more anecdotes and laughter, feeling a sense of warmth and acceptance in their company.

Remus's friends made her feel welcome and included, and she couldn't help but feel grateful for being a part of this close-knit circle, even if she didn't know the full extent of their world. The nerves that had accompanied her earlier had transformed into excitement and a genuine desire to create new memories with Remus and his friends.

The feeling was reciprocated. Remus felt, and not on mere theory; the moment Y/N excused herself to go to the bathroom, his best friends started gushing to him about the girl. "Moony, she's in love" Sirius said between incredulous and joyous laugh "Oh Pad-" "Mate, I'm telling you... she looks at you like you hung the bloody stars!" now said James, Lily nodding pridefully "She looks at you just how James looked at me back in the day".

And Merlin did he want to believe them! He truly, really did. But instead, there was this empty feeling on his chest. There was no way Y/N Y/L/N looked at him in the way James looked at Lily; Almost scared of the joy she brought to him, like that pain in his heart would end up killing him and he'd quite literally die a happy man. So, when Remus dropped her off at her flat and turned his head before she'd kiss him on the mouth, the void went deeper.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Y/N couldn't sleep that night. Her mind was restless, thoughts of Remus swirling in her head like a tempest. She tossed and turned, replaying the events of the evening over and over again, each memory etching itself into her heart. There was no denying it anymore; she was utterly and completely in love with him.

The realization hit her like a wave crashing onto the shore, powerful and unstoppable; she was head over heels for Remus Lupin.

The next day, Y/N couldn't concentrate on anything. Her mind kept drifting back to Remus, like she'd could easily find herself absentmindedly doodling hearts and his name on the margins of her notebook. She needed to tell him; she couldn't keep this to herself any longer.

In the late afternoon, she gathered her courage and dialed his number, her heart pounding in her chest as she waited for him to pick up. When he finally answered, his warm voice on the other end sent shivers down her spine.

"Hey, Remus," she began, trying to sound casual despite the turmoil inside her. "I was wondering if we could meet up later? There's something I want to talk to you about." Remus's response was filled with concern. "Of course, love. Is everything alright?" "Yes, everything's fine," she reassured him. "I just... I have something to tell you, something important."

He agreed to meet at their favorite cafe later that evening, and Y/N's heart fluttered with nervous excitement. The minutes leading up to their meeting felt like an eternity, but finally, the time came. When they sat down together, Y/N took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. Remus looked at her with those caring, gentle eyes, and she felt a rush of emotions wash over her.

"Remus," she began, her voice trembling slightly. "I don't even know where to start. Y-you've brought so much magic into my life. From the moment we met, I felt something special, something I couldn't quite put into words."

He listened intently, his gaze never leaving hers.

"I've never felt this way before," she continued, her cheeks flushing with emotion. "You're like a beautiful enigma, a captivating mystery that I can't get enough of. You make me laugh, you make me feel safe and cherished, and every moment with you is a treasure. You've shown me a kind of magic that I never knew existed, a magic that exists in the little things, the stolen glances, the shared laughter, and the way you hold my hand. It's like you've cast a spell on me, and I never want it to end."

Remus's eyes softened, and a tender smile graced his lips. "Y/N, you're the most incredible person I've ever met," he replied, his voice filled with emotion. "From the moment I saw your ink-stained hands, I knew you were something special. You've brought light into my life, and I can't believe that someone as amazing as you could feel this way about me."

He reached across the table and took her hand in his, their fingers interlocking like two puzzle pieces, finding their perfect fit.

"I'm not good with grand gestures or flowery words," he said, his voice a whisper. "But I can tell you this: I care about you deeply, more than I ever thought possible. You make me happy like I never imagined I'd could feel. I've fallen in love with you, Y/N, and I can't believe my luck."

Y/N's heart soared, tiny tears of joy welling up in her eyes. "Oh, Remus," she murmured, her voice choked with emotion. "I'm so in love with you too. You've shown me a kind of love I never knew existed, a love that feels like coming home. I cherish every moment with you, and I want to share my time with you, if you'll have me."

Without hesitation, Remus leaned across the table, closing the distance between them, and pressed a soft, tender kiss to her lips. It was a kiss filled with love and promise, sealing their feelings and intentions.

"I'd be honored to have you in my life, Y/N," he whispered against her lips. "You're my bit of magic in a world that can be harsh and uncertain, and I never want to let you go."

And so, in that cozy cafe, two souls found solace in each other's love. The world around them faded into the background as they basked in the enchantment of their newfound love, knowing that this kind of magic was unlike any other they had ever known. They had found something truly extraordinary in each other, a love that would stand the test of time and shine brighter than any star in the night sky.

˚ · • . ° .

It’s currently 12am and my brain isn’t working so i’ll just post this and place the word count in the morning.

Remember, the best way to support writer’s works on here is by REBLOGGING WITH TAGS. I’d very much appreciate it if you did!

Thanks again, stranger. Hope you have a nice day<3

NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO REPOST AS THEIR OWN/TRANSLATE/OR COPY MY WORK IN ANY PLATFORM OR SPACE WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT CONSENT.

#remus lupin oneshot #remus lupin #remus lupin x you #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin smut #marauders era #the marauders era #the marauders #marauders fluff #marauders imagine #young!remus lupin x reader #remus x reader #harry potter marauders #marauders x reader

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vigilskeep · 6 days

Text

i feel like i’m being deliberately confusing so i’ll go over the barest of facts as it’s shaping up and pin some names on the background characters

bann lothar trevelyan has five children. his first wife, lady gisela, was a sickly noblewoman from the anderfels who he met when she moved east for her health, and he married her for love despite her family’s history of mages, something the trevelyans historically strictly avoided for centuries (both pious and perhaps desperate to kill rumours of tevinter connections). they had four children:

arthur trevelyan, circle mage necromancer, liar extraordinaire, engaged to josephine montilyet as a kid before found out as a mage, has an adopted daughter from the circle

helena trevelyan, templar, kind of terrible, muscles like you wouldn’t believe, maybe loves you but will only show it 6-12 months after you’re dead

maxwell trevelyan, his class is civilian. family disappointment, kind of useless and very pathetic but in a sort of charming way occasionally, NOT thrilled that his siblings are all insane and the titles ended up with him. the moustache situation is bad

caitriona “cat” trevelyan, circle mage. professional baby of the family which let her get away with way more than it should

when the shock of her mage children eventually killed gisela—or so the story goes, though one might say that she was already weak and probably shouldn’t have been having four children in the first place—bann trevelyan was eventually convinced to remarry. but this was for political gain, a marriage to the lady joan, a much much younger woman from an influential ostwick family. she wanted none of it, and a year or two after her first and only child’s birth, immediately accepted an offer to join the grey wardens. the child was:

beatrice “bea” trevelyan, who grew up quiet, reserved, and kind, but became considerably less reserved after she was lauded the herald of andraste, took up the assassin specialisation, saved the world, and married red jenny herself

lady joan—or ser joan of the grey wardens, as the lady preferred to be called—died with many other grey wardens at the battle of ostagar.

bann trevelyan always regretted her fate, as if his regret after the fact was any good to her. it made him unwilling to push their daughter into an arranged marriage or the chantry life as he was expected to do with his younger children. this made the remaining children from his first marriage deeply anxious, sure his intention was to push them aside and give her their inheritance. (the bann was very distant with all his children, except perhaps his beloved eldest son, thoroughly convincing the rest that he disliked them specifically.)

bea was thus somewhat mistreated by her elder siblings thanks to their anxiety/jealousy, though she would assure you it never got out of hand. she spent the majority of her time simply ignored, in the library or with the trevelyans’ horses, except during the visits of her aunt: a templar named ser adelaide, bann trevelyan’s younger sister who had been passed off to the chantry as she was supposed to be. she saw herself in bea for that reason, and also had never been fond of lady gisela, so bea was her particular favourite and she visited whenever she could

#beatrice trevelyan #and probably the rest #arthur trevelyan #helena trevelyan #do the others get tags? hmm. not for now

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queerponcho · 8 months

Text

Transfixed | part 1

collage made by me with pictures from pinterest

moonknight!system x female!reader

a/n: been writing this fic for about a year now so it's nerve-wrecking to finally post the first chapter. I hope you'll like it!! (pls be gentle...)

thanks to the lovely @nexusnyx for motivating me a few weeks ago, would've never considered posting without having our convo the other day!! Thank you so much<33

Warnings: no use of Y/N, fluff, NOT beta read, gushing about the moonboys, flustered awkward dorks, plot-twists, (eventual smut, the chapters will be marked individually), inaccurate depictions of DID, egyptian mythology and religion (although I did extensive research I took liberty in changing some things to adhere to my plot...), if I missed anything or made any spelling mistakes pls don't hesitate to tell me!

Summary: You're a woman who as been visiting the same library for all your life. One day a handsome new face comes walking in. That's the moment when the ball starts rolling and your entire life changes. Will you accept the new challanges coming your way...?

2,200 words

You have been visiting the same library all your life. While you were in school you would go there to have a quiet place to study. Since at home you always had a lot of family and busy energy around, you needed the library as sort of an...escape from all the noise. Later when you got into university, the library had become kind of a safe space for you. So you would rather sit in the bus for half an hour to and back to study there instead of the grimy and packed library on campus.

Even now that you work and have enough books at home to basically open your own library, you still can't part from your little paradise. Everyone knows you here and a few months ago the owners of the library even adopted a cat that seemed to really like you. So chances of moving on from here had definitely been ruined.

You loved reading all kinds of story based books, but spending so much time here made you curious, so you also picked up a few skill based ones. you had read a few gardening and science books but the ones you would actually start applying were the books that had to-do with art. Autobiographies of different artists and painters, different studies and research on colour and brushes. You became almost a bit obsessed at some point. So you started sketching and drawing things around you based on the knowledge you'd gathered from your extensive research. you would draw people around the library after work or before meeting friends in the nearby café. You'd never claim to be an artist but you were proud of your drawings nonetheless. for the past few weeks you had started to draw one very specific person. You saw them for the first time a bit over a month ago…

It was a rainy day and you'd just finished lunch with a friend. You said goodbye and you decided to head to the library to continue on with your sketches of the cute ginger kitten. After saying hello to the owners and giving the kitten a treat, you made your way to your usual corner in the back. Since the library wasn't very big you had a good view of the entrance and a few tables. you'd been sitting and drawing for about ten minutes when you noticed the kitten smelling your coat pocket in search of more treats. You smiled down at her 'hiiii kitty!' you picked her up and placed her on your little round table. 'you want another treat huh?' She looked back with big shiny eyes 'alright alright...there you go'. She happily chewed on the fish-shaped cookie while you continued drawing her.

The familiar noise of the door opening caught your attention....a man came in, he was wearing a brown flat-cap which was obscuring your vision of his face. He reached to take it off with a gloved hand and pushed his black curls back to reveal the face, of what you could only describe, a Greek god. He had strong and angular features, a sharp jawline and a beautiful slightly crooked nose which you felt the need to trace over with your finger. He had crows feet decorating his eyes, you'd assume he had them from laughing but seeing his resting facial expression, smiling almost seemed to be a foreign task to him. He brushed the remaining rain off his shoulders and made his way to the history section. When he disappeared behind a shelf you were brought back from your trance and took the first breath in what seemed like minutes.

You wondered what he would be looking for in the history section of this old library. You were in London, a place with alot of people, then again this library was old and in a secluded part of town so it was usually the same people walking in and out. You would definitely remember his face if you had seen it before. Whatever it was that he was looking for he had apparently found since he was making his way to the register with a thick leather bound book in his glove covered hand. You had a bit of a thing for hands and you knew you'd be sketching hands for the next few hours because of this stranger. He hastily left the library and was gone as fast and suddenly as he appeared. After that day you couldn't stop drawing that pretty stranger, you'd given him multiple names during this time. His name had been Jack, Edward, Steve, Malcom and many more. you'd started just drawing his gloved hands and his forearms but quickly you would switch to drawing his intense gaze and soft curls. The amount of times you fantasised about running your fingers through them and tugging slightly had you embarrassed. It had been weeks since you'd seen him and you wouldn't stop imagining him in your apartment just sitting next to you, sometimes you would also imagine him a bit closer and wearing a little less clothing…

A month had passed since you'd seen him and you finally managed to stop drawing him and went back to drawing people around the library. Though you still looked up when the door opened and a new customer came in hoping for your handsome stranger to come in and maybe stay a little this time so you could find out more about him and his movements, for drawing references of course...nothing else. It seemed the universe wanted to help you out, because the next time the bell chimed and a customer walked in, the familiar brown flat-cap wearing stranger entered. This time it was warm and sunny outside so he wasn't wearing any gloves and wore a white fitted polo. His muscles were visibly moving underneath the fabric of his sleeves when he reached up to take off his hat and ruffle through his hair with the same intention as last time. He was also holding the same thick leather bound book from his last visit to the library.

