#anyway we went to sleep (yes i went to sleep in my own dream. don’t ask me how this works) and i dreamed of this entity that was the

[fingertipsmp3]

Had another sleep paralysis incident last night

[once-upon-an-imagine]

Jaded - Charlie Weasley

A/N: so, I know that the last thing I should be doing right now is start another series… and yet… here we are xD also, I’m sorry, I know She Is Love won, but I think we have established by now that my mind kind of does whatever it wants and I have no control whatsoever xD it’s all chaos here… anyways, I hope you like it :) 

Request -  Anonymous asked: Hello, I hope you’re doing okay my lovely. I was wondering if you could possibly wite maybe a enemies/rivals to lovers with Charlie Weasley and the reader? (Lots of sarcastic banta back and forth maybe they both work on the dragon reserve and are entrusted with transporting a very dangerous dragon to a new reserve, but something happens on the journey and just them to are trapped (either with the dragon or not) and then an argument that leads to some form of confession? This is so long I’m so bloody sorry, and I hope your writers block subsides [full request here]

Warnings: Charlie’s a bit of an asshole [but not really] for now, I think that’s it but please let me know if I’m missing something, also reader is from the Nott family

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter :) gif isn’t mine :D     

Your name: submit What is this?

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Jaded

Hey…j-j-jaded… you got your mama’s style, But you’re yesterday’s child to me. So jaded, you think that’s where it’s at, But is that where it’s supposed to be?You’re gettin’ it all over me… X-rated

Charlie fucking Weasley.

That stupid name had haunted you for more than ten years now. There were very few people you hated in your life but his name was definitely on that list.

After enduring seven years of him at Hogwarts, you thought you’d finally be free when he was being drafted to play Quidditch professionally and you would move to Romania to fulfill your dreams of studying dragons. But no, for some stupid twist of fate, he decided not to become a Quidditch player and all of the sudden there was another opening at the exact Romanian Dragon Sanctuary that you had applied to so, again, here he was. And it seemed that no matter what you did, you were never able to escape Charlie fucking—

“WEASLEY!” you yelled when you finally spotted him, not far from your hut.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite princess” you heard his voice as you approached him. “How can I help you, love?” he asked, brushing his hair away from his face, showing off his stupid tattoos on his stupid strong arms.

“I have asked you many times, to stop calling me that!” you glared at him. “I need to speak with you” you said, before you went back into your hut and he only raised his eyebrow before following you.

“Is this how you treat your guests, love?” he said, walking in and leaning on your desk as he started going through your stuff.

“I didn’t invite you” you smirked.

“You just did” he glared a little at you.

“Don’t be confused, Weasley, this is strictly business” you glared at him.

“Of course it is” he chuckled. “Are you working on the Sleeping Draught for the dragons? Weren’t we supposed to work on this together?”

“Yes, that is correct, Weasley. Excuse me for not wanting to wait 45 minutes to see you flirting with the group of girls casually visiting the reserve today” you told him.

“Oh, so you did notice that” he smiled. “Sorry, love, you must remember how it is” he said, brushing a hand through his curls and flashing his smile at you as you rolled your eyes. “I mean, I had a complete section cheering for me back at school” he shrugged.

“Oh, yes. How could I forget?” you asked, sarcastically.

“You don’t have to be so mean about it” he pouted. “Why are you making so much of it?” he asked, grabbing one of the phials.

“Why did I just find out that you are coming with me to Hogwarts, Weasley?”

“I asked first, Nott” he smirked, winking at you.

“Could you please not mess up my things?” you said glaring at him, knowing he did it just to anger you. “I am making more because we are bringing four dragons, not three” you explained.

“What? That doesn’t make sense, why? Isn’t it just three champions?”

“Well, obviously something happened, and now there’s four” you explained. “Now tell me why Steven just informed me that you are coming. Evan was supposed to bring them with me” you insisted.

“Tah-dah!” he smiled. “Surprise, darling! Looks like something came up and you got an upgrade so I’m coming with you instead” he smiled.

“Feels like a downgrade” you muttered.

“Hey!” he said, placing his hand on his chest and looking at you pretending to be hurt. “How can you say that? This is going to be so much fun. You, me, back at Hogwarts, like the good old days” he smiled flirtily at you. “Remember?”

“I’m not sure what days you’re remembering, Weasley” you said pushing him away. “But good is not what I would use to describe them” you told him.

“Of course not” he rolled his eyes, grabbing another bottle on your desk and throwing it in the air before grabbing it again.

“Give me that!” you said, grabbing it from him.

“Okay, so, since we’re getting four-” he said, as he grabbed one of your notepads.

“Stop saying we. You’re not coming with me” you glared at him.

“Oh, I beg to differ, love, see here?” he said, pointing at the paper you had earlier. “That’s my name, right next to yours” he smiled. “It’s official” he added. “So, let’s see what you’re bringing” he said, looking through your notes. “Chinese Fireball, Swedish Short-Snout, Common Welsh Green” he muttered. “Oh, I know, we should take the Hungarian Horntail we got last week” he smiled.

“What? Absolutely not!”

“Why not? That would be perfect” he said, grabbing a quill and adding it to the list.

“Weasley, that is one of the most dangerous dragon breeds and you want to take her to a school full of young students, do you have any idea how irresponsible that is?”

“Relax, it’s for the first task, I doubt it’ll be anything dangerous. Plus that’s why we’re going.

“No! We should take an Antipodean Opaleye” you said, trying to grab the notepad from him but he placed it out of your reach.

“Oh, come on, love. Live a little, I would have killed to see a Hungarian Horntail at that age” he smirked. “Nothing bad is gonna happen. We won’t let it” he insisted.

“You haven’t even spent time with her, Weasley, I have. I am telling you this isn’t a good idea!”

“What isn’t a good idea?” you both stopped when your boss, Steven stepped inside your hut.

“Well, we were just talking about how the fourth dragon should be the Hungarian Horntail” Charlie quickly said. “It was actually (Y/N)’s idea” he smiled.

“No, it wasn’t! I was saying that we should take the Antipodean Opaleye!”

“Come on, love, we are already taking a Common Welsh Green, we should bring something more exciting” Charlie insisted as he passed the notepad to Steven.

“I just don’t think that this-”

“I’m with Weasley” Steven said, before you could even finish. Of course, he was. Not because Steven was a jerk. He was actually a good boss. But this was the story of your life. Charlie would get away with anything he wanted. “I think the Hungarian Horntail would be an interesting choice. Plus, you’re going and if anyone can handle her, it’s you, (Y/N)” he smiled. “I’ll go make the arrangements while you finish the potion” he said, leaving your hut before you could argue.

“See? Lovely idea” Charlie smirked.

“Why did you do that? I’m telling you is not a good idea to bring her. She’s still settling in the idea of being around people-”

“You worry to much, love” he said, grabbing your phial and throwing it in the air again, but this time, he accidentally dropped it. “Uh-oh” he said, before smiling innocently at you as you took a deep breath. “That wasn’t… part of the Sleeping Draught potion, was it?”

“You mean the potion we’re giving to the, now four, dragons we have to transport that you were supposed to be helping me with 45 minutes ago?” you asked, upset.

“Uh-”

“Yes, Weasley, that was part of the potion” you told him.

*-*Flashback*-*

“Well, look who finally decided to show up” you said, annoyed, as Charlie entered the class and ran over to your desk. You couldn’t believe you were stuck with him as your Potions partner for the entire year.

“Sorry, princess. Practice ran late” he smiled, sitting next to you.

“Don’t call me princess. And I don’t understand how being in the Quidditch team gives you immunity so you can show up whenever you want to and work on half a potion” you said, as you added the next ingredient.

“Come on, love. Don’t hate on the team” he said smirking at you. “Everyone loves the team!”

“Oh, yeah, I have such a deep admiration for guys who fly around in sticks with other guys” you said with a sly smirk.

“I know you’re joking, but when you use that sexy voice, you know it turns me on a little” he mocked you.

“Ugh, I can’t stand you!”

“Then sit down” he smirked. 

“Shut up! And help me with this thing, or I’m taking your name off the Potion” you said, as he saw the potion you were making on your book.

“Ugh, give it, you’re doing it wrong!”

“Excuse me? I have brewed the Volubilis Potion many times before, Weasley. And I am already halfway through, without your help. I am not doing it wrong!” you snapped frustrated.

“Yes, you are!” Charlie said grabbing the jar of Syrup of Hellebore from your hand but you didn’t let it go.

“No! Give it!” you said pulling it towards you.

“Ugh! You stuck-up, know-it-all drag!”

“Take that back you pompous Quidditch nut!” you argued, neither of you noticing Professor Snape coming towards your table.

“Mr. Weasley, Miss Nott-”

“Give it, Nott!”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“Fine!”

Charlie hadn’t been prepared for you to let it go and he ended up dropping the whole thing on the cauldron making it explode all over Professor Snape’s face. When you heard the small explosion, the entire class went dead silent and the two of you slowly turned to see your teacher’s face covered in soot.

“You two. Detention. Tonight. My office” Professor Snape said; as you both resisted with everything you had to not laugh at the change of his voice. “50 points off Gryffindor and 30 off Slytherin” he said before walking to his desk again.

“That’s not fair!” Charlie argued.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you sneaking in in the middle of my class, Mr. Weasley” he added.

“Ugh! Thanks a lot” Charlie snapped at you.

“Me? You’re blaming me? You’re the one who dropped it!”

“Only because you wouldn’t let it go!”

“Enough!” you heard Professor Snape from the front of the class. “Both of you out of my classroom!” he said standing up.

“But I wasn’t-”

“NOW!”

“See what you did?” Charlie said once you were outside.

“Me? I had never been kicked out of a class or had detention for that matter! This is all your fault!”

“No, it’s not! You were making it wrong!” he insisted.

“UGH! Just because you’re the Captain of your bloody team, you think you’re the boss of everything! And everyone!” you snapped frustrated.

“It’s not my fault you can’t stand to be wrong!”

“You are so… so-”

“Charming?” he said smirking and raising his eyebrow at you.

“Vexing!” you snapped, as you walked down the hall but he followed you.

“Really? Well, you’re no ray of sunshine either!” he glared at you. “‘Oh, look at me, I’m (Y/N) Nott. I’m a patronizing know-it-all princess who thinks is better than anybody else!’” he said mocking your voice.

“Ugh! I don’t talk like that! You’re infuriating!”

“You know what? I hope you fail all your NEWT’s!”

“Yeah? I hope you go bald!”

“I hope you end up an old spinster!”

“I hope they cancel Quidditch!”

“Take that back!” Charlie snapped.

“Make me!” you said smirking at him.

“You know what? I hope that once we graduate here, I won’t ever have to see your conceded face again!” he said, before turning around and leaving for the Gryffindor tower.

“My thoughts exactly, Weasley” you muttered to yourself before walking to the Library.

*-*End of Flashback*-*

“We can fix it, love. Don’t worry” he said, cleaning up the mess. “See? Just like old times” he smiled. “This is gonna be fun, princess!”

“Don’t call me that” you glared at him, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, trying to contain yourself. 

Yes, you had one very big problem. His name is Charlie fucking Weasley. And you have no fucking idea how you’re supposed to survive the next few weeks with him. 

To Be Continued

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

A/N: so… part 2?

[idkiwasntsupposedtobebackhere]

my unpopular gilmore girls opinions (like actually):

-i don’t mind lane’s husband zach. like i think he was kind of a moron but he stepped up to the plate and was consistantly there for lane. why do people want lane to pine for dave 10 years later like he was her one and only soulmate instead of a really cool guy who was a really cool guy bc he wasn’t on the show long enough to get a villain arc. i think the problem with lane’s storyline is that she didn’t get to go out on an adventure, not that she settled down with zach instead of dave. i would have been pissed if she got pregnant and stayed in SH for life even if it was with dave.

-i don’t think everything that went wrong with luke and jess was jess’ fault and that he only had himself to blame for getting kicked out. like luke taking jess in no questions asked was a really great gesture but he didn’t know what he was doing from that point on. him doing a nice thing doesn’t mean he’s somehow abow getting slightly critisised for handling a lot of things wrong. like i do think a 17-18 yo is entitled to a place to stay without conditions and despite screwing things up and luke needed to either fully be that person or not at all

-i often hear ”rory said no to logan’s proposal just to be his mistress later, she should have just said yes”, which… no, it’s ok to want something at 32 that you didn’t want at 22 (disclaimer: it’s not ok to sleep with someone else’s fiancee). i even hear a lot of people say rory should have said yes to logan even without bringing up AYITL and i really don’t understand why this is the general opinion. and i’m not saying this because i’m team jess over logan, i wouldn’t have wanted jess and rory to get married at 22 either. we’ve known since season 1 that rory has dreams and plans to travel and when logan proposed and they presented it as kind of a 50/50 thing i was baffled because ofc it’s a no. also if someone tells you ”either we get married or we break up”, always break up!!!

-luke and lorelai… are not compat- i mean initially they were cute, but just on a fundamental level- i mean… ok actually i’m not brave enough to go there, maybe in the next post. all i’m saying is that i rooted for them as much as the next guy and that they probably wouldn’t have been truly content if they never gave a relationship a go and they’d probably always be jealous of the other’s romantic relationships a little bit BUT that they’re too different (both personality wise and in handling stuff in general) to actually create a life together. they work in the diner setting but seeing each other 24/7 and agreeing on day to day decisions? idk. oops, looks like i went there anyways. also i’m not saying i don’t like them together, in fact they’re together in every single gilmore girls universe i have in my head but yk

-jess wasn’t the best boyfriend but a lot of their issues was rory subconsciously comparing what jess did with what dean would have done and their relationship was never going to work with such a fresh breakup hanging over them like that. the issue of jess not calling rory and making a plan and rory being mad that she had to sit around and wait for him to do it for example is not jess being malicious, it’s just them genuinely having different expectations and ideas of what a relationship is which could have been solved with a) some communication and b) dean and lorelai not breathing down their necks and preying on their downfall

-i think lorelai could stand to butt out of rory’s life and be a bit nicer to her step-nephew but i’m always gonna back her when it comes to her parents. i have no patience for the ”richard and emily weren’t that bad”-crowd. i’m tired of hearing ”lorelai is pissed because she gets thousands of dollars in exchange for a free meal, is she stoopid?” when it’s so much deeper than that. her sacrificing her own boundries for the sake of rory’s education is actually quite admirable (would emily swallow her pride and values and do something like that?). bc now i actually love emily as a character and enjoy her more than the gilmore girls sometimes. and as an audience we can obviously see that she cares about lorelai. but it’s emily’s responsibility to actually make lorelai feel that. because even tho emily thinks she did what was best for lorelai, it clearly did not make lorelai feel loved, because it was all according to what emily herself wanted.

-i don’t think this is that unpopular but i’ve heard many different takes on this. if lorelai wanted to be overdramatic about rory fracturing her wrist that is within her right, her kid was in the hospital after all and that is scary. however, where she was absolutely just objectively in the wrong is where she went ballistic at luke who’s supposed to be her best friend when he got the tiniest bit concerned over his nephew’s whereabouts after he had also been in that car accident. her screaming at him that he had more of an obligation to herself and her kid than the kid he’s literally in responsible for? this is just one of those situations where i feel like she wasn’t being an adult. it would have been understandable for like lane to barge into luke’s and yell jess’ name and scream that he should never have been allowed in this town but lorelai is 33.

part 2 soon?

[sunnycanvas]

Hello^^ I have been following your blog for a while and like that you want to explore different concepts with Baldwin IV👑🩵

If you don’t mind, would you like to write either a short drabble or Hcs of Baldwin comforting his wife after a really difficult birth? Like, it all turned out okay, the wife is alive, albeit very exhausted, the Baby came out to be strong and healthy, etc. but it was a very risky and long labor, and the physicians weren’t sure if she and the child were going to make it yk? After all, giving birth was highly risky back then, with a much higher mortality rate.

Anyway, I hope you are having a great day and keep up the good work🥳🌈✨

Yelp! It went longer that I expected. Hopefully it lives upto mark. Thank you for your support and happy reading

It felt so peaceful. So dark. I was exhausted and felt solace in darkness. However in my deep slumber I heard a sound of weeping. Someone calling my name. Begging me to come back. "Your grace the queen is fine but really exhausted" "Please let her sleep" "She needs rest to regain strength" . I think I heard some shouts and I don't remember much after that except the fact that I tried opening my eyes but I felt so tired. When I was finally able to open my eyes. I felt my mouth open and chest sweaty huffing desperate to get fresh air. "When did this happen" I thought. It almost felt like a dream .My head was spinning. My throat felt dry. I tried moving a bit when I could feel sticky wet substance below my waist I tried moving my legs again but realised that I was too exhausted to do so . "What's happening" I thought again worried.

"My wife is finally awake, quickly get some water"

My husband took the glass of water from widwife. Baldwin IV made me sit upright as he quickly fed me water. Baldwin IV didn't realise in state of panic how fast he was being in feeding me water. I started coughing as result

"Easy love". He gently rubbed my back as he handed back glass of water to midwife. My husband started kissing me all over my face and then hugged me tightly.

"Darling, you made it" "I am really happy" "When I saw you laying down like that l" "I was so scared, I thought I will never see you again" I could feel my shoulder getting wet from his tears as Baldwin IV kissed my hair while speaking to me. I remembered that when I was going through difficult labour. Although the baby came out alive and strong they weren't sure I would make it. After hearing this I lost consciousness

Remembering about the baby I asked where is the baby right now. Baldwin IV replied that our child was fine and is currently with the midwife who was taking care of baby

"Moment I heard one of the midwife saying that perhaps you might not survive I grew anxious and prayed to God on my knees for some miracle"

I got really scared remembering the pain I had to bear while screaming in agony. I got really nervous realising how close I was knocking at death's door. My husband the king, Baldwin IV was able to comprehend my emotional state. Without hesitation he took off his white cloak and covered me in it. He hugged me again and started drawing circles on arm while singing a lullaby. It worked and I felt myself getting calmer. "My love I am here" "I'll be there to protect you, even if it's my own battle". Hearing this I immediately voiced my thoughts "It had been a tough experience" ."We will have more children I swear it, it would be better for everyone"

"Was that the reason why you decided to have a baby"

"......."

