#i could write about abel for hours

[witchcraftandburialdirt]

random hcs ask for abel this time:

worst trait.

best trait.

how aware of its nature is it?

does it feel any type of way about being a demon?

it is morally bankrupt. but does it realises so or is it simply a foreign concept?

═══ HEADCANON INQUIRIES ═══

Worst Trait

---Oh man this one is always hard for me to answer because of how A/Bel's...existence works. I've written this before but I'll just put it here: A/Bel is fundamentally inhuman, so its difficult to answer this as it ultimately doesn't really hold views that humans could hope to understand. Many villains are driven by something easily comprehensible to the human mind; love, power, safety--things everyone of us has felt at least once in our lives. A/Bel, though, is a demonic entity. It doesn't care about any of the things we care about and doesn't have any human motives--it can't. To it, humans are material to be used; meat. Hell--to say A/Bel views humans as a human views something like a cow is even an overstatement; humans are inherently compassionate--we are loving, we feel sympathy when we look into an animal's eyes, even if we've consumed it at a prior time. A/Bel is incapable of this, it doesn't have the necessary function in its mind to have that same level of connection. It can understand why that connection exists, but only in the same way a computer program understands code. It cannot feel it, it can only have the knowledge of it. To A/Bel, humans are like ants being paved over for new sidewalk--our deaths are inconsequential to it and it's sole purpose is to devour, to eat.

That was somewhat long winded, but I think its important to explain that speaking in human terms of morality-- everything A/Bel does is horrible and bad from the root of its actions. It manipulated and used its knowledge of the human psyche to exploit a grieving child before securing said child as a food source until death--and even then it will not let go. It dons aesthetics that, at the very end, will fade into nothing too; and those aesthetics only have one purpose--to give its vessel the slowly dwindling hope that a human could ever connect with it. That the weeks, months, years, and entire lifetimes MEANT something to it; right? Otherwise why would it stick around? But it doesn't...and its impossible. Hell it even uses Robin's late father's voice.

Robin, in himself, is the representation of how in the grand enormity of a compassionless existence--we do not matter to beings that fall outside of our own way of thinking. To any human, Robin's story is deeply traumatizing and horrendous, it naturally incites compassion and the want to protect. To a creature like A/Bel? Robin's vulnerability is the perfect nesting ground to burrow, and a canvas to create even more horror within...and everything about that is wrong.

So trying to grade his worst trait through the eyes of a human is difficult. Its actions and reasoning is so outside of human perspective I couldn't even try to understand it. The only thing I could ever say as worst is...all of it.

Best Trait

I alluded to this in another answer but I can put that here too and expand on it: Due to Abel coming into Robin's life at the ripe age of 15 - it has actually influenced quite a lot of his personality as, despite knowing better, Robin did naturally place Abel into the "family" compartment in his mind. It wasn't as though he had much choice. It walked beside Robin for an entire decade before both of their lives ended at the same time, but Abel - shockingly - used the last bit of its power to partially revive Robin in an act of mercy/love/survival (?) and it still doesn't know why it did such a thing.

It also, and this is very important: IT DOES NOT SABOTAGE HIM AS MUCH AS ONE WOULD THINK. I'd actually go as far as to say that it never does; Robin was never actually influenced by Abel once the contract was put into place. It did not ignite his obsession with getting his family back or his fall into darker magic, and it doesn't really push him to continue down the path he was on. It works to make Robin comfortable and happy in order to protect its meal, and gives Robin the means to an end to do certain things.

I would even argue to say that it has helped Robin in ways since it practically helped raise him. It was the influence he needed, weirdly enough. It comforted him, cooked him meals, taught him how to be confident - sure this all came from a place of selfish need for its meal but.... It did put legitimate effort into the act, it worked hard to make him feel safe, to make him happy (or what it could define as happiness since it cannot understand complex emotions), and to kindle his mind.

How aware of its nature is it?

Extremely. A/Bel and Robin both never forget what it really is throughout the entirety of their relationship. They don't speak of it outwardly but its something they are both highly aware of, and they do not even pretend otherwise. A/Bel also knows that it is a mask to wear and that its a recombinant lifeform, its a mish-mash of what Bel, the core, knows of humans. Without Robin being alive, A/Bel will also pass leaving just the core behind to continue onto its next meal, it isn't really "alive", it knows this and works hard to keep Robin safe because of it.

That being said, due to this acknowledgment it does keep its guise on VERY heavily towards other people. Humans cannot tell A/Bel is anything but a normal person, maybe a bit bizarre but nothing else. A/Bel is a tool, an instrument and a means to an end. Nothing more, nothing less.

I think this also comes through quite a bit when A/Bel speaks about Robin to others, ever since its conception it has never once called Robin by his name. It usually refers to him as "the boy" or "that one".

Does it feel any type of way about being a demon?

A/Bel is a biological tool, an instrument and a means to an end. Nothing more, nothing less. Despite its mask, intelligence, decision making and personality it is important to remember that A/Bel is just something to be worn and used for this momentary blip in the actual entity's existence. At the root A/Bel has as much individual will as a wrench. So it doesn't really...feel anything about it. Unless wrenches think.

The only time this becomes an actual issue is in modern au. Its been firmly established that A/Bel has returned to due Robin's soul being recycled and him being alive brings A/Bel back as was the basis of their contract, which lasts an eternity. Now its dealing with something it was never supposed to, it knows it died; and it isn't really sure how to..process it. So! It's feelings may change now that it has experienced the terrifying concept that is mortality but that's for the thread to toy with.

As of current its grappling with the issue quietly since it only really has Evelynn to discuss it with. So. Yikes!

It is morally bankrupt. but does it realise so or is it simply a foreign concept?

A/Bel, mask and core, cannot really...grasp human feelings in the same way we do, particularly complex ones. It can tell that humans would disagree with its methods but it doesn't understand why, nor does it try to. It also recognizes morally unwell characters and their influence on the world around them, it doesn't know why - again - but it has had conversations with Robin about having relations with more dangerous individuals and why its a bad idea. Ultimately its probably just to serve its need for keeping tis food safe but alas, it serves its function as being what Robin needs.

It is a mask that changes depending on the contract it makes and what its vessel needs, until modern au's explorations are complete this answer is ultimately impossible to come up with as its never had to recognize itself as alive or really think about what life means to it. However I don't think it will ever have the same revelations as @agonizedembrace's Evelynn - it might break its existence if it does. But! That's something to play with more in the future.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

I don’t know if the prompts can be asking for more in stories you’ve already started, but I would love to see more of the Hero of Shadow and Wild Link interacting, or more on Abel’s heart attack in the HC AU, or more interactions with Zelda and Link after they had to get married (Golden Mercy? The Imprisoning War? Not sure what that one’s called). … Or basically anything involving hurt/comfort or Hyrule, honestly. 😂

I love your writing so much, thank you for sharing it with us! < 3

Hyrule snapped his fingers in front of his friend. “Wild!”

Wild blinked, flinching and taking a step back. “S-sorry—”

“You good? Was that another—I thought the meds—”

“No,” Wild shook his head. “I—it was—sorry, I just—he—”

Wild continued to stammer, at a loss for words. What was he supposed to say? He hadn't spaced out, he'd honed in, his mind had snapped with clarity, screaming at him and wanting nothing more than to run towards the stretcher.

That man—he was—

And he was having a—

"I-I just... need to sit down for a bit," Wild finally said, walking out of the ED.

Wild had yet to fully explain everything that had happened in his past. Everyone knew he had gaps in his memory, that he'd sustained a head injury, that it made him have absence seizures, but the cause of it... the people he'd left behind because of the aftermath...

How could Wild possibly ever explain? He'd failed in his mission, and it had gotten his entire team killed. He could never face anyone from his past, let alone his—

Castle Town had promised a new life, a new beginning, especially as memories had tried to piece themselves back together and make him want to run and hide all the more. If he told everyone... then there was no more running from it.

Wild buried his face in his hands, resting on an empty stretcher in the basement. His mind screamed with anxiety as his past caught up to the present, and his heart screamed with worry over his father.

This was a nightmare.

XXX

Fable looked over her room one more time. Ambu bag? Check. Suction? Check. Defibrillator? Check. She had her maintenance IV fluid set up, the plasmolyte liter set up, the wires for the cardiac monitoring system ready to go, chest tube suction at the ready, and her little trays had all the syringes, saline flushes, blunt tips, alcohol swabs, caps, lab tubes, and everything else she could think of prepared.

She'd chart stalked the patient while he was in the OR, and she'd already gotten report from the nurse. Forty-year-old male (oh he's young, Fable thought, used to seeing far older patients) presented to the ED via EMS with chest pain and shortness of breath, STEMI confirmed with EKG, and he was sent to the cath lab. There they found multiple severe occlusions and opted for an open heart bypass surgery rather than using stents, and off to the OR he'd gone.

The surgery had gone fairly straightforward from what she could see - he'd been on bypass for about an hour, and the surgery itself had been going on for about four. He'd gotten about 500 of cell saver, 2L crystalloid, and 1 RBC, and he'd only been defibrillated once.

Just as she looked over the chart again, roll call was sent out to the unit, and she gathered her thoughts as she went to the room, awaiting the patient. He arrived a minute or so later, and the room quickly filled with Fable, the charge nurse, the tech, another nurse, the anesthesiologist, the attending surgeon, the fellow surgeon, the respiratory therapist, the ICU attending, and the nurse practitioner.

Everyone slipped into different roles and tasks fairly easily and quickly. Anesthesia handed off to the RT, who attached the ET tube to his ventilator, the tech worked on putting chest tubes to suction and getting outputs, Fable assessed her patient and looked at what drips they were on (2 of epi, 4 of levo, 0.02 of vaso, 1.5 of Dex, 1.2 of insulin), charge took the admission note while the surgeons gave report and Fable listened vaguely, her other nurse was attaching the safe set to the arterial line to collect blood for labs and an ABG, and the ICU providers listened to the report.

Vasoplegia, not too much bleeding but enough to merit product, chest tube output was a little high but not alarming, and he was cold at 35.8. Fable asked her tech to get a bear hugger, and x-ray arrived to check ET placement as the surgeons finished report. Fable stripped the chest tubes alongside the surgical fellow before they all stepped out for x-ray. ABG resulted pH 7.33, pO2 107, CO2 38, bicarb 24, and lactate 3.1. Fable opened the extra plasmolyte fluid bolus up to try and help with the lactate, which was likely indicative that the patient was dry.

The surgery team left, and Fable remained to stabilize the patient. She and her charge nurse worked on detangling the lines while the tech covered him in a warm blanket. His blood pressure was within parameters, with a mean arterial pressure greater than 65, though his systolics were in the 120s, which was right at his upper limit, so she tried weaning the levo a little, going to 3 to see what would happen, before continuing to detangle lines, get a blood sugar for the glucommander that was determining the insulin levels to give him, and obtaining cardiac output indeces. His cardiac index was 2.8, and his systemic vascular resistance indexed for his body weight was around 2600. Good CI, a little higher on the SVRI end. Perhaps she should wean the epi too, assuming his MAP tolerated it.

After about an hour, Fable felt a little less overwhelmed, and she called her charge nurse, who had left the room a good while ago alongside the rest of the team. "Have we heard anything about family?"

"He has a wife and daughter," she replied. "But they're a fair distance from here, out in Hateno. I think last we heard they were making arrangements to get here, but it wouldn't be until tomorrow morning."

Fable glanced at the clock. It was almost shift change, so night shift would have to be the ones to wake the man up, get a neuro assessment, and then hopefully extubate him.

Nodding, she went back to work. She wasn't going to wean sedation until he was warm enough, so all she had to focus on right now was stabilizing him. His labs came back and his hemoglobin was a little low, and his two mediastinal and one pleural chest tubes collectively put out about 280mL of blood. It was still a fairly high amount, mostly evenly distributed (the meds were bleeding more, but neither exceeded 100mL for the hour), but not enough to think there was an active bleed that needed surgical intervention. Not yet, at least.

