#throne of glass adaptation

[acourtofquestions]

I imagine Celaena finally seeing the sun after a year in Endovier must’ve looked a lot like this…

…The utter joy to see the sky & marveling at the world. The wonder of it still managing to light up the eyes of someone who has seen the very worst of it. It’s no wonder both Chaol & Dorian fell in love with her … how could you not love that?

[garr9988]

If I had a nickel for every time Alice in Wonderland and Cinderella were mashed together, with a particular focus on the Red Queen, and time travel was an element in the story, I'd have two nickels.

Which isn't a lot but it's weird it happened twice.

[highladyofterrasen7]

“Who do you cast for-”

Henry. Cavill.

That’s it.

I will watch the witcher. One day

[harperbrynne]

[ball-of-butter]

war storm spoilers!!

controversial opinion but i actually like how maven died in war storm, it was very fmab vibes. as someone who has a phd in mareven i feel like that ending really spoke volumes about their characters.

mare and maven have always been mirrors of one another. its why mare connected so deeply with maven in the first book and why she continued to feel this twisted intimacy with him after, because she continued to see herself in him. the same goes for the other way around, even as maven was actively deceiving and lying to her, he still connected with her enough to fall in love with her.

mare is so psychologically disturbed by him because of this understanding they have of one another, and its funny bc i’ve seen people criticise mare for having “wish-washy morals” in that she will heartlessly kill people and then feel bad about the same things later, but thats the point! maven brings out the worst of her, shows her a side of herself that is so rotten and dead that it scares her shitless, so she’s due to spiral and conflict with herself and be a little bit messy. throughout the book, even though we dont get that many scenes of maven and mare being physically with each other (his presence is more psychological on purpose), he’s a representation of herself and a certain viable path for her if anything

so when mare fights maven in silent stone, it doesnt just show her overcoming him physically, but mentally as well. both of them have such complex relationships with silent stone, with maven utilising it no matter how much it harms himself to feed his own rage and pain and ambition, and mare’s fear of silent stone as a corrupting tool, which is perfect symbolism for their characters (imo). maven is using silent stone as a weapon against mare, but mare doesn’t. instead, she overcomes this psychological terrorism by facing him, and this is real portrayal that she, as a character, is stronger than maven, and has become stronger than maven. she saw the path maven offered to her, or represented for her, and she rejected it despite how easy it could’ve been to just let herself go. she snuffs out her weakness, both in the literal physical sense, but intangibly too.

[chairofchaos]

HOT TAKE

Or, Thoughts on movie/tv/whatever adaptations of SJM's books:

(SERIES SPOILERS FOR THRONE OF GLASS, ACOTAR, AND CRESCENT CITY BELOW. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK)

I don't want to see these stories on a screen now, or really anytime soon. I want one twenty, maybe even thirty, years from now, when we have the full picture OF EVERYTHING. I want to be able to have all of the books published. Starting a series or movie saga right now would only lead us to some Game of Thrones thing where we have a different ending in the show than the books (don't look too hard at that, I've never read or watched GoT and have no intention to, it was just the most apparent comparison).

I want our characters with completed arcs to have foreshadowing from movie/episode one. I want concurrent series for events that are happening at the same time. I want to know what Celaena is doing while Feyre is hunting in the cold woods, I want to know that when Aelin becomes queen, that world we glimpsed as she fell through is the world we know and love. I want to know, when I watch Nesta get her bargain tattoo from her deal with Cassian, that I'm going to watch her and Bryce talk about that eight pointed star in some parallel series very soon.

I want a grouping of series that come out and are well thought out, are powerful in their design and execution, and are faithful to all of the characters. And that's a tall order. We aren't going to get that right away. These things will take time- so much time. So I'm going to wait, and I'm eager too, because in my mind, the longer we wait, the more time there is to get it right.