Baldwin IV understood the meaning behind my silence. Baldwin IV sat on the bed and said "Yes, it's true that I always wanted to have a family of my own but long before I accepted my fate as leper and decided to live my life in chasity" "I am willing to go back to same life" "I thank God every day that you came in my life perhaps God gave you difficult labour because I was being greedy"

"No, love". "The kingdom needs a heir" "And I will give birth to as many children as possible" Baldwin IV understood the pressure I felt as queen replied "I know my (Y/N)" "And if you feel you don't want to go through it again" "I would have no problem with that, I will happily except our child as first and last". Baldwin IV called one of his ministers and said "Tell the council that I will be taking rest, Raymond of Tripoli could rule in my place for the time being". I was about to protest but Baldwin IV put a finger against my lips shushing me. "You were left alone during your labour, but I won't be leaving you alone after I almost lost you" "Come now love, let's sleep together" "After that we will be taking a bath together and enjoy all the activities you prefer" "You need rest" "I will ensure you won't be going out of my sight for the time being". Baldwin IV got next to me and pulled me closer. "I can't sleep" I complained

"In that case I shall tell you stories of brave knights and kings". I smiled remembering Baldwin IV loved history and foundly I watched him and he excitedly recalled the history stories he learned.

[thearcanecat]

do you happen to have any fic recs that you're comfortable sharing?

Yes! I went a little wild on this one. It’s long. These are all Hatchetfield, because that’s what I've been reading. 

Holloweane (95% of what I read is Holloweane so have a whole section about it)

The whole Heya, Darling series by warriorblood1: These are some of the first Holloduke/Holloweane fics ever written and they’re really good. They played a large part in getting me into this ship. 

Pretending by memoriesaremine: They are both self sacrificing idiots who don’t understand how much the other one loves them. 

50 First Dates (Give or Take) by coldairballoons: Duke keeps forgetting but they keep getting together. 

Who Are You, Miss Holliday by Maybelifeistooshort: This person Duke’s just met seems to know everything about him. 

Miss Holloway Was No Stranger to Loss, But Duke Was Full of surprises by Maybelifeistooshort: Duke’s a little magic too. 

I’ll Carry A Torch For Us Both by blue_skies_and_starry_nights: Killer Track with inner dialogue. 

mine, all mine series by tapestryoftrauma: All very cute.

Smashed glass by Zoya113: Derealization. How much has Holloway forgotten? 

i love you (please let me go) by TisBee: They kinda go on a date but Duke keeps forgetting things.

not-so-subtle reminders by dirtygirlsoup: Holloway trying to get Duke to remember. 

bittersweet by dirtygirlsoup: They go on a road trip and Holloway is very in love. 

To Strangers Again by ToxicLatteHottie (Aya_Chioo7): Make me cry about Holloweane in 200 words speedrun

We’ll Keep Running Home by shell_manatee550: Holloway loves him but doesn’t want to hurt him because he’ll just forget her. 

In Your Eyes I See Constellations by shell_manatee550: Duke can’t sleep so they talk about constellations with Holloway. 

I’ll Be Home For Christmas by SonnetSterling: Holloway visits Duke in a dream.

How we go round again by holloways: Holloway runs a record store and Duke stops by. 

If I loved you, would you know it? by taldorei_pixtor: The Lords mess with Holloweane. Only 2 chapters out but really fun. 

and with that, the cycle begins by shell_manatee550: Holloway, Duke and Wilbur help a child with nightmares. Holloway is pining after Duke every other scene I love them. 

More Than You Could Ever Know by PawPunk: Duke as a all santa. Holloweane flirts so much Lex kicks them out. 

you’ve left me haunted by MidnightNautilus and SnarkyWallflower: Sad memory angst

Holloway/Wiley Swap AU (Miss Holly’s Toys AU) by LoganSchwartzandGrubinierre and Party_Poison_05: Evil Holloway. She can be a little evil, as a treat. 

i’ll see you again, the next life around by Novelsinourheads: Beautifully poetic. Nails the confusion and forgetfulness. 

warm familiarity by eggsandxmen: t4t Holloweane my beloved. 

no, i’m not afraid to disappear by constellama: Holloway and Duke dying together. 

And They Were Roommates by imtryingokay: The town thinks Holloway’s dead so she says with Duke. The cat gets them together. 

Empty Bed by Paranormaltheatrekid: Duke dreams of a woman he can’t remember. 

It’s On Me by PawPunk: Duke keeps coming to Miss Retro’s and asks her on a date. 

My fics for Holloweane Week series by Paranormaltheatrekid and We sing it anyways by chaoscomeswithin: Both written for Holloweane week. 

All my blossoms that I have waited to fall by z3n1gt4t: Duke forgets Holloway’s birthday. 

‘Cause I’m No Good On My Own Anymore by PawPunk: Duke dies and Holloway mourns. 

Bye-ya, Darlin’ by SerpentCountess: Swap au. Duke is magic but no one can remember him. Very good go read. Good characterization. 

6,582 Years by Paranormaltheatrekid: cw suicide, Holloway’s thoughts on death and immortality. 

Heya, Holiday by Frog_With_A_Mushroom: Duke has a dream and Hoilday freaks out. Good underlying angst. 

The Hole in my Heart by Tossed_Salads: Duke mourning Holloway and then meeting Holiday. 

Read it and Weep by thebrokenkindle: Duke reads the letter and waits. 

It got so long tumblr is mad at me so I'll put more in the reblogs.

[pixies-and-poets]

Music of the Night - Chapter Six

This part is pretty long, and also a bit time-skippy, but I had to do both or else I could easily get caught up writing this fanfic for the rest of my life. But now I can safely say that the next chapter will be the last. Thanks to everyone who's come on this terrible journey with me!

Slight emetophobia warning, and body horror as usual.

Chapter One - In Sleep He Sang to Me

Chapter Two - Do I Dream Again?

Chapter Three - Our Strange Duet

Chapter Four - To Glance Behind

Chapter Five - Those Who Have Seen Your Face

Chapter Six - Where Night is Blind

Woodrow had made it about halfway back to Palletteville, his mumbled cascade of words seeming to hang in the air and follow him like his own cloud, when another voice cut them short.

“Warden!!” came the urgent hiss. He stopped in his tracks and turned around to find Dryad, her eyes wide and panicked.

The poet blinked for a moment, shaking his head, trying to come out of his poetic reverie and back to reality. “Yes?” he said finally.

“What in the name of all stars is going on?” She spoke rapidly, getting close to his face and inspecting him. “Are you alright? Is the Phantom alright? I heard that awful screaming from clear across the forest! I was just heading to the cabin as fast as I could, but saw you here on my way…”

“Ah,” said the warden, scratching at the back of one paw with the other, nervously. “Yes, Phantom is alright, for now. But…” and so, he went ahead and told her about his efforts with the mask.

Dryad listened to his story in concern, her ears drooping slightly. When he had finished, she nodded. “I see. For a moment I thought you- well, I thought maybe he was reacting to Sweetlopek’s fashion sense…” but her attempt at a joke fell flat, as Woodrow seemed too crushed for levity, and merely twitched the corner of his mouth into a failed half-smile.

“Well, anyway,” said Dryad, waving her paw. “Thank you for telling me. But listen- you mustn’t try that again. We can’t have him screeching to shake all the leaves in the woods. You might attract the minions of Cursa… including… you know.”

Woodrow’s eyes widened. “Oh- Dryad, do you think-”

“I think it’s fine for now,” said the forest spirit. “As for our main concern, he’s been keeping his territory elsewhere the past few days, in deeper and darker parts of the forest. I’ve been using my magic as best I can to lure and keep him there. Still, I will guard this area for a while.”

“Thank you,” said the warden. “I’m sorry for the trouble.” Then he suddenly clasped his hands together. “But oh, Dryad- what’s to be done? About Tom? Do you have any ideas?”

Dryad blinked, recalling that just yesterday Woodrow had claimed to not have the closeness with his patient for such names as Tom. But she only remarked upon it internally.

“Hmm,” she said, frowning. “All I can say is, I don’t think that mask is really the source of his troubles. If you almost had it off, and the darkmess was still being produced, then… the problem is probably internal, I’m afraid. It would be good to remove it, of course, but perhaps we had better concentrate on curing his poisoning first. If we get rid of the darkmess, that thing will likely fall off on its own.”

Woodrow nodded sadly. “I’m not in any hurry to try again,” he said. “But… alas! We still seem so far from finding a cure, for those overtaken by the dreadful substance.”

Dryad shrugged. “It’s hard for me to look into things, when I’m busy protecting the animals and the trees, but I’m doing my best. As are the people of your village. Have you heard from any of the other wardens about any breakthroughs lately?”

The poet shook his head. “Our best bet was Terra Flora, and- they’ve still been silent for about a week. Ever since Bea disappeared… last I heard, Alkementor was too distressed to work, and we’ve lost contact since then.”

“Poor Bea,” said Dryad, her ears drooping once more. Meanwhile, a thought crossed Woodrow’s mind- he wondered if Phantom had heard of her recent disappearance. After all, the two of them… well, he wondered if it would be appropriate to even bring it up. Would it distress him? Would he feel guilty that he had never made amends with her? He had best not broach the subject, when he was already in such a delicate state…

“What about Barrendale Mesa?” asked the nature spirit. “They’re still holding strong out there, right?”

“Indeed, I think so,” said the warden. “But Momma and her crew have been working on ways to purify darkmess from the environment. Medical cures aren’t really their expertise.”

“Well, when there is a breakthrough… whether it’s on this planet, or if we get some kind of shipment from elsewhere…” she looked the warden firmly in the eyes, “remember that the first doses will be given to those who need it most. And those from Palette Prime take priority. They are your people, and this planet is your ward. Don’t you lose sight of that.”

Woodrow closed his eyes for a moment, and nodded.

“And especially… you know who we must concentrate on first. Not only for his own sake, but for the sake of the entire planet he’s been menacing.”

“Of course,” said the warden quietly, opening his eyes again.

And, after a few more moments of discussion and brief goodbyes, the two were parted.

—

Three days and three nights came to pass. In that time, Dryad kept busy - guiding and protecting and caring for animals, laying spells, attempting to protect and restore the trees and other plants where she could, and much more. She heard no more screams ring out across the forest, and in fact was so caught up in her business that she never ventured back by the little cabin. She had no contact with Woodrow, and barely with any other rabbid at all, and assumed things must be going well enough.

As for the people of Paletteville, it took them a little while to notice, but it soon spread throughout the population that something was wrong with the warden. He was even more reclusive than normal, and looked even sadder and more tired on the rare occasions he was seen. It had been the habit of some townsfolk to visit his home and ask for advice; he was respected enough in that regard to have been elected to his position, after all. But in these days, they found he was hardly ever at home, or not answering the door if he was. In fact, as time passed, he seemed to never be there at all. Knocks at his door went unanswered, and no one knew where he had gone.

What’s more, they began to notice the cloud over his house growing thinner and smaller - until one day it was gone completely.

That cloud, of course, was intimately connected with him. With his soul, his curse, his destiny. This was more than a bad omen, to the people of Palette Prime. It was proof.

“He’s gone,” the villagers murmured amongst themselves. “Somethin’ got ‘im.”

“Ya think he was tryin’ to tame the Beast?”

“Maybe. Prob'ly wrote him a poem to try and talk some sense into him.”

“That poor pathetic soul, bless ‘im. He wouldn’t give up on his best friend if he was actively tearin’ the warden apart.”

And so the assumption spread that the warden had met an unfortunate fate, which was- they all admitted- bound to happen eventually. At any rate, it was decided that search parties would soon be sent out to find his body, and give him a proper burial if they could.

“Near the moon. That would be appropriate,” one villager had said, and everyone agreed.

He was the Plague of Palette Prime, the great harbinger of disaster, and on top of that a terrible poet, or so his planet-mates thought.

But he was also their warden, and a good man. And he deserved the respect in death that the Fates had not given him in life.

—

That man was very much alive. And he was good. And any good person who has made a promise in earnest passion, and then failed to keep that promise despite their absolute best efforts, would understand the pain that encroached upon his soul from all sides.

After trying to pull of the mask, Woodrow spent the day checking up on various things in town, using the computer in the post office to send out more fruitless messages to the other planets, and - in his spare moments - scrawling mad snippets of poetry in the journal that he had retrieved from the cabin.

But in the afternoon of that day, he decided it best to check back on Phantom, and the moment he entered the door, found that the ghost’s own assurances of being fine, of being safe, had been proven false.

He lay on the bed, his eye closed, breathing hard. A large amount of darkmess had leaked out from his porous ectoplasm, forming a puddle on the bed, a smaller version of the state in which Woodrow had first found him. The puddle dripped over the edges and corners of the bed, and the ghost seemed to be fused to it now. One of the poetry books lay splayed open on its bent pages on the ground, where he had clearly dropped it- his paw drooping over the bed as his chest shook in a pained sleep.

“Tom!” cried the poet, then clapped his paws over his mouth, remembering Dryad’s warning about making too much noise. He rushed over and stroked the ghost’s hair, then kneeled down, picked up the limp paw that was hanging off the bed, and rubbed it. “Tom- my dear- wake up…”

Indeed, the ghost’s eye opened, then closed again, then opened once more and slowly rolled over to look at his companion. He smiled, warmly but clearly in pain. “Ah… there you are," he said, between heavy gasps. "I’m sorry… you have to see me like this again. Oh! Don’t cry, mi tesoro…”

Woodrow and his eyes, of course, ignored this command. “Tom, I’m the one who should apologize. I should have stayed…”

“Nonsense!” said the Phantom, still weak, but gradually gaining some energy at the other’s presence. “What could you have done? I feared my ailment would reassert itself… that this is a problem we could only stave off temporarily… I just… hoped it might take a little longer.”

“Oh, what am I to do-” said the warden in panic, standing up once more, still holding his darling’s hand with one of his own, and raising the other to his head. “I can’t… all of the soap on the planet can’t clean this…”

Phantom kept smiling, and let his eye close. “Mon chéri, you mustn’t work yourself up like this. If this is how it is to be, then… so be it. Let me lie in it. It will happen, no matter what you do. I just have to keep fighting it from the inside, and hopefully I will win, and then I can be free…”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” cried the other, leaning over and stroking his hair again, and his ears. “Come now. I can’t give up so easily, I can’t… I…” he trailed off, as a thought began to creep up from the back of his mind. He was considering how to best dispel a puddle of darkmess, and it suddenly occurred to him that his own home was blessedly free of it, and perhaps he could move Phantom there- but no, there was a reason for that, and wouldn’t it be easier if…

“Jinx!” he said in excitement, looking at his cloud. “Your rain… can it…” 

The cloud gave a little bob, and took position above Phantom. It began to rain over Phantom’s stomach, over the bed. And indeed- it didn’t dissolve the black sludge, but it did push it away; washing it off, so it slid down like oil being repelled by water, over the sides of the bed and onto the floor. Jinx then moved towards the glob, pushing it towards the door - which Woodrow had left open in his shock - and out onto the ground outside.

Phantom sat his upper body up, and watched the process with speechless amazement. “Well,” he said as Jinx herded the darkmess out of the door. “I never would have guessed!"

Woodrow smiled, blushing, but genuinely very happy and relieved. “Wonderful, isn't it? I know water and rain don't normally wash away darkmess by themselves, but... there is something special about my own little storm, here. My theory is that two manifestations of misfortune repel each other, like the similar poles of a magnet."

"Impressive indeed," said the singer with a nod. "But- next time ask me permission before raining on me. It was cold! I should have liked to brace myself. Although, I suppose it WAS energizing...”

Woodrow blushed even deeper, but still smiled. "Apologies. And my apologies too, that you must now lay on a damp bed, but surely it’s better than the alternative.”

“Certamente!” said the ghost. “I hardly mind it at all.”

“Now,” said Woodrow, tapping his foot in deep thought- looking around at the bed and the trail of water on the cabin’s floor, and at Jinx, who was quite depleted again. “Jinx - would you be able to keep watch over Tom, when I’m not here?”

The little cloud, barely visible, was coming back over to Woodrow, but stopped short. Then, after a moment, it shook itself back and forth, and swirled around the poet’s head.

“Yes, I know you want to keep watch over me. But… he needs you more than I do, right now.”

The little cloud roiled turbulently, and probably would have thundered in agitation, but was too rained out to have the ability. Instead she just positioned herself around Woodrow’s ears, where she felt like a light mist.

“Alright, alright, let’s compromise. Can you… convince some of the rest of you to come over? From my home? A little piece of the big cloud can split itself off and come here, how is that?”

The cloud sprang in front of Woodrow’s face again, then bobbed up and down enthusiastically. It then zoomed off in the direction of the warden’s house. Woodrow smiled, and sank down into the chair next to Phantom’s bedside.

“Oh, Tristan,” said the ghost. “You are as clever and creative as you are kind. Truly I am lucky that you of all people found me, my portafortuna.”

And so it was that Jinx soon came back, with a chunk of larger cloud behind her, which took up residence above the cabin, ready to rain down through the holes in the roof when Phantom next went through another burst of darkmess production. And the two rabbids talked for hours, of art and poetry, and imagined themselves in all the romantic spots of a healthy Palette Prime, and spun hypothetical tales of what they would do in better days. All seemed well in the world that evening, when Woodrow lay devoted kisses on his companion’s palm and wrist and the back of his hand, and on his forehead and the tips of his ears, before bidding him farewell.

….But the next morning when he returned, he peered into the cabin to see things much as before, as Phantom had produced more darkness during the night than the poor cloud could produce water to keep up with. And so, filled with determined and anxious adrenaline, and stepping around the goo that now puddled all over the floor to be with his patient, Woodrow ordered Jinx to come back with even more of the cloud.

And at the same time, he decided then and there that he must stay with Phantom full-time, only leaving when absolutely necessary, and to sleep elsewhere in safety.

Thus it went for the next couple of days. And this is where, despite Woodrow’s greatest efforts, he began to falter in the promise he had so passionately made.

The reader need not hear every moment of the chronicle, and indeed Phantom would probably be embarrassed that people were getting even part of it. Suffice to say, that in the coming days, the endless wellspring of darkness inside him started to work harder than ever. He would suddenly ooze out through his porous underside; sometimes he would suddenly, in the midst of softly talking with his dear companion, choke and cough and vomit out a burst of it down his face and chest; and sometimes it seeped out anew, all over his face, from under the edges of his mask.