Overall, he looked pretty decent.

After another hour, one blood product later, Fable finally felt like she was starting to get everything settled. Her patient's temperature was normalizing, but she was twenty minutes from shift change, so she figured it was safer to let him sleep through report and then night shift could try to figure out weaning and bathing. His lactic on his repeat ABG was improving at 2.4, so they were likely addressing all the problems.

When a transporter walked by, IV pumps in hand, she noticed him pause in front of her room. She walked over to him. "Hey. Can I help you?"

The transporter, a young man with long blonde hair tied out of his face, jumped, a little startled. "Uh, hi. Yeah. Sorry. I just..."

"What room are you looking for?" she asked helpfully. "I don't need extra channels."

"Uh, these are for 4301."

"You passed it, it's back that way."

"Right," the man nodded, looking back in the room. "Right."

Fable waited a moment, and then asked, "Can I help you with anything else?"

"Is he doing okay?" the man immediately asked.

Fable smiled. "Yeah, he's looking pretty good, I think."

"Can..." the transporter swallowed, shifting anxiously. "Can I talk to him?"

"He's pretty sedated right now," Fable answered cautiously. "Why do you want to talk to him?"

The transporter sighed in defeat. "I... he's my dad. I... haven't seen him in a long time."

His dad? Her charge nurse had said he had a daughter, not a son. Though... looking between her patient and the transporter in front of her, the family resemblance was striking.

Well, she hadn't heard of any visitor restrictions for him. "Yeah. You're not on his chart, though - can I get your name?"

The transporter sighed, putting the supplies he'd been carrying on the counter of the nurse's station. "I wouldn't be on it. My family thinks I'm dead. It's complicated."

He—uh... what?

"My name's Link," he answered her nonetheless before entering her patient's room.

Link? Huh. That was...

Wait a second.

"Hey, are you one of my brother's friends?" Fable asked as she followed him into the room.

"Your brother?"

"Link. Likes to call himself Legend to differentiate," she replied with an amused roll of her eyes.

Link gawked at her. "You're Legend's sister? He never even said he had a sister!"

"You two are alike," Fable huffed. "He doesn't particularly want a bunch of people to know he's related to me. But never mind that. Go talk to your dad."

Link stood there a moment, processing the words, before he exhaled shakily and nodded. Fable moved to the computer, working on catching up on charting to give him some privacy but also keep an eye on things. This patient's safety was her responsibility, after all.

Link seemed almost timid to approach the patient, even though he knew he was sedated. He slowly slid his hand into the older man's, shakily and quietly saying, "Hey, Papa. I... I, uh... I-I..."

Fable glanced out of the corner of her eye, seeing the young man getting tearful, and she tried to focus on her work once more.

"I missed you," Link whispered. "I'm s-sorry... about... about everything."

She heard a sniffle, and then the transporter moved quickly out of the room, offering her a brief but quick thanks before disappearing.

Fable turned towards the doorway, and then looked at her patient uncertainly. That was... odd.

Sighing, she walked up to the man, brushing hair out of his face. "Buddy, your family drama sounds almost as crazy as mine."

[vangbelsing]

Just gonna throw out my thoughts on spoilers below the cut in reference to THAT Veilguard news today

I genuinely believe this is actually a good thing. Hot take, I know. But you know what? I don't think Bioware could ever satisfy the desires of every player. I would much rather have my headcanons for my Hero of Fereldan than to watch them appear in another game COMPLETELY different than how they were in DAO. And, I don't mean from how I headcanon them, I mean from the way they were literally portrayed in that game.

Take a look at Hawke. Not how I played them in DA2. Now look and the Inquisitor. Bioware is already forcing them to have a certain outlook that could be completely opposed to how they were played. Again, not how they were headcanoned, but literally portrayed in game. With the choices Bioware gave.

Do y'all genuinely think that "did you vow to save or stop Solas?" is gonna cover the NUMEROUS ways you could build a relationship with him in DAI? Those personal bits that you were given to rp and shape your character, those things that were literally IN THAT GAME, will be treated as if they didn't matter in order for the team to write your character how they think is most interesting. And it might just be me, but having your character the way you want them is one of the most important parts of these games, so watching them be taken and made to be something unrecognizable even from the choices you had them make in the game itself is... Unappealing to me.

Am I happy the reactivity from past games has been chopped down to three choices? No. Do I wish there was more? Yes. But if condensed reactivity to choices made in the other games means there can be more reactivity for the choices I make in this one? Fine. It is 100% a compromise, but it's a compromise I'm personally willing to make.

So yes, ultimately, I can work with this. Baldurs Gate 3 canonized a great deal from the first two games, and for the people that started with BG3, that means nothing. But for me? Someone who played the first two games that spent hours shaping the narrative of the game and building my character? Watching none of that matter as they parade around Abel fucking Adrian as the Bhaalspawn was the single most enraging thing I've experienced in a game. So Dragon Age not referencing stuff out of respect for my choices feels like a win, even if I wish there was more reactivity to old choices. I promise you all, this could be so, so much worse. I've literally seen it happen. Baldurs Gate was the original Dragon Age. I can tell you right now that if you were presented with the options of having Bioware not referencing your choices or a canon white male Cousland hero of Fereldan, you would take the former.

And this definitely is not intended to tell you you can't be upset about this or to act as a shield between you and a corporation. I'll take this because I genuinely do not trust Bioware to handle the Hero of Fereldan. But I got to have the alternative in bg3, and this may not be great, but oh my god it is so much better by comparison. After the way that game handled the Bhaalspawn, Jaheira, Viconia, and God forbid Sarevok... Yah. I'll take this any day. Seriously. Google any of those characters and look what Larian did to them in bg3. I will take this over that any day.

[spookypete-94]

Dark Horse-Fight or Flight

Chapter 6

PricexFem!reader

PriceXFem!reader

Reader is a single mother, working double shifts at a restaurant. Father of the child starts to become a problem while reader is at work and Price offers a solution. Slight age gap between reader around 25 and Price around 35. Will be around 3-5 Chapters once finished (Probably will be more about 6-8 chapters total now)

Sorry its been a bit for an update. Finally moving up in shifts and got to bid days is leaving me trying to find time to write. 7 months pregnant and tired all the time too isn't exactly helping.

This one might get a little dark (drowning/death/language), coming to wrap this one up. Might be two more chapters left.

John's activities went on for a few hours into the night. Starting in the living room and ending in the bedroom. Somehow, through all the activity, you awoke still on your schedule. The morning light beamed in golden rays next to the side of the bed. Yesterday was so extraordinary, but here it returned to normal routine once more.

John laid next to you, on his stomach arms folded underneath a pillow holding it close. His legs still strewn in with yours. Carefully pulling them out of the entangled snare, you slipped away quietly heading to the bathroom to get showered for work. Today, you would talk to Kate about transitioning to part time... for the first time in your life.

Part time...Only partly at work. More time at home. More time with Abel. More time with your husband.

The shower curtain being pulled back startled you, making jump dropping the bottle of soap on to the bottom of the shower.

"Ya' tellin' me ya wan' somethin'... or...," John's morning voice rumbled from his chest, making a slight innuendo as he bent down to pick up your soap. On the way back up he greeted you with raised eyebrows and a cheeky smile.

"Ha-ha," you announced sarcastically. "Forgive me, I don't have many that join me in the shower."

"Better start gettin' used to it, takin' any chance I get. Could of woke me, would of joined you sooner." He had taken your loofah and dumped soap on it, starting to wash you.

"You were sleeping."

"Want to take you on a honeymoon sometime, feels strange not doing something after were married. Untraditional." He said kissing the back of your wet head.

"No offense, I'm grateful but this whole thing was kind of untraditional."

"Do you regret it?"

Instantly you shook your head. "No," quickly escaped your mouth. The regret or hesitance better labeled left you sometime yesterday. This was no doubt now in your head the best choice. It's always been you and Abel. Part of you longed for someone else to fill that void... But Abel's father was never qualified to fill that position. John's over qualified.

Upon reward for your eager answer, John's hand slipped off the loofah and further down your body.

***********************************

John and Abel joined you at your morning shift for breakfast. Both sitting at the counter while you waited tables. John had already asked Abel if he wanted to join him and the others for a fishing trip for the weekend.

The young boy excited to partake with something in the outdoors. Abel's father had always wanted him to stay indoors with him and played video games, which was fine. But you had noticed that Abel's soul often craved more. He was a boy who had a hard time sitting still for long periods of time. Maybe this was the answer he needed. All very clearly over 6'0 ft and pure man and willing to teach.

If you'd of asked yourself a few days ago, never in a million years would of sent your son off with someone you had just got to know. However there was something about John that made you trust him. You would give him your soul... bound to your bone and blood.

It didn't take long for John's strays to find and join him. Taking a seat further extending your counter. It really was a sight to see, four very large, very built, very dangerous men... and there sat little Abel. It would of been worth a picture to you if you had time to take one.

"Wanna wish you an' the Captain a Congrats," the one you had learned as Gaz started off.

"Congrats indeed, he's lucky he fund ya firs', bonnie lass," "Soap" joined in. "Any o' us would of made you a wife jus' as quick."

Very quickly you dropped their plates in front of them, your cheeks burning red and walking away. It made laughter erupt from Soap, while John side eyed him carefully.

"Easy Mactavish, can't scare the help away." Ghost, the giant always in black said, giving a slight pop on the back of Soap's head.

"I don' mean nuthin' by it, just happy for the Cap' is all."

John's watchful eye dropped back to yours were he sighed.

"Sorry love, why I meant we don't feed the strays. They don't deserve it."

All of them groaned loudly at his words.

"We haven't even left yet, and you're already making him mad." Gaz said elbowing Soap.

Ghost had rolled his mask halfway up his face to eat his breakfast making Abel lean forward to look at him. John had told you enough that Ghost wears the mask to stay anonymous to people having "died" years ago.

"Abel..." your voice warned, trying to keep him from being rude. Ghost's eyes glanced down towards Abel, as if asking him what he wanted.

"Yes?" Ghost acknowledged him.

"What do you look like under there?" His quiet shy voice asked.

"An ugly mug," Soap answered long before anyone else could. Again the laughter echoed in the diner.

"Quite the loud bunch," Kate said brushing past you grabbing a coffee pot.

"Won' be here long, Kate." John said trying to curb her building anxiety.

"Would like to talk to you later today." Your courage finally building having a second to talk to her.

"Not quitting on me are you?" Blunt. Straight to the point. Kate was never one for beating around the bush.

"No... not exactly."

"After the rush. We'll sit down take break and you can tell me what's going on."

***********************************

Little arms wrapped around our waist, Abel buried his face in your abdomen.

"Love you, mom."

Stroking his hair back you leaned down, inhaling his hair.

"Always love you more."

Just like that he ripped himself from you, running to the vehicle they had all packed to go on their little "trip". Sure, Abel spent weekends away from you with his dad before... but this felt different. You wanted to bond as a family, but it was important that Abel and John bond together as well.

"Gonna be alright, love?" John asked arm wrapping around your shoulders and pulling him into you.

"Yeah..." you muttered into his shoulder, laying your head against it.

"Just one night, we will be back tomorrow before noon."

It was like he knew you through and through. Like he was looking past glass and could see what was making you tick.

"Just one night." You mirrored back at him, trying to convince yourself.

"Wouldn' even worry about it, if I hadn't of promised the others when we got back."

"You need your time too, John."

"And so do you, relax at home for once." He said rubbing your arms and kissing your forehead before tilting your head up and planting a gentle kiss on you.

"Besides, had you busy enough for the past couple of days, you could use the break." The same smirky smile and attitude from your shower together returning. It made you pat his chest lightly with a little slap, your way of telling him to get going. It made him chuckle, the rumble you have come to love echo from him.