[pro-crastinate17]

hello!! so im going to try to make a disability inclusive picrew and id like some help making sure i include as much as i can!

the person would be seated and pretty much all of the body would be visible. ill post it when im done!

its mostly focused on phys disabilities, bc i so rarely can find picrews w good diverse mobility aid options, but ofc im including non phys disabilities as well! (sorry for clunky phrasing, im unclear on the preferred term for non phys disabilities so thats the term ive been using)

what i have so far is below the read more. be warned it is a very long list! (every option/category of option i could think of)

if you think i missed something, please recommend it!!! (related note: id much rather get recommended something that is already on the list than miss something!)

category: head

various jaw shapes 

missing jaw 

crooked/misaligned jaw

category: skin

wide range of skin tones, including white/extremely pale (albino) 

freckles, lots of scar variation (including burns), vitiligo, acne, facial hair, eye bags, other skin conditions (trying to make a list)

breathing tubes, masks, bandages 

bindis 

category: eyes 

blue, grey, green, hazel, medium brown, dark brown, black, red 

heterochromia options 

lazy eye options 

clouded eye options 

closed eyes that look like winking and closed eyes that don't 

missing eyes

category: mouth 

general expressions 

variations for color 

variations for cleft lip, scars, facial paralysis 

category: ears 

ear size, shape, missing ears, deformed ears

category: eye/ear accessories 

earrings, earplugs, hearing aids, bone anchored hearing aids, headphones, earmuffs (modifications for missing/deformed ears), cochlear implant

glasses, sunglasses, blue light glasses, eye patches, eye masks/bandages 

category: nose 

various shapes & sizes, bumpy noses, deformed noses  

category: eyebrows 

lots of expression options, thickness options, color options (including white) 

one missing, scarring, eyebrow slits 

category: body 

body types: very skinny, skinny, fat, very fat (options for muscularity too if i can figure out how)

body hair, scarring, freckles, tattoos   

range of missing limbs, deformed limbs, prosthetics   

diabetes patch 

category: hair 

wide range of hairstyles, bangs, and colors 

patchy hair, scalp scarring, receding hairline 

category: head coverings

range of hats, hair accessories, headbands, bandanas    

range of hijabs, turbans, kippot (+ more variation in cultural headwear if theres space)

head bandages 

category: clothes

range of styles and colors 

adaptable to body types (+ breasts), missing/deformed limbs 

category: shoes 

range of styles 

adaptable to body types, missing foot/feet 

category: hand accessories  

gloves, bracelets, rings, nails, wrist braces, splint rings

range of types, adaptable to missing/deformed hands 

category: pins 

range of queer pride flags 

pronoun pins 

animals, fandoms/characters (def muppets, feel free to recommend characters and i'll try to include some of the most popular ones) 

general disability pride, cripplepunk, madpunk, sign union flag, & pin (for systems), specific disabilities (need some help with these, send me specific flags and i’ll include them!) 

category: seat 

chair, manual wheelchair, power chair, spinny chair, throne, rollator, electric scooter 

category: mobility aids 

cane, white cane, crutches (underarm/axillary and forearm), rollator, walker (with and without wheels), electric scooter  

joint braces (shoulder, elbow, knee, ankle, back, others?), joint tape, compression garments 

category: other disability aids

AAC tablets, word cards, glucose monitor, sunflower lanyard, inhaler, medical id bracelet

stoma bag, central line catheter, picc line catheter, heart monitor, breathing tube, feeding tube (nasal and abdominal), tracheostomy 

stim toys/chewelry, stuffed animals, phone 

service animals

[feyhunter78]

Chapter Six - The tourney has finished, and Jon finds himself in your chambers. As the events of the game go on Jon must adapt to his ever-changing role.

Ch 7

He is sweaty, dirty, tired, and yet he feels more alive than he has in years, perhaps it is the remaining exhilaration of victory, or the words of King Robert that ring in his ears.

You look up at Jon, then at your aunt, then back to Jon, and there is a sinking feeling in his gut. You do not want to kiss him, not even on the cheek.