Ever more of the cloud came, until its entire volume was there: part of it settling above the roof and part of it inside the cabin, forming a stormy ceiling, raining as much as it could, washing and pushing the darkmess out and away. But the cloud needed to rest at times, to gather more moisture from the environment… and the sludge kept coming back. Half the time Woodrow sat there, soaked and shivering, the skin of his paws and ears slightly wrinkled and blue, shadows underneath his wild eyes, as the rain fell on both of them, and he did not seem to care at all for his own health. He had propped his own umbrella up, resting on the bed and against the wall, so that it covered and protected Phantom’s head and chest, keeping that part of him dry. Whenever it was needed, Woodrow reached over with a rag and soap and tenderly wiped off any new ooze that was leaking from under the accursed mask.

The warden lost track of all things besides Phantom. He no longer knew or cared what time of day it was, or how many days had passed. When the fatigue became unbearable, he dragged himself back home, set his alarm for a few hours of sleep, and then came back. All other duties and responsibilities to his planet ceased to cross his mind. He brought back his full store of darkmess-battling soap… every citizen had been given a certain amount, and as warden, he had been given extra, to ration out in case of emergencies. This was an emergency.

Eventually, Woodrow tired of going all the way back to his house on the outskirts of Paletteville to rest; and what’s more, it was a waste of time. Time he should be spending at Phantom’s side. He realized there was a much closer spot, halfway… and thus he found himself, dizzy and half-awake, at Sweetlopek’s door once again. He hadn’t even locked it after his last visit to retrieve the clothes, but nothing seemed to have been disturbed since Dryad left. Everyone on the planet had enough respect - or perhaps fear - to leave it alone.

And yet there was Woodrow, crashing himself onto the familiar couch where he had fallen asleep many a time after an evening spent with his friend, when he was too tired to make it home after a night of wine and games and talking. Now the place was silent, and their laughter rang out no more. Before Woodrow fell asleep in his exhaustion, his eyes fell on a framed picture on the table near the couch. It was the woodsman and the Dryad together on their planet’s famous bridge, hugging each other and smiling in lovestruck glee. He had never noticed this picture before, and indeed, it must have been new… there was only a small window of time in which it could have been taken.

He looked away from it in grief and closed his eyes. Would any couple on this planet ever experience that happiness again? Would any in the entire galaxy?

And he was soon asleep.

—

It was the fourth day since Phantom’s arrival, and dusk was gathering. Dryad was making her way across the forest, floating as fast as she could. As exhausted as she was from her recent efforts, this could not wait. Rumors had reached her, from rabbids she had seen in the woods: the warden was dead. His cloud was gone. But she knew better, for she had heard from the animals that the cloud had merely taken up new residence above a certain tiny shack in the woods. At any rate, she could no longer trust that things were alright with Woodrow and Phantom. If Woodrow had been isolating himself so much that people thought he had perished… well, she could only hope that indeed he had not fallen into a permanent sleep, entwined in the darkmess that seeped from the man he was trying to save.

Before long she heard the sound of rain in the distance, and indeed came upon a cabin with a dark halo of raincloud, dripping down onto its roof and directly into its structure. And, to her horror, from under the door and all around the edges of the cabin, was a thick moat of darkmess. She floated above it towards a window and peered inside, with no small amount of dread.

The scene that met her eyes was so upsetting that she gasped softly, and needed a moment to comprehend what she was looking at.

The warden sat on his chair - both it and him soaking wet - his knees pulled up to his chest, and he was shivering; heedless of his own self-destruction, as the rain poured down onto him and the Phantom alike (albeit the latter at least partially protected by an umbrella). After a moment of observation, Dryad understood what the plan here was… the rain was washing the darkmess away from Phantom, although even now, more oozed out from his stomach as if it were an overfilled, dripping sponge, and the water from above washed it to the floor and then towards the doorway or the walls. Indeed, there was not much of the stuff around the two rabbids inside, but still, they both looked barely alive. The poet was soaking wet, possibly suffering from hypothermia, and the Phantom’s eyes were closed, his skin pale.

Dryad was about to enter the room on a rescue mission, when suddenly the ghost stirred.

“Tristan,” he said, in a low, raspy whisper. “Oh- I can… barely speak. I think… I will lose my voice again soon. It- hurts….”

The warden moved, showing his first real sign of life since Dryad had been observing him. He leaned forward, putting his wet paw on the side of the Phantom’s face. “Ssshh,” he said. “Don’t talk then.”

The ghost shook his head. “I don’t… want to lose it again. Tristan… I want… I want you to read me your poems. Can you do that for me?”

“Darling, you know I can’t,” the other said, with a sad smile. “We can’t risk it. Any bit of bad luck could… could… well… let’s keep your luck as good as possible, right now.”

This was clearly a private moment, and thus Dryad floated off to the side of the window, so as not to gaze upon them - and so they would not see her, as well.

“It’s a lost cause,” wheezed the Phantom. “Look at me, mon cœur. I am dying. And I want to hear your poetry from your own lips before I do.”

“No, Tom, no…” Dryad couldn’t see his face, but could hear the tears in his voice. “You can’t give up like that… you have to hold on, until we find a cure…”

“You have to give up on saving me,” said the other. “Look… you are destroying yourself, portafortuna… give me your words, your precious words, my love, and let me rest…”

“But I promised, Tom, I promised I would save you… don’t talk like that, darling, I-”

“I think soon I shall not talk at all,” he said. “In fact, I-” he coughed, and gagged. “I, Tristan, I- GHH- love-”

At the sounds of Phantom’s distress, Dryad had peeked back in again, just in case. As his voice cut off, his jaw snapped shut, and he motioned to his throat, to his mouth. He could open it no more.

Woodrow leaned his weary head onto the ghost’s chest and lay there, his soaking arms draped over the other in defeat, his body shaking. “No, Tom, your voice…” he was sobbing. “Don’t… don’t leave me without it… don’t leave me… my sunshine… don’t leave me…”

Dryad couldn’t take this scene anymore. She came in, right through the window, which lacked any glass. To Phantom’s astonishment, she went over to the warden and pulled him up. He barely reacted, flopping around like a sopping ragdoll.

“Woodrow!!” she cried, shaking him. “Woodrow! Listen- he’s right, you know. You’re destroying yourself, and you won’t do any good to ANYONE that way.”

Phantom, for all his weakness and surprise, nodded and pointed to her in agreement.

“I don’t care anymore,” he said. “Let me be destroyed, then. What does it matter? I can’t save anyone…”

“Woodrow, go rest,” the nature spirit commanded, the rain now falling on her own leafy head. “Go dry yourself off, and warm yourself up, and get a GOOD night’s sleep. I’ll watch over Phantom.”

The warden stood up weakly, his eyes barely focusing on anything. “But what if he gets worse,” he said, barely audible. “What if I’m not here when he… if he…”

“If he gets worse, I’ll come get you,” said the Dryad.

Woodrow swallowed, then nodded, with no feeling. “I’ll be at Sweetlopek’s house.”

Dryad gave him a look of indignance, but then took a deep breath, and decided now was not the time to argue about it. “You’re right,” she said. “That’s closer. Alright. You go there.”

“Mmm,” said the warden, swaying on his feet, and Dryad was mildly concerned he wouldn’t make it.

“Do you want me to accompany you?” she asked.

“I’ll be fine,” he mumbled. “Stay with Tom. Watch him for me. Please.”

Then he turned back to the bed, met Phantom’s eyes, and gently took some strands of his messy hair into his paw… then let it fall.

“I’ll see you soon,” he said tenderly, then turned and left, followed by one small fragment of Jinx, as ever.

He dragged his feet through the leafy bed of the forest, winding as if drunk around puddles of darkmess and fallen trees.

But he did make it to Sweetlopek’s home. He had locked it again last time, and so he reached into one of the inner pockets of his wet coat, and took out a keyring. With fumbling and shaking hands, he managed to eventually get the right key into the lock. But just as he was turning it, he sensed the presence of… something. Something big. As he froze, his eyes blankly staring at the door, he heard a loud THUD and the crunch of countless leaves behind him.

He turned. There in the twilight was a massive figure, a shadow blocking out the trees and the sky behind it. It was a rabbid… mostly… wearing the shredded remains of a flannel shirt. He was huge, and bestial, with claws, and fangs, and wild and shaggy facial hair in which sticks and leaves and gobs of darkmess were jumbled. His entire lower body was covered in darkmess as well, with a line of it running across his chest and back, forming a strap on which a massive axe was mounted behind him. Not to mention the darkmess on top of his head, onto which was welded a perpetually distressed-looking beaver.

The creature’s eyes glowed yellow as he stood there, hunched over, almost on all fours, and he sniffed at the warden and snarled. But Woodrow was too done with everything to be truly shocked, or afraid.

Most of the other rabbids had taken to calling him the Beast. Woodrow was one of the few who still believed it most respectful to use his name. That maybe, buried deep inside, there was someone who would still recognize it.

The warden blinked slowly. “Good evening, Sweetlopek.”

[candied-boys]

Catboy Charles x F! Reader - Part 7

Tags: A very needy Charles has some "self-care time" *ahem*

Part 6

It's hard to believe this all isn't some kind of hallucination or crack dream, but as the days stretch into weeks you stop questioning how your cat turned into a very pretty boy. There are far more pressing issues to focus on anyway, like finding a better job so you can feed two mouths and pay the rent.

Fortunately, and unfortunately, Charles is determined to be helpful. Yet because he doesn't know how to do much on his own, it means you have to teach him everything first even if it would be much faster for you to do yourself. The first time you said that though, he sulked the whole morning and then took to begging the day after.

“Please, please, please, please, ma maîtresse. Let me do the dishes. I want to help. I love you so much. Please let me show you. I promise I'll be good! I promise I won't break another glass! Je vous en prie, ma maîtresse!!”

Somewhere between annoyed, exhausted, and charmed, you gave in. It was all downhill from there. He wouldn't take no for an answer after that. So, for the last two weeks, he's been cleaning the house as best he can, doing the laundry, and watching the cooking channel all day in the hopes that one day you'll let him take care of you.

If you were more honest with yourself, you would have to admit that it's been nice to have someone to come home to, someone to ask how your day went and give you a big hug the moment you step over the threshold. It would be a little nicer if it didn't give you feelings so complicated that you end up with a headache though.

He's so affectionate and adoring, but he also has no sense of typical social boundaries, or any boundaries at all really.

“Charles, I've told you before that you can’t just walk around the house naked!!” you squeak as he gives you a big hug the moment you walk through the door.

“Why not?” he pouts and takes your bag for you.

“You have to wear clothes!!”

Helping you take off your jacket he says the same thing as he always does when you scold him. “I don’t like them. They’re uncomfortable.”

“Yes, but you just have to wear them! That's just how it is.”

Following you the two steps from the door to kitchen he counters, “You know you don’t like them either. You always used to sleep without them…”

“That…” you stutter and clamp your eyes shut. “Is different… and that was before you turned into a… man…”

“Why is it different and what does it have to do with me?” He's frowning when you look over your shoulder at him.

Putting your head down on the kitchen counter you try to explain again, “You can’t just walk around naked in front of other people, Charles! That’s why I wear clothes and that’s why you have to wear clothes too!”

“I promise I’ll wear the clothes you bought me when we go out. There are no other people here. Why do I have to wear them?” His voice is coloured, not with its usual saccharine dejection, but with a new frustration.

“Because it’s embarrassing to see you naked!! That’s why!!” you snap and whip around to glare at his enchanting blue eyes.

“Why? You know what I look like. I’m just not fluffy anymore. I’m not embarrassed to see you without clothing. We’ve slept side by side without clothes every night for more than a year. Why do we need to cover up now?”

“Oh my god… Because… I couldn’t see that before,” you smack your forehead and point between his legs.

“Huh? Yes, you could. I didn’t wear pants as a cat. What are you talking about?”

“That was completely different!!! I never looked at it, and it wasn’t staring me in the face like it is now!!”

“Stare? It can’t stare. You’re the one staring,” he argues.

Voice rising an octave you squeak, “Yes!! Exactly!! And I don’t want to!! So put it away!!”

Crossing his elegant arms, he refuses to listen to you for the first time. “Just don’t look then. I don’t wanna wear clothes.”

“I can’t not look!! That’s why it’s embarrassing!!” you admit and bury your face in your hands.

“What do you mean you can’t not look? If you weren’t interested, you… wouldn’t… Oh?”

“Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. That is NOT the problem here, Charles!!!” you deny adamantly.

“Well, now it’s a problem for me. What am I supposed to do with this thing anyway? I can’t lick it anymore… It's been two whole weeks! Ma maîtresse…” he whines and clings to your arm in a plea for help.

You can feel the headache settling in. “No, Charles. You can work that one out yourself.”

“I tried, but I can't reach anymore…” he admits sheepishly and pokes his already hard length.

Knuckles to your temple, you take a big breath and remind yourself it's not his fault he needs to be cared for. He trails behind you as you motion for him to follow you to your bedroom.

“Sit,” you instruct before you rummage through your drawers for the lube you keep stashed there with your toys.

“Here, put out your palm.” He obeys and you squeeze a decent amount on his hand, then place a box of tissue by his side. “Use your hand instead of your mouth or whatever you did before. Just clean up when you're done.”

Not wanting to be quizzed any further for directions or demonstrations you bolt out of the room and shut the door. After just having arrived home from work you already feel a little frazzled, so you take a seat upside down on the couch and stare at the ceiling.

These days your mind is overloaded with to-do lists as long as a roll of toilet paper, yet whenever you get a moment alone you inevitably end up thinking about the same thing - where do you go from here? There are a few scenarios that play like reruns in your mind, so familiar you hardly think consciously about the details anymore.

If he stays human forever, you can look after him so long as he doesn't get sick, but that's not possible. Do you take him to the vet or to the hospital? He doesn't have national ID which means he doesn't have insurance either which means you have to pay for everything. Could you even get him citizenship?

More importantly, do you tell your family or keep him a secret forever? You can't keep him locked up in the house for the rest of your lives. And surely your parents will continue to pester you about who you're dating and when you're getting married.

But that begs the question, do you want a relationship with him? Can you realistically have a relationship with anyone else. It doesn't seem like he'd let you date another guy, but you doubt any sane man would want to date a girl who lives with a possessive catboy who calls her master anyway. You can't get married and keep Charles around. That would be too awkward.

Yet, you know you can't and won't abandon him. You don't want to let him go anyway. Whether he's human or cat, you can't bear the thought of your life without his warmth and affection. You didn't take him in just to kick him out when he's no longer convenient. You rescued him because you were already deeply attached to the neglected street cat. He pawed his way into your heart and that's where you want him to stay.

Derailing your spiraling thoughts - and yanking you back to the reality of just how tiny your apartment really is - you hear a sharp gasp echo through the thin walls. Your living room is right next to your bedroom and you expected you would hear some wet sound effects. What you didn't anticipate was to hear him mumbling your name, professing his love for you, and most shockingly, swearing like he's forgotten all other vocabulary.

As he gets closer and closer to the edge, he gets more and more vocal. Whimpering and gasping as he begs, “Please, please, please! Just wanna cum. It's been too long. It's been way too long. Need to cum. Need to get it all out. Need to love you. Need you to take it from me. Need you to take everything. Please, please, please, je vous en prie, ma maîtresse! Let me cum, let me cum, let me cum! Need to be inside you. Need to feel you. Need to make you happy. Just want you to love me. Please love me. Please don't hate me. Please forgive me. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sor- nnnnnghhh!

You hear him crying and shaking as he quickly falls into ecstasy and secretly breathe a sigh of relief that it's over. Or so you thought.

“Please, please, please, please ma maîtresse. Make me cum. Make me -ah- dumb. Don't wanna think. Good kittens don't need to think. Good kitties just need to serve. Minou serves best. Just -nnnng- please, please, please, ma maîtresse. Take it. Take it all. Make me stupid for you. I'll do anything! Please just take it all! Please, please, please, please, please please, please!”

Unmoving, you stare at the ceiling wide-eyed as he drowns in pleasure once more, the sweetest whimpers dripping from his lips. His ragged breathing is cut off by each aftershock that rolls through his body. His whimpers are punctuated with little sobs. Taking a deep breath, you abandon the sofa and fetch yourself a tall glass of water. But as soon as the faucet is turned off, you can hear other wet sounds seeping through the door.

“Please, I'm greedy, I'm greedy, I'm greedy. Just want it all out. Nnnnng! Je vous en prie, ma maîtresse. Je vous aime, je vous aime, je vous aime, je vous aime je vous aime. Just wanna cum again, just wanna feel good, just wanna make you feel good too. Please use me! Please use me until I can't talk anymore. Use me until I can't breathe. Use me however you want. Just please take it all. Let me fill you up. Let me cum. Let me cum. Let me cum, je vous en prie!!”

By the time you've choked on your water twice and given up on it all together you can hear him quietly sobbing your name over and over. When all that's left is the sound of harsh, strained lungfuls of air you pry open the door to check on him.

“Minou, would you like some water?” you ask almost cautiously.

He whimpers and nods. From the backlit sunshine filtering through your lace curtains you can see the tears that have pooled in his pretty moonstone eyes.

When you return with a fresh glass, he doesn't sit up to take it. Instead, he begins to apologize through huffs, “Msorry, ma maîtresse. Msorry… I made… such a mess… That was the only thing you asked of me… I'm sorry… I promise… I'll clean it up… I'm so sorry… I didn't mean to… I'm sorry… please forgive me…”

Up close you notice he's still trembling and decide to take a seat on the edge of the bed next to him, setting the water on the nightstand for now.

“Minou, I'm not upset and I'm not worried about the mess. I'm just worried about you… Are you okay? Didn't you push yourself a little too hard?” You can't help but reach down to brush the long lavender strands out of his eyes.

“Mmmmmm” he melts into your touch and begins to purr. “I'm okay… Just been… a little too long…” he huffs as his breathing finally calms.

“Well, as long as you feel better…” you mumble and tease the velvet back of his ears. He shakes a little under your touch and nuzzles into it. After a few quiet minutes, you dare “Can I ask why… you were thinking about me?”

Tilting his head to meet your gaze, he answers easily, “Who else would I think about making love to but the one I adore?”

The gentle smile on his face should soothe your nerves, but instead it leaves a knot in your stomach.

“Have you… always… thought about me… even when you… weren't human?”

“Mais oui.”

Part 8

Tag list: @loverofmanyrandomthings @misty-moth @cherryblubb @drachonia @nightghoul381 @fang-and-feather @uwu-lavender-uwu

Personal notes:

I added the tag list because I had no idea I didn't post the last two chapters. The previous chapter was posted right before I started preparing for a job interview for the job I started this week! Hurray me! Employment!! A lot happened between then and now ^^;;;

MORE IMPORTANTLYYYYY:

The insanely hot audio (Reddit) that inspired Charles' rambling dialogue *ahem*. Also here (soundgasm).