You waved goodbye to all of them, Abel's hand slipping out the window at to you. They disappeared turning a corner to go out of town, and there you stood all on your own.

Going back inside, there sat Kate, two pieces of pie and two cups of coffee. The sugar and caffeine trick to get you ready to the next "rush" as she calls them.

"Probably shouldn't let you have coffee, knowing you could be pregnant." She teased, making you roll your eyes.

"Haven't I been picked on enough today?" Referring to the earlier banter.

"Come on, sit down and tell me what's going on." She said still laughing quietly, patting the seat next to her.

***********************************

The walk home was quiet, peaceful. Kate had taken the information well, telling you she had started to expect it and was honestly happy for you. This whole feeling was alien to you, spending most of your life struggling for the things you had or being in fight and flight mode.

Tonight, the first night you had to yourself in ages. The possibilities were endless, but still it seemed your heart wanted one thing. To be with Abel. He needs this you reminded yourself. You needed this too.

Stopping at the store on your way home, buying a bottle of wine to pair with your burger and fries you had brought home for dinner. You glanced at it while pulling it out of the brown bag the store had hidden in it. Still trying to be a responsible adult, working on your daily chores, you then ran a bath and ate your supper.

Glass of wine in one hand, you slipped into the bath, resting the bottle next to you on the table. near by. The water was hot, scalding your skin, but it felt so nice to be engulfed by it all while you soaked. Propping your legs up on the tub, toes out of the water, you sent John a picture. Trying to communicate without being over bearing, missing them both still.

"You just send my kid out with random people?" A voice asked coming from the open bathroom door making you jump and look over.

There stood your ex... impending doom in the doorway.

"What are you doing here??" You asked sitting up, fear rising within.

He bolted to you, one hand at your neck pushing you under. The water was even hotter inside your body. Quickly filling your lungs, air leaving your cells.

You tried to scream, instead it left your body in large ripples floating to the top were they popped. Useless, it was futile. The feeling of fight or flight returning once more... and you couldn't leave. You have to fight.

Wrapping a hand around his arm, you grabbed and squeeze digging trying hard to push him back.

There was recoil as he brought you back up from the water.

"Fuckin' dumb bitch!"

Heavy large waves of water pouring off of you and back into the tub made it hard to hear, but he was close and loud enough you could make out every syllable and vowel. Rage and hatred dripping off his words.

"You know what I'm gonna do?" He dangerously asked. The tone matter of fact. Finally striking you as rhetorical. He wasn't worried about what he was going to do, as much as he was making you pay.

"I'm going to hold you underwater, let them think you drown. I'm going to clean up the water, refill the tub. You're already drinking, making this easy for me." he said gesturing to the broken wine glass on the floor. "You'll be dead and look like a drunk. I'll have Abel full custody then. What a terrible mother," mockingly.

There he forced you back into the water and down to the bottom.

"No!" You shrieked trying to resist, still unable to.

The battle started all over again... The blazing feeling of the water. Who knew water could burn? Your tongue was heavy in your mouth, the urge to get up leaving you.

Splashes and splashes of your spent oxygen rising to the top, towards your attacker. Your last gift to him.

Fight or flight.

War. This means war and death and you were picking yourself, tired of bowing to this man.

Your hand reached up pulling up on the tub, reaching, passing, bucking. Finally finding the bottle you gripped it, swinging as hard as you could. It smacked him, making him let go. Breaking, wine mixing with the matter on the floor, blood soon following. A large gash was on the side of his head, but he was still conscious. His hands reaching for you again, making you strike him once more. More of the bottle breaking, shards flying out and into his flesh.

Down he went, body lying on the floor. His face was hacked, skin and muscle torn down from his head to neck and into his shoulder.

It looked like an animal was let lose, like a bear had mauled him. The bathroom an entire wreck. Eyes wide as you glanced up in the mirror. Your skin red from where he had a grip of you.

Where was your phone?? You needed to call. You needed to call him now.

Finally you found it near the tub on the floor, covered in water. Reaching for it you tried to wipe the excess off... praying and hoping it worked. By the grace of gods, it somehow lit up. A new text message from John blessed the screen.

Looks nice love. Meaning the picture you had sent before the attack took place. Oh, how ironic.

Using it as a shortcut, you called him. Instantly he knew from how you were breathing something had happened.

"Love?? What's wrong?"

"He broke in." A sob, loud breaking your words after.

"He still there?" Hastily asked.

"Yes... but."

"But what dear?"

"I...he's..Hes dead!" you wept.

"I'm comin'."

"No, Abel will know somethings wrong." It was short and choppy. Relayed in away that you hoped he understood. You didn't want Abel to see this. You didn't want him to know you had killed his father.

John was quiet for a moment trying to come up with a solution.

"I'm sending, Simon." His next trusted, next in lead to come help you.

There, John listened to you cry, trying to motivate you to get dressed before Simon got there.

Finally, you had enough nerve to get out, finding simple clothes. A T-shirt of Johns on and a pair of shorts. Huffing the material of his trying to find peace and the ability to stay sane...A knock at the door breaking your temporary peace, bringing you back to your bloody reality.

Carefully you opened your door a crack, brown eyes behind smudged eye black and mask waiting for you.

"You ok?" he asked waiting for you to open the door fully.

Breaking the threshold, you pushed the door open for him. Simon stepped full foot in, scanning his eyes over you looking for injuries before turning the way you were pointing.

You followed him, but him stopping in the living room made you confused. Looking around there you saw curtains billowing. Simon approached it pulling them back looking through the window, the screen down on the ground.

Your ex had popped it off and crawled through...

"How he got in without you knowin'," Simon said dropping the curtains heading back towards the bathroom.

"Steamin' Jesus," His voice quiet. Harsh whisper as he looked at the literal blood bath in front of him.

"Put up quite the fight didn' ya'?" He asked looking over his shoulder sympathy in his voice.

"I tried."

Simon grabbed a towel placing it over the mixture of blood, wine, water and glass, sliding it away. Pushing his way through the debris to get to him.

Both of you jumped and startled as your ex groaned on the floor.

"Did you make sure he was dead?" Simon asked, almost like he was shocked that you hadn't.

"No!" fear settling back in to your bones.

Simon dropped a foot on his chest, a loud groan leaving him. Clearly very much still alive.

"Go back out an' shut the door." His voice low, matching what you were sure the one he used in a warzone.

"GO." he said louder and firmer. You watched as your ex's hands reached around his leg attempting to push him off. Simon replied with a harder press making him cry out... This you realized was Ghost.

"Gonna finish what she started, and end this problem once an' for all." Ghost's growled reaching down, your ex screaming. The fear he must feel seeing death stand before and on him... His last gift to you.

Just as soon as it had started, it stopped. You dare not ask Simon how he ended it... but part of you relieved it would never happen again... this would never happen again.

The door finally opened where he dried his hands off.

"Next time, sweethear'. Make sure they are dead."

Next time? you wanted to say. Next time?

Like this was so easy for him, like they all did it for a liviung

Taglist:

@cutiecusp @angeldemon28 @simplyymee98 @beebeechaos @cadotoast @talooolaaloolla @lhhlver @hon3y-cloud @spktrgantenk @generalruinsexpert @freshlemontea

Previous

Next

Captain John Price Masterlist

[constantcrisis19]

Hey! I've been following your stuff for awhile and I am obsessed! Keep up the good work and I look forward to the next time you post!

Also, I was wondering if you could write a fic where Will is sick and the reader playing nurse and just giving this man some much needed TLC.

Tender Love And Care

Will Graham x GN S/O

AN: Not sure if this is exactly what you had in mind when you requested this, but I hope that you enjoy it! Thanks so much for your prompt, I had fun writing this!

Word Count: 1,965

The last week had been a test of your patience, between Chilton claiming to have the infamous Chesapeake Ripper in his care, the death of one of his nurses, Chilton’s theory being disproved, the court case, Dr. Gideon’s escape from an armored transfer vehicle and now all the media attention, it was like a fucking circus.

At this point, you were running on nothing but copious amounts of caffeine and pure will power.

You tiredly shuffled into the already packed briefing room, feeling not unlike a zombie as you maneuvered through the crowd, muttering half-hearted apologies as you mindlessly bumped into some of the other equally exhausted agents on your way to the front of the group.

You had just gotten settled, having saved your most recent cup of coffee from being knocked out of your hand by a wayward elbow more times than you could count, when Jack Crawford finally entered the room, the crowd easily parting for him like he was a shark moving through a school of fish.

“Alright, listen up people.” He began when he came to a halt in front of a series of white boards, every single one of them covered entirely in case notes about, not only the Chesapeake Ripper’s greatest hits, but also Gideon’s own confirmed kills. 

You knew every scrap of information, every little detail, every picture and notation on those fucking boards because you’d spent every waking hour over the past week adding to the steadily growing collection and meticulously studying every inch of data, like if you stared at it hard enough, then all the answers would suddenly come to you.

But alas, your job was rarely so easy.

“Our fugitive is Abel Gideon. Transplant surgeon. Convicted in the first degree in the murders of his wife and her family.” Jack stated to the room at large, his voice rough and tone serious, demanding nothing less than everyone’s full attention.

Though, even despite Jack’s commanding presence, you found your gaze wandering.

You lifted your cup of coffee up to your lips, taking a substantial gulp of the cooling beverage as your eyes scanned over the room, almost choking on your mouthful as you did a sudden double take when you spotted the man rumored to be Jack’s breadwinner.

“He’d been institutionalized at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, where he killed a nurse and claimed to be the Chesapeake Ripper.” Jack continued his speech in the background as your gaze raked over the dark-haired man’s figure, your head tilted in blatant curiosity as you watched him.

He was hunched over against the wall, as if he were trying to make himself as small as possible, the man horribly pale and dripping sweat, his curly hair plastered to his head and neck. He was also shaking as if he were freezing cold, which was a cause for concern since the usually comfortable room was actually a bit stuffy because of all the people packed inside, each tremor that wracked his frame looking almost painful.

Your brows furrowed with thinly veiled concern as you tried to meet his gaze, his bright blue eyes glassy as they nonsensically darted about the room, almost as if he were tracking something that no one else could see. 

You glanced around to see if anyone else had picked up on the man’s odd behavior, but either no one noticed or they just didn't care because they were all dutifully facing the front of the room, fully focused on what Jack was saying.

“Dr Gideon escaped this morning after killing three people. He is armed and dangerous. He is believed to be at large.” Jack’s voice became muted as you gave up on keeping up with the briefing altogether in favor of scrutinizing Jack's prized consultant. 

You knew that his name was Will Graham, that he was a special agent and he had a truly insane clearance rate, but anything else about the man was shrouded in mystery. Though, the lack of general knowledge about the man didn’t exactly stop the rumor mill from theorizing about his personal life, if anything it only encouraged the more chatty agents.

You took a peek at Jack to make sure that he was none the wiser to your distracted state before beginning to slowly move through the group of agents, working your way over to the fringes of the crowd and towards the wall that the man was inelegantly slouched against.

You earned a few nasty looks when you had to impatiently nudge at anyone who wasn’t shifting out of your way fast enough, and it wasn’t long before you had reached your destination. 

You stopped about a foot away from Will, not wanting to make him feel cornered, but he didn’t seem to register your arrival, his eyes still wildly shooting around the room. You frowned, reaching out with the intention of maybe grabbing his shoulder or nudging him, but you hesitated halfway through the motion.

Your gaze briefly scanned over the other occupants in the room to make sure that everyone was still paying attention to Jack and was none the wiser to what you were up to, before you tried to get Will’s attention,  whispering just loud enough for Will alone to hear. “Excuse me? Mr. Graham?”

The man still showed no signs of having heard you, his gaze still worryingly distant, and you watched the man tremble and mutter unintelligibly under his breath for a short moment before taking a deep breath and resolutely moving your hovering hand, closing the distance between the two of you and lightly resting your palm on his shoulder.