He decides to spare you the shame and embarrassment, turning to King Robert intent on gracefully declining when your lips meet his cheek. It is quick, a peck, a whisper of soft lips against his stubble covered cheek and the words die on his lips.

The crowd behind him cheers, King Robert raises his glass towards him, his eyes glazed over with drunkenness. “A fine paring they would make, if it were not for his unfortunate birth.”

Lord Stark, his father, clenches his fist, but puts on a smile, patting King Robert’s shoulder. “I think it is time we retire to your tent, my friend.”

Shame washes over Jon, and a muscle in his jaw twitches as he looks away from the makeshift throne.

“Father, I have grown tired from all this excitement, might I be allowed to retire to my chambers?” You ask, loud enough for all around to hear. You are giving him an escape.

Tyrion nods magnanimously. “Of course, my daughter, and take your champion with you, lest he be mobbed by his hard-won crowd of admirers.”

It is only now that Jon realizes the chanting that he’s been blocking out is for him. The moniker they have bestowed upon him White Wolf. A reference to Ghost he knows, but it fills him with pride, never has a crowd chanted his name, never had more than his siblings chanted his name, but now? Now he was their champion. At least until the jousting began, then a new champion would be chosen. It matters not, for in this moment Jon feels special.

In your chambers nestled within Maegor’s Holdfast, Jon sits as you tend to his wounds. They are nothing, truly, some cuts and bruises, but still, you treat each one with such care.

Ghost rests his head on his knee while you work, painting on salves and covering cuts with soft gauze.

“Look up for me?” You half ask, half order, gently cupping his chin with one hand, keeping his head still as you tend to the cut on his cheek.

He winces when the cloth you are holding meets his broken skin, and you breathe out a soft apology before gently dabbing the salve on the cut. Your fingertips are soft, your focused expression allowing him to observe you. His lovely lady, truly his, until you marry that is, but there are no signs of any marriages happening soon.

Not for the first time he allows his mind to wander, to imagine you and him together—married somewhere, maybe Casterly Rock in one of the many wings you have told him about, or a keep in the North, perhaps Moat Cailin. If he could get his father to lend him the men, the supplies, it could be restored to its former glory.

“Ser Jon?” You ask, pulling him from his daydreams.

“Apologies. My Lady, I was lost in thought.”

“I asked if you had any other injuries?” Your voice is soft, as soft as your touch, and he craves it. Desires to feel more, to hear more, for you to always look at him with such rapt devotion, with such interest in his wellbeing, with such care. Gods he had never felt so cared for in his life.

Jon bites his tongue hard. He does, earlier in his duels one of the Redwyne men had slammed his elbow into his stomach, Jon is sure there is a bruise forming. “I do, My Lady, but it is in a place that would require the removal of my tunic.”

Your eyes widen ever so slightly, and you nod stiffly. “Well, it is my duty to care for my champion, so I shall turn around, then you let me know when you have removed your tunic. We are both members of great houses, we can act with decorum.”

Jon nods and waits.

You wait as well, just staring, then seem to realize what he is waiting for with an adorable “oh, right,” and turn around.

He chuckles and sheds his tunic folding it neatly and placing it in his lap, dislodging Ghost who grumbles and goes to lay on the plush pile of pillows you had moved into your chambers especially for him. “Alright, My Lady.”

You turn back around, and for a moment Jon thinks you are having a stroke.

You blink rapidly at him, your lips parting then snapping shut. “Oh, um, yes, right, where is the injury?”

He motions to the ever-darkening bruise in the center of his abdomen.

You make a small, strangled sound, one he would not have been able to hear if not for the quiet of the room, and gently kneel, salve in hand as you scrutinize the bruise. “I cannot get a good position for my hand without digging my elbow into your leg; I need to get a little closer…”

You and Jon stare at each other, you can only get closer if you invade the space between his legs.