According to the owners he couldn't buy that one since it was rare literature, so he got to borrow it for a month...you knew this because you may have asked about him and his purchase after he left. This was also when you found out that the book he borrowed was about an Egyptian god. During your time in this library you have read books on Egyptian history and it did peak your interest. All this time you’d never even noticed that book before? Recently, you’d been spending a lot more time studying in that part of the library, so overseeing such a unique looking book was very strange of you.

You see him talking to the owners, it was quiet enough to make out parts of the conversation. It was 10am on a Tuesday so you were pretty much the only customer here. He had a pretty strong Latin accent and you were pretty sure he was from mexico. part of your family is from south America so you grew up learning Spanish and you remember hearing them speak English with that exact same accent.

He was thanking them for the book and asking if he could take a look around the library again. The owners kindly told him to go ahead and that he didn't even need to ask. He briefly nodded his head mumbling a quick 'gracias' and went over to the history section. You watched intently and spontaneously decided to head in the same direction. You felt a bit creepy lurking on this man but you were sure you wouldn't get caught since you were rarely a very visible person. it's not that you didn't have a strong presence but you know how to blend in really well and when to use that to your advantage. You hid behind the shelf of the history section facing his profile. He really was a pretty man, his eyes were squinting and his bold eyebrows furrowed. There was a stray curl hanging over them and you badly wanted to brush it back and feel his thick hair between your fingers...you couldn't of course, since you were too preoccupied drawing him at the moment. The window was creating beautiful shadows beneath his hooded eyes and high cheekbones. His jaw looked sharper than ever and his neck extremely kissable. His lips needed an honourable mention, they were like two squishy pillows that were begging to be bitten. You've been paying special interest to them and trying to get the details just right, so you didn't notice that he had moved from his previous spot.

You couldn't see him anywhere and were actually kind of disappointed to think he probably left. you were about to turn around and go back to your discarded belongings when you accidentally bumped into someone while moving backwards. 'ohssshit! i- i am so so sorry um- i didn't mean to wal-'

you had managed to pick up your pencil, sketchbook, and hopefully all of the scattered pages- when you finally looked up just to be faced with the god-like looking man you had been fawning over for a month now. he was practically towering over you and… was that a smirk? If you weren't already kneeling on the floor right now you would've probably lost your balance. 'hola~ I don't mind this view but do you need help standing up, muñeca?' This is when you realised that you were on your knees in front of the most attractive man you have ever seen and you quickly scrambled to your feet 'nono um thank you-'

'Jake, my name's Jake' he stuck out his hand and you introduced yourself after thanking him again. So his name was jake...huh pretty basic for a man like him. You were kind of joking when you temporarily gave him very basic names but you guess his parents weren't much more creative than you are.

You realised you were staring when he raised his left eyebrow and started grinning.

'So...why were you spying on me?' He asked cockily and it had you word-vomiting all over the place 'what? i wasn't-? I-I was just…drawing-?' pretty hard to sound convincing when finishing every statement with a question mark... 'yeah I know-' he looked you up and down and coming a bit closer 'I saw you get lost in your notebook and I just had to come see what you are drawing that garnered all of your precious attention, hermosa'

The nicknames were really starting to get to you, making you feel all sweaty and nervous. you were clenching the book to your chest accidentally pushing up your breasts and making your cleavage much more noticeable. you saw him glancing down, taking his time in bringing his eyes back up your neck and finally to your face. This entire time you were basically pressed into his chest, you were leaning on the shelf and he didn't seem like he wanted to move anytime soon 'h-how long were you looking over my shoulder exactly?'

'Long enough to see what had you so...como se dice...transfixed' Your breath hitched and he answered with a toothy grin.

'I am flattered, preciosa. I really am, didn't think someone as pretty as you would follow me around the library just to draw my hands and ass'

You push him back- 'I did NOT draw your ass! I-' You were interrupted by his chuckle and him moving closer again and grabbing your chin between his fingers and caging you in with his other arm. 'I know muñeca , I just like seeing you flustered...toda nerviosilla...it's cute.' At this point you’ve decided it's best if you just don't speak. '...maybe next time you can draw me shirtless? I would love to see you solely focused on my abs for half an hour.' He flashes you a toothy grin. Oh he’s getting too cocky…somehow you manage to move away from the bookshelf, momentarily getting even closer to him. After seeing his eyes flicker with surprise you move to the side, backing away from him. Turn around finally being able to take a breath of normal air that wasn't deliciously tinted with his aftershave.

'Sure, next time you can waltz into the library without a shirt on and we will see how far you get before being kicked out' you say while looking over your shoulder.

'Seeing your reaction would be worth it, nena' he called after you, not even registering your feet carrying you back to your corner. you took a deep breath replaying what just happened. He should not have this effect on you, it's almost embarrassing how easily he got so close to you. You are a grown woman, damnit! How did you not shove him away and get mad at his advances? You should be creeped out but you notice how you’re wishing to bump into him again soon...you hear the doorbell ring and see him walk out. He takes one look back and holds up a piece of paper. ‘Oh fuck me’ you feel your feet glued to the floor when you see what it is…its a drawing you made of him. It was a closeup of his torso upwards. You had drawn him from above and he was laying in your bed with heavy lidded eyes and parted lips. you were absolutely mortified- he was grinning like an idiot and winked at you before storing the drawing in his back pocket, crossing the street and vanishing from your eye-line. leaving you in the library, plagued by his stupid masculine scent and his dumb pretty face.

a/n: I really hope you enjoyed the first chapter, I've got a few already locked and loaded sooo the next one should be posted soon. Pls like and reblog if you liked it<3 it would mean the world!

part two

#ponchosworks<3 #moon knight #steven grant #steven grant x reader #marc spector #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #marc spector x reader #transfixedseries

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espinosaurusrexex · 1 year

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Just an idea :) for Sherlock, what if Enola is always trying to get him to date cuz either he's lonely or always focused on work. But he always turns down the idea. Then one day she lures him to her favorite bookshop (or cafe, etc) and casually introduces him to her favorite employee. And the pickup line just comes out of no where, even he is surprised lolz. Feel free to not use this at all if you get better ideas😂

Thank you so much for this idea! For writing purposes, this will take place in modern times (*writing purposes meaning me being too lazy to write period specific)

Cheesy Pick-up Line (Bingo Game)

!BINGO ASKS CLOSED!

College!Henry!SherlockHolmes x Female!Reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: a little bickering, awkward Sherlock, fluffy and cute

Enola giggled excitedly as she pushed past the glass double doors of her favorite library. Her brother was following behind closely, a disinterested look on his face as they entered the small building. For Enola, it was the perfect place to be, but Sherlock just asked himself what he was doing here instead of studying for his criminal justice exam next week.

What he had not concluded yet, was that Enola Holmes had an agenda far different from the story she had told her brother about just an hour ago. He didn’t know his sister had spent weeks finding a way to finally get him to leave his stuffy, foot-smelling boy room. She had mashed her brain about it as she roamed the shelves of her favorite place and when she checked out the other day, she was embarrassed to have thought of it so late. It was blatantly obvious. Her brother needed a girlfriend. Someone that would encourage him to live outside of his schoolwork every once in a while. And you were the perfect candidate for the job. Smiley and charming, intelligent and pretty, and on top of that, someone Enola liked very much. She had established a first-name basis with you over the hours she spent in the little library you worked at. Today, she would try to accomplish the same for Sherlock.

Sherlock stood between the rows of shelves, waiting for his sister to finish collecting the mountain of books he was sure she wasn’t even allowed to check out at once. She had recruited him to ‘help her carry them’ as if she weren’t very capable of it herself. And besides, Enola was the one always underlining her independence and that women could do just as much as men. Something wasn’t adding up.

Enola placed another book in his arms. One she had mindlessly pulled from the shelve to keep her story alive. It was a small sacrifice for the gratification she would get would her brother finally fall in love this evening. She was sure of it. No more feigned disinterest in the stories their family told about cousins and other relatives having their first partners. No more annoying dismissal of their mother’s subtle hints towards his isolating himself. No more bad moods because of the uncalled-for comments Mycroft threw at him when he visited with his fiancé. It was about to change today.

“Relativity Theory?” He lifted an eyebrow before Enola could disappear behind another shelf. “Hamlet? What kind of homework is this supposed to be?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Enola quipped before placing an autobiography in his arms.

“They’ll think you’re robbing this place.” He readjusted the books because even though he was fairly strong, they slipped in his grasp. “How are you planning on checking those all out?”

“Jokes on you, my check-out limit has been upgraded because I’m a regular.”

“To 17? That’s too many. Too many books in general. Even for your ADHD brain.”

She glared at him. “Well, that’s where you come into play. With your card, we can check out 15. And for the other two, I’ll just have to sweet talk my way through.”

“You’re impossible, Enola.” Sherlock rolled his eyes as he followed his younger sibling to the counter.

“Shut up, It’s hard carrying enough character for Mycroft and you. You should thank me, really.”

“Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath and then he placed the books down with a thud.

Enola Smiled as she saw you approach the counter from the back office. Once you were here, the hot phase of her plan would be set in motion. And she couldn’t wait.

“Good evening, Enola. I see you brought someone new with you today?” You asked kindly with a bright smile on your face. Most people that came into the library didn’t talk much, but ever since Enola came around, she made the day a whole lot better. She grew to be a friend to you, which was why you also already knew who the handsome ‘stranger’ next to her was. But you wouldn’t reveal it just yet, that would be creepy.

“This is my Brother, Sherlock.” Enola just smiled as she placed her pile of books on the counter as well.

“Nice to meet you,” the tall brunette smiled behind his glasses, soft curls falling into his face when he nodded toward you.

“Nice to meet you, too. I would ask if you found everything you were looking for, but I guess it’s even more than that...” You counted the books, sending Enola a warning look. You had gone through the trouble of sweet-talking Old Mrs. Thomson if Enola could be an exception to the ‘only six books for home’ rule once again. Trying one more would get you on dusting duty for at least three weeks.

Your eyes locked with Sherlocks. “Do you have a library card?” And then your attention was back to the register, typing away on the little blue display.

Sherlock couldn’t see what you were doing, but he knew he wanted your eyes back on him. He didn’t know why, there was something about you that made him all excited. “Why? Because you want to check me out?” Uh oh.

Your fingers stopped hacking away at the outdated machine and your eyes wandered back to him. A deep blush tinted his cheeks and ears pink as you tried to hold back the laugh pushing at your throat.

Sherlock wanted the earth to swallow him whole. Why had he just said that? What was wrong with him?

And while her brother desperately attempted to hide his shocked face, Enola just stood beside him, equally stunned. She hadn’t known it had gotten this bad. His constant isolation must have messed with his social competence somehow. Because whatever she was just witnessing, was beyond secondhand embarrassment. He made her job harder to bring the two of you together, and honestly, right now, Enola did not see a chance for her brother.

“Yes, yes he has. Here!” Enola ripped the card from her brother's pocket and handed it to you. You, who bit your lips to hide the smile creeping on your features and shook your head.

Sherlock didn’t say another word after that. Too embarrassed to ever talk again, really, he waited out the time until you were finished scanning all the books and his and Enola’s cards. Relief washed over him when you said your goodbyes.

“I'm making an exception this time, Enola. Mrs. Thomson must not know about this and you better bring all of these books back without a single mark,” you warned.

But Enola countered weakly, matted by her idiot brother destroying the best plan ever made. “When did I ever not?” Still, she tried a sneaky smile on her lips.

When the doors fell close behind them and the siblings walked along the sidewalk home, Enola shoved her brother harshly.

“Great job, you idiot. You just ruined your only chance at not becoming a weird and bitter old man.”

But Sherlock didn’t answer. He was well aware of the embarrassment he had just presented himself as in that library and in front of you. With his head hung low, he opened the top book in his arms to retrieve his library card, but when he moved the piece of plastic and revealed the check-out receipt, all of his sister’s bickering moved to the background.

There, beneath the date and time of his visit, was your number, scribbled in blue ink with a small heart by your name. He smiled to himself as he traced the number with his finger. And just then, Enola glanced over his shoulder to find out why he hadn't told her to shut up yet.

Who would have thought that you would be hooked after a line like that?

Tags: @circe143 @valkyrie418 @mirikusashes @noideawhyimdoingthislol @nikkitc0703 @lethallyprotected @erynnnn @misshale21 @wattpaduser200 @mi-amoree1111 @xxinvisiblexx @lastwandastan @when-you-cant-think-of-anything @pevensiemadness @mrsgweasley

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raycatz · 9 months

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Something about Four fics set in his Hyrule!

The Minish Cap world being small and detailed enough to be intimately understood. The characters all having their own figurines with fun descriptions and secrets. Four's comfort and seamless integration and understanding of Hyrule Town and the people. The bakery. A library which he frequents. The school he went to. He and Dot being childhood friends. How close he is to her in both friendship and physical proximity like the castle is Right There it's so easy for them to visit and for Dot to be included in fic. The Picori Festival. The whimsy of the Minish and their presence and magic being something Four often and happily interacts with. The little traditions that make his world his. Having a home to return to that he finds comfort in. His Grandfather being there for him. His job at the forge. All of the people he has in his life who offer him genuine guidance and support. Something about FSA and The Minish Cap drawing so faithfully from the games before that there is an item or person or oddly specific scenario that uniquely ties Four to many of the other heros- the palace of the four sword, the origins of the picori blade, the dark mirror, the dark world, FSA drawing from the style of WW and alttp (and the headcanons that result from this like the shield that's Wind's family heirloom being Four's originally).