“Uh, Will? You’re Will, right?” You asked quietly as you squeezed the twitching muscles beneath your hand, trying to rub out some of the obvious tension there. Will violently flinched at the gentle pressure, causing your hand to slide a little further up than you had intended, your fingers brushing across the delicate skin of his neck. 

Your eyes widened when you felt the sheer amount of heat exuding off the man, but you didn’t have a lot of time to linger on the fact that he was worryingly feverish because then Will was blinking rapidly, his hazy gaze clearing as his pale blue eyes darted over to you, settling somewhere near your forehead before darting away just as quickly.

“I- yeah. Yes. Did you need something?” He muttered as he removed his glasses and rubbed his hands over his damp face, sounding a bit dazed and confused, and you felt your gaze soften at the tangible exhaustion in his voice. 

“Well, no, not really. I was just wondering if you were feeling okay? You don’t look too good.” You stated with a weak shrug, scrutinizing every little expression that passed over his face as you spoke. Now that you knew what to look for, it was glaringly apparent that he was horribly sick, if his flushed cheeks, copious amount of sweat, disorientation and fatigue were any indication. 

"I'm fine." Will said unconvincingly, your lips pressing into a thin line as you watched him fumble with his jacket, trembling hands delving into one of the pockets and clumsily rummaging around for a few seconds before emerging with a bottle of what looked like over the counter pain medication.

The pills inside rattled as his shaking hands attempted to get the cap off, Will giving a low, frustrated curse that sounded a touch too desperate when he couldn't manage to successfully open the child lock.

After watching him needlessly struggle for a few seconds, you stepped closer, moving further into his personal space before reaching out to cover his unsteady hands with your own. Will froze, his eyes snapping up from your joined hands to your face, finally looking directly at you for the first time since you’d approached him.

You carefully coaxed his hands away from the stubborn bottle and twisted the cap open for him, tapping three of the chalky, white pills out into your palm before tipping them into the man’s unsteady hand. Will just stared down at the pills resting in the middle of his palm for a long moment, several different emotions flashing across his face so fast that you couldn’t keep up.

“Here. You look like you need it more than me.” You said, regaining his attention before you held your half full cup of coffee out to the man, assuming that the lack of something to wash the medication down with was what was causing the delay.

Will shoved the bottle back into his pocket before warily reaching out to take the offering, like if he moved too quickly, that the coffee cup would bite him or something. You couldn’t help the small smile that spread across your lips at the man’s odd behavior, Will pausing with the cup resting against his mouth when he noticed your amusement.

“What?” He asked a little defensively, but you didn’t take his tone to heart, merely shaking your head as he popped the pills into his mouth. The action was followed by a mouthful of the now cold coffee, the man grimacing as he swallowed before handing the cup back.

“Nothing.” You replied as you rested your back against the wall next to Will, your lips pursing when a thought that you couldn’t ignore came to mind. “You’re very sick. Any chance that you could take a day off to rest up?” You asked, thoroughly unsurprised when Will whipped his head around to shoot you an incredulous look in response.

“I wish.” Will grumbled bitterly as his features hardened into something alarmingly close to resentment, the venom dripping from his words catching you off guard.

“Yeah, I figured, but it was worth a shot.” You shrugged in easy agreement in an attempt to dissipate some of the tension that had descended over the two of you and you hid a smile behind your coffee cup when Will let out a breath as he realized that you were under no delusions about how fucking annoyingly stubborn Jack could get. 

Nothing short of Will being on his deathbed would make Jack bench his best agent during such a high-profile case, no matter how ill Will was. 

“Guess that means I’ll be seeing you around then?” You mused, the man looking startled by the question for a moment before his eyes narrowed, his calculating gaze scrutinizing you for what felt like forever, before he found whatever he had been looking for and the tight line of his shoulders eased.

“Yeah.” He replied as his shoulders slumped, like he was buckling under the weight of the world. You tilted your head at him, eyes flicking over his side profile before you offered him your coffee again. This time, the man didn’t hesitate to take it, sipping at the contents as you both watched Jack wrap up the briefing. 

“Well, I look forward to working with you.” You stated with a genuine smile, pushing off the wall and letting him keep the rest of your coffee since you could just go get more whereas Will would most likely be at Jack's beck and call for the foreseeable future.

He looked a little lost for a moment, as if surprised by your kindness, before he pulled himself together enough to respond. “Likewise.” 

You gave him an encouraging nod and a wide grin before turning on your heel, filling out of the room with the rest of the group once you were all dismissed in order to get back to your desk and go about your usual duties, completely unaware of the way that Will’s keen gaze followed you as you went, his hand clutched around the cup of coffee you gave him.

[writethrough]

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

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

Hiding In Plain Sight

(Morpheus x Female Reader)

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

Word Count: 2216

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Things were weighing on you in the Waking World.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gave Morpheus a small smile. “Perfect.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If only you could express how much.

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was wishful thinking.

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You did the same with Morpheus.

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

He had to make sure you were alright.

“I’m going to check on her,” he said.

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

He planned on doing just that.

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“(Y/N)?”

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

There stood Morpheus, his eyes full of concern.

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

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

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

When you were reduced to sniffling, he finally spoke.

“Do you want to tell me?”

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

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

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

“But I don’t—it doesn’t—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[heyftinally]

Swift is a Quanity Artist not a Quality Artist. She has high sales because of the Quanity of her albums not because of the Quality. Her fans are not ready for that conversation.

She has one song!! doing 2Billion streams on Spotify and she got that just recently. For a modern Artist who is active, it's a pathetic achievement. Abel's highest is 4Billion and there are other artists who got songs with higher streams.

Her fans constant comparsions with MJ make no sense, their output is completely different. Mj became a high selling artist with a relative small discography but big albums. Taylor Swifts output - when it comes to releasing albums- is more similar to Elvis or you would say (Prince) and I'm only talking about sales not talent ofc.

Her behaviour with her fame on top of that is completely different aswell. MJ was careful of not being overexposed during the heyday of the Thriller era. Apparently he even demanded only to be shown a few seconds during the Pepsi commercial in 84'. Barely gave any interviews, no tour ( Thriller), the album just sold on hid own. While Taylor Swift unintentionally or not, forces herself down on people. Her art itself cannot survive on it's own if she didn't do that heavy promo. The heavy Promotion also on Tiktok where, when you even watched a random video; her face would pop out in a small circle. This one of the worst thing she could have done to annoy the gp even more.

Many people who were once neutral about probably began to hate her, simply because of that. It's annoying. And it's also quite pathetic to have your new album play in over 800 radio stations! I mean, how insecure are you about your own art? Good music does not need that heavy Promotion.

It's the ignoring Celine Dion at the Grammys, annoucing an album at the Grammys. It is evident that they tried to make this moment a Taylor Swift moment in history of the Grammys, similar to MJ's back then. But it just ended up being embarrassing and awkward. Her putting her Grammy on boygenius' head. I couldn't even watch this, due to the second-hand embarrassment. She carefully forces everywhere to be always in the center of attention. And she does make it in a way where it seems like it is not her fault, so people getting mad shouldn't be blaming her. But that she supposedly has no say how her public persona is perceived is just laughable. She may cannot control the paparazzis and some articles they write. But she knows how to get attention.

And then this:

https://x.com/PopBase/status/1791100169347375609

Her fans are mad at this because it is a Coleen Hoover book and they feel that Swift deserves better than this. I quite honestly don't understand what they mean with better. But for my understanding Taylor owns her songs post Reputation, right? So she had to give her ok using one of her songs in this Film.

I also, unpopular opinion as an already huge artist find it cringe to have a song as a movie soundtrack. Like you are already popular enough. Give it a rest sometime.

She oversaturates the market just to always be on everyone's radar in the most obnoxious way. It's not just that her music is on 800 stations, it's that on any one station they'll play four of her songs for every one of anyone else! When I can hear the SAME Taylor Swift song 4+ times in >4 hours, that's excessive.

But she truly doesn't care, as long as she's the center of attention at all times to feed her ego. Just like when she snubbed Celine Deon. But she paints every and any criticism as an attack/"misogyny" (she wouldn't know the definition if it slapped her smug smirk off her face), and just further feeds her victim complex.

And, for the record, she does control the paparazzi, in a way. There's been reports of her staging outings with friends and having her team call the paps to get shots of her and her entourage. With Taylor always in the middle like Regina George, interestingly.

That said, Taylor doesn't deserve anything "better" than a Colleen Hoover movie adaptation oh please no someone say sike. Taylor can't write good music - might as well pair it with a trash book lol.

Depending on the artist, I think including them in a movie soundtrack can work. Bowling For Soup was in a fair amount of Phineas & Ferb. Hilary Duff had a thriving music career when she was in The Lizzie McGuire Movie and A Cinderella Story, and her music was in both. Same for Selina Gomez in Another Cinderella Story, and Aly Michalka in Phil of the Future on Disney Channel. In all of the above cases the singers had established careers in music, but their music still added something to the media they were in.

Now, that said, I don't think Taylor Swift's music will do the same. I already saw that back in Valentines Day, and her song "Today Was A Fairytale" felt excessively cheesy, childish, and almost Disney-ish for what was supposed to be an older teen/adult movie. And given how stagnant her "growth" as an artist has been since then, I can't see her current music having much benefit for *any* movie.

And yes, she has final say in what movies get her songs at this point, so she signed off on this somewhere. So if/when she cries and/or bitches and bashes the movie for whatever petty reason she decides to fabricate, I want everyone to remember that 1) I called it 2) she HAD to have given permission for her music to be included. *I* have to pay royalties just to use music for a group of 8 year olds to compete at a dance competition - Taylor Swift was ABSOLUTELY compensated after signing an agreement somewhere.

[imgonnapissmyselfomg]

Hi I'm just rambling about TADC because I just think this could be so interesting and just sjegsuegwjsvehev

Here's generally what I talk about in this post in order:

Cain and Abel

Kaufmo and Pomni

Kinger and the "insect collection"

I'm might be reaching super hard but I'm gonna talk about the possible "Abel" brought up in this video

While the theory that the Abel could've been the first abstracted is an interesting idea, I believe it's Bubble.

Someone in the comments mentioned how Caine repeatedly kills them throughout the episode, which could be a nod to the original story of Cain and Abel from the Bible. They're always together (bubble straight up comes out Caine's hat in the intro and is with him while the general chaos of the pilot is going on). The line about Caine calling Bubble a parasite could have a deeper meaning considering they always come back no matter how many times Caine pops them and literally always being with him (this feels like a crazy stretch but I don't have enough solid evidence to really explain my thought process on this one lol)

There's a few things to support the biblical theories for this show shown in this persons videos on TADC that you should definitely watch cause they're really good.

Additionally there's no way Kaufmo abstracting as soon as Pomni shows up is a coincidence. It's a circus and they need a clown! Or we could say jester if we're looking at the theory of a royal court (it's related to the religion things) which I've only seen a bit about.

KINGERS LINE ABOUT THE "insect collection" HAS BEEN ITCHING MY BRAIN FOR SO LONG SO I JUST HAVE TO GET IT OUT MY SYSTEM

He's gotta be a bug tester for the game!! His mind is obviously not all there but he's been there the longest (in this batch of humans) and knows a bunch about the digital world.

"insect collection" could be the brokenish memory of what he was sent into the digital world to do: find bugs in the game and document/COLLECT THEM!!

I like just woke up a few hours ago and it's 6:19am now so I'm not exactly the most coherent with my writing but I hope my brain vomit smoothie got my point across just a lil bit

[anonymousrobinhoodqueer]

I’m distilling my thoughts about ravensong into one post.

I listened to the 20 hour audiobook in 14.5 hours, because I listen on 1.5x speed, I hate how slow normal speed is.

I really like the character development of Gordo.

I am glad that we got to see why the Bennett pack was so small, and why Gordo hated them in Wolfsong.