[the-account-i-dont-talk-about]

(Chapter 2/29) When SpongeBob opened his eyes he was in his own bed. How did he get back home? was it just a dream? “Meow!” Gary cried from from downstairs, “What’s going on Gary?” He replied walking down the stairs. Gary turned the tv on with one of his eye stalks and switched it to the news “Breaking news!” The anchor announced “A giant tentacle monster is attacking sleeping bikini bottom citizens!”. Oh no. “Police cameras have identified footage outside the home bikini bottom resident SpongeBob SquarePants.” Oh no. Sure enough when they played the footage, it was a giant Squidward, slowly and gently lifting him into his house through his bedroom window. He quickly turned the tv off, “Well that answers those questions.”. He fed Gary before heading off to work, maybe he could ask sandy why Squidward was giant, I mean she is super smart. “SpongeBob me boy!” Mr Krabs shouted as SpongeBob walked through the door. “Are ye okay? Are ye hurt? Can ye still work?!”.“Mr Krabs I’m fine, It’s just Squi-”. Mr Krabs quickly clamped his claws around his lips, “Not so loud me boy.” He sternly whispered. He dragged him into his office with his claws still firmly on his lips, only releasing after he locked the door. “dward. Why did you do that?” SpongeBob finally finished. “I cant have me customers know that I hired a monster!” Mr Krabs stated in hushed anger, clamping his claws above his head. “Mr Krabs, Squidward isn’t a monster!” SpongeBob retorted. “Squidward ain’t a monster, but what it turns into when February rolls around, is!” Mr Krabs stated matter-of -factly, SpongeBob was angry but he just wanted to make some krabby patties. “Look, Mr Krabs, we can talk about later-“ “No! We talk now! I can’t be losing me best fry cook! Don’t go near it again!” SpongeBob stormed out, he needed to leave before he said something he regretted. Work went by as usual with a failed plankton attack. After work he went straight to Sandy’s treedome, hoping to find some answers. “Sandy,” SpongeBob said while entering the treedome, water helmet firmly on, “can I ask you something?”. “Sure thing SpongeBob, what ya need?” Sandy patiently responded. SpongeBob was arranging the words in his head so as to not give away too much about his situation. “So I have this friend,” doing great so far, “his name is,” he paused for a moment “Bobsponge.”. Sandy won’t suspect a thing. “He’s having some trouble because his friend, Octward, is being made out to be a monster,” Sandy looked at SpongeBob smugly. “But my friend, Bob knows that Octward wouldn’t hurt a fly, so he’s really mad that people are freaking out just cause he got bigger!”, He was unintentionally getting riled up. Sandy put her hand on his back to calm him down. He took a big breath and continued. “So anyway, my friend thinks that you might be able help them by telling them why squids grow during February?” Sandy looked at him, smiled and said “Is the friend you?”, SpongeBob hadn’t given any indication it was him so he was a smidge surprised, but at the same time relieved that he didn’t have to hide it. “Yeah.” He said, hanging his head. Sandy giggled to herself, “Alright, I think heard about this in one of my marine biology books!”, she said, heading into her tree. Banging and clanging were heard before she stepped out with a giant book almost as big as her! “Aha! He we are!” She exclaimed flipping to a page about squids. “Due to squids being solitary creatures, they will often grow to large sizes to find mates easier, with the larger squids being more attractive. Due to being larger targets they grow extremely aggressive to non squids.”. Well that explains the size. “Wait, then how come he wasn’t aggressive to me?” SpongeBob retorted. Sandy paused and thought to herself about it for a bit, scratching her head. “Maybe we could run some tests! A good experiment will really Dill my pickle!” Sandy excitedly replied. “I mean, help us figure out why he wasn’t aggressive.” She said, quickly correcting herself. “Tomorrow we’ll see just what is going on.”

[foxgloveinspace]

FOX!!! hello my beloved!! it has been a minute lol

i’ve been ✨going through it✨ lately lmao but i am nothing if not stubborn so i am pushing through

the one upside to the hell that is my brain at times is that it usually means i will be blessed with comfort dreams/daydreams!!!

and this time it was the sleep token boys again 🥹 and also so stupid. which was much needed lol. basically daydreamed that i went to the gym with all four of them. idfk why, i’ve never set foot in a gym, i refuse to start now, and i actively avoid guys who do go? i guess i can make an exception for the vessels lmao. anyways- they all went off to do their own things (iv focuses on lower body/legs cuz i mean hello have you seen those thighs? ii was all about arms and upper body- very good for drumming. iii was far too chaotic to stick with any specific workout so spent most of the time on the treadmill just burning energy lol) except vessel who came over to teach me how to squat with a barbell. there was a lot of banter and some mild flirting but man. that was such a nice daydream. kind of relaxing? maybe i do need to get a gym membership…

hope you’ve been well!! 😊🩶

Hihi exie!!! I’m sorry to hear you’ve been going through it🖤😔 I’ve been… ok, I haven’t been whiny about it on tumblr but I’ve been sick for like three weeks (or maybe I have been I can’t remember very well lmao) but I’m finally feeling better tho, oof. I hope things settle down for you soon!!

That is one funny dream. I really appreciate how your brain was like ‘these are the exorcizes that make since for the guys yes yes’, that is freaking amazing, lmao. Love how Vessel was like ‘ahhh, yes. Time to teach Exie some sick moves’ lmao. He didn’t even start you off simple😂😂

Me 🫱🏻‍🫲🏼 III: treadmill zoomies.

(We have one in house cause my dad is diabetic, and we live in the middle of nowhere, so it was cheaper then a gym membership he wouldn’t be able to drive to. I don’t do it enough but walking on a treadmill is so good for my adhd brain. It’s weird, but a lot of adhd people talk about how exorcising even once a week makes their brain work better. Need to get in the habit of it, especially cause I want to go hiking more oof…. This was a random ramble that has nothing to do with your dream, very sorry about that).

[jiliansky-blog]

The cat of dreams. Chapter 4

Pairing: Morpheus x FemaleReader  

Rating: PG

Words: 2646

Before I went to sleep, I find for Morpheus a pillow and a blanket. I couldn’t imagine sleeping with him in a bed again. Now, when I know that he is not a cat. When I woke up in the morning, I found him peacefully sleeping on the sofa. He looked so fragile and vulnerable. I didn’t have the heart to wake him up, so I went to the kitchen to make breakfast and coffee. Ten minutes later I rather sense his presence than hear his steps. And then I turned back and smiled at him.

“Good morning”, I said. “I hope, you feel better”. “I do”, he nodded, watching me. “Thank you”. “I’m glad”, I said. “Do you want breakfast or coffee?” “Breakfast”, he said. “Please”.

He was even cute with his messed hair and pouty lips. No, cute wasn’t the right word. He was ethereal and handsome. I handed him an omelet.

  “You don’t mind this, do you?” I asked. “No”, he took the plate. “Thank you”. “I need to go to work”, I said. “Are you going to be alright today on your own?” “Yes”, he looked at me. “You can read or even watch TV”, I said. “I will return in the evening”. “You shall not worry about me”, he said. “I’m not a kid”. “And then you can try to search through my dreams”, I suggested. “If you still want it. Or we will come up with some other plan”. “Alright”, he nodded, watching me with his intense stare.

  I didn’t even if he reminds me of a bird or a cat. It gave me goosebumps though. I smiled at him. I didn’t want him to think that I’m scared.

“You are thinking about me”, he said suddenly. “I can sense it”. “I was just thinking, that you are so mysterious”, I replied, blushing. “Do you need anything to buy? I can visit the shop on my way back”. “No, I can manage”, he replied. “You are already…too kind to me”. “Nonsense”, I smiled. “Anyone with a kind heart would do the same”. “I doubt so”, he said. “I doubt that you would help me if I wasn’t in a cat form”. “You are wrong”, I replied, blushing. “If I see, that you need help, I would help you. Maybe I would be more cautious and wouldn’t bring you home, but I would help you”. And then he smiled and I blushed even more. “You are the brave one”, he noticed. “Thank you”, I whispered. “Anyway, if anyone came when I won’t be here, don’t let me know you are here. If it will be my friend, turn to the cat”. “I can take care of myself”, he pouted. “Alright”, I smiled. “Then I need to prepare for work”.

I was trying to reassure myself that Morpheus can take care of himself, but I was nervous anyway. It was the first time I hosted a supernatural creature in my home. When I was leaving homework, a car almost hit me. It was a good vintage car, not that matter. The door opened and I saw the tall man in a white suit and dark glasses came out.

“I’m so sorry”, he said apologetically. “Something with brakes perhaps. Are you alright?” “Yes, I am”, I said. “But next time you should be more careful”. “Perhaps, I can make amends to you”, he smiled charmingly. “I can treat you with coffee and some sweets”. I didn’t expect this. And I didn’t know what to say. “I can’t”, I replied finally. “I need to go home”. “Then I can drive you home”, he said. “Let me fix it for you”. Something tells me that it would be nice. But the other part tells me that I shouldn’t get in the car with the stranger.

“No, I think not”, I said. “But thank you”. “Can I invite you for a coffee tomorrow then?” he asked. “Perhaps”, I said. Maybe, I should give myself a chance to apologize properly. Some other day. But today I want to return to Morpheus. “I will ask you tomorrow then”, he said. “You can try”, I replied and went home.

I found Morpheus in a cat form, sleeping on the sofa. So cute. I smiled and touched his fluffy fur. He woke up immediately. And then turned to a man. “Was everything alright?” I asked. “Yes”, he said. “No one came. But I decided to be better in a cat form. And somehow felt tired and fell asleep”. “Perhaps, it got you a lot of your power”, I said. “You are not strong enough yet and it’s tired you out”. “Perhaps, you are right”, he pouted. “But I don’t like the thought of being weak. Have you noticed something odd out there?”

“No, I mostly was working”, I said. “Look, what these people did was illegal. They won’t look for you. What did they say to someone? “We are looking for a person, who escaped from us. It was a naked man”. Sounds suspicious to me”. He looked at me with his blue eyes and I was sure there were stars in it. I felt my heart beat faster. He was too close. “How do you feel?” I asked, trying to find a reason to move. “Better”, he blinked slowly and replied.

  I read once that cats blink slowly when they are like humans. Does it work with Morpheus too? “Are you hungry?” I asked. “No”, he said. “Oh, okay”, I smiled and decided to take something for myself in the kitchen. I made a few steps when Morpheus stopped me. “I would like tea though”, he said. “And something sweet, if you have”. “I will find something”, I smiled wider. I made him toast with jam, and he made some noise of appreciation. And I smiled again. He was cute. “I didn’t expect you to like sweets”, I noticed. “But I find this rather cute. If you stay longer, I would know how to make you kind”. “You are not frightened by the thought”, he admitted. “No”, I said. “Why should I?” “You don’t know me”, Morpheus replied. “And our relationship can be…disastrous”.

“Relationship?” I asked. I didn’t what word surprised me more. That he assumes that we can be in a relationship or can it be disastrous. “Even friendship?” “No”, he sighed. “But do you really want my companionship?” “Why the hell not?” I shrugged. “I don’t know”, he blinked again. “I didn’t have many friends. I am not an easy person to have a relationship with”. “Why do you say so?” I asked. “Everyone told me so”, he replied. “Well, I know you for a few days”, I admitted. “And I met more difficult people than you”. “I can be arrogant, selfish, prideful…” he said. “And why do you say me this?” I asked. “Everyone has bad sides. I don’t regret helping you. And you don’t seem a bad person”. “You are too kind”, he sighed.

Something in his eyes made my heart ache. There was loneliness, pain, emptiness. I touched his hand, trying to take him from the cursed place in his soul.

“Don’t go, where I can’t follow”, I smiled. “I don’t remember this quote”, he said confused. “It’s from “Lord of the Rings”, I replied. “I can recall it from the books anyway”, he frowned. “It’s from the movie”, I smiled. “I suppose it wasn’t in the books”. “Movies”, he repeated. “Do you mean these moving pictures, people like to watch?” “Yes”, I smiled. “Usually I don’t like when they turned books into movies, because they left a lot behind. But these ones are good”. He made a skeptical sound and I can’t help, but laugh. “Maybe one day you will watch with me”, I suggested. “If you want to, of course”. “Perhaps”, he said. I finally made dinner for me and tea for him. He was watching me all the time. Like a cat, motionless and soundless.

  “You said that you want to let me in dreams”, Morpheus reminds me with a cup of tea in his hands. “Did you speak truly?” “Yes, of course”, I said. “If this can help you”. “I think I can try”, Morpheus replied. “After your dinner, of course. Before we do it, you need to think about some places where sand can be found. Or maybe you should some book about it to rewind your imagination”. “Okay”, I nodded and went to find some books with sand on my bookshelves. “Or probably some music or video will help too”. “Whatever can help you”, he agreed. “I don’t know how you people make it”. “Make what?” I asked with a smile. “Stimulate your imagination”, he replied. “In a different way”, I said. “Sometimes it is the dreams that inspire us”. “Good”, he nodded and his eyes lit up a little. “What usual do you see in your dreams?”

“I wish I could see some beautiful landscapes and fantasy worlds”, I said. “But usually I see some nonsense”. “It happens because I was…away”, he said. “I’m sorry”. “As far as I know, it wasn’t your fault”, I said. “Stop blaming yourself. You couldn’t predict what will happen to you”. “You are too wise for such young age”, he smirked. “And you are too hard on yourself for the supernatural creature”, I smirked too. I finish my dinner and prepare for sleeping. I was in fact a little bit nervous. I didn’t know what to expect of it. “You are scared”, Morpheus noticed. “I won’t hurt you. Just think about the shore or the beach or some dessert”.

Somehow his voice calms me down. It was deep and velvet. Like the voice that put you to sleep, reading the stories. And I was falling to sleep slowly. But it didn’t work, there was no sigh of the sand. Though I see Morpheus in my dream. He looks a little bit different. He was dressed in a long black cloak and looked even more ethereal than in reality. His eyes were like shining stars. “I’m sorry, it didn’t work out”, I sighed. “It’s not a fault of yours”, he said. “I should have though, it didn’t work the first time. Now wake up!”

I opened my eyes immediately. Morpheus was there in my room. He was sitting on my bed and watching me. “Perhaps, you were right”, I said. “I need to stimulate my imagination better”. “And you were too nervous”, he admitted. “Now I will be nervous because of another reason”, I sighed. “Why?” he frowned. “I will be afraid to fail”, I replied.

“Don’t”, he said. “It’s not your responsibility to help me. You are not the one who caught me, held me, and took all my things”. “You perhaps need to return your things”, I said. “Yes, when I became stronger and return home”, he nodded. “I can’t go back to that house in this condition”. “I won’t let you”, I said, and when he looked at me, blushed. “I mean I can’t let you return to this terrible people. I…don’t want to get hurt again”. “You barely know me”, he admitted. “Yes, but I would like to someday”, I said. “If you let me. And I will worry about you if you go back there”. “You will?” he looked surprised. “Yes”, I said. “I don’t want you to be captured and hurt again”.

  Something changed in his eyes. He looked softer and I was sure I saw tears in his eyes. I dared to touch his hand and he looked as if no one has ever done this before. “You are not alone”, I said. “You will regret this when you know me better”, he whispered. “All I bring to people is pain and ruin”. “I don’t believe in this”, I said. “Someone like me doesn’t make for friends and love”, Morpheus sighed. “Only to fulfill his duties and all”. “It sounds so lonely”, I whispered.

He stood up fast and turned from me. And it seemed he was with tears in his eyes. I may hurt him with my words. “I’m sorry”, I said, “I didn’t want to offend you”. “You are right”, he confessed quietly. “One of my friends…told me the same thing once. And I abandoned him. I shouldn’t have done that”. “You can apologize to him”, I said. “I’m sure he will forgive you if you will sincere as you are now with me”. “How he can forgive my cruelty?” he sounds desperate. “I wouldn’t”. “Because everyone makes mistakes”, I said. “And if you are truly sorry, he will understand and forgive you”.

  He looked at me and I saw the tears falling down his cheeks with horror. I stood up too and gently wiped his tears. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to upset you more”, I sighed. I stopped touching his face, but he suddenly took my hand. I felt him trembling and thought what I have done. “I shouldn’t have that”, I whispered. “You are still vulnerable. The last thing I want to do is to upset you”. “I’m sorry for this outburst, I…” I couldn’t take these apologies for being upset and just hugged him tight. “What are you doing?” “Comforting you”, I whispered. “You shouldn’t apologize”. “I’m weak”, he replied. “It’s pathetic”.

But he finally gave in and relaxed into my embrace. “No, it’s not pathetic”, I said. “You deserve to feel vulnerable and sad sometimes too”. “No, if I will be sad, my world would drown in the rainwater or other disaster will happen”, he said. “That is why my emotions should be under control”. “But now you can be a little sad”, I said. He let me embrace him for a few more minutes and then he pulled back. His eyes were red and he looked like he can be broken into pieces. “Thank you”, he said. “For your comforting words and actions. I suppose you should rest now. I won’t disturb you today again”. And he quickly disappeared into another room. Perhaps, he was embarrassed. I didn’t follow him and felt like sleep took me.