Something about stories set in his world are so comforting. I love fics where Four is the last to join the chain, signaling the true start of their adventure together, and fics where Four sets in motion what, or is, the first to bring them together again after the adventure is over. Fics that explore Minish Cap and FSA's worlds and how Four is connected to it, and how it connects him to the others. It's just a Minish Cap appreciation kind of day tbh.

Here's some fic recs!

Close Encounters of the Fourth Kind by Blueskullcandy

A Little Bit of Minish Magic by glowingjellyfishtreelights

New Hands on Ancient Hilts by TimeturnerJay

After, or "Fuck it, refounds your family" by cerame

#was reading LU fics last night and was overcome with just how cool all the lu fic writers and fan creators are!!!#and it makes me want to create stories too like aaaaa!!!#it's awesome!#linked universe #rays random ramblings #I'm also fond of a fic where Dot is apprenticing under Grandpa Smith and she makes like a brooch for Four #but I can't remember who wrote it #have most people probably already read these fics? yeah.#am I recommending them again? yeah #lu four #lu analysis

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roguelov · 2 years

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Green-Eyed Monster

Summary: While Morpheus takes care of the Dreaming, you find yourself enjoying a past time of yours: finding and cuddling cats of the Dreaming. It was a fun and innocent game. Or it was. One day, Morpheus spots you with a cat in your lap and strangely becomes jealous. So, how will he solve this? By becoming a cat himself, of course.

Word Count: ~2.6k

Reader: Gender Neutral (not explicit)

Warning: Some minor jealousy, mostly fluff, light teasing and suggestive hints in the end

Requested by the amazing @dreamstatednightmare

Morpheus - the sole provider of the Dreaming and all of its residents - was obviously a busy man. His attention constantly pulled in every direction from ensuring dreams and nightmares were doing their duties, to aiding whoever asked, and to keeping the Dreaming afloat and in perfect order. For the Dreaming was a cog in the cosmic wheel which was of utmost importance, its effects rippled out to all realms.

You understood this greatly, Morpheus had responsibilities that came first, and that never bothered you. In fact, because of such reasons, whenever you visited the Dreaming you created a game for yourself. There were many wondrous, unimaginable things to see and do in the Dreaming, but strangely you noted all the mundane things. Things you could easily see in the Waking, things such as the occasional house cat trotting around the palace.

Did Morpheus have an affinity for cats? Or did cats have an affinity for Dream of the Endless?

You supposed it didn’t matter.

When Morpheus had business to attend to, you would go ‘hunt’ for cats. You would stroll throughout the palace, and its grounds - sometimes even venturing into Fiddler’s Green - to find a cat. To your surprise, it was quite easy. In minutes, you would find yourself tucked under a tree, or on a bench, with a cat in your lap and possibly another walking around. You would sit for what seemed to be hours mindlessly petting it, listening to its calming purring, or coo at the furry stray. You would even tell stories to them, be it fictional or from your own life.

You enjoyed this little game of yours.

So, when you visited the Dreaming tonight, you found yourself in a portion of the palace's lustrous gardens - the rose garden. The rose bushes stretched tall and wide as a thick wall, forming an extravagant labyrinth to get lost in. Roses of all colors bloomed from a pure innocent white to a dark red dripping with a passion. Yet, you sat on the outer edges under a tree; the tree had iridescent green leaves and glass like flowers hidden in the foliage. The sunlight always shined above, sending prisms of splintering rainbows all over. But, despite such beauties, you were here for a simpler reason. You smiled as you spotted a shadow again up ahead in the rose bushes. A distinct shadow you came to know well - a feline shadow.

You gently called out, “Come on out, I promise I won’t hurt you.”

Pale green eyes - almost yellow in the sunlight - peered out from behind the leaves. Its eyes nearly blended into the mess of various greens.

You smiled kindly, extending out your hand towards it.

A reddish brown nose poked out.

Back in the palace, specifically in the royal library, Morpheus rose from a chair away from the long thin table. “If there is nothing else, Lucienne, I would like to take my leave for the day,” he said.

Lucienne closed her journal, which now had a completed checklist written inside, and looked up at her lord. “Everything has been accounted for and addressed, sire.”

“Good. I will be leaving, but if anything arises do call.”

“Of course, my lord.” She nodded and began tidying up all the documents scattered over the table top. With new dreams and nightmares being created, space for them was now needed. The Dreaming was under minor maintenance and readjustments.

Morpheus scanned over the documents and blueprints, feeling satisfied with the solutions. His eyes flickered to Lucienne as she piled up the papers. “And do rest, Lucienne, you deserve it.”

Lucienne blinked then smiled softly. “I will, thank you.”

Morphues nodded, then strolled out of the library. The second the door clicked behind him, his thoughts instantly went to you. Where could you have run off to this time? He wished he could offer more of his time to you. His heart ached, knowing you were alone. You swore it never bothered you. However, it bothered him. Immensely. Surely, the Dreaming would take care of you; you could find entertainment anywhere and never grow bored.

But.

But, he wanted to be there. He wanted to show you wonders. In the end, however, he could not divide his attention so easily.

He sighed to himself, walking out to the grounds of the palace. You said you wouldn’t stray too far.

“Oh, look how lovely you are.”

Morpheus’s footsteps faltered. He twisted around to locate your voice. Under one of the trees bathed in rainbows, there you were. You sat cross-legged on the soft patch of grass with your back pressed against the trunk of the tree.

He moved to call out to you, almost believing you were speaking to him, when a cat - a brown tabby cat - slowly walked towards you.

You cooed as the cat reached you and you began scratching behind her ears.

Morpheus oddly felt himself deflate.

The cat purred, leaning into your touch. Smiling, you whispered praises. You ran a finger over the dark stripes, softly tracing over the somewhat misshapen ‘M’ on her forehead. The cat closed her eyes, tilting her head back loving every second.

You chuckled. “Do you like that?”

At the sound of your laughter, such a sweet sound, a dark cloud began to form over the King of Dreams’ head.

You scratched the tabby’s cream colored chin, and your smile widened as her purring grew louder. The cat pushed her head into your hand, grateful for every ounce of affection you were giving. When her pale green eyes opened, she seemed as if she was smiling up at you. Her eyes twinkled. Then, without warning, she hopped into your lap, curling into a ball.

“God, you are adorable,” you whispered, giddily.

She rolled onto her back, peering up at you. You wiggled your fingers in front of her face and she meowed and batted at them. You laughed, loud and wholeheartedly.

Morpheus’s jaw clenched.

Why? Why did anger worm into his heart over such a small insignificant creature?

His eyes locked onto you. You peered down at the feline. Your fingers carefully caressed over her head and down her back. So delicate, so loving. A sickly green clouded his vision. He craved your attention after such a grueling day, and to see a cat be the prize of such affection? Jealousy and disgust filled him. How dare this creature tread on what was his?

He did not think twice.

He stepped forward.

His mortal figure withered away into a cloud of glimmering yellow sand. Each drop quietly scattered across the ground, like hushed bells. As the cloud shrunk, a black long hair cat strolled out. His gaze landed on you, or more accurately the stray in your lap. With his head held high, he walked over while his tail flickered side to side.

The tabby cat perked up her head, noticing Morphues first.

Morpheus, with his unnaturally bright blue eyes, locked eyes with the cat. Disgust and hatred written plainly in his eyes. The cat pinned her ears back and swiftly leapt out of your lap, sprinting off back into the rose bushes.

“Well, what got into her?” You asked, confused.

You glanced over to where the cat was looking earlier, before her grand escape, only to spot a new cat. The gorgeous all black cat had a regal air about him as he approached you. You shrugged off the other cat’s peculiar behavior. Smiling at the black cat, you stretched out your hand in a welcoming gesture. “Hello there, little one.”

The cat sniffed your hand only once before pushing his head into your hand. Your smile widened. He seemed to like you more than any other cat you met. The cat purred and instantly jumped into your lap.

You laughed. “Okay, make yourself at home.”

The cat looked up at you with such beautiful blue - and somehow familiar - eyes. You started scratching the top of his head, and he sunk down into your lap. His tail happily swished back and forth.

Morpheus could not deny how heavenly this all felt.

“You are truly a beautiful cat,” you hummed. “And so soft too.”

Your fingers carded through his fluffy, cotton candy like fur. You wanted to bury your face in his fur. Oh, it was so warm too, like a gentle hug, soothing and welcoming. Another sense of familiarity tickled in the back of your mind. The texture, to some extent, but the color reminded you of -

It clicked.

You huffed through your nose, amused. You continued to scratch behind his ears. He snuggled deeper into your lap, purring constantly and nonstop.

“I know it’s you, love,” you whispered. The cat jerked his head up, staring up at you with those endless oceanic eyes. You ran a finger from his nose over his forehead. You bent down kissing the top of his head, over the smoothed out fur. “So, now I am left wondering why you have taken the form of a cat? Care to explain, Morpheus.”

Morpheus stared, silently. Does he dare say the reasoning? Does he keep up the charade?

You scratched under his chin. He immediately closed his eyes, and began purring once again.

You snickered. “Is that why you are like this? To be scratched? To be pampered?”

Morpheus’s eyes shot open. He huffed, partially annoyed; be it at you for the accuracy of your questions or himself for acting this way, he did not know why.

“Or to be cooed at?” You teased. “My sweet, adorable Morpheus.”

Morpheus turned his head, holding it up high. Now, that was ridiculous.

“Oh come on, you came to me like this.” Your hand ran down his back through his midnight fur. “You clearly wanted this.”

Morpheus peered out of the corner of his eye to you.

A smile graced your lips. Brilliant and beautiful.

His heart skipped.

Maybe, this was enough. The charade was clearly over.

He leapt out of your lap. In mid air, a tornado of shadows and golden sand swirled tightly around Morpheus’s tiny feline figure. It grew bigger and wider in the air. In a span of a few seconds, black boots landed firmly on the ground. The sand wisped away twinkling like distant stars, and Morpheus stood above you back in his mortal form.

“Aw, did you have enough already?” You tossed him a cheeky smile.

Morpheus rolled his eyes as he tried to hide an amused smile. Despite your teasing, he could not help but smile when you smiled. Even if the reasoning was at his own expense.

“So?” You hummed.

Morpheus raised an eyebrow.

“Care you explain why you greeted me as a cat?”

Morpheus’s lips thinned. Apparently, anger was still heavy on his chest. Anger and embarrassment. He glanced away, avoiding your gaze. He looked to where the other cat scampered off, luckily she had not shown her face again. He was thankful for that.

You stared at him, silently dissecting him. Morpheus was always one to close himself off to negative, unsavory emotions. Yet, despite his efforts, you could read him fairly well. Your eyes followed his gaze towards the rose bushes, to the exact spot the tabby cat darted into.

“Was it the cat?” You asked, starting to pull at the thread.

Morpheus tensed. He slowly turned his attention back to you. His silence was your answer.

You snorted. “Morpheus, were you jealous of a cat?”

“No,” he quickly answered. Far too quickly, it only confirmed your suspicions.

You laughed. Standing up, you leaned in towards Morpheus. “You were jealous of a measly little cat.”

Morpheus huffed.

“Now, why would you be jealous? It is only a cat, Morpheus.”

“A cat which has garnered all of your affection.” He fired back.

You blinked then shook your head, still smiling. “It is a cat, it has not ‘garnered all of my affection’.”

Morpheus grumbled. “Then why shower it with any affection at all? Why not seek out my company instead?”

Your smile softened. Here is the true problem. You reached up with one hand and cupped his face. “Because, you are busy and I do not want to disturb you.”

He placed his hand on top of yours. “I know, but I wish you would. You do not have to be out here finding entertainment in strays.”

“But, I like it.”

He frowned.

“It is just a game, Morpheus. An innocent game of finding cats while I wait for you.” You stroked his cheek with your thumb. “It’s honestly relaxing and a bit fun, you should join me sometime.”

Morpheus frown deepened. That was possibly the last thing he wished to do.

“Oh, don’t be like that. A few cats cannot steal my heart, okay? And you know why?”

Morpheus stared. You silently prompted him to ask, to play along. He shook his head, but his lips slowly tugged back into a smile. “Why?”

“Because you already have it.”

He blinked. Your eyes shone with adoration, such beautiful eyes. He sighed, leaning into your touch. What a fool I am, he thought. His hand curled around your wrist, wishing to stay like this. “Apologies, love,” he muttered, “it seems I have let my emotions get the best of me.”

Not the first time, you jokingly thought. “It’s okay.”