I am not really fond of the way wolves mark their mates (it’s not imprinting like twilight, but it’s not not that) because it really puts a lot of pressure on these children. Gordo spent his whole life around the Bennetts which meant that he never really got a chance to develop who he was outside of them. And even after they abandoned him, his actions were all driven by that abandonment.

I do believe that the pack abandoned Gordo, he was an orphan that they were not only physically responsible for but also emotionally, and if Thomas really wanted to, he could have taken Gordo with him, not only for legal reasons, but also Thomas was the alpha of all and Gordo was his witch. Not to mention he was like 15 years old.

They did not even write. Let alone call him. Phones existed.

So then after he finally moves on, and builds his own family, the Bennetts return. They basically steal his surrogate son (and anchor) and then expect him to be all good.

Obviously he’s not, but he does get over it much quicker than I think he should have.

And Mark, I don’t really like at all? It sucks that he got magically turned into an omega, and I know that he technically went with the Bennetts against his will, but at the same time, he was around 18. He could have written letters or called. He followed Gordo around so much as children, that the whole town noticed. I do not think that Gordo and Mark should have gotten back together. I think that maybe Gordo still could have been his anchor, but I think that the betrayal was much deeper than what was healed.

I still think that Robbie and Gordo should get together, I know that the next book is about Robbie and that he will be getting with Kelly, but I just think Robbie and Gordo should fuck at least once. (If I am ever motivated to write fanfiction, this would probably be it)

I really hate how Gordo got his hand cut off and no one thought “hey it right there, let’s just magic it back on” maybe it has something to do with it having been a silver blade, but Gordo can touch and use silver so it probably was not that.

Limbs can be reattached in some cases, especially a clean cut where the limb is immediately placed in ice.

I’m excited to learn more about Gavin, which based on my research is the feral wolf that’s courting Carter and is Gordo’s half brother from his dad and anchor.

Overall, fuck mark, fuck Thomas, and most importantly fuck Abel and Robert.

[aces-and-angels]

5, 7, 11

hello hello beloved human🖤 a thousand thanks to you for sending these in

answers below cut:

---

5. how many wips do you have? what fandoms/pairings are they for?

currently, i'm rocking with three wips: 2 for the windverse (one of them with a sprinkle of martin x wind) and 1 for it lives within (abel x mc; i'm so sorry to this beauty that's been shelved- the loa phase is working its magic on me rn)

7. post a snippet from a wip

bc you asked about enid earlier, it's only fair that you see what i've been cooking up for her. here's the opening to 'the tale of enid'

Park & Davis; Manhattan, New York; one year ago… Every day was like clockwork. Up at 6:00 AM. Out at 7:00 AM. On the A train by 7:30 AM, iced chai in hand.  There were several stories to be told crammed inside one subway car. Epics of wannabe musicians desperate for someone to listen to their latest EP. Chronicles of broke college students rushing through assignments splayed over their laps. Legends of wide-eyed tourists ready to explore the big city. And sitting just by the sliding doors was the greatest of them all- the tale of Enid Mendoza, attorney at law.  The official workday didn’t start for another hour, which gave her just enough time to prepare for yet another deposition. The client: Randall Guzman, a 49 year old Hispanic male and owner of Guzman’s Jewelry. Over $40,000 worth of product was stolen from his shop last month, making him the latest victim of a string of armed robberies centered in the Bronx area. Not Enid’s usual clientele, but a favor is a favor.

11. do you write scenes in order, or do you jump around?

i'm going in order; there are times where i wish i could jump to a scene that i want to write about at that moment, but the thing between my ears is adamant that i lay out some proper groundwork first 😭

at most- i'll jot down a line/dialogue that i know i'll want to include and then start from the beginning of whatever fic i'm working on

ask game

[batrachised]

WE HAVE BARNEY'S FIRST APPEARANCE!! REPEAT: BARNEY'S FIRST APPEARANCE! screaming crying throwing up

I legitimately have typed out like a million drafts so far because there are simply too many things about this interaction that I love. I love every part of it, which means I could talk at length about its implication for the novel, its implication for the characters, LM Montgomery and her women-writing-men skills, the historical context, the foreshadowing, the incredible little details (Valancy describes Barney as looking like "an amused gnome," and I CANNOT) - but I shall have to limit myself.

Of all the details in this scene, one of the ones I love the most is that we learn that Barney is the only person so far who treated Valancy with respect. In contrast to the clerks sneering about her spinsterhood in the previous chapter, we get:

He had been crawling out from under his car then, too, and he had given her a cheerful grin as she went by—a little, whimsical grin that gave him the look of an amused gnome. 

It's interesting to me that after chapters of Valancy retreading painful and embarrassing memories of being discarded and unwanted, we come to her first nice memory - and it's of Barney. Nothing about this is romantic; Barney simply treated her as a person worth acknowledging! Although Valancy somewhat brushes over the memory itself, we can see its impact on her:

He didn’t look bad—she didn’t believe he was bad, in spite of the wild yarns that were always being told of him. Of course he went tearing in that terrible old Grey Slosson through Deerwood at hours when all decent people were in bed—often with old “Roaring Abel,” who made the night hideous with his howls—“both of them dead drunk, my dear.” And every one knew that he was an escaped convict and a defaulting bank clerk and a murderer in hiding and an infidel and an illegitimate son of old Roaring Abel Gay and the father of Roaring Abel’s illegitimate grandchild and a counterfeiter and a forger and a few other awful things. But still Valancy didn’t believe he was bad. Nobody with a smile like that could be bad, no matter what he had done.

Valancy! Of course, gossip is often wrong and she knows it, just look at how she pokes fun of it - but just become someone has a nice smile does not a nice person make. I know that this is an LM Montgomery novel, and LM Montgomery often has heroines read someone at a glance like this - but disregarding that context, this demonstrates just how starved Valancy is for affection. A strange man smiles at her, and she essentially falls in love with him lmao (i will say Valancy getting a crush so quickly is very relatable and entertaining, very 'he opened the door for me, he's in love' vibes):

It was that night the Prince of the Blue Castle changed from a being of grim jaw and hair with a dash of premature grey to a rakish individual with overlong, tawny hair, dashed with red, dark-brown eyes, and ears that stuck out just enough to give him an alert look but not enough to be called flying jibs. But he still retained something a little grim about the jaw.

(Also, LM Montgomery's comments on ears are back. hmmm.)

I love the word choices used to describe Barney: raffish, rakish, unshaved, muddy, gleeful, villainous, whimsical, amused GNOME (never forget), outlaw, alert - it paints such an interesting picture of this scruffy backwoodsman who is filthy (and probably smelly, although that is decidedly less romantic) yet intriguing. It's the classic LM Montgomery love interest of someone who isn't yawningly perfect but richly complex.

I read, although I doubt this is true (what can I say, I'm skeptical) that Barney is the only male love interest LM Montgomery ever describes physically at length. To be fair, a lot of it is how dirty he is (lmao), but I think it points to Valancy's attraction and as previously discussed, her sexual desire (especially given how Barney features as a lover in her Blue Castle! Now I'm trying to remember if Barney ever learns this fact haha) Like, Valancy notices his bare arms (😱) - her attraction is explicitly stated, and underneath the attraction is this undercurrent of sexuality.

Lastly, I love the little detail of how Barney is waiting at the end of Lover's Lane - Valancy walks down it alone, to find Barney at the end. :')))

[pencopanko]

Hi! Could you write ♥▼ for Rosa, ♡♦ for Miguel (besides music), ☯ for Luisa, and ☮ for Abel, please? I know it's a little much, but I love your headcanons. Take your time and thank you in advance if you decide to answer this!

Hi hi, hello!! Thank you so much for liking my headcanons! Of course I would love to answer your ask! I love Rosa and Abel almost as much as I love Miguel (to the point that they are part of the main cast for an AU I am working on), and I would be glad to talk about Mamá Luisa too! It's a long one, so I'll put it all under a Read More.

This is from this ask meme, by the way!

Let's start with Rosa: ♥ Family Headcanon ♥

This is inspired by rainydesignastronomywriter's brilliant Rosa-centric fanfics on AO3. I like to think that Rosa is a real daddy's girl and takes a lot after him. She loves her mamá to bits, of course, but she and Berto are very close. One can even say that she is her father's soul of his soul. During their dance at her quinceañera, Berto could not hold back his tears after realizing how much his darling daughter had grown up. And he cried even more at her wedding.

▼Childhood Headcanon▼

Out of all the young Riveras, Rosa was the quickest to learn how to read. She liked playing like a typical little girl, of course, but she enjoyed reading a lot too. She would ask Berto or Carmen to read to her sometimes, but there were days where she would read on her own too.

-----

Now, the boy of the hour, Miguel:

♡ Romantic Headcanon ♡

As a kid and up until him attending high school, Miguel wasn't too keen on the idea of romance for himself. He loved writing love songs, but most of the songs in that nature are about the romances around him like that of his own parents, Mamá Coco and Papá Julio after he found out about how the two of them met, Tío Berto and Tía Carmen, Abuelita and Papá Franco, that one song he wrote for Abel so that the latter could serenade his beau, a joke song for Rosa and Marco (De La Cruz's actual great-great-grandson who had been considered an honorary Rivera for the longest time), and the countless songs he wrote in honor of Mamá Imelda and Papá Héctor.

That is, until a girl a year above him caught his eye: Shaila Medina Álvarez. She was, to him, aloof in a graceful way, much like Tía Victoria but without her sarcasm. Miguel became smitten around her since the moment he heard her sing. She had a voice similar to Laufey's but not as "blue", if that makes sense. This puppy love didn't go anywhere for the longest time, until they reunited when both of them had become adults and they both realized that they were better off as friends. Shaila has since become one of Miguel's biggest supporters in his musical endeavors. Each of them ended up finding other people that they truly fell in love with, but they still keep in touch every now and again.

♦ Quirks/Hobby Headcanons ♦

Ever since the fated Día de Muertos of 2017 and all of the dirt-digging on De La Cruz, Miguel has become super duper into researching topics like cold cases, less-known historical events, et cetera. It got to the point that sometimes he'd say that if he weren't a musician, he would love to become a historian.

He's also become even more artsy after that night. He's always been pretty decent at drawing (nothing like Papá, Tía Gloria and Papá Franco yet, though), but he also picked up alebrije-making. His first ever finished one was that of Dante. Designing his figure was extremely easy... for reasons coming up next!

His main quirk, however? Being able to visit the Land Of The Dead and communicate with spirits. After Día de Muertos in 2018, things didn't go back to normal. He starts to develop odd symptoms like having a glowing petal-shaped tattoo where the flower petal touched him (inspired by "Out Of Time", a brilliant Coco X Atlantis: The Lost Empire time-travel fanfic by Panic_CelestialInk on AO3), seeing spirits and the likes in his own realm (inspired by another fanfic I read long ago titled "Afterlifes" by Storm137), and, of course, visiting Papá Héctor and the rest of the family whenever he wants.

It comes with a price, though. When he first gained this ability, he and the rest of the Riveras found out that he was to work under La Muerte from that day on. His curse made him a creature of both the Dead and the Living, and now his task is to help lost souls cross over as well as to assist in exorcisms under the patronage of Santa Cecilia, the patron saint of music and the namesake of Miguel's hometown.

-----

Let's get to Mamá Luisa!

☯ Likes and Dislikes ☯

This is true canon fact, but she loves telenovelas. She never misses an episode, and would sometimes fantasize herself living as an actress. She would sometimes tell Enrique the plot of her newest telenovela obsession, and even though Enrique does not understand what she is saying he loves to listen to his wife anyway. And that is also why she loves her husband, Enrique.

She loves music too, and once dreamed of becoming a singer. Unfortunately, she cannot keep a note even if her life depends on it, but she does have a good sense of rhythm and she can dance well. This is also canon fact from one of the picture books, but I'm adding this here too. She loves Selena, Gloria Estefan, Shakira, Paulina Rubio, and Alejandra Guzman. Basically she loves the pop girlies. One of her fondest memories after the music ban was lifted (and also before, but without music) was teaching Enrique how to dance.