@shadowqueen1318  @mypsychoticlove  @justathirstyhoe @ladymoztaza

[dollyyun]

ALSJSLSKS SCREECHING BC I HAD A FEELING I SHOULD CHECK TUMBLR AND SAY 7.2 IS ALREADY OUT?? LIKE EXCUSE ME??? WHERE IS MY WARNING??? naur bc i wasn’t expecting the boys to each have their own part within the part but i love you for it, it was so interesting seeing how each of them grovelled for forgiveness 🤭🤭 also the fact that it was in order of the solo chaps with jake then hoon then jay then heeseung?? i see what you did there hehe 🤓 BUT STOP WE HAD A SWITCH JAKE MOMENT??? (ugh love me a pathetic man) naur bc ik that shit wouldn’t slide with the others but jake has always been a different story AND DONT GET ME STARTED ON HOON AND HIS BABY FEVER!!! lowkey had me Hot and Bothered 🫣 but drunk jay had me awwwwing so much bc that’s my man my man my man as soon as he clings to me and starts pouting i would be like, “why was i mad again??” so yn is stronger than me fr (and wdym he bought me a bike?? ugh marry me) 🤕🤕 as for heeseung i wasn’t expecting to giggle so much when he said yn was someone he could see himself spending his life with in front of jen and her dad??? like EXCUSE ME SIR??? i don’t blame yn for spilling her drink on herself bc same 🤭 all in alll you dropped another banger and idk how but your writing manages to get better and better each and every time?? why is it so beautiful???? like just publish a damn book already woman and let me give you all my money for it when it comes out 🙏

anyway i missed you wifey and spamming you with asks how you’re doing well 🥹💟

OMG DIA? YOU’RE IN MY INBOX OR AM I DREAMING🧍🏻‍♀️IM SCREECHING AND BAWLING MY EYES OUT😭 I’VE MISSED YOU MORE AND YEARNED FOR YOU :’) i’m doing fine except being sleep deprived! hope you are well my love🫶🏻

hehe yes yes i wanted to focus on each hyung line’s grovelling because that way it deepened the connection between y/n and them! yupp i also went in order like their solo chaps🤭bby we all love pathetic men and jaeyun being a switch is so <333 LMFAO YEAH HEEJAYHOON WOULD NEVER😭THEY WONT EVEN LAST FOR A FEW MINUTES BEFORE DOMMING Y/N🗿

i’m being for real when i say i’ve also missed you dominating my asks by sending me your thoughts and theories😭🥹i genuinely enjoyed them all like i do now🫶🏻

you always flatter me even when i insist that my writing is just decent🧍🏻‍♀️bby me publishing a book- i’m not on that level🙏🏻😮‍💨 but for you i would publish a book and give it to you for free🤍

SHDHDJD AHH IM STILL LOSING MY MIND OVER THE FACT THAT YOU’RE SEMI-HERE🥹I LOVE YOU SO SO MUCH MY DARLING DIA💗💗💗💗MISS YOU ALWAYS <333

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

In Your Dreams

Moodboard by @softhecreator

Chapter Four: Visit Me When I Am Dead & Gone

AO3 info one two three four five six seven epilogue

All my work is 18+.

Darling, don’t you weep. There’s a place for me, somewhere we can sleep. Darling, don’t you cry. Head fast towards the light. Foolish men have tried, but only you have shown me how to love being alive. Until it’s time to see the light, I’ll make my own with you each night. I’ll kidnap all the stars and I will keep them in your eyes… Darling, don’t you weep. There’s a place for me, somewhere we can sleep. I’ll see you in your dreams.- Halsey, Darling

She froze. All thought ceased.

“I—“ she sputtered. “What?”

“You’re my mate,” he repeated. “I know you don’t want any sort of relationship, so I never told you. I wouldn’t have told you at all, honestly, if you hadn’t asked. I only wanted to see your face when I…” he trailed off.

Her legs chose that exact moment to give out, and she collapsed on the bench next to him. “I can’t be.”

“You have a mark on your pelvic bone. Raised, like a scar,” he informed her, as if she weren’t aware. He sounded exhausted, as if every word was a great effort. “It’s the outline of a star with eight points.”

Lea stared at him. “How do you know about my birthmark?”

“It’s not exactly a birthmark.” He closed his eyes, seemingly too tired to keep them open. “It’s a symbol of fertility.”

“A symbol of what?” she squeaked out, aghast. “It’s just a birthmark. My sisters have it, too, it’s genetic—“

“Of course it’s genetic,” he chuckled. “That doesn’t mean it’s a birthmark.”

“How are you so sure what it is, then?”

“The culture that first identified the mates of my species had a seven-pointed star as a fertility symbol,” Tim went on. “I don’t know how or why you have it. I was too far away when the marks first appeared and the first incubus—or succubus, who knows what it was?—was born millions of years before I was, and word didn’t exactly travel quickly in those times. It’s only been fairly recently that I learned the exact origin of the marks. They didn’t always exist.”

She furrowed her brows in thought. “Where are you from, exactly? Where do incubi come from?”

“Sumeria was where the marks come from,” he sighed, leaning his head back against the bench. “No one remembers when or where incubi came into being. Could be the beginning of time, I don’t know. If the first ones are still around, they certainly don’t remember anything from that long ago. As for me, I was born in southern France. My mom’s human and my dad’s an incubus—she and my dad wear glamours around people who aren’t aware of what my dad is—so they don’t actually look any older than me. Anyway, the civilization my mom was born into is long dead. I don’t remember the name of it. Neither does she. It’s been a long time.”

“So…” She gulped nervously, her throat tight. “You’re closer in age to your mom than you are to me?”

He turned to face her again. “I suppose I am, yes. She was younger than you when she had me.”

“This is… weird,” she admitted.

“I imagine it would be weird for you,” he agreed with a nod. “It’s not weird for me, though. My dad and my mom are further apart in age than we are.”

She blinked. “How old is your dad?”

Tim shrugged. “No clue. I don’t know and neither does he. It’s been too long. He remembers the agricultural revolution, and that he was very old by that point already.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “The agricultural revolution was twelve thousand years ago.”

He nodded. “Yup.”

“Your dad is twelve thousand years old.”

He shook his head then. “No. Like I said, he was older than he could remember by that point. We aren’t sure, but we suspect he’s at least twenty thousand years old. He recognized some pictures of pottery we saw from around that time.”

Her head was spinning.

“And my birthmark— how do you know it’s… that?” she asked anxiously.

“My parents are like us. That’s how we reproduce, is with our mates. I’ve known what to expect from my mate since I could talk, and I’ve known what the marks mean for centuries.”

“And if you haven’t seen mine, why are you so sure I have it?”

He opened one eye, his lips lifting up into a small, barely-there grin. “Are you sure you want me to answer that? You may be happier not knowing.”

Lea narrowed her eyes at him. “Tell me.”

“Very well,” he sighed, closing both eyes again. “I want a lot of women on some kind of base level. Maybe even most women. But it’s never specific, really. It doesn’t feel directed at anyone in particular. With you, though…” A wistful sigh. “As soon as I met you, I knew that I needed you and no one else. I have this ridiculously strong urge to fuck your brains out, and it never really goes away.” She blanched at his crude words, but he continued. “But I don’t just want to fuck you, I need to fuck you. When I’m with you, everything in me is constantly screaming to hold you down and put my child inside you, over and over and over again. From the moment I looked into your eyes for the first time, I knew I wanted—needed—to hold you and kiss you and love you. I didn’t even know your name, but I knew you were meant for me.”

It didn’t make sense. It made no fucking sense. “Are you messing with me?” she demanded.

Now that she was no longer touching him, his skin was getting paler by the second, and his breaths were getting more and more shallow. 

“No, I’m not. I know I look like shit right now,” he informed her. “Come closer to me and take my hand. I’ll show you what your proximity, your touch, does to me.”

Skeptically, she sat down close to him on the bench and took his hand.

“Watch,” he murmured, threading their fingers together.

Lea observed closely as, starting at where her hand was clasping his, his skin regained its natural color and his breathing evened out again.

“What’s happening?” she asked nervously, her voice shaky and hesitant.

“Your touch alone could probably keep me alive for another week or so, provided it’s nonstop.” He considered for a moment. “It certainly doesn’t hurt that you’re so attracted to me, either. Sexual attraction doesn’t do much, really, but it makes my situation more pleasant.”

“I’m— I’m not—“ she sputtered, and Tim laughed. It wasn’t unkind, merely… amused. 

“I’m an incubus, sweetheart,” he reminded her gently. “I know when someone is sexually attracted to me.” 

She flushed, looking down at their clasped hands instead of directly at him. She didn’t want to let go of him; what if it was the only thing keeping him alive?

“Don’t be embarrassed.” He reached over, brushing her hair from her face and cupping her cheek so as to tilt her face up towards him again. “You’d be attracted to me even if you weren’t my mate. It’s probably somewhat stronger because you are, though.”

Lea had always thought she’d done a pretty good job of ignoring his rather obnoxious level of sexiness. She looked down, her face still flaming.

“What do you remember of the dreams?” he asked after a moment.

Her head snapped up. “The… the what?”

“The dreams,” Tim repeated with a smile that quickly morphed into a chuckle at her expression. “I’m an incubus, remember? I don’t generally enter dreams, but I had to know how you felt about me.” A wistful smile. “And anyway, I couldn’t have planted anything in that pretty little head of yours if you didn’t want it already. Plus, if you’ll recall, it was you who initiated the sex, not me.”

She sputtered uselessly. “I— I don’t know why I—“

Tim chuckled. “It’s alright. At least I won’t die from your lack of wanting me. That would be a tremendous blow to a creature like me.”

“If only I can save you, what do I need to do?”

“As I told you before,” he sighed, “nothing I’d ask of you.”

“But I can do something,” she persisted. “Tell me what it is.”

He stared at her. “I think you know what it is, Lea.”

When she blushed this time, it spread all the way down to her chest, below the hemline of her shirt. His gaze followed it, making her skin feel even more heated.

“How far does that flush go, I wonder?” Tim murmured. After a moment, however, he seemed to shake himself out of whatever stupor he’d fallen into and his eyes met hers again. “In any case, I’m not telling you this to try to convince you of anything.”

“I don’t want you to die, but I can’t—“ she cut herself off, tears filling her eyes. “I can’t do that, I promised myself I would never do that with anyone, I—“

“I know,” he assured her gently. “I know. It’s okay. I never expected you to. I’d never coerce anyone into sex, but you…” He sighed again, looking away from her momentarily. “You are everything. I want you to have whatever it is you want. If me giving you what you want means me not touching you, I’m happy for that.”

Her eyes widened. “You shouldn’t feel that strongly for me, Tim.”

He smiled ruefully at her. “If you’re saying I shouldn’t love you, my darling, I’m afraid it’s far too late for that.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Why not?” he asked. “As soon as I met you, you became the center of my existence. Everything I am revolves around you now. That’s how it’s meant. You told me in one of your dreams that you can’t give someone power over you, and I said that it’s you who has power over me, but the truth is, that doesn’t really scratch the surface of precisely how much power you have over me. An incubus’ mate holds his existence—his happiness, his life, the very core of his being—in the palm of her hand. I’ve always known that my mate would bring me one of two things: either eternal happiness and love… or death.” He took a breath. “And I’m fine with that, Lea. Truly. It doesn’t bother me.”

“But you have so much left to do,” she reminded him tearfully. “So much left to be, to experience.”

He smiled slightly. “I would’ve made more movies, I suppose. But other than that, I’ve experienced just about everything there is. I learned to read and write in cuneiform. I saw the fall of Troy and was there when Rome was founded, and when it fell. I met Socrates and Plato. I remember Charlagmne’s coronation and the Norman Conquest. I found it amusing to play Henry V because I knew him. I’ve seen the Plague overtake Europe and Joan of Arc’s execution. I remember Columbus—he was a total dickhead in person, too, by the way—, the American and French revolutions, both World Wars— you name it, I can probably tell you where I was at the time. I’ve seen everything there is to see, experienced more than anyone could ever dream of, and I promise you, the idea of dying no longer scares or bothers me.”

“But I don’t want you to die,” she insisted. “You… you mean a lot to me.”

Tim stared at her. “I know,” he said after a few beats, “but you can’t give me what’s necessary to keep me alive, sweetheart. It’s okay. I don’t mind it. I’m not upset with you, and it’s not your fault I need this from you to survive.”

Tears were trickling down her cheeks, and he reached out to brush them away.

“Don’t cry for me, love. This is probably the best way I could go, aside from being naked in your arms.”

“Is there anything else I can do, any other way I can help?” she persisted.

He hummed. “You could kiss me, I suppose. It wouldn’t—“

Lea didn’t even let him finish before she leaned over and pressed her lips to his. He was frozen for a moment before wrapping an arm around her and pulling her closer, his free hand sinking into her hair. She didn’t know how to kiss, really, but if this would help him, would save him, she’d do it as long as he needed.

The tears wouldn’t stop falling, though, so he eventually pulled away from her and brushed them from her face again. “You’re still crying,” he observed.

“I don’t want you to die,” she sobbed miserably. “I want to save you. I want to help you.”

“Kissing me will buy me a few hours. Maybe a day. You can’t save me, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

She buried her face in his neck and cried harder.

He rubbed her back reassuringly. “It’s alright, love. Your happiness comes first.”

“I’d be happier if you lived,” she sniffled.

Tim sighed, burying his nose in her hair and inhaling deeply. “You don’t want to be with me the way I need, Lea,” he reminded her gently. “And that’s okay. I’ve held you, I’ve kissed you— I will die a very happy man.”

Eventually, after a bit more kissing—tearfully on her part—, he had enough strength to where he insisted upon walking her home.

She hugged him before he walked away from her doorstep, sobbing into his chest some more. “I don’t want you to die. I want to help.”

“You could kiss me again and buy me a few more hours,” he teased gently.

She still did it, though, teasing or not, and he kissed her back slowly, passionately. 

Lovingly. 

Finally, he pulled away, leaning his forehead against hers. “Goodbye, Lea.”

With one last sweet, gentle kiss, he left, and she knew she’d never see him again.

Goodbye, Tim.

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[tsintotwo]

[POV: You were born a Dream vortex, and Lord Morpheus has been watching you all your life. Though at this point, he’s doing much more than just watching you... Part 4. Part 3 here

(Oh, gosh. Hot and sweet and turbulent, I loved writing this. Still hoping to wrap this up within the next part. Let’s see...)]

I am nineteen today, and I have my own palace.

I ponder this before the Chief Architect of the Kingdom (we do have one, after all) arrives, responding to my summons.

‘You don’t have to do much.’, I tell him, gesturing around. ‘As you see, the room is already here. Only, it is in poor condition, so rework this. Make it look new, decorate it as elegantly and comfortably as possible. This is to be my bedchamber.’

‘This, my la- Your Highness?’, He is seeing me for the first time, and can’t take his eyes off my face. I don’t wear head or face coverings for men anymore except in my throne room, and I only do it then for the comfort of my people. So, unusual sight for him, I am sure. ‘The Queen’s bedchamber at the foot of a tower?’

Right next to this is the circular anteroom where the spiraling staircase to the top of the tower starts.

‘Yes. And after this, I’m going to show you the tower top. That too you will fix for me. Make it nice. Fit for a Queen to go up sometimes.’

‘But towers are not made for Queens! They are made for soldiers, and Heaven forbid if ever there is a war, soldiers will have to be passing through your anteroom! This is highly unusual-‘

‘I am unusual.’, I interrupt him, ‘And if there is a war in my kingdom and my soldiers are fighting, rest assured you will not find me asleep in my bed.’

I never went back to the dead King’s bedchamber after I took over the palace. I would demolish it to the ground if I could. Instead, I locked it, and have been sleeping in a smaller bedroom nearby ever since. But maybe it is finally time to believe I have survived, and to lay claims to my own place.

This much I will do on the occasion of my birth anniversary, and no more. There will be no land-wide celebration, no feasts at the palace with more food than anyone could ever eat, and enough alcohol to bathe a village. That is how it is usually done, but I would rather not waste money on something that I see as mostly frivolous. And no one here knows my birth date anyway.

I think of my own family, my father and brother, and a sigh escapes from deep within me. Surely, they had news of my imprisonment, my rebellion, and my eventual queendom. Yet not a single word from them, in all this time. They have shunned their dark daughter, dark sister like one would kick away a barking dog. No gifts or good wishes will be arriving for me from that kingdom today.

I knew this, and I should not be still hoping for love from them, but I can’t shake the sadness that wraps around me, and I have a bad day. But then, I have a much, much worse night.

Except for my visits to the heart of the Dream realm, I stopped dreaming- on purpose. The vortex self of me is stronger as I get older, and when among unknown dream elements, I feel it could get away from me, make things volatile. I promised the Dream Lord I would not endanger his realm if I could help it- and even without that promise why would I want to endanger the universe? So, I resisted dreams, and nightmares, and slept dreamlessly most nights. I could choose to do so.

But not tonight. Maybe it is my emotional state, maybe some too-strong dreamfolk finding me, maybe something else, but suddenly I am vulnerable, and I was not ready. In my sleep tonight, I see fragments of my childhood in the old palace, face of my father, disapproving… no, I am dreaming, I have to stop. But as I start forming that conscious thought, gathering power within me to banish the dream, it changes. Nightmares find me. And they come wearing memories.

I am back at my old bedchamber, and the late king- my former husband, savage monster in the shape of a human, advances. I am frozen in fear. This is not real, I remind myself desperately, this is a dream, and I can change this. I reach for my abilities, but they feel too big, too intense, and I am afraid- what if I can’t control them? I try to focus, to shape what I want out of the chaos within, but it is taking too long- the King tears open my body again, laughing. I am naked, bleeding, writhing in pain. I want to scream, but I know, I just know if I do, if I let it out, lose control, I will lose hold of the whole of my churning, crackling vortex self and it will rip holes in the fabric of Dreaming, of reality.

Focus, focus, pull at the stitches of this nightmare, undo it, unspool... the walls are cracking now, the floor breaking up, face of the King crumbling into gray non-shapelessness, and then it is his son- climbing on my body, eyes glinting, knife sharp in hand, oh, oh the pain, and he will kill me- I almost lose hold, and on the other side of my nightmare I can feel others- others’ dreams, everyone in the castle- trying to push in, merge, and I will not let it happen, and with one last shove of strength I push back, channel my focus towards only my defense and nothing else, and the man is gone, disappearing in smoke.

Slowly the room falls away, revealing gray, barren land, and I’m on it, collapsed. I have all under control now, but still I shake violently, body cringed in the tightest curl, eyes screwed shut, mouth clamped down, face wet with tears. That is how Dream finds me.

Barely just opening my eyes, I see him kneel before me, eyes slightly wide, shock turning into grave sympathy as he takes it all in. Have I not been here before? Nightmares attacking me, and Dream arriving to expel them- I was only seven, and oh, how easily I dove into his arms! I yearn for it now- hold me, gather me, or I will melt, I will disintegrate in fluttery pieces and float away in the air, I have no strength left to contain myself within my body, I can feel myself blurring and spreading away and please, please-

But I cannot ask for it, I don’t know how to, so I curl and cringe into myself more, head between knees, arms around them, trying to hold myself desperately. Dream moves. With a smooth pull that looks impossible, he rips away a part of his cloak. Still it doesn’t look like any part has been torn away at all, yet the piece of cloth is in his hand. He kneels and puts it on my body, and for the first time, I realize I’m still naked.