He turned his head, kissing the inside of your wrist. “I think I may have a solution for our limited time apart.”

“Oh?”

“Would it be inappropriate to ask you to join me occasionally while I work? It could also provide an opportunity to show you all of the Dreaming.”

You smiled. “I would be honored.”

He returned the smile. “I hope you do not grow bored during such frivolous tasks.”

“I don’t think I will, and maybe I can help you. It could speed up the process.”

“Perhaps.”

With your free hand, you brushed back strands of his messy raven hair. “I just want you to know if you want my attention,” you leaned in pecking his lips, “just ask for it.”

Morpheus’s hands skimmed down your body, wrapping around you. “Is that so?” He whispered, playfully.

“It is.” You smirked, “You don’t have to go through crazy shenanigans like turning into a cat.”

He laughed once. “I suppose not.”

“But,” you began. Morpheus cocked his head curiously. Your arms fell over his shoulders as your fingers started to play with the edges of his hair. Your smirk grew, and your eyes twinkled with mischief. “But, you may not get any work done with me around.”

“Oh, really?” He leaned in, matching your smirk.

You hummed. “I may want all your attention to myself, I may become a distraction.”

Morpheus’s lips brushed over yours. “A welcoming distraction if ever.”

You chuckled. “How about we take this elsewhere? Maybe inside before another cat comes prancing in to ‘garner’ my affection.”

Morpheus had to suppress a groan. “I will not love this down, will I?”

“No, you will not. You were quite cute as a cat.” You kissed him - fleeting, but oh so loving. “But not as cute as you are now.”

He shook his head, but still smiled.

You took his hands, guiding him towards the palace. “If you want my affection, then let me show you how much you mean to me, my sweet king.”

Smiling, he tugged you back towards him, pressing you firmly up against him. His lips brushed over the shell of your ear. “Only if I get to return the favor, my love.”

You laughed as Morpheus quickly took the lead. He nearly rushed back inside, now knowing he will have your fullest attention - the thing he always craves.

#the sandman #Morpheus #dream #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #dream x reader #morpheus x reader #dream x gn!reader #morpheus x gn!reader #gender neutral reader #sandman dream

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kookblurx · 1 year

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1920 - jjk [ chpt. 1 ]

→ SUMMARY: a photo of a beautiful smiling boy; an old tree in your grandparents garden ... and a feeling of sadness. all those things are connected to each other ...

→ GENRE: time travel au; changing fate au; rencarnation au; university au; death; sickness; historical setting; trigger topics; smut; dirty talk; switching between present and the past.

→ / chapt. 2

→ RATING: 18+

→ NOTE: <3 also because some people complained that i write about trigger topics: I ALWAYS write in the genre section if there will be triggers or what this au is about. i also mention the age rating. so please read all this stuff carefully and if you dont wanna read specific genres, please scroll. thanks.

BTS MASTERLIST ♡.°₊ˎˊ PLAYLIST FOR THIS CHAPTER

Present:

whenever fall was around the corner your parents always forced you to spent the holidays at your grandparents place. you didnt minded that because that meant you could spent all your time in their big library. as a child you discovered many gems there; starting with books about warriors and ending with stories about dragons. so it was no suprise for your grandma that you hugged her with the biggest smile on your face after exiting the car. the weather was nice while the dry leaves crunched softly under your shoes. before you entered the mansion, you putted your luggage into your grandpas hands. every other family member would had been mad at you but not him. he knew how badly you wanted to run into the library, so you could stick your nose back into those big books. on the way inside you nearly slipped on the stone floor at the entrance hall. the grey stones were always so smooth that many already slipped there. including your grandpa who "broke" one of his legs because of it. as you ran down the hallway you could already see the big wooden door. right behind it was your paradise, a paradise full of stories about the past. with both hands you opened the heavy door and was greeted with the scent of old books. it really felt like heaven as the door closed automatically behind you. nothing could stop you anymore as you roamed through the various shelves. most of the books were already known to you, so you searched for new ones every visit; knowing your grandma would hide them between the other books. it took you 2 minutes to finally reach your favourite spot in the library, an open space with big windows and a single desk in the middle of it. to your suprise a book was laying there, wide open and ready to be investigated by you. strange, your grandparents would never leave a book in the open, especially with the sunlight shining on it. they always mumble things about "old books" and "they need to be protected properly". well, it wasnt your problem anyways so you crept closer and took a seat on the wooden chair. on first glance the book didnt looked interesting, some pictures were in it but that was all. most of the text was unreadable, indicating that this is a super old book. as you flipped through the pages a loud noise behind you, starteled you. as you turned around in the chair, your ellbow bumped against the book; pushing it to the edge of the desk. before it could hit the ground you were able to catch it. in the process a picture fell out from between the pages. weird, that wasnt there before. after you put the book back onto the table, your hand reached out for the picture on the ground.

the paper felt old between your fingertips and you were scared you could break it. carefully you twisted it, curious you squinted your eyes as you were finally able to look at the picture itself. your eyes met with a young beautiful boy, he smiled at the camera ... or at something behind the camera. something about his face told you that you know him which wasnt possible right? eagerly you turned the picture again but on the back was no description .. only a date; 1920. it was really old. after putting the picture back on the table you started to flip through the pages of the book again. there, between the last three pages were more pictures. some were glued on the pages but others arent. on every single one of them was only the date "1920" written, nothing more. it was also always the same boy, over and over again. as you kept looking at him something inside of you started to sting.

"who are you ..?"

whispering to yourself you turned to the last page, thats when another photo slid towards you. on it was a big tree with the boy leaning against it. as you grabbed it your hand started to shake, who would make such a picture? the boy didnt smiled or laughed like the other pics you saw about him. this time his face looked peaceful, one hand rested on his stomach. the pic was kinda brownish but you were able to recognize that the dark spot on his stomach, was blood. out of nowhere your head started to hurt badly. the pictured slipped out of your hand as you grabbed your head with both hands. something was wrong with you; a faint voice was heard inside your head ... and something which sounded like crying?

"no...no! wake up! you cant leave me like this! please! ... you promised you would stay, you promised we would ... grow old together ... please dont leave me Jungkook!"

pressing your eyes together you grabbed the photo again; as you turned it there was only one single sentence; sorry that i couldnt save you. it was nearly unreadable. turning the picture back, the pain inside your head slowly fainted. Jungkook ... you never heard that name before in your life. is this boy Jungkook? for a moment your gaze went to the big windows in front of you and thats when you finally noticed it.

with a fast motion you pushed the chair back, not caring that it made a loud noise after hitting the ground. on the way outside of the library you nearly slipped again and also bumped into your grandma. the confused look on her face was more than visible as you said sorry to her and kept running towards the entrance. cold sweat was running down your neck as you crossed the flower fields of your grandparents garden. your grandma will be mad with you later but that didnt mattered right now. out of breath your feet finally came to a stop as you reached the top of a small hill. the view from here was breathtaking but thats not the thing which drew you here. slowly you lifted your hand up, still holding the picture as you looked at it. the location was the same, this was the same damn tree. what happened here? why does your grandma have those pictures and why does this young man seemed so familiar to you? no matter how hard you tried to remember it, no one came to mind.

exhausted you walked over to the tree just to sit down against it, like the boy in the picture did. so, this was the place he died but what had happened to him? why was he bleeding and why did you heard the crying voice of a woman inside your head? again your heart started to ache all of a sudden. this wasnt normal.

"were you looking for me?"

a voice and a touch on your shoulder made you jump. the moment you turned around, no one was there. your mind played tricks on you, yeah that must be it. the long drive and the lack of sleep was getting to you ... nothing more.

"dont act dumb, i know you like roses"

there it was again

"w-who is there?" pressing the picture against your chest you kept looking around.

silence. slowly you took a step closer to the tree

"you know, your smile always reminded me of sunshine"

you froze. slowly you reached out for the tree and before your fingertips were able to touch it ... a strong wind came up.

"dont be shy! this will be awesome!"

"Wha--....AAAAAH!"

out of nowhere someone pushed you. fast you closed your eyes, waiting for the impact of the tree against your face ... but it didnt came. somehow you ended up on the soft grass, hitting your head on the ground. the pounding pain made it hard for you to stand up again, so the first thing you did was sit up. holding your head with one hand you tried to search for the picture with the other one. it was gone, the picture was really gone. how were you able to lose a picture just because of a stupid fall? your grandma will kill you if she finds out about it. still rubbing your head you looked around, somehow the tree ended up behind you. its almost like you fell right through it. after your eyes scanned the area they went back to the spot where the mansion of your relatives was standing but .. what was that? right there were the mansion was earlier ... was another house. a house you never saw before in your entire life. this cant be right, something was horribly wrong. hectic you were searching for that picture in the grass, sliding around on your knees not caring if your jeans will get dirty.

as you crawled through the grass your right hand touched something smooth? slowly your head turned forward again, the thing your hand was touching; was a shoe. a black and shiny shoe. your gulping was louder than intended as you slowly looked up. every possible scenario was playing inside your head but not the sight you were met with. above you were a young man, with the brightest smile and in one hand he held the picture you were looking for.

"i think you lost this?"

a bit clumsy you got back to your feet as you took the picture back with a small; thank you. to your relief the picture wasnt damaged, a sigh escaped your mouth as you turned back to the man. after doing that you immediately stumbeled a few steps back. thats not possible. this is a damn dream. seeing your shocked face the man scratched himself on his cheek a bit.

"i-its you.."

your voice cracked as you sunk back into the grass. right in front of you stood the man of the various pictures. the man who leaned against a tree, dead ... the man who left a heartbroken girl behind as he had died.

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uwmspeccoll · 6 months

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Easter Moralized

This Easter (which, btw, in 2024 is also International Transgender Day of Visibility) we explore the gilded pages of the Vienna Bible Moralisée (moralizing bible), of which we hold the first full-color facsimile published in 1973. The Vienna Bible Moralisée is also known as Vienna 2554, referencing its current place of residence at the Austian National Library in Vienna. One of only three 13th-century moralizing bibles still in existence, this manuscript is an excellent example of the of the ways in which Christians worked to simplify the lessons of the Bible for those that were not theological scholars. Even though they were made to be more accessible, these types of manuscripts were only created for the wealthy class; they needed to understand the Christian Bible and its lessons to ensure that they were (theoretically) promoting moral behavior. Vienna 2554 is thought to have been commissioned by Phillip II Augustus, for his son, Louis VIII or his bride, Blanche of Castile.

The Bible Moralisée is curious for two reasons: it does not actually contain the entire text of the Christian Bible, and it is mostly filled with images, rather than with words. These specific attributes contribute to the accessibility of Christian morals by abbreviating biblical stories and using illuminations to visually represent them.

Interestingly, the designs on the pages of these bibles imitate stained glass representations at the time: the eight medallions placed in columns of four; the inclusion of quatrefoils in between these medallions; the use of vivid colors. This reflection of architectural design in the illuminations may have allowed people to visualize themselves in a church and may have led to more contemplative readings of the text that emphasized the teachings of priests and theologians at the time. One of the most well-known images in these types of bibles is Jesus as architect and creator of the universe. This type is seen on the frontispiece of this moralizing bible: Jesus is holding a compass as he focuses on the creation of the world. Geometry and astronomy were often associated with the divine in the Middle Ages and this viewpoint is well explained in Vanderbilt's Divinity Library website: "God has created the universe after geometric and harmonic principles, to seek these principles was therefore to seek and worship God."

The creation of the moralizing bible also inspired later moralizing versions of books and poetry, like Ovid’s Metamorphoses. These types of moralizing volumes edited and changed parts of the works to make them conform to Christian teachings oft the time.

Our facsimile was published in 1973 by the Akademische Druck- u. Verlagsanstalt in Graz, Austria in an edition of 3,000 copies at the manuscript's original size. To see the original manuscript, you can visit the Österreichische Nationalbibliothek in Vienna or view the entirety of the manuscript online on their website here.

View more manuscript posts.

– Sarah S., Special Collections Graduate Intern

#Easter #bible moralisée #vienna bible moralisée #vienna 2554 #austrian national library #Österreichische Nationalbibliothek #moralizing bible #bible #Akademische Druck- u. Verlagsanstalt #Christian bible #facsimiles #manuscripts #illuminated manuscripts #medieval manuscripts #Sarah S.#International Transgender Day of Visibility

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kleyamarki · 1 year

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I’d love to hear some library stories!

Okay friends here is my support your local public library manifesto:

I have worked in a public library for a little over a year now, and I worked in an academic library for a year and a half. They’re two different beasts, and I love both, but public libraries will always have a special place in my heart.

Lately, as I’m sure you know, public libraries in the US have been under attack by people who really don’t understand public libraries and all that their employees do.

So, here are some of the things that I’ve done in my year of public library work that people outside of it might not think of:

1. I’ve taught several older adults how to text on their iPhone for the first time, and how to use their smart phones generally.

2. I led teens through a library orientation to show them all we have to offer (which is pretty important when we regularly have 50-60 teens hanging out at my branch after school).