She also enjoys talking to Tía Carmen and Papá Franco. Before the music ban was lifted, they were the ones with whom Luisa could easily talk about everything to (besides Enrique, of course), especially regarding how much she missed music and how seeing her son's yearning for the forbidden art hurt her heart. You can imagine her relief when the music ban was finally lifted.

Luisa dislikes stubbornness, which she has learned to somewhat tolerate after living with the Riveras. She quickly learned that stubbornness runs in the family, and while she is capable of tolerating it she would still call them out if things go too far.

She also dislikes harsh punishment on children. While being somewhat strict herself, Luisa rarely raises her voice--being raised in a gentle home herself--and almost never uses La Chancla unless provoked, much like Tía Carmen. The kids love her and Tía Carmen for this.

-----

Now for Abel! I think he is VERY underrated, and deserves more love and appreciation.

☮ Friendship Headcanons ☮

Out of the youngest generation, only second to Miguel, Abel is easily the most sociable of the bunch. He has a lot of friends with whom he loves to play fútbol with, drink with, and later on sing with. His friend loves him for his kind heart and silly demeanor, but it is also fun to have a little banter with him every now and then. Abel loves his friends almost as much as he does his siblings and cousins, but there are two who know him best: Manolo Guiterrez and Ynez Ramos Castillo, Doña Castillo's granddchildren.

Manolo is two years older than Abel and is also his best friend from middle school. Besides with Mamá, Abel often talks to him whenever he is down. Ynez was Abel's classmate, also from middle school, and they were pretty close too. His friendship with Ynez later on develops into a romance after Abel successfully wooed Ynez with a song, with the help of a disgruntled Miguel.

And these are what Shaila, Manolo, and Ynez look like!

[itlivesproject]

hello friends! i suppose i should introduce myself now that the game is fully released: my name is sarah, but you will know me as the abel simp anon :) (also, in the q&a when you said you were desperate to find out who i am.. i actually lost my mind slightly because i admire you all so much, i couldn’t stop thinking about it😭, so thank you for being so lovely!)

i wanted to try to keep this as short as possible but i am known to ramble so hopefully that’s not too annoying! (edit: this ask is very very long, i just had so much i wanted to say, apologies in advance!)

firstly, i want to say thank you for being such a welcoming community - i’m pretty quiet and i don’t really share my interests much irl so to have this community means the world to me! i want to give the biggest thank you to you, the it lives project team, because without you guys none of this would’ve happened. i know it’s said a lot (but it’s true) how IMPRESSIVE this whole project has been from start to finish, i am honestly in awe of you all. from perfectly building upon already loved characters to creating your own, to your incredible world building and art (and i don’t even want to think about the nightmare that was programming all the many many variations), your storytelling capabilities are off the charts, seriously! i also want to quickly say that the few people who sent asks in about me made me feel so cool, like a tiny internet micro celebrity😭

i wanted to tell you a little bit about me! first of all, i’m british, so feel free to now read all of my asks in a silly little accent☕️. fun fact: i’ve followed lindsay for quite a long time and saw her original post at the very beginning asking if anyone would be interested in helping to create a third instalment… i actually almost signed up to be a writer on this project as i’m an english student and an avid it lives stan*, but i knew that with my schedule with college i wouldn’t have been able to give it the time it needed and deserved, but retrospectively i definitely couldn’t write anything as incredible as what you guys have produced, and as much as i would’ve loved to be on the team, being a fan has been the best experience i’ve had in a long long time!! *i am actually such an it lives nerd that i once made a powerpoint to tell my friend the entire plot of both ilitw and ilb, and she is eagerly awaiting for when i give her a powerpoint on the plot of ilw😭

i spent so many hours on friday unprivating all my ilw posts as, before this, my blog was completely empty of fandom posts, as like i said before i’ve always been pretty insecure about sharing my interests, and i grew pretty fond of my ~mysterious anonymity~ so feel free to see how long i’ve been secretly reblogging everyone’s posts for now that they’re public lmao

i also finally started speaking more in the discord yesterday (here’s to boosting your self-confidence!) and someone told me that’s how they figured out who i am, so i’m very interested in who that was and how they knew it was me👀

this project has seriously changed my life and i’m so sincerely grateful for everyone involved, you all have such a special place in my heart. thank you for taking care of ali, kassie, and sadie (my devon, harper, and rowan) they could not have been in safer hands🫶 (because i do not have it in me to do a disaster route, they are all ALIVE and HAPPY and abel and sadie will get married and live happily ever after)

so far i have cried 4 times in the last 2 days because i’m so devastated about this project ending, in fact i have an 8 minute long video i sent to one of my best friends just talking and crying about how much i’ll miss the game despite the fact that the community will always still be here (i’m just very dramatic and emotional in case you haven’t noticed that over the past year or so😭)

let me wrap things up because i’ve definitely overstayed my welcome in this ask😭 i don’t think i’ll truly be able to put into words how much this project has meant to me over the last year or so, and it has been an absolute honour to see you and your project grow and flourish. but most of all, it’s been a privilege to be your abel simp anon and it’s safe to say this is an experience i’ll cherish forever and never forget

-forever yours, with so so much love, sarah, aka the abel simp anon💓

(ps. this definitely won’t be the last time you hear from me, i’m clingy as hell😘)

Oh dear Abel simp anon aka Sarah ❤️❤️

First of all, we (especially I) loved getting your asks, it was always fun as hell to read a good chapter liveblog and I was always really excited to see your reaction to the Abel scenes (seriously it made my day) 🥰🥰

Also that’s crazy that you almost applied! I’m glad you enjoyed being a fan so much, we really enjoyed having you as one. And a fellow English major! That’s always so exciting to me 😂

I’m honored we had such a big impact on you and truly we’re so glad you were along for the ride with us, it’s always amazing to know someone has been a fan the entire time. Keep speaking out in the server and posting on your blog, we’d absolutely love to keep hearing from you! And don’t you worry, Abel and Sadie will be happy together forever 🥰🥰

[the1975attheirverybest]

I don’t know anything about the weekend but now I’m intrigued. Do you have any recs?

Wow that’s a plot twist HAHA. Never a dull moment on tumblr.

Actually, if you like Matty, especially if you liked the BFIAFL era, you’d probably like The Weeknd.

He does the whole persona thing. But to an even more insane level than Matty. Like he created the “Starboy” character in his 2016 album by the same name. And he pushed it to the limit in the 2020 album “After Hours” where the character kind of becomes unhinged. The whole face covered and the red blazer thing. Throughout the music videos he’s telling a story. Finally he announced recently that he’s finished with the character. I think he’s not even going to release under “The Weeknd” anymore. He’s gonna just use his real name I think?

Anyways I wrote about this extensively for an academic journal. I’m not gonna get into it on here lest it offend some snowflakes. Plus this isn’t a Weeknd/ Abel blog so I doubt people wanna hear it. BUT I will say

Imo “After Hours” is his best work. Listen to the deluxe album cuz it has 2 alternate endings.

If you’re a pop girlie though “Starboy” and “Beauty Behind The Madness.” Are probably gonna be more your vibe.

If you like sad shit, his 2018 “my dear melancholy” is so short and so to the point. It’s all about Selena and how he loved her and she left him for Justin Bieber. “call out my name”? Masterpiece. Used to listen to it and sob when I broke up with my ex lmaooooo.

BUT, if you’re truly into R&B you’d be better off starting with his mixtapes. From way before he became famous. Some of his best writing is on there even if it’s not quite mature enough yet.

Yeah anyway. Abel is brilliant tbh. Doesn’t give interviews either so there’s not a whole lot of drama and unnecessary garbage around him. The first time people ever heard his real talking voice was just a few years ago. Like that’s how private he is. That could be changing now though. Idk. Yeah HAVE FUN! You’re lucky. I’d do anything to experience that music again for the first time.

[ohraicodoll]

Interwoven | Chapter 3

Chapters:  3/6 Fandom:  The Sandman (Comics & TV 2022) Rating:  Mature/Explicit Relationships:  Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Original Female Character, Dream/Reader Characters:  Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Original Female Character, Hob Gadling, Original Characters, Matthew the Raven, Lucienne, Calliope, Mervyn Pumpkinhead, Calliope, The Endless, Eve, Delirium, Death, Desire Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, Explicit Sexual Content, Past Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Possessive Behavior, Domestic Abuse, Domestic Violence, Jealousy, Trauma Responses Tags: Character Development, Established Relationships, General complicated feelings, meeting the family, meeting the friends, talk about fantasies, domestic life, fluff, past Relationships, ANGST, OFC: Dahlia, Named Reader, 1st POV

Summary: She had very few people in her life and while he denied it, Dream had so many. People that cared for him, people that warned her. Or in other terms, Dream and Dahlia’s casual relationship is turning not so casual. Chapter Summary: Dream, The Dreaming, and the Gates of Horn and Ivory.

4th in the Fragments Series | Read on AO3 Writing Masterlist Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 Previous in Series: Possession Next in Series: The Complications of Family Chapter 3: Eve

My first couple of days in the Dreaming had been better than I could have expected. We had mostly stayed in the bedroom. No complaints there. But eventually I dragged us both out to meet Lucienne for my “surprise” which was cake with her, Merv, Matthew, Abel and Cain, and a few others of the usual palace staff. They all seemed a little awkward at Morpheus’ presence, not used to him being so involved, but it had relaxed after a bit when he didn’t seem to reprimand them for not attending to their duties and let everyone be. There were a lot of mutterings about him being in a better mood and I could have smirked. It had been cute even if I felt a little embarrassed at the attention. Lucienne had picked a few books out she thought I’d love and Matthew had decided he could decorate better than the kitchens and redid the frosting on the cake for me. It had resulted mostly in tiny bird prints and smeared icing but it was the thought that counted. After, Morpheus had led me to the floating stairs that went to his quarters where he liked to work in peace away from the throne room. It was always on the upper most level of the palace, the bedroom he had created attached to the main room he usually stayed, but I was surprised when this time the stairs led to a hallway with two different doors. “When did this get here?” I had asked in confusion, mentally grumbling over the constantly changing palace and never being able to keep track of where things were. Dream stopped at the new door, the wood a rich oak with ornate swirls and stars, “An hour or so ago. Roughly around the time Matthew got cake on Lucienne’s tables.” His tone was light and slightly amused but entirely arrogant as if the shifting and creation of new things were nothing. So cocky. And I guess they were nothing to him. He was Dream of the Endless and this was the Dreaming. Nothing was beyond him. He’d opened the door, leading me into a grand living space, taking in the dark green fabric of the couch and cherry brown of the wooden desk against a large open window. The walls were warm black stone, sunlight pouring through the grand stained glass windows and the fluttering black curtains. There was even a wardrobe, four poster bed, and a bookcase in an adjoining bedroom. Then he’d told me the quarters were mine to spend my time how I wished and to keep my belongings in, generally as my own space. Rooms, he had made me rooms in the palace, down the hall from him. A permanent space. It had been overwhelming, my heart pounding as I took in the small details he had crafted. And I had smiled breathlessly, unable to put the nervousness and flutters in my stomach into words. 

While it was nice to have my own bed, not much sleeping was done in it. It now served to provide an alternative to his own when we didn’t make it that far…along with his couch…and my desk. We made good use of the space. Morpheus explained that day and night still passed as normal, though it was because of his whim. That at least helped me keep track of time and not fuck up my schedule completely for when it was time to go back home. But he himself didn’t sleep, instead settling for working while I slept.