With shaking hands, I pull the cloth tighter around me, and then he’s gently pulling me up. My knees shake, and I almost fall- he supports me, holding my arms. He leads me, and after a slow, short walk- we are at Fiddler’s Green. It’s the most beautiful dream here, soothing, peaceful, and as Dream sits me down on the wooden bench, I know he wants me to feel it- to let it make me feel better. But still in me all is gray, and everything has teeth, biting my insides with memories I tried so hard to bury. Dream sits with me, and I don’t know when it happened, but my hands are grabbing his shamelessly, hanging on to all that is warm and good by this last thread, and if I could I’d never let go. But he pulls away one of them, and places it on my head.

I looked at his face once when he arrived, and looking again now, I’m afraid to see pity, but his soft mouth and heavy eyes are only sad. ‘Look into my eyes’, he murmurs, leaning in close, and as I do, I fall into the cool, bottomless blue, and then I am not here anymore.

I am a child, and at my palace, except nothing is the same, because I have a mother.

She did not die giving birth to me. She is sill here, and she is beautiful, and she is good, the best thing- she loves me, she holds me and kisses me and tells me stories and laughs with me and with her holding my hands, I discover the palace, and the world. My father is kind, and my brother is my friend, and we are a family- and I don’t know what happens in the end, but every single detail of this picture, every groove of conversation and every stitch of sitting together laughing and every pattern of affectionate touch… all of it brings such unbearable happiness, it’s almost harder to hold in than my vortex self. It seems both like a moment and a lifetime, but in the end, opening my eyes, I’m just here, sitting on a bench at Fiddler’s Green, the happiness dissipating like smoke, dry sobs escaping me.

‘Present that could not be’, Dream says softly. 'But it was fair that you might have a taste.’ He sighs, and touches my forehead, ‘Sleep. Sleep, and do not dream.’, Then all is gone, and all is quiet.

__________

In the next days, and months, I am different.

I don’t dream again, but I don’t sleep much either. I can’t. Some locked away thing came out with the nightmares, and it will not let go of me. I’m tired of fighting, so I succumb. Days are dull, nothing means anything, and this ruling and being Queen and everything else- what do they matter?

My councilmen are surprised that I am absent from meetings, relegating decisions to them. This is all they used to want, but now they are wary. They think I am always in my room, locking myself- and that too since the night every single person in the palace had terrible nightmares- because I am preparing for something they cannot imagine. It will not be long before they realize it is just because I see no point anymore. Then they can go ahead and loot and divide the kingdom amongst themselves- let them, what do I care? My maids, guards, people who used to like me- they ask things, and I don’t bother answering, and I assume they don’t like me anymore as I push them away. Days blend into one another, and all I can think of are things that happened to me- I can think of them with distance now, as if watching rather than experiencing, but still, they happened to me, and my body is sullied, and I am disgusting, and I should not be alive playing at being Queen or whatever. I should just stay here, and wither until I don’t exist anymore.

So that is what I do, endlessly and for long, until this night, when I should be asleep but I’m sitting at my vanity like a ghost, not looking at the mirror, not doing anything, when the air changes. I look up, and in the mirror, behind me, I see the Dream Lord.

‘What are you doing here?’, my question after a stretch of silence is asked not in curiosity, but in indifferent resignation.

‘Since my raven retired, I have not appointed a new one.’, he answers calmly. True, I have not seen the raven with him in several years which to an immortal is not much, I suppose. ‘So, I must visit in person when something needs investigating.’

‘I need investigating?’

‘You are the vortex.’, he replies, watching me in the mirror, and I know it’s more than that. Since my nightmare, I have not been to the Dreaming. I have not seen him.

I couldn’t. Dream had seen me at my very worst that night- ugly, disgusting, ruined, stripped bare in all my unworthiness, and after that, I could not imagine my presence being desirable to him, in the Dreaming. How can he see anything else now when he looks at me, anything but the hideous and loathsome self I hid within? I could not sully his realm with it.

All this I cannot say in words, but he walks up to me, coming close, looking at me intently, and with something like distress in his voice, says, ‘Dreams have lost you.’

‘Yes’, I try to sound matter-of-fact, ‘It’s for the best. I mean, the last time happened accidentally- you know I’d been-‘

‘Dreams in the waking world.’, he interrupts me, putting force behind his words, ‘Your aspirations, hopes- my sister has you.’ I can see the realization hit him, the shock of it on his face.

‘Your sister?’

‘Despair.’, he chews out the word- no love lost here. Despair… yes, that seems right.

‘I thought for you she was too weak.’, Dream looks upset like I have rarely seen him, ‘For you, I thought I would suffice.’ He is disappointed, but not in me, I realize. He’s disappointed in himself.

‘I- what do you mean?’, somewhat bewildered, I stand up and face him, forgetting that during all these months I was afraid of looking in his eyes and seeing disgust. He’s not looking at me in any different way at all.

‘So much I have seen you suffer’, Dream says, slow, putting emphasis on every word, ‘and yet, you braved through. You still had hopes, and dreams, and using them you survived. Humans must succumb to my sister one time or another, but you never let her keep hold onto you before. But now…’, in the golden light of candles burning in the room, he looks impossibly sad, ‘I’ve failed.’

‘How did you fail?’, I still don’t fully understand.

He lowers his eyes for a second, ‘A folly…’, he looks up again, ‘You reminded me of what dreams are capable of, mortal Queen. You reminded me of my purpose, of why I must do what I must, why I am. Perhaps…’

‘You’re giving up on me?’, the way he speaks like it’s all in the past makes some kind of frustration, or even anger start to simmer underneath my gray haze of- of despair.

Dream looks astonished, ‘I cannot give up on you, or any human, or any creature that dreams. By function, I am there for all. You have to choose me. Or,’, he steps back, ‘You can give up on me.’

It’s not fair, the way he puts it. It’s not as if any of what I feel is on purpose, is it?

‘I don’t-‘, I don’t know how to say this, ‘I’m not, I’m not good enough, don’t you understand?’, it almost sounds like a plea, like I’m asking him to confirm what I know, because it can’t be a lie, I can’t be wrong, can I?

But Dream just shakes his head, ‘You are what you make yourself. And you made yourself a Queen, until you forgot that.’ From inside his cloak, he pulls out a leather pouch that I know is filled with sand. He casts the sand around himself, disappearing in its golden swirl without another word.

‘What?’, I say to the empty air, properly angry now. That’s what he had for me? Complaints and laments and nothing else?

Anger is more than I felt in months, and it brings with it many more things. Indignance- at Dream- how dare he, like he understands how it is, coming in here and judging me (but I guess he didn’t, really); frustration and rage at the universe- why did I have to suffer, and if I did, why am I not allowed to just be, in grief, or despair, or whatever--

But I am, of course. I can just give into despair, like Dream said. He had zero kind words for me, zero sympathy, zero encouragement, he gave me nothing, so why not?

But that’s not true, is it? Instead of those human things, he did give me what he can give- dreams. For myself, and my people, and my kingdom- he has always given me that.

After the storm of rage comes the quiet of contemplation, and it is sparkling in clarity I scarcely hoped for. I said what happened to me did not define me. But maybe it did. It gave me the most brutal scars, but it also made me into this woman who can choose to heal- not by locking it all away, but by looking it into its eyes and defying it. She is strong enough.

So it takes days, and much silently raging conflict, and thinking, and making peace with things, but then, I open my doors, let in light and air, and I am the Queen once more. I go to the Dreaming that night, after so long. At his palace, the Dream Lord is walking down the hallway, and seeing me, he stops in his tracks.

‘I choose you.’, I say simply. Slowly, his mouth curves up in a smile, eyes sparkling, and at this moment, I feel something solidifying between us. I can’t name it, but it is born of us both seeing our purposes reflected in each other. It is a bond, and it is strong.

___________________________

Things are once again as they were, but also not, because for my queendom, I feel the purpose more strongly, and in my visits to the Dreaming, I feel freer. I am lighter with some frozen thing melted and evaporated from within me after those dark months, and it shows in the added spring in my steps, the sound of my voice and my laughter. I could allow none of this to be as unrestrained as I do but for that bond I can’t name- it still feel it simmer, with the realm and with Dream (they are one and the same, I suppose). It makes me feel like I belong here. Maybe it’s a delusion, a lie I tell myself, and the only thing that’s changed is my ability to allow myself to at least nurse the idea.

Today, I am in Dream’s throne room again, trying to convince him to leave his book, or register, or whatever that is he is poring through, and come on a walk with me.

‘You work too much.’, I tell him, ‘You never stop thinking about the realm for a moment. You just need to relax sometimes.’

‘Proper monarchs are busy.’, he turns a page, ‘You should know.’

‘I still relax- I’m relaxing right now!’

‘Are you.’, he looks up, smile slightly mocking at my hands on my waist and raised voice.

I shake my head, ���You know what I mean. I’m asleep- which you don’t even do- and I’m visiting you. Maybe you’d notice if you took your nose out of that dusty, old thing long enough!’

‘You seem to have no regard’, he closes the volume and sets it aside, ‘for kingly duties. Or the King himself, I might add.’

His words are not angry. A smile plays on his lips, little and teasing. I love that smile- the thought sneaks in.

‘Maybe it’s because you’re always on these stairs and never on your actual throne.’, I tease right back, grabbing on whatever comes to mind, ‘Maybe if you sat on your throne, I’d show you your kingly regard.’

‘Oh? How?’

‘Hard to say now- I suppose we’ll both find out when you really do it.’

‘Let us find out, then.’, he stands, and starts walking up the stairs.

I’m bemused- I didn’t think he would do it right now. But Dream is not one to let questions float, and I’m not entirely sure he always sees or understands jokes the same way I do. He would want to find out.

Dream doesn’t need his throne. The very first time I saw him I was barely seven, and before he uttered a word, I knew he was a King- he exudes that power, that regal dignity. But as he settles on the throne and looks at me expectantly, I am in a fix. I promised a show of regard, and I must deliver, whatever that means.

I search for inspiration. The first thing I decide is I am too far away down here- I can’t even see his face properly. So I walk up the stairs, keeping my eyes on Dream. If his expression hints going nearer is disrespectful, I will stop. But he is stoic, waiting for me. Then I'm at the end, the last step becoming the platform for his throne, and on just the one below, I kneel. These steps are narrow, my body almost touches Dream's knees.

I knelt before I ever consciously decided to. This close to him, his seat of power, I can feel it- the Endlessness of him, the enormity. Kneeling to it came naturally. But I'm still not sure what I'm doing at all. Then I think of something- a gesture I saw offered to my father long ago in his court.

Dream’s hands are on his lap, and I pull one of them between mine. 'Lord Morpheus,’, I say, slow and deliberate, bowing my head, 'Dream of the Endless, Your Majesty. You are the uncontested sovereign of this realm, a just King, and wise. You are worthy of the highest regard, and such do I offer you as a privileged and humbled guest in this kingdom.'

I press my lips on his hand, kissing it softly. Then I look up. Dream has leaned in, watching me.

His face just above mine, I can see every detail of it, and Dream- he has always been beautiful, but maybe I forgot because how did it not take my breath away every second as it does now? The windows are behind the throne, and in the pool of colored light and shadows, his pale, sharp face glows like moonshine. His eyes are fixed on mine, and this close, I can see flecks and streaks of silver in the deep pools of blue, and faint rings of amber around the dark pupils glinting like stars. The mass of black hair framing his forehead makes the stark slopes of his cheeks more striking. I can hear him breathe, I can feel the warmth of his hand- still between my palms- seeping into me, and as my eyes fall onto his slightly parted lips, strangely, I can hear my heart beating in my own ears.

Slowly, Dream places the tips of the fingers of his other hand on my cheek, thumb on my chin.

‘Perhaps I should sit on my throne more often’, he murmurs, not taking his eyes off my face, ‘if you are to be so obliging.’

I open my mouth, but no sound comes out. I-I want- what? I don’t have words for these things that I never felt before. I want- want to be closer to him- but that’s not possible, that doesn’t make any sense, I’m already so close. My lips still tingle from their touch on his skin, and his voice, it’s still making soundless echoes within me, making me feel- what?

Bewildered, I let go of Dream’s hand and try to take steps back, forgetting I’m on a staircase, and I almost stumble down. With a quick and gliding grace that seems impossible, Dream reaches out and holds me by my arm, stopping my fall. The pull almost makes me lose my balance, and for the smallest fraction of a moment, I consider giving into the imbalance because then I’d be falling onto Dream’s body, crumpled on his lap, between his arms, and that, that is…

Insane. Senseless. What is happening? What is happening to me?

‘I-‘, I can’t quite catch my breath, ‘I’ll go. You can work. I’ll, I’ll see you later.’

I almost fly down the stairs, and as I will myself to leave the Dreaming, I can feel Dream’s eyes still on my back, intent, watching.

________________________________

The confusion is never entirely cleared, but settles into a thing, alive, always there, every time I see him, and then, even when I don’t. We talk, and sometimes now I lose the thread- distracted by how his hair falls on his face, lips move as he explains something, thick-lashed eyes flicker in response to what I tell him. Like always, he wears his long, dark cloak. Underneath- sometimes he is wearing simple clothes but sometimes he is wearing nothing. The cloak still covers his body then, but as he moves, I see flashes of his pale limbs, sliver of his throat, piece of his chest. All of it looks exquisitely defined in a way that hurts me- it hurts, and it is perplexing. A yearning has started to throb, constant- to be closer, to touch, to- I can’t think beyond that, I don’t know how to. I sit and stand and walk with him, near, but it’s not enough, it’s never enough.

If Dream notices any change, he does not comment on it. But when I’ve let the conversation evaporate, trying not to lose myself in his eyes, he doesn’t look away. Lightly he touches me on my arm, my shoulder, my waist as we move. It feels natural rather than deliberately thought out- but this is not what he always allowed himself before. A few times, his eyes follow mine when I’m looking at his body, and he smiles. Or smirks. I’m not sure. But afterwards, he looks speculative, sometimes becoming quiet and reserved for a time.

I don’t know what to do with any of it, so I try to ignore it. It makes me restless, but in a strange way, more alive. That yearning to be close- it finds non-physical ways to express itself and I discover myself speaking more openly to Dream- letting him see me as I am, speaking truths, agreeing with him when he doesn’t expect me to, challenging him even when he doesn’t like it. And Dream, he never has pretended to be other than he is- he is so assured in his ways. But now, rarely but still there, I see traces of things underneath- doubts and confusions and sometimes desolation. I don’t know if he lets me see them or I have become better at reading them within him, but either way, it makes me feel more intimate with him. And yet the yearning is never doused.

Then it gets infinitely worse, because for a time, I don’t see him at all.

It happens like this. He has been cross and moody about something lately, and he would not tell me about it. That is completely valid. I would not share every single thing about the inner goings-on of my queendom with him either- there are things I don’t want his opinion on, things that I am still processing, things I am not too proud of so I’d rather he didn’t know. Same things might apply to him. I understand this, but it makes me irrationally irritated. Then, that day, I’m in the Dreaming’s library when I hear him talk to Lucien.

I still visit the section where books about my kingdom and councilmen are, and I’ve just got what I need and managed to send Sir Woodby away when I hear Dream. Lucien has misplaced a book, let it be stolen or something, and Dream is not happy.

Lucien hangs her head. It is clear she has beaten herself up about it enough without Dream having to berate her. ‘I will get it back, my Lord.’, she says.

‘And what if you cannot?’

She has no answer, and Dream’s voice is cold, ‘It will be another show of severe incompetency, and perhaps I should expect it this time unlike-‘

Then, Dream notices me for the first time, half-hidden behind a shelf. As I walk out in full view, he looks embarrassed for a second, but in the next his face is stony and set.

‘What is this?’, I ask, and without pausing for a moment he answers, ‘Not your business.’

I’m not so much hurt as I am angry. ‘Oh, yes, you are ‘disciplining your employee’ or whatever, and that would not be my business, except Lucien is my friend, as she is yours. A mere lost book justifies you speaking to her like that?’

‘Excuse me.’, Lucien says politely, and retreats, the situation getting increasingly difficult for her to participate in.

Dream’s eyes burn. ‘You would teach me how to speak to my own subject, would you?’

‘Again, subject, yes, but she is also your friend! Why can’t you admit that? You’re angry about other things, probably, and taking it out on her. You know she is not incompetent at all!’

‘Ah, yes. Your ideas about friendship are trustworthy indeed.’

He is referring to all the times I tried to call him my friend when he said he wasn’t. A hot flash of pain rips through me.

‘I guess I’m wrong to be here right now, then.’ He doesn’t stop me as I turn around and will myself to leave.

We’ve had small arguments before. Mostly those were about things that don’t have singular right/wrong resolutions. But this time he was wrong, and he was unkind to me as well as Lucien. I know this, so the increasing urge to just forget everything and go see him as days go by is as annoying as it is embarrassing. But I have discovered a new sensation- it is the one of missing someone- him- with my complete and whole being. I did not feel this way before, and, like with so many things lately, I don’t know what to do with it.

I go about my duties as the Queen- I join meetings, draw up plans, make decisions, appear in front of people, and when I sleep, I only sleep. But the thought of Dream never completely leaves me. It is disruptive, it makes me go through too many conflicting emotions in too short spans of time, and when two months later one day, I snap at my sweetest maid for no reason, I collapse on the couch in my sitting room, head in hands. I have done the exact thing for which I got angry with Dream, unable to help myself at all.

I mutter a ‘sorry’ to the maid, who could probably handle a rebuke from the Queen with ease but is baffled with an apology, and tell her to go away. I’m taking deep breaths, trying to find some semblance of perspective when someone clears their throat. I look up, and my jaw drops.

‘Lucien?!’, I stand up, ‘How are you here?’

‘Quite a long walk.’, she informs me, ‘And it was not easy sneaking by your guards. I suppose that should reassure you.’

I doubt she really 'walked' here from the Dreaming, but the details are not relevant. ‘Can I offer you anything?’ I ask, ‘A drink?’

I’ve always been used to Dream's presence one way or another- whenever or wherever I’ve met him, it has always felt like the way of things. But somehow I’m unsure of how to deal with Lucien being here in the waking world.

‘Thank you, but no.’, she says, ‘I will not be here long. I came to tell you that Lord Morpheus has expressed regret to me for behaving as he did that day. He was very sincere.’

This makes me feel a definitive kind of peace. ‘I’m glad. Did he send you?’

‘Not exactly’, Lucien hesitates, and the crushing disappointment I feel is truly mortifying.

‘Oh.’, I say, trying to swallow it. ‘That’s fine. I appreciate you coming here and informing me anyway. Thank you.’