3. I’ve helped people over chat reference locate information and obituaries for their relatives. This involved looking through old newspapers and databases — it was really cool and the patrons are always extremely thankful!!

4. I helped a woman locate her many-greats grandfather’s civil war records using our local history collection.

5. I’ve printed countless tax forms for people and made appointments for them to get their taxes done at the library for free.

6. I’ve developed relationships with the local community college and a local university to get more college students to use the public library and to get them out into their community. (Let me brag here: this is in the strategic plan to be completed by fiscal year 2026, and I, a 23 year old library associate, have already been doing this, teehee)

7. I set up 4 all-ages displays and 2 adult displays this year alone, and I have 2 more I’m setting up in September.

8. I’ve helped kids locate materials for homework in books and using our online resources.

9. I’ve helped with our branch’s Lunch at the Library program, which feeds any kid up to age 18 for free every weekday during the summer.

10. I’ve helped people young and old with resumes, job applications, and helped them find career readiness and test prep materials countless times.

Libraries are SO much more than just books!!!! We have online resources, puzzles, board games, cameras, fishing poles, cake pans, and so much more!! We have programming for ALL ages! I specifically program for 20s-30s! Check us out!!!!! And don’t forget: public libraries are some of the last spaces that you can exist in without having to spend money. They need to be protected, appreciated, and most of all VISITED!!!

Go get a library card and check us out!!!!!!

#support libraries #public libraries #public librarian #alright i’m done with this manifesto #luv u all

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wofredone · 3 months

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Finally finished reading A Guide to the Dragon World! Because my notes ended up being quite long, I'm splitting the post into two parts. The first part (aka this one) is just a summary of the new lore introduced in the guide, specifically cultural elements of each tribe along with tidbits of history. I left out most character-specific content (such as the letters) because I was primarily reading this for worldbuilding, but I will talk about it in the second part, which will be my review.

Keep in mind that the majority of information is in the context of royalty and nobility. I will talk about this more in my review.

Be warned, this is a very long post.

Different tribes (probably) have different scents

It was stated that a male dragon has not ruled since the Scorching, implying that there may have been a king in the past

Treasure is used as currency on Pyrrhia

There are detective mystery genre scrolls/books

Hatching day cakes are a thing, and SkyWings traditionally set their cakes on fire (at least based on an offer Peril made, not sure if that's just because she's a firescales though)

Tamarin and Starflight invented a letter-presser for blind dragons

Mathematics and calculus exist

The lancehead snake is a cousin to the dragonbite viper, though not as deadly

Certain tribes are wealthier and/or bigger than others, but it is not specified which ones

The names of the three moons are Oracle, Perception, and Imperial, the last one being the biggest moon

The white dragon with wing stubs in Burn's collection still has no confirmed tribe; it's similar to a SilkWing but only has two wingbuds

+the SilkWing wing had washed up on shore

Pantalan queens used to host a queen gathering every few moons, which was used to address disputes

"For HiveWing Eyes Only" regarding the Book of Clearsight may predate Queen Wasp

SeaWings had also escaped to Pantala (I think this was previously unknown, but correct me if I'm wrong)

Krakens are confirmed to be real in the Book of Clearsight

MudWings

MudWing troops have specific roles (healer, treasurer, gatherer, communicator)

The MudWing palace is surrounded with blanket forts where groups of dragons can socialize

The palace also has a library and the oldest scroll is about the blood red eggs

The MudWing succession crisis happened ~200 years ago

There was at least one case of a MudWing being ordered to destroy a blood red egg

There is a royal hatchery for MudWing eggs

^ They're still, for the most part, left to fend for themselves with the exception of education and training beginning earlier

^ The queen still has limited interactions with her children (by choice)

^ The bigwings in particular is taken to be trained and has to fight the queen for the throne, same as other tribes

MudWings have their own language (at least during the MudWing Succession Crisis)

Structures are made of adobe

They have papyrus

The original royal bloodline was secretly ended during the MudWing Succession Crisis and later revealed in Princess Sawgrass's retelling

MudWings raise cows for dairy and there is a royal cowherd

SeaWings

There are stories (by Coral) written from the perspective of animals

Bunch of Aquatic information; there are phrases exclusive to Aquatic

One hatching day food is raw tuna wrapped in seaweed and stuffed with fish eggs

(Royal) traditional hatching day activities include a triathlon, treasure hunt, coral reef hide-and-seek, humpback-whale-themed singing competition, and an ocean pet fashion show

SeaWings keep seahorses, sea dragons, cuttlefish, and bobtail squids as pets

Hatching day feast includes sharks, tuna rolls, and lobsters

There might be a new palace/area for dragons of other tribes to visit in construction

RainWings

RainWings used to read and write

Other tribes wanted the rainforest territory (at least according to Handsome)

They used to eat meat

RainWings used to constantly kill each other for the throne

The nonlethal competition was introduced to reduce bloodshed

RainWings used to have scrolls and libraries (during the Darkstalker era), but transitioned to storytelling/oral history at some unknown point in time

RainWings used to be feared by every other tribe and were known for their assassins

^ There was an assassin training program

Queen Jacaranda was responsible for most of the changes in RainWing society

^ She ended the assassin training program, outlawed usage of venom on other dragons, ordered the construction of the hammocks and platforms at the top of the canopy (presumably leading to sun time) and was interested in "taming prey" (sloths in particular)

Was in a war/territory dispute with the SkyWings and signed a peace treaty (it's not directly stated who the peace treaty was with, it was either the SkyWings or the MudWings)

It's implied that extensive sun exposure makes RainWings lazier

RainWing culture is more open to expressing emotion as a result of their color changing scales

NightWings

NightWings have legends/stories, the described one is about a seer named Comet that rarely had visions and was thought to be powerless until he foresaw a storm that destroyed the kingdom

There is also a scroll about The Prophetess that Fatespeaker liked to read, which is about a seer that fought bad guys with her visions

NightWings hatched under one full moon gain seer or mind reading powers, while two full moons grant both powers

Three full moons amplifies the strength of these powers

Some believe there's a connection between the moons and animus magic, but Darkstalker disagrees with this

NightWings (in the old kingdom) made sure as many eggs as possible were born under full moons

NightWings were raised to believe they were inherently superior at some genetic level (yikes)

The whole prophecy and lies spread to Pyrrhia were born out of desperation (I guess this was already known but I think it's worth noting because here it's being outright stated)

NightWings were the first to develop a written Dragon language; they taught it to the rest of the continent to record history and communicate

+traveling NightWing teachers that brought scrolls and taught them

There were NightWing scriptoriums where they copied scrolls by talon to spread to Pyrrhia

NightWings were responsible for most of the treatments used by other tribes

In the past, seers used their visions to help other tribes and NightWings were more open to sharing their knowledge in general

The old NightWing kingdom has a lot of moon exposure and a cold climate

NightWings had theatre performances, including props

The listed plays include: A Midsummer NightWing's Dream, The Importance of Being a NightWing, and A Little NightWing Music

On the island, NightWings had abandoned theatre, art, and music

They also had gardens with nonedible plants

NightWings have hatching ceremonies

The full moon music festival is an ancient custom that was revived by Queen Vigilance, along with other unnamed customs

There were ceremonies for seers and mind readers

The full moon music festival involved musicians sharing their newest compositions and providing an opportunity for dragonets to learn about traditional NightWing music; Vigilance introduced an hour where amateurs could also share their talents

The seer ceremony involves giving a vision of the future for NightWings and the mind reading ceremony involves mind readers sharing good thoughts about Vigilance (probably just the queen in general)

There was an island temple dedicated to honoring the first librarians of the NightWing tribe

The Glass Jubilee, started by Vigilance, celebrates each year of her reign and involves glasswork, music, and dancing

SandWings

Some SandWing treasure: the Desert Tiara (worn by SandWing queens for centuries), the Twilight Necklace (possibly of NightWing origin), and the SandWing Scepter

Queen Oasis had a symbol

Sign off(s) : "Wishing you bright sun and strong winds"

SandWing kitchens (for royalty, at least) have cages where birds are kept for meal preparation

SandWings keep armadillos, coyotes, tortoises, pumas and snakes as pets (and also eat them)

There is a scroll for dragonets on pets, including recipes for cooking the pets

SandWings have tortillas

After Oasis died, councils and debates were placed to pick the next queen

SandWings have history museums, including multiple gifts from past alliances

IceWings

Sign off(s): "On the winds of blizzards," "Snow mountains of love"

Education is very important (at least amongst royalty)

Ice sculpting is a significant form of art

IceWings frequently host talent shows and competitions

Many are constantly trying to create things to share with the rest of the tribe and typically work solo

Walruses and seals are not kept as pets

An image of the ranking walls is included, showing the written language (not sure if it's Dragon or an IceWing-specific language)

There is another animus gift, the gift of understanding, with missing part(s) and an unknown purpose

A layout of the menu for a coronation/royal feast is given (ingredients include kelp, sedge, garlic, ginger, crab, moss, whale, polar bear, narwhal, fulmar, puffin, gannet, scavenger, shark...)

IceWings use sealskin for scrolls

There are wandering librarians that circulate scrolls around the Ice Kingdom villages

^ Dragonets are chosen to be the next bard of the village, which are storytellers that memorize the history of the IceWing tribe and folktales

In the Village-of-the-Plentiful-Seals, there are multiple dragons named Caribou to honor the animus that gave them the gift of subsistence

^ They also host an annual feast in celebration of Caribou that lasts five days and nights

Where-No-Dragon-Goes-Hungry has a statue of Caribou made of whale bone, and host a Caribou celebration involving an ice sculpture contest every year

The aurora borealis is believed to be the Great Ice Dragon's frostbreath

We-Remember-and-Venerate-Caribou has a year long market that trades food

There is a temple of the Great Ice Dragon that feeds dragons for free

Princess Caribou's gift had upset the IceWing aristocracy because it was meant for dragons outside of the circles

^ They believed that it would make them lazy, forget how to hunt, and that hunger motivated them to work harder (which of course was entirely wrong)

Outer villages are low in the IceWing social hierarchy; they're often neglected by the royalty/nobility/etc.

Dragons from the outer villages were invited each year to compete for a spot in the palace school; this gave them a chance to enter the circles and better their social status

Every seven years, SkyWings hosted a challenge in the palace called the Clash of Claws

^ Consisted of seven days and seven challenges: flame, endurance, strength, cunning, guile, wit, and speed

The precision and heat of a flame is skill-based (at least partially)

Prince Cliff wrote the new SkyWing anthem (+ it's implied other tribes don't have anthems)

SkyWings

*Because Scarlet had a lot of influence and control over SkyWing culture, some bullet points are specified as pre, post, or during Scarlet's reign

SkyWings throw elaborate hatching ceremonies (at least according to Fierceteeth)

SkyWings may have weave tapestries (Smolder mentions an alliance gift possibly being given by the SkyWings)

SkyWings cultivate lemons

(Pre-Scarlet) The arena hosted parades, art shows, dance performances, and beauty contests; dragons from all over Pyrrhia were invited

^ Winning sculptures and tapestries were kept by Queen Firestorm

They have ironsmithing and host ironsmithing classes

Scale-polishing and muscle-building for beauty

(Pre-Scarlet) SkyWings had the option to choose partners for themselves, but often opted to be matched by the queen because they were busy

(Pre-Scarlet) Weddings are quiet, private rituals that only involve the two dragons getting married and are hosted in the sky

(During Scarlet) weddings became elaborate and were also celebrated with deathmatches in the arena; most did not want to deal with their celebrations and either didn't marry or got married in secret

Most did not want to be matched by Scarlet

There are SkyWing Ancestry Scrolls where dragons record their weddings

Families don't hold a lot of significance, parents raise their hatchlings then send them off to get a palace job

Diamond rings are used for engagements

(Royalty) White silk is worn for weddings

SilkWings

SilkWings used to take time off from school to explore Pantala after their Metamorphosis

SilkWings are naturally tree dwellers, but were forced to live on the webs between the Hives after the Tree Wars

SilkWing queens chose their successor, they did not fight for the throne

Monarch was the name of two of the best queens in SilkWing history

They have tea, lemon sugar crunches, and peanut butter cookies

HiveWings

HiveWings pick a specialization at a young age

Education is primarily agriculture based

There are universities for each hive: Wasp Hive University, Jewel Hive University, etc.

HiveWing abilities are genetic, but not always passed down

LeafWings

LeafWing dragonets have to practice jungle survival skills in the villages before being let out

The LeafWings had books in the Poison Jungle

^ They used plant fibers, bark, sap (glue), wood pulp (paper), and dyes for bookmaking

Most of their books and libraries were lost in the Tree Wars

Some LeafWing books: The Legacy of the LeafWings, Ash of Green Gingkos, The Count of Mount Kudzu, Rowan and Juniper, The Exceptionally Comprehensive Encyclopedia of Insects For the Discerning Entomologist, Mysterious and Mystifying Murders, and Where the Mountain Meets the Moon

Several LeafWing artifacts survived the fires, one of which was the "Archival LeafWing Documents: For Future Historians," buried by Queen Sequoia

"Safe branches," "strong roots," "from roots to the canopy," and "till the full moon" are some sign offs

Names such as Belladonna (and presumably any other dangerous plant) were untraditional before moving to the Poison Jungle

New Year of the Trees is presumably a holiday

PoisonWings and SapWings were not initially on hostile terms, this was done by Belladonna

LeafWings cultivate bananas, potatoes, yams, papayas, avocados, kumbu, and dragonberries

Apologies if there's any information that was already revealed in the main series. Also, I included some more minor things (such as the sign offs) because it could give hints into some cultural lore such as values and language.