Waking up in the Dreaming was different than in the Waking world. For one, there was no grogginess and it was like coming out of the most restful sleep of your life. Being in the Dreaming itself meant your mind could relax so your body could fully focus on replenishing itself. I hadn’t even known I could even sleep in this realm but being physically there meant I still had to operate as normal, eating and resting as I did in the Waking. Secondly, there was a constant steady hum of Morpheus’ power in everything. I wasn’t sure if everyone could feel it, but I certainly could. In the ground under my feet, the wind that caressed my skin, and in every physical item I touched, I could feel it even in my sleep like a comforting lull. It was soothing, the ghost of his embrace on me at all times, resonating in the jewelry he gave me. It was a delicious feeling and utterly comforting. I blinked awake at the feel of fingers tracing my naked back, the barest touch that brought me to consciousness immediately. I smiled and turned a bit, finding the dreamlord sitting on the side of the bed, fully clothed with his cloak in place and embroidered flames flickering softly. His face was calm, a soft smile tilting his lips and stars burning brightly as he watched the movement of his fingers in silent rapture. “Hi,” I whispered, blinking at him over my arms as I stayed on my stomach, breasts pressed against the sheets. The blanket had ridden down to my lower hips and I was still naked from before I fell asleep when we had laid together. The twin stars in the black pits of his eyes flickered up to meet mine, the quiet galaxies swirling and at peace. “Hello, little dreamer,” he whispered back, continuing the slow drag of his fingers. I smiled and relaxed, tingles fluttering to life in the wake of his touch. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the small of my back, a slow drag of his lips that made a sigh leave my mouth. At the sound he laid more along my spine, leaning over me with his hand kneading the back of my thigh. I couldn’t help but arch my back at the sensation and was instantly awake and aware of him entirely. His hand slipped under the blanket, gently kneading my backside and letting out a groan against my skin as I pushed my body into him. Waking up to him was starting to be my favorite thing. He climbed onto the bed, leaning over me fully as the velvet texture of his cloak cascaded along my body with the whisper of distant stars, and started nipping between my shoulder blade. I let out a groan as his fingers found my already wet core at the same time, instantly ready for him as always. The way I reacted to him was becoming involuntary, able to feel when he entered the room or when he simply laid eyes on me. I was constantly aware of him. “Fuck,” I hissed into the pillow and shivering at his hair brushing my shoulders, the soft strands tickling the heated skin. “You feel wonderful,” Morpheus whispered against me, slipping a finger into me. I rocked against him and knew his clothes were gone even without looking, his bare arm sliding underneath me, pinned against the bed so he could palm my breast. 

The biggest perk to the Dreaming was his ability to simply vanish our clothes away. It made things go so much faster. He pumped slowly in and out of me lazily, drawing it out and letting the pleasure build a bit at a time. It kept me at a steady plateau, a constant that drove me crazy. My fingers clawed into the sheets, clenching them tightly as I rocked with the movement of his hand and moaned. His skin was hot against mine, burning and glowing with otherworldly power as it always did in the Dreaming, and I wanted to push him to go faster. While I loved how he seemed to look in the Waking, there was no denying who and what he was when he was in his realm. He was Dream of the Endless, a monarch and being greater than a god, and his attention was all on me. “Morpheus,” I growled and felt his smirk on my back, the sound of his name something he was always pleased to hear. His fingers tweaked my nipple and I gasped, arching back into him, “What do you need, little dreamer? Tell me.” I was wet and could feel it leaking over my thighs and onto his hand as he kept his steady pace, not speeding up in the least despite my urgings. His knees were on either side of my thighs, our legs tangled as he arched over my body, mouth dragging lazily over my back. “ You. Now,” I hissed, commanding. He made a sound almost like he was considering it, a gentle hum from his lips, thumb managing to find my clit at the same time and I moaned even louder, “My sweet Dahlia, where have your manners gone?” My name was honey in his mouth, the dark amusement painting each syllable. I wanted to simultaneously smack him and shove him over, taking what I needed myself, “Fucking now, please, your highness.” Dream chuckled and the sound was like black velvet and the cool brush of the wind in Autumn. Before I could snap at him, he pulled his fingers from me abruptly and replaced them with the hard length of his erection, meeting zero resistance as he slid in easily in one motion. I gasped and he pulled my hips to meet his with still soaked fingers, thrusting hard into me. The feeling was divine, my sensitive nipple between his fingers while he plunged into me over and over again hard into the mattress. His body was heavy against my back and the sensation of him pinning me down was surprisingly erotic as his rough pants filled my ears. His nails dug into my thighs and I could feel him losing rhythm from the deep angle, the slick sounds of our bodies filling the room. My hand reached behind me, tangling into the inky wisps of darkness that was his hair and pulling a little, a groan tearing from his lips as he bit into the soft flesh of my neck. His name was a whispered prayer on my lips and the sound of it seemed to do something to him, driving him over the edge as he clasped onto my tightly and rammed hard and fast into the wet warmth of my sex. I could lose myself like this a thousand times over and never have enough.

And then we were groaning as our orgasms hit, the pleasure tearing through me hard enough I could see stars dancing behind my eyelids. If we had been in the Waking my nails would have torn through the sheets. I could feel his release fill me and the way his chest rose and fell against my back while his heart beat was fast and loud. I was almost sobbing, pleasure setting off electricity through every bit of my nerves. I was weightless, held only by his arms. We both collapsed to the bed, breathing loudly in the vast space of my room as we came down from the high. The room was lightening, the sun beginning to stream in through the closed lace curtains and onto our skin. I felt warm and relaxed, muscles nothing but soup in my skin and the pleasant thrum of being satiated coursing through me. Dream turned us to our side so he wasn’t crushing me, fully nestled inside of me with one arm still over my breasts and the other wrapped around my waist now. I blew out softly, trying to catch my breath and he kissed my neck gently over where he had bit down. “Well that was a nice way to wake up,” I mumbled, mouth dry from the sounds I’d been making. He pressed his forehead to the side of my head, a soft chuckle tickling the skin there as the sweat cooled on us, “Believe it or not, I had not intended for that to occur. I simply came to wake you.” “Consider it a job well done, I am very much awake,” I grinned and laughed then heard him groan as the action caused me to clench around him. I was tempted to laugh again to draw another sound from his mouth but resisted. I turned my head so I could see him, black eyes sparkling with stars under his mop of jet black and skin so pale against mine. He was beautiful, lips slightly pink and a slight flush to his cheeks. Even looking like he was carved from marble, he looked warm and alive. I brought my hand up to his face and caressed the high point of his cheekbones, thumb skating over his lips. Gently, he kissed the pad of my thumb and bent down, kissing me with such tenderness it made my heart clench. It was very obvious that he’d been enjoying having me in the Dreaming with him. He seemed lighter and more at ease. When he had to leave and go to the throne room to work, he would ask for me to come along if only to stay near him. Usually I’d lounge on the steps with a book or lay my head in his lap while he rifled through future plans for improvements to the realm.

It turned out he did in fact eat, only in his realm and not necessarily because he had to. When I would eat he would join me, though I had rolled my eyes the first time he had clapped to summon Taramis, his waiter, to take our food requests. It had been entirely unnecessary and such a snobby move. Moments like that reminded me that he was a king, after all, but it was ridiculous all the same. But he’d been happier than I’d ever seen him in our time together and I let it pass. Even though I'd been with him and exploring the Dreaming for months now, he was taking pleasure in this new situation and I was more than happy to go along with it. He pulled back slightly and smirked when I chased his lips, kissing him lightly a couple more times, “As much as I wish to not part from you, I had planned to come and inform you I will unfortunately be busy today. There are matters I need to take care of outside of the palace so I might not see you until later.” I pursed my lips and nodded, fingertips continuing to trace the hard line of his jaw, “Don’t let me distract you from your work. I’ll be fine, you don’t have to babysit me.” The darkness of his eyes swirled and I could tell he was thinking something but instead turned and kissed the palm of my hand, “Matthew is available should you wish for company. Try not to get into trouble, little dreamer.” I shot him a mock offended look and then groaned as he finally disentangled from me, the absence of him leaving me a little cold. Leaning down, he gave me another kiss, promising to see me later before waving at himself. I watched as his clothes and long cloak shimmered back into being. The sight of his skin disappearing caused me to pout and then he was gone entirely to another part of the Dreaming. One minute there, the next gone. Laying sprawled out across the sheets, I blew a breath out from my lips and stared at the vaulted ceiling of my room. It was so different from waking up in my little apartment, the sound of the street coming through at all hours and the familiar crack in the ceiling almost a comfort. Here hardly any sounds came through the window to disturb me, but the fragrance of blossoms and fresh rain carried through on the gentle breeze. Sometimes the sky was dotted with flying creatures and birds, but they never got too close to the palace towers. 

This place was much grander than anything I’d ever experienced, a fairytale land, and…was mine. He’d made this room for me. Gave me beautiful clothes to wear, supplies if I wished to write, books and space for knick knacks on the shelves. The whole thing was crafted with me in mind and what I enjoyed, the aesthetic not that far off from my apartment but nicer. My heart had tightened at the gesture and the realization that no one had ever made me something before. And then that thought was bittersweet on my tongue. I’d been visiting the Dreaming for a while but something was different about actually being there in full form. It was like I was seeing it all with brand new eyes, not a temporary visitor but a real guest. I didn’t feel as much like an intruder in this way and the staff seemed happy to have me. And then there was the fact that the ruler of it all, Dream of the Endless, wanted me . I chewed on my lip at the thought, a soft blush heating my cheeks, and I rose while wrapping the sheet around me and headed to the washroom. One thing I didn’t let Dream do was assign me a maid. I’d laughed out loud at the idea before realizing he was serious and genuine then adamantly protested the idea, feeling a little ridiculous. I didn’t need someone called the Fashion Thing to help me dress or one of the palace staff to draw me baths. It was a little medieval and I liked my privacy so finally he relented. While he was in a way royalty, I was not and didn’t need to be treated as such. Washing up and getting dressed in a long, soft black wrap dress with autumnal embroidered leaves and flowers at the hem, I pinned my wet hair into a messy pile onto my head to let air dry and left my quarters. Sometimes it was nice to just walk through the heart of the Dreaming rather than Dream Walking and I didn’t have anywhere specific I wanted to go. 