‘I mean, he didn’t tell me to do it in so many words, he can be remarkably vague when he wants to. But- well. You know him.’

I stare. If I’m understanding this right, Lucien is telling me Dream would like me to know he’s done the right thing so that I’d go back to visiting him, but he is too stubborn to admit it.

‘Well,’, I tell Lucien, ‘He knows me too. So if there’s something he wants me to know, tell him to come and say it to me.’

‘Oh, dear.’, Lucien mutters, looking quite distressed, and I feel bad for her. I don’t mean to harass her with problems between Morpheus and I. But I can’t just go back to visiting the Dreaming, not yet.

‘Did you find the book?’, I ask her.

‘No.’, she admits, ‘But the Lord says it’s okay. I will appear again, in some way.’

‘It will? That makes his behavior with you even worse!’

Seeing me get indignant on behalf of her, Lucien smiles, her eyes kind. ‘Thank you for defending me.’, she says, ‘And calling me your friend. I am honored.’

‘Oh’, I wave my hand, embarrassed. ‘You know you are. I’d never be able to navigate that library without your help.’

She watches me, not saying anything, and I sense a regret in her. She has never been quite comfortable with me getting close to Dream. It’s because she still doesn’t completely trust me not to destroy the Dreaming one day, and she never completely will. She is too loyal to the realm for that. We could’ve been better friends without this between us. But sometimes, things are what things are.

Whatever hint or nudge Lucien provides Dream I don’t know, but it must have worked because tonight, he is here.

I find him in my sitting room, admiring a painting on the wall. He turns around hearing me enter- I was passing through to my bedchamber.

Seeing him feels like breathing. I don’t know how else to put it. It’s like I was constantly trying to catch my breath the past two months, never quite succeeding, and now that he is here, I have, finally. It's a disorienting kind of relief.

‘Lucien tells me she saw you.’, Dream comes to stand in front of me.

‘Yes. She told me you two are in good terms again. I’m glad.’

‘Yes.’, he sighs, ‘I was not right in treating her with words so sharp… and the same is true for you.’, He meets my eyes, ‘I did not mean to offend you.’

‘You did, though.’, I point out, and faintly, he smiles.

‘Then I must offer an apology.’

‘Well, if you must…’, despite myself, my returning smile is wide. I’ve just missed him so much.

Quietly, we stand before each other, my acceptance of his apology understood without me having to vocalize it. The air is flickering orange-gold with candlelight, and Dream’s face in the soft glow makes me want to touch it very badly.

‘How have you been?’, I ask, trying to distract myself.

‘Long days.’

I raise my brows, ‘Because you missed me?’

‘Perhaps.’, he’s studying the carpet as if the pattern fascinates him.

‘Perhaps?’

‘Yes.’, he sighs, bringing his eyes back to me, ‘I missed your presence in the Dreaming.’ He steps back. ‘Well, I take it you will resume your visits?’

I nod, and he starts reaching for his sand pouch. ‘Good. Now I should be-‘

‘Don’t go yet.’, I interrupt him. ‘I’m at your palace so often, you are rarely at mine. Now that you are here, I would like you to see it. If you can stay, please do. I’ll show you around.’

He considers this. ‘Fine.’ He agrees eventually.

‘Okay, okay, wait here. I’ll change, won’t take a minute.’ I'm a little too happy, it’s making me speak fast.

Dream eyes me, saying nothing. When I’m in the Dreaming, I assume regular day clothes for myself, but now I’m in my sleeping clothes. They’re thin and don’t cover as much of me. Which wasn’t something that even occurred to me until now, but seeing him quietly take me in, a hot flush starts creeping up on my skin. It’s bothersome, and it’s baffling.

I leave quickly. I change in my dressing room and take deep breaths to calm myself. I’m a Queen, for goodness’ sake. It won’t do to start acting like a foolish child, however happy I am.

Dream is waiting for me where I left him. I pick up the biggest single candle holder in the room. ‘Let’s…’ My feet stop before he can follow me. ‘No. Wait. Will everyone be able to see you? I’m assuming most of the palace is asleep, but still- if we meet anyone?’

‘I can veil myself from others if you prefer so.’, he answers, and I am relieved.

‘Yes, please do. Thank you. Just, the Queen out of her quarters with an unknown man at this hour… it would be a grave scandal. My people, even close ones, would care even if I would not, and some are just waiting to use anything they can against me.’

As I lead Morpheus down the hallway, pointing to various halls and rooms and courtyards along the way, he asks, ‘Is such your custom? You may not choose men?’

‘I may choose a man’, I say, paying only half-attention, trying to plan our route in a way that will let him see the most of the palace in the least amount of time. ‘whom I must marry before allowing him anywhere near me at improper hours.’

We are in my throne room. It is big and empty, the throne creeping in the dark like a crouching animal. I gesture with my hand. ‘No staircase here’, I joke. ‘But this suffices for me.’

Dream looks around, taking it in. ‘Fitting.’, he says. Then he looks at me. ‘Your previous experience was terrible and cannot be disregarded. But there must also be good men. You could take a husband again if you wished.’

I stare. He’s still thinking about this while I wasn’t- not just now and honestly, not ever. ‘I don’t wish to.’, I tell Dream.

‘No?’, his gaze is locked with mine, eyes hooded in half-darkness.

‘No.’, I am firm in my answer, ‘I have enough,’ This is the truth. Even setting aside the fact a suitor would be hard to come by- I'm too old, a widow, a witch- it has never occurred to me to look for a man’s company or commitment. In my life, I have my queendom. My people. And Dream. I have enough.

‘You don’t have a Queen.’, I point out, and Dream looks away.

‘No.’, he murmurs, and is then quiet. There were women he loved long and mourned long- this is as much as I know. In the absence of his enthusiasm in such conversation, I never probed much.

‘Come.’, I tell him, ‘Enough of the palace. What I really want to show you is outside.’

The garden is awash in moonlight, and I leave the candle behind. This is where I wanted to bring Dream when I asked him to stay. My palace may be magnificent, but it came to me as is- everything designed and decorated by people I never knew or knew and hated. This garden, on the other hand, was born in my mind.

‘They would sometimes let me go out in the garden when I was a child’, I explain to Dream. ‘But it had high walls around, and within it, high hedges. Also, everything was perfect- every leaf patterned, every branch in line, every blade of grass aligning… I never liked it much. It never felt like I was really outside.’

In my garden, I had everything made, built, and planted the opposite of that. A gate exists, but once we’re inside, it’s more like a self-grown forest. There are briars instead of stone walls, streams instead of fountains, wildflowers instead of flowerbeds. The winding narrow paths don’t lead anywhere, and clearings come to one unexpectedly. It is one of the first things I demanded when I became Queen- a place to get away from things when I wanted to (and it was often). And this is what I designed for that.

‘It is no Fiddler’s Green, obviously.’, I tell Dream, feeling oddly vulnerable and defensive, ‘But I still wanted to show you. I mean, of course, you’ve seen everything there is to see, so not that you’d be impressed with this, I understand that-‘, I’m looking at him instead of the path, trying to see his expression, and I stumble on a fallen branch.

‘Careful.’, Dream says, soft and low, and then I feel him taking my hand.

Earlier, when I teased him about missing me, he was not direct with his response. But this- the firm hold of his hand on mine, not released as we walk together- gives him away. He has missed me, and he is glad to be here with me now- his touch conveys and confirms this truth. With my hand secure in his, I feel an odd kind of safety- a protected comfort that defies explanation, and I also feel quite giddy- if I ever were drunk, surely this is what it would be like?

Fingers intertwined with mine, Dream lets me eventually lead us to a large flat rock near a stream. Sharp silver moonlight pours onto the clearing, reflects off the singing, running water of the stream. The odd bird coos, the odd insect buzzes, the odd animal scurries. All else is still, and quiet.

Dream sits down with me on the rock, and I hold onto his hand a little tighter without meaning to- I’m afraid he’ll let go. But he won’t, and slowly I relax as I realize this, letting our joined hands loosely fall onto my lap.

‘You made a beautiful place.’, he says, and he would never lie to placate anyone, so I know he means it.

‘Well, I mean, I didn’t make it, I had people, brilliant-‘

‘You dreamed it.’, he says simply, and that is true, I suppose.

‘Thank you.’, I say, ‘It… it means much to me that you like it.’

He nods, accepting. ‘It is you.’, he says.

‘What is me?’

‘This garden.’

I don’t know if I completely understand him. I often forget, but this being- simply by definition of his existence he has such depth that is near unfathomable.

I don’t ask what he means. Instead, I say, ‘I have never really been in a forest in the waking world. No, I have once- when I was coming to this kingdom as a new bride. But the carriage was covered all around- imagine a man accidentally looking at the Queen, the horror- and I only heard it instead of seeing it.’, I breathe, ‘There are much taller trees, aren’t there? And sunlight falls in narrow slants on the moss-carpeted floor?’ I feel a little embarrassed, ‘That’s how I’ve seen it in my dreams anyway, really it might be different? If ever there were time, if I ever could, I would travel. My world has been so small.’

Dream is silent for a moment. Then he slightly repositions himself so he’s more facing me instead of the stream, and says, ‘There is a forest.’

I listen, mesmerized, as he speaks of that forest- dark, wild, deep, ancient trees gnarled and scaly like unknown monsters, animals that would hunt you before you ever hunted them, folks living in it who are not human, and in winter, it is winter for eleven months, white-blue frost slowly freezing and icing and cracking everything. This forest he talks of, and then other forests, and then deserts- as oceans but with sand- red and gold and blinding and scorching in the sun- and then mountains that touch skies and ensnare clouds and hold snow and spit fire, and in their bellies, they birth rubies, and sapphires, and emeralds…

I listen, and I see as I never have, as I never would. Lucien once called Morpheus ‘the Prince of Stories’ and it puzzled me, but I understand, I understand now. This he gives to me, stories- shaped and real, and through them, I travel, I see, I know. I don’t know how long he talks. I don’t know when the moon gets higher, night gets deeper, when my head falls onto his shoulder as he gently curves an arm around me, I don’t know when I close my eyes and drift away, still holding his hand onto my heart. I dream in my sleep- dreams not created or chosen by me but given to me by him. I can still see as he speaks of, I can be safe, and I don’t see him, but I know he is here, he is here with me. 

_________

Tag ask:  @emy635

[neowinestainedress]

lucky you i wish i had a kpop friend who is mature enough and lives in my city because for example i really really want to go to see the nct dream movie but i don’t have someone to go with + at least in my country everyone who likes kpop is so corny and cringey so idk where am i gonna find a normal kpop friend 😭😭

and yes, sadly i’m going alone because as i said no one knows my secret (call me hannah montana) beside like 5 friends? but they live in my old city. the worst part tho is that the concert is going to be on another city (that i used to live back in 2019 because i was studying there) so i will be leaving my house at 2am so i can arrive at 6/7 am… that will be interesting cause i will be SO tired

oh you’re EVIL that reaction pic left me more confused now like which theory was correct??? omg or don’t tell me mc will end up with jaemin plot twist

yes, gatekeep gaslight girlboss 💋💋

the enemies to lovers trope is one of my fav tropes ever i just love the fights, the tension, the need to catch the other’s person attention but not admitting even to themselves and everything about it and gladly haechan literally OWNS it and i just love his personality cause he’s so playful and funny and ugh not to be delusional but haechan is the definition of what i like in a man 😭😭

“but if i get sick of keeping it in the drafts it might come out around 6pm cest” OH YOU’RE EVIL CONFIRMED!!!

the fancalls today were a little too good i’ve been screaming all day watching them and i find so cute how jeno is all flirty but shy meanwhile haechan is a menace and is a confident flirt like I CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE LEE DONGHYUCK WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME????

- 💌

i'll come with you wherever you are to watch the dream movie, they won't even air it where i live 😭😭😭 no but it's really hard to find normal kpop stans irl, i'm lucky i've known this friend bc we went to high school together and we have the same music taste basically and she was the one introducing me to kpop. i avoid irl kpop stans like the plague

2am??? o my, i hope you won't be too tired. anyway drink a lot, try to sleep when you can and have fun!!! i'll be with you mentally ♡

i told you i'm having the time of my life seeing you go insane eheh you'll find out soon (jaemin would be a good plot twist... or maybe renjun...yk...he's close to her...)

the enemies to lovers trope is one of my fav tropes ever i just love the fights, the tension, the need to catch the other’s person attention but not admitting even to themselves and everything about it and gladly haechan literally OWNS it and i just love his personality cause he’s so playful and funny and ugh not to be delusional but haechan is the definition of what i like in a man 😭😭

FELT THIS DEEP IN MY BONES!!! it's so good and yes, haechan fits it perfectly because he's not arrogant, he's playful and teasing so that doesn't make him a bad person, he's just funny and brings a lot of tension i gotta cry now

no cause they can't be left alone ajskdl also every time i forget how flirty they are, like i know it's fanservice but they are a lil too good at it. especially hyuck he KNOWS what he's doing. he wants to kill you, see, he's more evil than me

[supercimi]

recently i hadn't been successful at getting myself to write

althu i defnitly have the want to write feeling, but my time hadn't been timing very well ;<

okay maybe im also lazy --;

but i have managed to brainstorm stuff while busy with real life stuff so that's a good thing :D (althu i mainly did that without writing it down because i will be mid work or chores but it's alright..i remember some of it...or i will....probably -x-;)

funny thing is when i do finally have some free time i will do anything but write TwT

even browsing my old stuff :D the stuff that never saw the light of day >:3(kinda proud of that for some reason?)

was reading what seemed like a piece i wrote for some tag game or something? it really didn't feel like something i wrote xD

according to google docs i last opened that one back in 2020? but im not sure when exactly i wrote it

btw it's incomplete and probably willl never be(maybe? who knows?) but here it is cuz it made me laugh ;3

======loading========

Today was awful, and not okay, kinda awful, nope. It was just awful. 

ok, that was a bad start, let's be classy.

Hello, 4th wall alien, this is Ribbica, and your day can’t be worse than mine. 

Also, I am lost.

How lost?...well…*looks around*...somewhere underwater I guess?

*you are filled with disbelief* 

*it shows in your reading*

You don’t believe me, do you? Well, can’t blame you. Who’d believe some fictional character they are reading about?! 

…..

Oh, you are still reading?....guess aliens aren’t all that bad.

Then seeing as you are my only source of escaping reality. I'll rant about my awful luck recently, we cool? Rather, you don’t get to say no.

.

..

 'Hello and welcome to our esteemed yeeting service, here we can throw off any stress or emptiness you feel!' 

It started with a flyer smacking my head on the way to work. With all the wind and sand in the air that morning, I am lucky it was just a flyer that hit me.

What? It was windy, yes. But windy weather won’t pay bills.

Anyway, seeing it odd I threw it right away, go smack someone else’s face.

That certainly won’t be the last time I see that ad, or so my gut was warning me. But I ignored it, work won’t do itself.

As if howling winds and angry bosses weren’t enough, the weather kept getting worse.

One day it was just strong winds.

Another was heavy rainfalls.

The rest were nearing a typhoon.

But nope, work won’t be cancelled, can’t work outside? work inside! working online to be exact, all the lagging and errors didn’t make it any easier.

Another thing to add to my stress. Hmm? What? You also had to work online? Oh then maybe studying?..hmm strange didn’t know aliens needed to do that.

Anyway, the weather cooled off, enough to be a freezer yeah. But we were getting the hang of it.

Sadly that meant no going out, getting out meant freezing to death, not getting out was dying of boredom or nagging bosses in the comfort of your own house, alone.

At least I could practice painting. If my crazy workload ever lessened, Being an overworked adult isn’t fun.

Join a good company they said, having so much work they’d pay well they said, 

Yup, wonder why.

The odd ad chose those days to strike again. Online this time.

Even creepy ads were cooped at home huh?

 By that point, I had just gotten nagged at online and ran out of my comfort food.

So it was just me and this ad, I ignored it for being annoyingly tempting.

Then it was the same old routine: wake up, prepare for work over some fruits, work, work, some more work over noodles, lagging and heavy workload crashes, other work, and so forth.

I might as well have turned into a computer from how much work I did.

Even my beauty sleep was spent dreaming about work.

As if accompanying my tired self, the weather outside was getting quite crazy.

Once it’s a blizzard, another a typhoon, others a sandstorm.

Scientists were theorizing about all this being a dream, seriously just what happened?

Leaving the world crisis aside. Work went on as usual.

Those slave drivers didn’t relent at all. I had good pay at least, didn’t get to relish in its benefits at all, but, meh. Who needed entertainment anyway. Lol 

*you strangely feel a certain camaraderie with this character*

Don’t gimme that look, I don’t need a 4th wall breaking alien to pity me.

Anyway, being a work zombie was my life at that point, didn’t matter that scientists found out about a black hole nearing earth and causing an utter disaster, didn’t matter that earth was being colonized out in space, didn’t matter that my car was stolen by a crazy monkey. None at all.

At least until the power went out, a blackout in the middle of a global crisis, who would’ve thought?! Just nice!

My work-zombie mind couldn’t process what happened and had the great idea of going outside.

[shelbeetaylor]

Chapter Fourteen | One Dagger, Two Endings

-> story masterpost

-> previous chapter

Waking was once again a blessing for Cassandra. All she could see that night was the same dream repeating itself over and over as her body was under the influence of Galen’s sleeping draught. That horrid invention kept her trapped in that nightmare, and she would be grateful for the day it would stop. For now, however, she was haunted by the images flashing in her mind as she prepared for the ceremony at midday. 

Cassandra found herself staring absentmindedly out one of her windows, her gaze falling upon the palace courtyard below. It was flooded with people– knights in armor, locals making their delivery rounds, and workers carrying baskets upon baskets of pink flowers. She had nearly forgotten amidst the chaos… the welcoming feast for Evie was to happen that night.

As she watched the workers move about all the decorations, Cassandra wondered if the feast was even going to happen. Of course, it would… if all went well. If it didn’t, well, everyone in the courtyard would have worked towards nothing. The castle would revert to being devoid of color, as had become its constant state in the recent weeks. In fact, there were only two ways that Cassandra's awful nightmares would end. The first would be after Theo and them successfully thwarted the assassins’ plans, and the entire situation would be avoided. The second… Unfortunately, the second would end with a knife in her mother’s heart.

 “Good morning, my lady,” Gena greeted as she entered, pulling Cassandra out of her thoughts. “I trust you slept well?”

“Yes,” Cassandra replied, still staring out of the window. “Unfortunately, I did.”