#wofredone #wof #wingsoffire #a guide to the dragon world #summary #review

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writethrough · 2 years

Note

Can you write a hurt/comfort Morpheus x F!Reader where the reader is good friends with Morpheus and continuously helps around The Dreaming until the reader’s diminishing presence in the realm due to worsening sleep becomes a point of concern, leading to the discovery that the reader’s insistence to help others is a way for her to put aside her own problems and not have to deal with them, and Morpheus finally convinces her to get the rest she so desperately needs?

Sorry if this is too long or too specific, but if it needs to be cut down, then just a one-shot about a F!Reader who puts everyone else’s needs before her own and Morpheus confronts her about it?

Hiding In Plain Sight

(Morpheus x Female Reader)

Warnings: Burnout, problem avoidance, a bout of insomnia, Reader's father in an accident, language, anxiety, innuendo

Word Count: 2216

A/N: Thank you for the request! This one took me a bit to start because I didn't know where to begin. I tried really hard to do your original idea and not the shortened version so I hope you like it. I did make Morpheus and the reader in an established relationship kinda on accident. I was 80% of the way through when I reread your request and was like shit "good friends." So, I hope that isn't a deal breaker. I also added a tiny little sprinkle of innuendo at the end because the story had a mind of its own at that point.

You had never seen Lucienne so…frazzled. You didn’t think she could be anything other than calm and composed. However, it seemed the Dreaming was going through a "repair," as she put it.

One moment landscapes would disappear or change from green to fuchsia. Books would launch off the shelves. Trees would sprout legs, and those with legs would plant themselves into the ground.

All in all, the Dreaming was experiencing a sort of glitch.

Morpheus and Lucienne were quick to assure you it was nothing to worry about, but it did cause them all a headache. Thankfully, if closely monitored, they could prevent any alterations.

You couldn’t help but giggle the more you thought about it. The Dreaming was in its rebellious teen years.

Lucienne had been spread so thin between the glitching and the library. You offered to take over the latter while you were there. And although she was hesitant, she trusted you, and a few days later, she felt comfortable leaving you alone.

The repetition of cataloging and shelving books helped you more than you’d ever tell her. It made you feel in control, needed, useful.

If she or Morpheus ever asked, you’d say everything was fine. You didn’t want to bother anyone.

Things were weighing on you in the Waking World.

Your rent was increasing. Your boss had tasked you with a large project for the first time. Your coworker had left for maternity leave, and you were picking up her clients and projects.

Additionally, your father had a nasty fall last week. You were constantly driving him to doctor’s appointments and running for anything he needed until he was on his feet again.

It was overwhelming. The mere thought of it all nearly sent you into a panic. You’d do anything to avoid it. So, you found ways to help Morpheus and the other residents of the Dreaming.

You loved it here. Not only for its magic and beauty but for Morpheus, too. He was ever present, even if you couldn’t see him. Being in his realm felt like nothing could touch you. It was like you could breathe a little easier.

He always made it a point to visit you. He’d spend hours with you, and when you questioned him about why he wasn’t dealing with the glitching, he’d give you this tilt of his lips and say, “No need to worry.”

The library wasn’t the only place you found solace from your troubles. Sometimes Merv would let you take on smaller jobs, or you’d hand him tools and keep him company. On other days, you’d watch Goldie while Cain and Abel were away doing something for Morpheus. You had actually taught the gargoyle fetch by accident.

While the creature held a special place in your heart, your favorite thing to do was watch Morpheus create dreams. He was always so invested in making them perfect. It sent a shiver up your spine when he asked for your opinion. And more often than not, he’d utilize it.

You sat in a plush chair he had conjured for you, observing him. He always stood so proud, like nothing could unbalance him. It was reassuring.

“What do you think?” he asked, breaking you from your thoughts.

He had crafted a burgundy creature who stood no taller than three feet. Its fur blew in the subtle breeze as its hooves tentatively tested the shifting sand. Its face was almost frog-like, but its eyes held intelligence that suggested it was wise beyond its years.

You gave Morpheus a small smile. “Perfect.”

The tilt of his lips was the only indication he had heard you. Then, he sent the creature off.

Morpheus was about to say something, but the sky flashing green, then yellow, stopped him.

He stayed trained on it. “They are coming quicker now.”

“How long do you think this will last?” you asked. It had already been two weeks.

“I can’t be certain. But I believe we’re coming to the end.” He offered you his hand to help you up.

“You should give Lucienne a vacation after all this.” You made your way back to the palace, fingers interlocked.

“Perhaps you could fill in for her.” His shoulder brushed yours. “I quite like having you here.”

Your shy grin was answer enough. “I like being here.”

If only you could express how much.

—

You waved goodbye to your neighbor and his daughter as they left. His babysitter had canceled last minute, and you just happened to be within hearing distance from him when it happened. You offered right away. Taking your mind off this project had to help you in the long run. It’d give you fresh eyes. Besides, she was a sweet kid and always wanted to talk about Morpheus, which you wholly welcomed.

She had seen him entering your apartment and asked him so many questions her father had to pull her back inside.

You'd take any chance you got to gush about Morpheus, especially with someone who dreamily compared you two to a prince and princess. A bit self-indulgent? Absolutely. But did it set your heart on fire and make you smile like an idiot? You bet.

If only you could tell her that she wasn’t too far off.

Getting into bed was wonderful. Every day seemed like it got longer and longer. When it finally came time to close your eyes and go to the Dreaming, you would’ve sworn you haven’t been there in months.

You tossed and turned, your mind trailing to the project details, the upcoming appointments for your father, then all of the little things you had to do for yourself. At least when you picked up your dad’s groceries, you could pick up yours. But your heat was acting up, your car had to be inspected, and your coworker’s clients were borderline assholes to you. God forbid you asked a simple question to clarify. They'd jump down your throat like you were supposed to know the answer because obviously, your coworker had all the time to share every detail of their file. Honestly, you couldn’t blame her if she forced the baby out early to get away from them.

Before you knew it, midnight ticked over to five in the morning, and you hadn’t fallen asleep. You hadn’t gotten to see Morpheus. You didn’t get to help the Dreaming.

There was a pit in your stomach throughout the day. It wasn’t like you to not sleep.

All you could do was take a deep breath and power through. At least you didn’t have meetings today. You could focus on your work and chug a shit-ton of coffee and hope you’d make a dent in the workload.

That was wishful thinking.

If anything, you’d been handed more to do. So much so that you had to take some home to finish.

When you finally yawned for the hundredth time, you crawled into bed. You were exhausted. You wanted to be held by Morpheus. To watch as he crafted dreams and kept the Dreaming from going too haywire.

But again, you couldn't find rest. All you could do was think about what would come tomorrow.

—

“Lucienne, have you seen (Y/N)?” Morpheus asked, searching the areas of the library he could see.

Her brow furrowed. “No, my lord. I thought she was with you today.”

“No.” His voice was faint as if trailing off in thought. “Was she with you yesterday?”

Lucienne set her pen down. “No. I haven’t seen her in quite a few days. Have you spoken to Abel or Mervyn?”

“Yes.” An uneasiness formed in his stomach. “They’ve all said the same.”

“It’s not like her to have trouble sleeping.”

Lucienne was concerned about you recently. The last time she saw you, you seemed distracted. She could tell something was wrong, but when she questioned you, you reassured her, saying everything was fine.

You did the same with Morpheus.

He had sensed an unsteadiness in you. As if you were walking the thinnest of lines between dreaming and consciousness. It was so unlike you. You were always so present when with him that your tension stood out.

He had to make sure you were alright.

“I’m going to check on her,” he said.

Lucienne nodded. “Take as much time as she needs.”

He planned on doing just that.

—

It had been days since you saw Morpheus. Days since you’d been in the Dreaming.

All you wanted to do was inhale the scent of chamomile and sandalwood on his skin and have him tell you everything would be okay.

But your mind wouldn’t shut off. You couldn’t relax enough to go into that deep sleep. And even if you could, Morpheus was still dealing with the glitching. He was busy keeping everything running, and you couldn’t even help because you couldn’t fall asleep!

You carried your dinner plate into the kitchen. Your stomach had been in knots since this morning when your boss emailed you about moving up the due date for the project. It now needed to be submitted tomorrow. Between the appointment you had to take your dad to and meetings you scheduled with your coworker’s clients, you weren’t sure if you’d make it. You’d worked on the project all day, and everything about it screamed: rushed. You’d be working well into the morning to get it anywhere near where you wanted.

You’d barely touched your food and were about to throw it in a container when your foot caught the leg of a barstool. You caught the counter edge but couldn't stop the plate from bouncing off and smashing on the hardwood floor.

That was all it took. The shattering of the dish and the red sauce seeping into the cracks buckled your knees. And you cried.

You couldn’t even stop a damned plate from breaking. How were you going to finish this project? How were you going to care for your dad? How were you going to—

“(Y/N)?”

You gasped, trying to stop the tears and rid yourself of any wetness as you whipped around.

There stood Morpheus, his eyes full of concern.

You bowed your head and wrapped your arms around yourself. Why did he have to see you like this?

Silently, he took you into his arms. His hands slid to your shoulders, bringing you as close to him as possible.

He didn’t speak for the longest time, only let you cry, let you rid yourself of the frustration and panic and worry. Your weight slowly sank into him as you wore yourself out.

When you were reduced to sniffling, he finally spoke.

“Do you want to tell me?”

You wanted to say no, to pretend everything was fine, and hold him. But it had felt like forever since you’d been with him, and you forgot just how powerful he was. Not because he was an Endless, but how he looked at you—like you were a crucial part of him. Like he needed to know everything about you. Like he loved you.

So, you told him. Everything you’ve dealt with these past few months and all your insecurities. You cried again, and he held you again. And all throughout, that look never changed. He never thought less of you.

“My heart,” he whispered once you’d finished. “You must take care of yourself.” His thumb brushed along your cheekbone. “Before taking care of others.”

“But I don’t—it doesn’t—”

“Let me help you.” His eyes were so soft, so gentle, so pleading.

You stared at him through tears. He had always been there for you. He was as solid and stable as a statue with the warmth of the sun. He wanted to take care of you and love you and he saw you. He saw you as no one else did.

You slowly nodded, letting out a choked sob as you threw your arms around his neck.

“I am here, my love,” he breathed into your temple. “I am here.”

Your cries quieted for the last time; his hand's rhythmic motion on your back made it easy. You didn’t want to pull away.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, eyes still closed and head in the crook of his shoulder.

“You need not apologize for anything. I should have been more aware.”

“You had a whole kingdom to worry about,” you said into his neck.

“You are my priority.” He pulled back to cup your cheeks, ensuring you couldn’t look away. “I will always choose you.”

Words couldn’t express what that meant—they couldn’t properly reciprocate. So, you did the one thing that could potentially match it.

You pulled him by his jacket into a searing kiss. You poured everything you were into it as his hands gripped your hips.

Yours slid into his hair, the silky strands tangling in your fingers. You couldn’t bring him close enough.

You had to separate, but he didn’t let you go far, making you pant into his mouth.

“Come,” he urged. “I have neglected you. I must remedy my mistake.”

His seriousness made you giggle, and a smile slipped onto his face.

“My favorite sound,” he said, grazing your bottom lip. Then, a glint ignited his eyes, and the corner of his lips lifted. “I intend to get my other favorite out of you.”

#the sandman #the sandman x reader #the sandman fanfic #the sandman fluff #morpheus fluff #morpheus x y/n #morpheus x you #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless #morpheus angst #the sandman angst #dream x reader #dream x you #morpheus comfort #the sandman comfort

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anaki-boo · 11 months

Text

“NOT SCARY AT ALL”

This stone bird appeared in the second half of winter. Even at Christmas she was not there, and in February she was already looking at Harry with her blind stone eyes. The bird was definitely conjured, because it was one with the tombstone, as if it was born from it. It was a raven with folded wings and a slightly open beak. As if he wanted to say something.

One could only guess who decided to decorate the grave of the professor, and why it was a raven. Not some bat, not a snake, finally. A raven. Perhaps it was the symbol of wisdom and death. Yes, Harry even read about it specifically in Agatha Daredevil's book "Symbolism in Magical Transformations".

"Raven," she wrote, "has long meant mind and has been associated with death. He embodies prophecy and insight. Crows in stories often act as psychopomps connecting the material world with the spirit world."