Lucienne was working with Merv to get a new section of the library complete and didn’t need help and I kept my time at the pair House of Secrets and House of Mysteries short. While Cain and Abel had a purpose and were their own stories, seeing Cain attack Abel made me uncomfortable. It was the way of things here and they kept it to a minimum around me after the first time when Morpheus had had to explain, but it was hard to keep my reactions in check at the violence. Residents of the Dreaming skittered past me as I headed to the front of the palace to leave, little wolf cubs in dresses, a princess in a large yellow ball gown, a shadow figure made of eyes, all waving as I passed. Dreams and nightmares alike wandering around. I left through the front and the gatekeepers looked down at me, the large bodies of the Wyvern, Griffin, and Hippogriff shuffling on their pedestals. Wyvern huffed in greeting, hot breath rustling my hair as I looked up at it, “Good morning, Lady Dahlia.” The other two echoed their greetings, Griffin extending his head. I smiled and raised my arm, stroking the soft feather like fur of his neck as I had multiple times before. Sometimes I’d taken to lounging near them, leaning against the Hippogriff’s large body or nestled against the Griffin’s wings. They were always kind to me, showing me respect when I most likely hadn’t earned it and alerting Morpheus anytime I entered the palace. He wasn’t nearly as relaxed with them, but I couldn’t help being comfortable in their presence. They seemed to care for their master which made me like them more. “I’m not a Lady, Wyvern,” I smiled, nails scratching the spot I knew Griffin liked on his outstretched neck while looking up at the large dragon-like creature, “You don’t have to call me that.” “All the same, Lady,” Hippogriff answered with his own huff. I rolled my eyes and gave Griffin a final pat even as he nudged my hand, “I’m going exploring for a while but I’ll be back.” I didn’t have to tell them but knew they’d convey it if Morpheus asked. He could locate me in the Dreaming easily, even if I wasn’t wearing the black gem necklace he’d given me, but better to leave breadcrumbs so he’d be comfortable leaving me alone. They all bowed their heads and I left, headed to the Gates of Horn and Ivory so I could reach the shores of the Dreaming. Dream Walking was in my nature, something that I couldn’t ignore for too long. Between the urge to explore, doors randomly appearing, and my own curiosity I had made it a point to still see whose dreams I could visit, but learned to try and start off outside the Heart of the Dreaming when starting. Before, I would find myself in the dream of whoever was nearby my apartment or if I was thinking of someone particular, but here I was surrounded by all living things and that meant I could end up honestly anywhere. It’d been confusing and weird so if I left the Heart’s boundaries I could more easily target where I wanted to go. I was taking the long way today, choosing to walk out of the Heart rather than vanish to the shores in a blink. In truth, the Gates were intimidating, huge against my small form and I was afraid I couldn’t even open them. But also, something I had noticed a couple times before… As the Gates opened on their own and allowed me to pass through, I watched as they closed and took in the intricate carvings there. Morpheus said the gates and his helm were made from the bones and horns of old gods that had once tried to take over the Dreaming. He’d defeated them and carved the gates himself as a reminder. He didn’t talk much about it, but I figured that was because he never liked talking about situations where he “lost.” My fingers traced over the images on the doors, brow furrowed. I never got the chance to examine the details thoroughly, always moving onto the next thing or having Dream whisk me away. But I could see it now. It was a story. A story about him, his face easily discernible in the ivory material with a huge image of his helm carved on both sides high above. “So you noticed that,” a voice asked behind me, startling me. I whirled, pulling my hand away as if I’d been burned and noticed a woman standing behind me. She had long black hair, black eyes warm, and a long white sheath dress draped over her form. While she looked normal, it was hard to determine if she was old or young, her face beautiful but unremarkable. Her voice was soft but slightly rough, experience weighing each word. But there was a maternal feeling that radiated from her and I found myself relaxing without understanding, “I beg your pardon?” She smiled and came to my side, black tresses swaying in the light breeze as her eyes took in the carvings on the door, “Our lord does like to torture himself so. He leaves the things that pain him scattered around him like traps, waiting for them to draw blood.” My eyes were on her, a frown on my lips, “Sometimes we keep the things that hurt us around as reminders to do better.” Her smile was sad, “It can be both. Lessons and masochism.” Chewing on my lower lip, I examined the carvings again and the real reason why I was interested. There was a woman carved there alongside him, face close to his and eyes locked. She was pretty and I hated the bubbling of jealousy I felt low in my stomach, the absurdity of it all. That this woman was important enough to be carved into the gates, a permanent memory of them both. “Her name was Alianora,” the woman next to me spoke as if reading my mind, “When the Dreaming was young and our lord was imprisoned in his own dungeons while the Old Gods took control, he was desperate enough to ask his siblings for help.” That comment alone was enough to convey the seriousness of the situation. She raised a hand and caressed the gate, fingers finding the nooks and engravings there, “Most denied his call for aid, not wanting to interfere, except his sibling Desire. For while things had been strained and have remained strained between them, they are family after all.” “None of them but Desire came?” I asked with a frown, “Not even Death?” She smiled at the disbelieving tone in my voice, registering it. “It was a long time ago, darling girl, and even Death was a different being then,” the woman explained gently before continuing with the story, “Desire could not give him armies as their brother Destruction could and would not come directly to aide him, but instead sent a lover and told him to treat her kindly. Thus, Alianora came to be.” She pulled her hand from the door, stepping back to get a look at the full picture and I could feel a knot in my throat, “Though he had denied a lover at first, Desire can get their hooks into your heart easily. So he accepted her. In return for her help, he promised his heart and they battled the Old Gods together, returning his realm to their proper ruler, but not unscathed. Alianora was harmed and the scar on her cheek became an omen.” My teeth were gnawing my lip to pieces and I could taste the hint of blood in my mouth. I didn’t have to be a genius to know where the story ended. I was here and had no mention of this woman that had fought at Morpheus’ side. Not even a mention, but at this point it wasn’t surprising. He kept things locked tight still, “What happened to her?” The black haired woman turned to me and in a move that felt so natural, hooked her elbow through mine and led me away from the gates to walk along the shore. I didn’t fight her, letting her carry me away from the gates with full trust, “You know what happened. The true question you wish to ask is why you have not heard of this woman before. So I ask you this, do you wish for the pretty truth or the real one?” I don’t know why I trusted her, this stranger who wove the story of the gates for me and seemed to care. Maybe because she was of the Dreaming so she couldn’t have wished me harm but didn’t seem to feel the need to protect Morpheus’ image. Maybe because she felt like my own mother had when she was alive, gentle and caring and letting me choose what I could handle. “The real one,” I whispered, meeting her black eyes. She smiled and brushed a strand of hair from my eyes, “Yes, I can see why he likes you. There is a fire in you that burns brightly and men like Lord Morpheus are moths, drawn to that fire. Very well then.” We reached the edges of the shore and the light of the sky glistened off the water, no visible sun in the sky. We stopped and watched the water, her arm around mine, “Our lord did not keep his promise. He did love her at first, as one always loves one of Desire’s creatures, but as time went on that love faded and turned cold and cruel. The absence of Desire is harsh as their presence. For she was alone, surrounded by him in all aspects in the Dreaming but unloved by him… and he did not care for her suffering. Her time in the Dreaming changed her so she could not return home and going to the Waking world would destroy her. She had come to set him free and was caged in return.” “Where is she now?” I whispered, arm gripping her own tightly in solace and she gripped mine in return. A rock amongst a raging river, comforting and grounding. The brightly glistening water and bright sky were so cheerful, a juxtaposition to our conversation and I couldn’t help but feel a little numb, thoughts a tangled mess. “He built her a skerry that would be hers to control and shape to her will. For as long as she wished for it to remain so too shall she remain there until the time comes that she wishes for the compact to end. I doubt he’s seen her in thousands of years now, content to let things lie, but the gates…are a constant reminder. Of his failures in both aspects,” she finished as her skirt billowed around us, mixing with my own. White and black. The story left a bitter taste in my mouth and I swallowed the tears that threatened to spill, knowing that I had asked for this. Curiosity killed the cat… The black haired woman turned to me, hand on my cheek, “Poor thing, I had not wished for our first meeting to cause you distress. Loving Lord Morpheus is not for the faint of heart and I know that fire in you. Passionate to a fault. It can burn bright but also devastate in its fury. You are not a gentle thing and neither is he. I suppose it’s up to him which way that fire turns in the end.” “I don’t- uh,” I stammered, “Me and him- we’re not.” She raised a brow, disbelief clearly on her face as I tried to dispute her. But there was a smile and some humor and she only smoothed some of my hair away, “Nonetheless, you are the first Dream Walker to ever be allowed to come into her power which makes you a rare thing. I am not surprised you caught his eye, but the road will be hard. Lord Morpheus, while not nearly as terrible as he used to be, is not an easy one.” “That doesn’t scare me,” I whispered shakily, swallowing through the tightness in my chest. “Oh I have no doubt about that,” she laughed, “You are a brave one. Do not be afraid, but be understanding of what you’re involved in. Firm, but forgiving. He is used to getting his way and does not like to be told no, but sometimes does not understand what’s best. You’ll have to be patient. He is changing, but is also fighting that change. You’ll need to take care of him and yourself, brave girl.” I gulped and nodded as her words spun in circles through my head. It was reassuring and daunting as the long road of the future stretched before me. I could only keep verbally denying to everyone else that this relationship wasn’t something much bigger. But I knew in my heart, “Thank you-” The sound of wings flapping broke the sound of the steady slosh of the water lapping along the shore and we both turned to look up as Matthew flew to us. A large boulder broke the flat surface not far from us and he landed, shaking his feathers out to cast the salt water from his body, “Eve! I didn’t know you’d left your cave.” The woman, Eve apparently, smiled at him, “Hello, Matthew, I do leave on occasion. I’m not always confined to the cave, wandering through nightmares. Sometimes I like the peace of the shores.” Matthew hmphed in a very bird-like way, cawing, and turning my way, “I was wondering if you’d met Eve yet, Dahl! I stay with her when I’m not with the Boss- well, all the ravens do. She takes care of us.” The name Eve finally clicked into place, recognizable in the fabric of my being, and I furrowed my brow quizzically, “Eve, like in the bib-” “As in Eve the dream and Eve the nightmare,” she interrupted, her smile knowing but resolute, “We are all stories here, darling girl, and I am but one. I am glad to have met you at least and even more glad to see you in the future.” I pressed my lips together and nodded, feeling her hand drop to my own and squeeze before she turned to the large bird, “Now Matthew, shall we return to the cave as you seem so desperate for me to be there?” Matthew mumbled an excuse, hopping up onto her shoulder, “I- I didn’t say that! I was just surprised!” but he looked back at me as if unsure if he should leave with her. I waved a hand, nodding him away, “I’ll see you later, Matthew. I’m perfectly fine on my own.” Eve gave me a smile, both knowing and sad, “Take care of yourself, Lady.” And as I watched them both walk away, a pit in my stomach as her words echoed over and over again, I glanced at the gates we had walked away from and the woman carved into them. Alianora.

[bonefall]

For the ask thing:

Darkest Hour,

And

Dawn.

🌫Darkest Hour - Best and worst death

Best Death; The Bluestar Supremacy Continues.

What a sendoff to a major character! After having her cruelty arc, making you doubt if she would ever pull through for her Clan ever again, the way she lashes out at her deputy and her warriors for the previous books... she gives her last life body checking an animal three times her size to save her apprentice, her deputy, her very legacy.

The fall into the gorge, the frenzied attempt to save her, the final moment between her and her children... They really did it. They really crafted this one perfectly.

I'm also extremely fond of the deaths of Stonefur, Tallstar, Onestar, Seedpaw, and, obligatory Code of the Clans endorsement, I love the deaths of Mossfire and Jumpfoot.

Also, if it counts, I really appreciate Redtail's funeral in TPB.

Worst Death; Every shock death of interesting background characters in later books.

I could go on for days about this. Rosepetal, Strikestone, Rainwhisker, Spiderleg, Furzepelt, Briarlight... background characters with small roles to play are the BACKBONE of a clan. They make it interesting.

I think the Erins pick characters who the audience has some attachment to for killing off when they need to sprinkle some deaths in, but it's a REALLY bad mindset. When you only ever kill off the characters with something interesting about them, you end up with clans full of survivors who have nothing going on.

ThunderClan is BLOATED right now. It's over 30 cats, half of them have never had a chance to do anything. Developing them takes time. It takes investment. Picking cats with good potential to kill for the emotional weight is like yanking half-baked cupcakes out of the oven because you're running out of sweets to serve at a party. You're NOT doing what you think you're doing, you're just wasting good sugar and flour.

BUT... If I have to pick ONE cat?

Briarlight.

Her death was fucking insulting, and it's not a good look that the brand new writing team's first major kill was targeted at a cat based on Vicky's disabled cousin.

And it was straightup just to add some random sad. I hated reading about this big, depressing funeral where all the fan favorites come out and cry and say goodbye to a character the new writing team couldn't be bothered to respect.

ThunderClan lost a character that added immensely to the camp dynamic. Her death served no good narrative purpose. We as an audience lost the chance to ever see the writers improve on the abelism of her previous arcs.

Her death makes me angry thinking about it. She should still be alive right now.

🌄Dawn - Best series moment

Ohh, that's difficult (MOOD WHIPLASH HELLO)

There's a LOT of amazing moments in the series... I feel like I'd need to get this question more specifically for each arc because it's hard to pick one for the WHOLE series.

So I'll just pick it for TPB for this ask, because I think it's when Firestar is receiving his lives for the first time. The hype. The appearance of the people in Fire's life that were important to his journey, the prose describing the emotions that wash over him as he receives each life.

There's a reason no one forgets Brindleface giving him the love of a mother and he's literally knocked off his feet. It's amazing.

If they did that same scene today you KNOW his 9th life would have been Thunderstar coming down from heaven to tell you to buy website merch or something.