Gena made a face at the princess as she began making the bed. “Come on, don’t be like that. It’s good that Galen is fixing your sleeping schedule. You were making yourself sick.”

“Genevieve, you will never know what it is like to have my nightmares,” Cassandra said gravely, turning away from the window and towards the maid. “If you did, you would not so quickly side with Galen and his horrid inventions.”

The maid came to almost a full stop, silence plaguing her lips for a moment. “Are they really that horrible?”

Cassandra gave the floor a small smile. “I have seen things no one ever should, and most times I am utterly helpless to stop them.”

“This time will be different,” the maid said. “It has to be.”

“Perhaps it’s not. Perhaps the reign of my mother is truly destined to end today.” Cassandra then looked at Gena with a sick, twisted half-grin. “Perhaps I am to be queen today.”

Gena seemed a bit frightened, yet she stood firm. “I believe in us. I think we can do it.” Cassandra nodded quietly in response, and Gena finished making the bed. “Do you have a black dress in mind for today, or shall I rummage through them myself?”

Cassandra's lips parted at the thought. “Actually, I believe a new color is in order.”

Evie sat at the table in silence as Teddy finished dressing behind his changing screen. She just listened to the rustling coming from behind the screen, tracing the designs in the piece of wood with her fingers.

“Have you had any fighting experience?” Teddy asked.

“No.”

Teddy popped his head around the screen. “None? Ever?”

Evie shook her head.

“Have you ever confronted assassins before?”

“Nope.”

Teddy stepped fully out from the screen and grabbed his scabbard belt to wrap around his waist. “H… have you ever sabotaged a plan… or anything of the like?”

“Not at all.”

Teddy sighed and ran a hand down his face. “I can’t–” Another sigh. “I’m not giving you a weapon if you’ve no fighting experience.”

“I’d rather not have one anyways,” Evie shrugged.

“You know this is dangerous, yes?”

Evie raised her eyebrows. “I figured that out on my own. And besides, you don’t need a weapon to help.”

“It’s quite nice when you do, though.”

“I am perfectly fine doing what I can without a weapon, even if it does end up being just moral support.”

Teddy sheathed his sword and began pocketing a couple extra weapons, like several daggers hidden in several different places. “What are you even doing here anyways?”

“If I’m being honest, I thought this was going to be like my books,” she replied. “A thrilling adventure to tell tales of. Don’t get me wrong, there’s still a part of me that’s excited to be included, but it’s different now. There’s stakes– real ones– and I can’t lose anymore family.”

Teddy opened his mouth as if he were going to speak, but he was interrupted by his chamber door opening. Gena popped around the door, dressed in a new outfit Evie had never seen before. It seemed more battle appropriate, what with the pants and the vest. She even had a scabbard belt, though Evie assumed she was borrowing Cassie’s.

“Civarn and I are ready when you are,” she announced.

Teddy nodded and said, “We’ll meet you in the council room in a few moments.”

Gena bowed her head quickly and retreated behind the door. Evie looked back to the knight, who was doing a quick sweep of his weapons before getting ready to set off. When Teddy was satisfied with the results, he leaned down to Evie's level.

“Are you ready?”

Evie nodded in response.

“Don’t worry,” Teddy told her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You won’t be losing any more family today.”

Evie gave a small smile, then joined Teddy in standing and waltzed towards the door. Just as she crossed the threshold, however, she felt a force push her to the side. She stumbled for a moment, but quickly recovered and looked to see what the cause was. Awkwardly standing over her was a boy who looked like he was attempting to catch her. Her eyes met his, fire and hazel swirling in his irises, and he backed away after realizing she was okay.

“My apologies!” he exclaimed, running a hand through his spiky cinnamon brown hair. “Won’t happen again!”

Evie was so close to saying something, but the boy ran off before she could get a word in.

The knock on Cassandra's door echoed through her chambers. Gena had left not too long ago, dressed in her usual battle attire and carrying Cassandra's sword, so no one was there to answer. Cassandra simply kept adjusting her waves in the mirror and called, “Enter!”

Cassandra continued fidgeting with her hair and moved onto picking out jewelry for the ceremony, but she realized halfway through putting in her necklace that it was still silent. She had heard the door open, a couple footsteps, and the door close, but nothing else. Cassandra turned towards the door to find Enoch Starvale standing awkwardly, waiting for her to acknowledge his presence. Cassandra looked him up and down quickly

“What the fuck do you want?” The question came out as more of a statement.

Enoch quietly gulped, yet kept up his usual charismatic poker face reasonably well, “I was assigned to be your personal guard for the ceremony.”

Cassandra gave a slow nod as her lips pursed. “How convenient.”

The knight continued playing with his charade, this time the strength of it renewed. “Extremely convenient, indeed. I get to spend the whole day alongside a beautiful woman, protecting her.” 

“I don’t need you padding after me like a lost puppy dog,” she replied, returning to her vanity. The remark was too sharp, too hostile to be their usual playful banter.

Enoch carried on, though. He smiled his ridiculous little smile and kept going. “I know. The great Cassandra, never needing a man to make sure she’s okay–”

“I am FINE!” Cassandra snapped, her shouting echoing through the empty room and the bracelet she accidentally threw clattering against the stone floor. “Why does everyone think I’m NOT?”

Enoch’s countenance fell immediately. The silence began to ring, only broken by Cassandra's breathing. Her teeth clenched in rage, she was prepared to show him a horrifying stare of death, but instead her jaw went slack and dropped at the sight of his brandy eyes and the melancholy in them.

Her mouth struggled to form words, and she looked away from him. “I…I apologize. That was out of line.”

“Cass–” Enoch immediately backtracked– “My lady…” Cassandra held out a hand to stop him from advancing, and he obeyed. “You don’t have to keep this up. You can be vulnerable. I’m your friend, just let me be there for you–”

“And what?” Cassandra smiled an awful smile, trying to hide the tears welling in her eyes. “I’m supposed to cry on your shoulder while you stroke my hair, then you give me a kiss after I’ve shown you how broken I really am? Is that what you want?” Enoch’s heart breaking in front of Cassandra wasn’t about to stop the words spilling out of her mouth. “I’m just supposed to show you every part of me so you can get the girl? Is that it? Well, it won’t happen. It’s not going to happen.”

Cassandra regained control of her face, setting it into the stare she intended for him earlier. The knight could only stutter incoherently.

“Leave me, and I’ll call you when I’m ready to leave,” she ordered.

He obeyed, bowing quickly before practically running out the door. Once it shut firmly behind him, Cassandra collapsed onto the vanity bench, her breathing a bit labored. Something rolled down her cheek, and in the mirror she saw a tear escape her eye. She wiped it away immediately, making sure there wasn’t another to follow it, and resumed her final preparations for the ceremony.

Evie and Teddy were the last to arrive in the council room. It was strange to see such a usually busy place completely empty. There wasn’t even a guard in sight. Perfect for them, however. It was nice and secluded and quiet. Fantastic for conspiring, or so Evie had been led to believe by her books.

“The ceremony should be starting soon,”Gena declared.

“Everyone clear on the plan?” Teddy asked. He received nods and verbal responses from everyone. “Great, let’s get into position. Civarn?”

Teddy’s manservant nodded and gave his luck to Gena and Terran before leading Teddy and Evie into the hallways. Teddy had warned her on the way to the council room that she needed to be silent the entire time during this mission. She intended on following all of his orders. This plan was not going to fail because of her, so she didn’t speak a word as they traveled through the maze of hallways. There was only the quiet sounds of Teddy and Civarn’s chainmail rustling and the muffled footsteps of the trio to keep her mind busy.

By the time her sense of direction was completely lost, Civarn slowed to a stop and whispered, “Just up ahead is the staircase that leads to the balcony.” He pointed to the adjacent hallway. “That hall is a straight shot to the main staircase, should you need us in an emergency.”

Teddy clapped him on the back and in the same hushed voice said, “Look at that. Not completely useless after all.”

Civarn gave his master a little smile and replied, “I’ll see you in a little while.”

“See you then.” 

The walk to the great hall was a silent one, but Cassandra just focused on the clicking of her heels rather than the lack of conversation. Enoch hid his feelings well, keeping a solemn, straight face and his eyes focused on the path ahead. She did the same, except hers manifested in one of her usual terrifying stares that warded off interaction with other people. Cassandra was so focused on appearing unbothered that she didn’t prepare for what would happen when they turned the corner. 

Waiting outside the doors to the great hall was Cassandra's mother, looking a tad irritated. Cassandra sighed through her nose before continuing on to meet her mother. She kept listening to her heels against the stone floor until she saw her mother’s eyes widen a bit.

“Hello, mothe–” 

“What,” her mother seethed, “are you wearing.”

Cassandra couldn’t help but look down at her dress. She was suddenly aware of every part of the white fabric touching her body. Even the gold detailing began to feel like needles piercing her skin. Cassandra pursed her lips as her dress began to suffocate her.

“Would you rather I have come in trousers?”

“I would rather you follow our traditions and remain in mourning.”

“Well, I’m not mourning anymore,” Cassandra replied.

Her mother opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the sudden appearance of the Valoran king. “My apologies for taking so long Ginevra.”

Her mother’s face shifted in a split second from horrifyingly angry to completely calm. “No worries, Guillame.”

The king nodded, then turned to Cassandra. “You look wonderful today, princess.”

Cassandra smiled a half-genuine smile– the other half was taking pride in the fact that Guillame’s comment made her mother’s eye twitch slightly– and replied, “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Shall we begin?” her mother asked rather quickly. She didn’t bother waiting for an answer from either of them as she nodded to the guards. The muffled sound of horns came from behind the grand doors, and Cassandra felt the knight’s arm reluctantly loop through hers before the door swung open.

Time seemed to slow down as Cassandra caught a glimpse inside the hall. Like a sea parted in a far off legend, the council and local nobles stood awaiting the arrival of the princess and the rulers. Familiar faces stood, staring at her and Enoch with dispassionate expressions. Cassandra struggled to level her breath as she saw rays of sunlight falling onto the floor, displaying the patterns of the window panes on the wood floor. Before the knight and the princess was what felt like the longest walk of her life which led up to the fated podium where the Nevernian-Valoran Treaty lay. 

As per the traditions of having an escort, Enoch was the one who initiated the walk. Cassandra followed his lead, concentrating more on keeping her face serene and stoic. It was so quiet in that giant room it took years for the sound of her heels to echo back to her. With every step, Cassandra's throat closed up more and more, her dress growing tighter and tighter, and her legs growing shakier and shakier. She caught Enoch glancing over at her, and he lightly squeezed her arm. Maybe he sensed her feelings, or maybe she wasn’t hiding it well. By the time Cassandra and Enoch reached the podium, Cassandra was forcing herself not to throw up as her heartbeat rose to her throat.

They turned at the base of the podium and moved to the left. Not too far behind them was the queen and the king. The crowd of people bowed their heads to the two rulers who gracefully floated across the floor. Cassandra took in a deep, audible breath watching her mother, and she felt another light pressure on her arm. Cassandra didn’t acknowledge the knight a second time, instead glancing up to the balcony at the back of the room. There was no ominous black mass, nor a mysterious figure looming over the crowd. It was empty. 

Cassandra's mother and King Guillame stopped before the podium and turned to face the crowd of people. The queen began addressing the crowd, “We welcome you all to this momentous occasion. It is truly an honor to share this day with those we trust. As most of you are well aware, the plans for my daughter and King Guillame’s son to marry were shattered by the untimely death of Prince Henri.” Cassandra clenched her jaw a bit. “While we mourn his death and keep his memory in our hearts, we have faith that this treaty will honor the merge we wished to forge with our heirs’ union.” 

Gena tried to quiet her breathing as much as possible. Her heart was pounding so loudly in her head she thought her eardrums would burst soon. What Cassandra had said that morning unsettled her, but she was not about to let that interfere with the mission.

Terran was next to her in this hiding spot of theirs. Unlike Civarn, the physician’s apprentice wore his usual shirt, scarf, and jacket rather than any sort of battle attire. Granted, he was being trained to heal rather than to fight, but after all the adventures they’d been on even Gena had acquired some pieces more fit for defending the kingdom than her normal dresses. He was barely even armed, just carrying a small dagger. She’d barely seen him wield the thing in all her years of knowing him. Again, she could attribute it to his studying to be a physician, but still… She just wasn’t quite sure how much help he’d be in a fight. Gena would much rather be the backup. Gods above, she wished Cassandra could’ve fought with them.

Terran was unnaturally silent. It shouldn’t have been right, but being undetectable was a certain skill of his. Gena tried copying everything he did in hopes that she could even semi-emulate his hiding abilities. She was not about to be spotted and end up the reason the plan failed. 

Two sets of footsteps echoed down the barren hall. 

Gena and Terran glanced at each other, and that was all the communication they needed. Both of them shifted ever so slightly so the incomers were within view. Gena initially made eye contact with Civarn, who hid across the hall for a more hidden escape. They held stares for a few seconds longer as the footsteps grew nearer. Gena's breath hitched, and two figures passed by and blocked her view of Civarn. They moved and looked like shadowy ghosts in the night, sans the audible footsteps– though their canter sounded almost exactly like the guards’. 

Gena felt two taps on her arm, and she turned to see Terran still following the movements of the figures. That must’ve been his sign to warn Civarn. Gena popped her head back around to find Civarn wasn’t there. She let out a quiet exhale and returned to her hiding spot, hoping that Civarn would get there in time to warn Theo.

Evie heard the faintest footsteps a split second before Civarn appeared.

“They’re here,” he said, barely getting the words out before Teddy turned to the stairs and unsheathed his sword.

Cassandra's mother had been droning on about the little specific details in the treaty. Each territory change. Each law amendment. Each promise. It was getting exhausting to listen to, but it seemed that she was the only one struggling to focus.

“...and finally, the Forest of Raya shall be given over completely to Valoran,” the queen declared.

A small applause came from the crowd, and Cassandra feigned her best smile and clap. She could feel Enoch’s eyes glance her over at the lack of sound from her hands. She didn’t have the energy to muster up a wordless answer. She just wanted this to be over with.

King Guillame stepped forward as the short applause began dying down. He cleared his throat and began to announce, “There is one final, vital part of the treaty. One that with the signing of this document shall permanently bond the kingdoms of Nevernia and Valoran forever.”

It took so much energy to prevent each of her muscles from twisting her face into one of confusion. This was a bit grand for some territory and law agreements, wasn’t it?

“With my kingdom out of heirs and no way to produce more, Queen Ginevra and I decided it best to honor the union that never was. As of now, Crown Princess Cassandra Ravenwell of Nevernia is hereby the sole heir to the Valoran throne and Nevernia shall acquire all Valoran land upon my passing.”

Cassandra's jaw dropped. A thunderous applause echoed in the great hall. Her body went numb. The court was full of smiles. She was to inherit two kingdoms. She never wanted to throw up more in her life than she did in that moment.

Enoch gently put a hand on her shoulder to bring her back to reality. He must’ve seen her face, and him reading her face meant that the entire court could see her thoughts. Cassandra forced herself to take a breath, and steadied her features. She had to retain some semblance of dignity. 

Gods, the rest of them better take care of the assassins.

Evie chased Teddy up the small, dark staircase, Civarn following closely behind. Teddy moved so fast in his heavy chainmail, faster than Evie thought possible, but she did her best to keep up with him, skipping as many steps as she could without tripping herself. When the staircase suddenly got bright again, Teddy ducked out of sight above her, and immediately the sound of clanging echoed down the staircase. Evie sprinted as fast as she could up the last few sets of stairs.

When the wall opened up to a bright light, Evie squinted for a moment, the view of Teddy blocking low and high strikes from a black-clothed figure coming into focus as her eyes adjusted to the light. The figure– one of the assassins, it must’ve been– struck again in the middle, but Teddy held his blow for a moment with his sword before pushing back against the man. 

Below the fight was the entire Nevernian court, unaware of the battle going on above them as they proceeded with the treaty signing. Even Cassie was focused solely on the speeches being given by Auntie Ginny and the King of Valoran, her face full of confusion and a hint of something else that Evie couldn’t quite figure out.

The male assassin feigned a high attack, instead opting for a strike at the torso– but Teddy was not fooled. He easily blocked the assassin's swing, holding him there in an attempt to off-balance him the way he tried with Cassie a couple days ago. The assassin, however, pushed off Teddy before he had the chance to attempt any unbalancing tricks and began delivering blow after blow for Teddy to block.

Teddy attempted to strike back, lunging forward aggressively, but it was easily sidestepped and parried by the assassin. Teddy’s sword slid so far his crossguard almost collided with the assassin’s blade, and he began to fall into the assassin. The man shoved Teddy off with his bare hands, throwing the knight into the wall before ordering the other figure behind him in another language.

Evie didn’t even realize there was someone else on the balcony, she was so focused on staying out of the way of Teddy and the man. Civarn nor her had the chance to help out as the balcony was too small to sneak past the battle without being impaled.

Teddy blocked a low strike, then dealt a succession of his own– low, high, high, low– as fast as he could.

Evie watched the other figure raise her arm, a blade glinting in her hand.

Teddy shouted as he pushed the man backwards again, letting out a resounding, “No!”

Cassandra heard Theo’s shout echo across the great hall from the balcony. Everyone stopped and looked to the source– even her mother paused in the middle of her sentence to figure out what was going on.

On the balcony there were just shadows, figures backlit by another massive window of the great hall. Three figures were up there– no misshapen blob of darkness to be found. One shadow must’ve been Theo because two of them were fighting while the other– 

The final shadow raised an arm, a sparkle shining in the sunlight.

It was happening.

It all was coming true.

The dagger soared through the air, spinning gracefully as a leaf would on an autumn day or a petal in the midst of spring.

Cassandra outstretched her arm, shrieking just as Theo did moments ago, not really knowing if her reaching would have an effect on the flying weapon.

Cassandra's chest and arm grew warm with energy for a split second.

The dagger continued on, striking the floor and skittering across the wooden boards as it missed its mark. Her mother’s eyes widen at the sight, King Guillame and several knights and guards drawing their swords in preparation to fend off another attempt on the queen’s life.

Then there was a loud cracking echoing around the hall. Cassandra's gaze shifted slowly from the still dagger on the floor to the window before her. Splintering cracks spread quickly throughout the great window, the glass’s reflection on the floor distorting on the floor as the damage infected the whole window.

And the glass masterpiece shattered, caving inwards with a horrible screech.

-> next chapter