Don't ask why Harry needed to know about the raven. And even more so, don't ask why he visited the grave of his former professor so many times in a row. He didn't quite know the answer himself.

They say that criminals are drawn to the crime scene. But it was there—in the Screaming Hut, where he left him to die all alone, bleeding. But here… This grave was just a pit with a stone coffin in which Snape's remains were placed — evidence of Harry's crime. But he remembered the basics of first aid, he remembered, and then for some reason he thought that he was powerless before fate itself.

Harry still dreamed of Snape, paralyzed by Nagaina's poison, unconscious. His light warm breath, his eyes glazed with pain (but not from death). How long had he been lying there when they left before he died? A couple of minutes? An hour? Or maybe more?

Harry first visited his grave in June. He came alone and at dawn, sneaked in there like a thief. He was going to make some kind of speech, ask for forgiveness. But even though there was no one to eavesdrop on her, Harry couldn't get a word out of himself. Instead, for some reason, he burst into tears like a child. At the funeral — Lupin and Tonks, Freddy, baby Creevey, Snape himself — did not cry. But then... the speech was successful only in August.

Since then, Harry had been dropping in on the professor at least once a month, on one of the extra-curricular Saturdays. I told him about my life, shared all sorts of nonsense. He did not ask for forgiveness, as if he knew that the professor no longer holds a grudge. And as if he understands.

***

“Do you mind if I sort out your things?” Harry asked in May.

Only yesterday, the Hogwarts cemetery paid tribute to the memory of those who died in the battle. Today, the usual silence reigned here again.

“No one has touched them all this year. However, the elves have recently collected... how should I say... personal — clothes and all that. There are papers left in your office. No one knows who would need them, and I told McGonagall that I could take them. Not all of them, of course. But... something important. She said she would have given it to my mom if she were alive. But she's not alive, and you're out… So you don't mind, I think.”

The grave did not answer, nor did the raven. Their tacit permission was granted.

There was a warm spring calm. The sun was hot, the back and the back of my head were hot. It was like someone's tight embrace.

***

Surprisingly, there were few papers. So — study plans, several business and personal letters (Harry decided not to poke his nose into envelopes with the Malfoy coat of arms, but to forward them to Draco) and books, most of which were with a library seal, and over which Madame Pince then groaned.

"Professor Snape was constantly delaying the delivery of books! But about this one — he lied to my eyes in an impudent way, said that some scoundrels stole it and burned it!".

In the top drawer of the desk, under stacks of blank paper, Harry found an old, battered diary. The entries in it were completely irregular, sometimes Snape forgot about the diary for several months. There were potion recipes, whole phrases in runic notation, addresses (Harry assumed they were potion customers or ingredient suppliers), and drawings and squiggles that Harry remembered from the Potions textbook.

The guilt that seemed to have calmed down over the past year came flooding back to Harry. He randomly leafed through this old notebook and thought about how much he had personally deprived the magical world. If Harry had stayed, he would have helped Snape, if he had called for help, the professor could have been saved. And with him — his developments. Dozens of useful potions and spells. Cured diseases, solved problems and saved lives…

Harry shifted the notebook to his other hand and started leafing through from the end. On the last filled page, at the very bottom, a bird was drawn in ink. Smooth body, large open beak and folded wings. It was the same raven that appeared on Snape's tombstone in winter. Words written in the professor's familiar small handwriting seemed to fly out of the raven's mouth:

"Feed the bird."

In the lower right corner there was a postscript made in pencil:

"If you go to feed, take a broom."

Harry loved riddles, but he didn't like being overcome by excruciating excitement. Like, for example, this time.

***

Harry took with him a broom and treats for the raven. There was a piece of bread and a sausage wrapped in a paper bag in his pocket. In his mind, the raven would definitely have been treated to some of this.

It looked stupid. He was standing in the middle of the cemetery with a broom and trying to stuff his breakfast into the mouth of a stone statue. She refused to eat.

“Feed… Feed the bird. But how?!” he muttered, feeling himself getting angry.

Why did he even think that this was the same bird? What makes him think that the professor left him a hint? And what was he going to find anyway? A hiding place? A cache with something important? For example, by a will? Snape didn't care about earthly things, and he had nothing to bequeath, except for the old house, which, as McGonagall told him, he hated with all his heart.

Angrily, Harry threw the spoiled food on the ground and began sorting through everything he knew about crows in his head. As a child, these birds scared little Harry. Aunt Petunia knew about it and said: "Don't look at them, or they, bloodthirsty creatures, will peck out your green devilish eyes."

“Bloodthirsty… Bloodthirsty creatures," Harry whispered thoughtfully and bit his finger with his teeth.

The blood did not appear immediately, it had to be squeezed out of the wound. Harry put his hand to the bird's beak and smeared it with blood.

The stone moved. At first, the raven moved its head, then cawed soundlessly — just opened its beak several times. Then he spread his wings, stamped on the spot and fluttered up.

Then Harry understood why the broom was needed.

***

"Why the hell were you going through my papers? Arrogant, stupid, curious, shameless... why are you silent? Can you feel your hands? Do you feel it or not?!”

Snape was furious, his eyes were shooting lightning, but Harry was not afraid. To see him—pale and with bloodless lips—on the floor of a Screaming hut, to see him off on his last journey a few days later, to come to his grave for the first time — that was what was scary. But now I'm sitting in a chair, leaning closer to the fireplace, licking drops of firewhisky from my lips and watching the professor rub his stiff fingers… It wasn't scary at all.

Let his hands be completely frozen from the long flight, let them turn red. Let this village house be unfamiliar and creepy, and it looked like no one had lived here for a long time and only recently a person had settled here. Let Snape, aged and with a torn, scarred throat peeking out of the collar of his robe, shout at him (thank Merlin, his voice remained the same). Harry was happy. And he couldn't get a word out of himself.

“Do you feel it? Are you going to answer me?��

Harry nodded, somewhat drunkenly and sluggishly, and only then did Snape leave him alone.

He sat down at a table—a long one and probably intended for a large family that once lived here, and now almost completely covered with dried herbs- and began to unwrap one of these dried bouquets. His fingers nervously fingered the thin stems and selected suitable ones.

“I…” Harry finally managed to say, but then he trailed off.

Snape looked at him sternly, and there was a threat in that look.

“I was hoping it would be Minerva. Or, in extreme case, Miss Granger…

“Weasley”, Harry interrupted automatically. Hermione, who had been Ron's wife for three months now, was constantly correcting her acquaintances who called her by her maiden name. “She's Mrs. Weasley now”.

Snape snorted. As he was doing it before — ironically , disapproving and arrogantly.

“ I had a better opinion of her. Well… What the hell did you want in my desk? What were you looking for there? Memories? My diary, in which I confessed to crimes? They wanted to sell his Skitter, probably, and…

"I wasn't looking for anything," Harry interrupted him again. "McGonagall gave me permission to take your papers, that's all. The office had to be vacated for a new teacher. She allowed it… She allowed me to take what I think is necessary.

“Allowed you? And why on earth would that be?”

“I needed it.”

“Why did you need it? Couldn't leave me alone even after death?

“Couldn't," Harry muttered, reaching for a bottle of firewhisky. It was standing at his feet.

The esophagus burned with heat, it became difficult to breathe at first, and then immediately felt better. Even the excitement has subsided.

“Why would that be? Tormented by guilt?”

"No, no guilt," Harry lied. “ I just fell in love. You know, it happens like this… You know a person for many years, and then he dies, becomes less disgusting and malicious, and you even have a communication. So you can fall in love. Even... with such a… you.”

He took two more big gulps, and a very pleasant heat spread in his chest.

Snape was silent and stared at the herbs on the table. It seemed that now they would break out and a fire would start.

“And how did you...? The antidote? Or did someone help?”

"Someone helped," Snape echoed and, apparently deciding that Harry had had enough to drink, called for a bottle with non—verbal and non-verbal spell.

He waved his hand — and it jerked and flew to the table, hitting the bottom on the edge.

“Malfoy? I've seen his letters… You were friends, right? … Are friends, I mean”

"Can you take the stairs?" Won't you wring your neck? Or do you need to be levitated?

It took Harry a moment to realize what the professor meant.

“ Are you inviting me... to stay? After what I…”

“ You won't be able to fly back in this condition. I won't let you apparate drunk, and I don't have a sobering one. You will spend the night here, and in the morning I will erase your memory.”

“ What are you going to do to me that you will have to erase my memory?” Harry laughed.

“I don't like you, Potter...” Snape looked at him as if he suspected some kind of bad change in him or someone else's evil influence.

“Yes, to be honest, I don't like myself ... but you…” Harry paused, feeling like a drunken fool. “Don’t erase my memory. I'm coming back anyway. In a week or a month…”

“Yes, you are coming back. I have no doubt in your stickiness, Potter.”

A few things didn't happen next morning. Firstly, they did not quarrel, although they could have. Secondly, Harry did not apologize for what he said drunk in the living room yesterday. As if he felt it was wrong to apologize for telling Severus the truth. Thirdly, Snape never erased his memory.

And, to be honest, Harry didn't go anywhere. Neither in the morning, nor in the evening, nor the next day.

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sarahowritesostucky · 9 months

Text

📖"Body Heat" : a Snowpiercer-Marvel Mashup Story

Part 1 - "The Man"

Rated: Mature (non-explicit chapter, marked mature for dark themes)

Pairing: Curtis Everett x ofc

Tags: dystopia, food insecurity, post apocalypse, age difference (18/34), dark!fic, implied/referenced suicide, background character death (offscreen), poverty, arranged marriage, implied/referenced past cannibalism, hurt/comfort

Summary: She’s too young for him to be eyeing her up the way he has been, but this is the Tail section, and Curtis has caught other men looking more than once. Everything is a commodity in the Tail. Everything. It won't be too long before he has to step in and claim her.

Author's Note:

On Tumblr, forbidden ToS content categories are: "terrorism, hate speech, harm to minors, self harm, sexually explicit material, violence, threats, gore, and mutilation."

And while you ARE apparently allowed to write a fictional story about incestual, torturing, anorexic racists who rape, murder, kidnap, hate, cannibalize, terrorize, and self-injure in the plotline of said story,

you ARE NOT allowed to write an underage character who engages is any sort of sexualized conduct in a story.

For this one category and this one category alone, Tumblr staff (or at least one particular individual 😏on staff) makes no distinction between fictional stories and C.S.A.M. They can and will delete your blog without any notice.

So, in the face of this VERY SPECIFIC criteria for Tumblr's censorship choices, I have changed the age of a character in this story to 18. That's not how the story was originally written, and the story can still be read on Ao3, which does not arbitrarily censor their content. But my m/f stories seem to be most popular on Tumblr, so I wanted to include the altered version in my library here.

(To be spiteful, however, I have changed the ofc from 16 to 18 and Curtis from 28 to 34, thus WIDENING the original age gap from 12 yrs to 16 yrs😆)

🖤With that said, this is a dark story regardless, so if you're looking for fluff, I suggest you look elsewhere.🖤

Part 1 - "The Man"

The Man’s been dead for almost a day, the body already stiffened in rigor mortis and then relaxed again by the time anyone comes to take it.

They’d found him in his bunk just after breakfast yesterday, which means they’ve been keeping his wake for nearly twenty-four hours now, up at the front of the lead assembly car; his daughter and a few others who were closest to him sitting vigil with the body until the time comes. Mourning while they still can.

Jackboots visit the tail section only once per day—in the morning, with the food. That’s how Tailies tell time. So when one of their own dies, the funeral and the family’s goodbyes last only as long as the next arrival of the next pushcart with the next batch of gelatinous bars.

Bringing in food and taking out bodies—a callous reminder to Snowpiercer’s lowest inhabitants that their deaths are little different from their lives: cold, unadorned, hopeless.

Curtis keeps his distance once he’s paid his respects, and it’s quiet now as they all wait. A few people had given some nice speeches earlier, a decent eulogy capped off by the beautiful singing voice of the daughter that The Man has left behind: Rose.

Curtis watches her adjust the sheet over The Man’s body. He’s already been washed and stripped in preparation, wrapped in the old grey sheet that will be returned to them within a matter of hours. Nothing is wasted on Snowpiercer. The few pieces of clothing that The Man had owned now sit folded on the floor, ready to be given to their next occupants. The sight of his trademark checked shirt, unworn and available, is a point of mourning all in itself, Curtis finds.

New clothing always means death.

The Man had been a good person, a leader in his own right. Back when they’d first boarded, he’d been one of the first to volunteer his own flesh—though only once his wife had been killed and the mob was coming for his young daughter, too.

Curtis looks back up towards the front of the car when the heavy groans of unlatching metal come from the next section up. Rose’s face, covered in tears, also shoots up at the sound. Her eyes widen and her lip begins to quiver again. Her fingerless-gloved hand reaches for the body, clutching The Man’s shoulder one last time as the door slides open.

The jackboots bark for everyone to move back, since the funeral group isn’t sitting behind the usual yellow line of demarcation that’s taped to the floor, but then they look down and see the body. The lead guard sighs. “Oh, great,” he mutters. “Just what I wanted to do today.”

Curtis’ eyes narrow and his muscles tense, anticipating disrespect to the body—that he can handle, is used to, but if they lay a hand on her as the scene plays out, he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to restrain himself. Rose is a sweet girl despite her circumstances, with an innocence and a naivety that usually only the train babies have, and Curtis has always done what he can to look out for her.

“Right,” the one guard says to the other. “Okay. Protein blocks first, then you can load ‘im on the cart.”

Rose stays sitting by the body as everyone lines up to receive their daily portions. Curtis makes eye contact as he steps up to the lead guard and takes his portion. “Be nice,” he says. “It’s her dad.”

Luckily, the jackboots don’t seem to be in any kind of foul mood today. They let Rose sniffle over the body for a few extra seconds before hefting the corpse onto the empty protein block cart. And then they’re gone. No muss, no fuss, no fanfare. Just like it always happens when a Tailie dies.

“What do you think they do with them?” Curtis overhears Ned and Peter saying, talking with each other as they nibble off their protein blocks not too far from Rose. “Throw ‘em out?”

“How?” Peter says doubtfully. “S’not exactly an escape hatch in this thing.”

“Course there is,” Ned argues. “Where d’you think your shit goes when you flush the—”

“Hey,” Curtis hisses, glaring at them and tipping his head discreetly in Rose’s direction. “Show a little respect.”

Ned and Peter mumble an apology and move off, and when Curtis looks back to Rose, she’s blinking up at him with red rimmed eyes. “You didn’t have to do that,” she says, her voice deeper than usual as it emanates from a throat scraped raw by grief.

“I did.” Curtis walks over and slides down the wall to sit next to her. “He was a good man, your dad.”

“Thanks,” she says quietly.

Her nose sounds all stuffed up, so Curtis fishes in his pocket for his handkerchief. “Haven’t spoken to you in a hot minute,” he says, handing it over for her to blow her nose.

“Yeah well I hear you’re always planning the next revolution, so …”

Curtis scoffs. “Yeah, maybe.” He looks her over, taking in the worn knit of her sweater, the colorless felt of her coat that’d once been blue and belonged to her mother. So many of the Tailies are worn down to nothing but dull, grey husks now, just like the clothes they’ve recycled for over a decade. But Rose is different.

For whatever reason, her skin is still clear, her hair still thick. The malnutrition hasn’t affected her the way it has most others. Her soul still comes through her eyes. That inner luminance makes her pretty, maybe even the prettiest girl in the tail section. Even though she’s still very young. Probably too young for Curtis to be eyeing her up the way he has been, these past few months.

But she’s about that age now, even though it feels like only yesterday he was scrounging up materials to make her a little doll she could play with. People grow up fast in the tail whether they want to or not, and Curtis has been on high alert for a while now because he’s caught other men looking more than once. He’s even heard some bits of hushed conversation, whispered from nearby bunks where the occupants didn’t realize he was there to listen. Everything is a commodity in the tail. Everything. And there’s no one else who looks like Rose. She’s only made it this far because of her father.

And now her father’s dead.

Curtis realizes he’s been staring a little too long when Rose’s eyes slide over to him in curiosity. He coughs and looks away, shaking his head when she tries to hand him back the handkerchief. “Naw. You hold onto it for me, Hon.” She tucks it shyly away in her coat, and Curtis is pleased. “So …” he hedges, not knowing what to say to her. There’s nothing he can say. All they have in the tail is each other, their people, and she’s just lost hers. “So … you still going by ‘Rosebud’?”

That gets a tiny smile from her, which warms Curtis’ chest in the same way that he can remember whiskey doing, a lifetime ago. “Nobody calls me that anymore,” she says. “Nobody but him. And you.”

“Yeah?” Curtis thinks on it some. “Well maybe you should retire it. It’s a girl’s name anyway.”

“Aren’t I a girl?”

He raises an eyebrow without looking at her. “You still have that doll I made for you?” He hears her scoff and knows the answer. Rosie helps look after the young children in the tail. Curtis has seen that shabby little doll floating around in various tiny hands for years now. “You’re a good person,” he says quietly. “Like your dad. He was good. I’ll miss him." He’s looking straight ahead across the assembly car when he says it, but he still catches her slight movement out of the corner of his eye.

“He didn’t act any different,” she says, voice tiny. “I didn’t know. He didn’t say anything, didn’t do anything that made it seem like he was going to …” She cuts herself off, swallows thickly and shakes her head. “I just didn’t know.”

Curtis holds out his hand in offer for her to hold, and she takes it. Even with the fingerless glove on, her hand still feels tiny in his. “How about Petal?” he suggests.

“Petal?”

“Yeah,” he decides. “Yeah that’s what I’ll call you. Petal. My rose petal.”

“Oh, god.” She groans. “No. Curtis.”

“No?” He turns his head to look at her, and this time he waits until she looks at him too. Her expression sobers as their eyes meet. Curtis reaches to gently tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s a beautiful word,” he murmurs. “Couldn’t I call you that?” His eyes skip over her face, soaking up the way her breath stutters, how a slow blush starts to fill the apples of her cheeks. “I promise I won’t tell anybody else,” he whispers.

She ducks her chin with a bashful smile. “Well, I guess so.”

In her lap, her other arm curls protectively around the small pile of belongings she’s been holding onto, drawing Curtis’ attention. Her father had been a large man, imposing, and yet the pile is so tiny. A whole entire life, compressed into less than one square foot in the end.

(Curtis does wonder, sometimes, what they do with the bodies.)

“He was one of our best,” he tells her. “Even in the Desperation. I remember how he was, how he volunteered. He was a leader. Brave.” His eyes slide over to the excuse for an artificial limb that's been cobbled together from an umbrella and a few old wire coat hangers, of all things. Now it sits, sad and unused, on the floor next to Rose’s leg. “You know who you’re gonna give it to?”

“What?”

He nods at the limb. “His arm. It’s the best one in the tail.”

“Oh.” She glances away from it, looking pained. “No,” she says. “I figured I’d just give it to you.”

“Me?” Curtis isn’t one of the few who’d volunteered in the Desperation—obviously, as he’s still got all four limbs intact. He wasn’t the same person back then that he is now. Back then he’d been a taker, not a giver. He looks away with a frown. “Give it to Phil,” he suggests. “He needs one, since his broke.”

Rose agrees that the arm should go to Coulson. She carefully sets the pile of clothing aside on the floor and returns to place her hand back in Curtis’ waiting one, this time pulling their joined hands into her lap. They sit there together like that for a long while, not speaking, just existing side by side. Some things have so much more value now than they did Before, including silent company and a comforting hand.

“Do you remember it much?” Curtis eventually says.

“Before?”

“No.” He never talks about Before, since it only breeds despair. “Boarding,” he says. “Do you remember?”

“Of course.”

He winces. “Oh. I didn’t know if you did. You were so young. I thought maybe … maybe you’d forgotten. A lot of the kids did, even some of the older ones.”

“Yeah. MJ was eight and she says she can’t remember at all.”

Curtis nods. “Sometimes it feels like a dream even to me, it was so long ago.” He’d been twenty-two when the world froze and people were reduced to animals all around him. Twelve years couldn’t erase that pain, but it could muddle it a lot. “I’m sorry you didn’t. Block it out.”

“I remember ... shouting,” Rose says, her voice teasing the memory out. “It was dark. And I remember getting shoved around, hiding against my mom's legs, being hungry ... how cold it was.” It’s been cold ever since, but never as cold as that night—the last night before the wind and snow and ice got shut out forever. She heaves a sigh. “It’s all a jumble in my mind, anyway. I couldn’t see past anyone’s coat.”

“You were little,” Curtis mumbles. “Short.”

“Well I was six."

He smirks and bumps her shoulder with his. “You’re still short,” he teases, while privately he thinks that it’s better that she was so young when it happened. It means her earliest memories are of cold and chaos, and that’s better than the alternative of having had more time in the World. It means less things to mourn. “What are you going to do now?” he asks, shaking his head like he can knock the past out of it. "Plans for today?"

Rose shrugs. “Same old, same old. Kids, stories. It’s my night to shower.”

Curtis turns his head towards her, brow furrowed. “You … but you’re not going back to you guys' spot, right?”

"'Course. Where else would I go?"

He doesn’t know what he was expecting, what he thought the alternative was supposed to be. Every square centimeter of the tail section is already portioned and claimed. New space doesn’t just appear. Nothing new ever appears, except babies, bodies, and the rats that Wanda breeds to supplement their diet.

“Rosie,” Curtis scolds. “No. You can’t go back there. Not where he—”

“It’s not a big deal,” she says stubbornly, pretending it doesn’t bother her. But she’s a horrible liar and that’s just another thing that's always made her so endearing ... and so vulnerable.

“Hon,” Curtis mourns,

“It’s just a bunk," she insists. "He slept there, he died there. I’ll probably die there too, one day.”

Curtis growls unhappily. “Don’t say that. Don’t you ever say that. Hey, things won’t always be like this.” He catches her throwing him side eye and he glares at her. “They won’t.”

“Right,” she says, mouth quirking sadly at one corner before her gloved hand gives his a final squeeze and then lets him go. “Well. Not everybody has the big plans that you do, Curtis. Sometimes it's better to know what the future holds, even if it's this.”

“Don’t lose hope, Petal,” he pleads, but he can see that she’s dismissive of it. People lose hope all the time in the Tail. That’s what’d killed her father.

He sighs and looks back to the opposite side of the car. Now that the jackboots are gone it’s thinned out some, with some people gone back to their bunks and others remaining behind to munch on their protein blocks in the fresher air of the assembly car. Curtis spots a man several yards away who’s been openly staring at Rose. When the man sees Curtis looking, however, he hurriedly turns away.

Curtis scowls. “Hey,” he says, intending to take Rose's hand again and offer to have her spend the night with him. But her hand isn't there when he reaches over. She’s getting up, gathering her dead father’s pile of folded clothing items in her arms. Curtis frowns and gets up with her. He hurries to pick up the artificial limb. “Wait. Where’re you going?”

“Gonna give these to Gilliam,” she says, already on the move. “I want him to have first dibs." As if her father’s clothing would even come close to fitting Gilliam's shrunken and weathered old frame.

But Curtis gets up anyway and follows after her, not wanting to let her go just yet. He hurries along as she walks surprisingly fast for having such short legs. “Hey,” he says, talking to her back as they navigate through the communal living cars and the showers, and then into the cramped passageways of the market. “Hey, you know … you could come over tonight, if you wanted. My spot’s a pretty good size.”

“So is ours—” she says, faltering when she realizes her mistake. “I mean, so is mine.”

Curtis sighs and grabs her shoulder, pulling her to a stop. “Don’t go back there,” he pleads, cornering her into a cramped spot to face him. “Hey. I mean it, Hon. Don’t. You shouldn’t go back there tonight. Not alone, not where he …” She squares her jaw and looks up at him, expression stubborn as ever, and Curtis is struck by the sudden, overwhelming urge to kiss her. “It’s too soon,” he insists, because she’d been the one to find The Man sitting up in the bed: straight backed and purple faced and all out of hope, a cord wrapped thrice around his neck. “Too soon,” Curtis repeats sadly.

“I’ll be okay,” she insists, nodding when he makes a face to show how much he doesn’t agree with that. “It’s fine, Curtis. Really. I appreciate the offer. And I get it, I do. But that's our spot, ya know? I’ve lived there for twelve years, and I—” her eyes cut away, glossy with the threat of fresh tears. She swallows thickly and won’t look at him again. “I’m not ready to leave it,” she whispers. “I’d rather stay where it still smells like him.”

Curtis isn’t sure what love feels like, but he thinks maybe it’s partly made up of the horrible feeling he gets in his guts when he sees Rose in pain like this. “... Okay,” he says quietly, taking a small step back so that she can continue on down the passage. The tail is made up of twenty cars, and they’re only several down from the forwardmost car at this point. “Gilliam’s probably at the back,” he tells her. He can see that she wants to be alone in her grief, though he hates the idea of letting her go. “Hey,” he says softly, cupping her face. “I’m right here if you need me, Hon. You know that, right?”

She smiles and nods with watery eyes, worsening the tug in Curtis’ guts. He thinks seriously about leaning in and kissing her, but winds up holding himself back like he’s done so many times already. Instead he just strokes his thumb over her cheek, finger ruddy against the clear skin of her face. “Okay,” he says again. He gently places the artificial limb on top of the stack of clothing she holds, then takes another step back. “I’ll see you at dinner?” he asks, not bothering to hide the hope in his voice. He wants to see her again, as much as possible. The more he can keep her in his sights, the better.

“Yeah,” she agrees, leaning up to plant a quick peck to his cheek. “Thanks, Curtis. For looking out for me. He'd feel better, knowing that."

He watches her go with a sense of trepidation, uttering a quiet, "Not doin' it for him," once she’s halfway down the car.

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