He coughs and spreads them, looking away as casually as possible, praying to the gods, old and new, that a certain part of his anatomy does not decide to take interest in the sight before him.

You work quickly, but diligently, using featherlight touches as you apply the salve, your other arm resting on his thigh keeping you steady. “You did very well today, I am glad to see all your training has paid off.”

Jon looks at you instinctually because you are talking, he always looks at you when you speak, it is only polite, and immediately regrets it. You are looking up at him through your lashes, on your knees between his legs, your hand on his abdomen. It is a sight he only dares to imagine in the darkness of his own chambers, with his hand wrapped tightly around himself.

“And I must admit it brings me no small amount of pleasure that it was my sworn sword who was named champion, you should have seen Ellyn Farman’s face, she was all but green with envy.” You smile, it is a joyous, deviously delightful smile, and he feels the urge to go back to the tourney field and defeat another seven men.

“My victories are yours.” His voice pitches up at the end when you slide your hand down as you get up, your head turned towards Ghost, fully unaware as you continue talking.

“And of course your moniker, how exciting, truly Ser Jon you are making quite a name for us.” He grabs your wrist preventing to from sliding any further, and you turn back towards him with confusion in your eyes, then you glance down then rip your hand away as if he had burned you. “I am so, so, sorry, I did not mean—”

“It is alright, I know you had no intention, and neither do I.” He reassures you. He never wants you to feel unsafe with him, never wants you to doubt his loyalty is not contingent on the possibility of carnal pleasure.

You hold your hand to your chest, taking him in with those ever-inquisitive eyes. “I do understand why the other girls speak so highly of you, I always have, but I understand this reason now.”

“What reason?”

You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear and glance back at Ghost. “You are handsome, Ser Jon, surely you must know that.”

“Robb is handsome, Theon is handsome, I am—”

“Tarnishing one’s maidenhood worthy?” You supply, that teasing tone in your voice making him glad his tunic still remains over his lap.

“I would not.”

“I know, you are honorable, and I admire that, greatly.” You have dropped the teasing tone and give him a genuine smile. “Now, I suggest you redress, lest someone find us here and think you not so honorable.” You turn back around, humming a song to yourself.

Jon feels special, you make him feel special. More than the crowds, the king, and it is a feeling he sees himself becoming quite addicted to.

He no longer feels special, not as he looks on as his father kneels before Joffrey, Sansa in tears pleading for mercy. They were bastards, the three of them born of incest, had you not told him as much in his nightmares? Why had he waited, why had he not gone to his father the moment he suspected his dream were truth? Now the King was dead, and Joffrey had taken his place.

“Lord Stark, you have claimed the late king declared you as his regent and leveled great insults against my son.” Queen Cersei says, her chin held high, a cruel light in her eyes.

The steps of the Great Sept of Baelor are pristine, the domes of glass and gold looming behind them, the sun shining down through the fluffy white clouds. He stares at his father’s feet to keep the tears back, his throat tight as Sansa’s sobs tear at his heart.

You are dressed in Lannister red, the bright ruby, not your darker crimson, your gown lavish, and intricately embroidered, your hair up in a southern style, a near perfect duplicate of the Dowager Queen. Your hand has an iron grip on his wrist, fingertips outstretched to his palm, hidden behind your skirts.

“Please, I beg of you, spare my father, send him to the Night’s Watch for his crimes.” Sansa cries, clutching at the collar of her gown, tears streaming down her face. Theon stands behind her, still part of the crowd, his eyes never leaving her form, his lips etched into a deep frown.

“I am nothing if not merciful.” Joffrey says, spreading his hands wide, a smile on his face.

Jon’s stomach churns and your grip on him tightens.

“Do not act rashly.” You whisper, leaning into him ever so slightly, keeping him grounded.

Sansa sobs her gratitude, her sobs turning to screams when a kingsguard grabs her, pulling her back as Ser Ilyn Payne steps up Ice in his hands.

Jon can see Theon struggle against a few men, his curses muffled by a rag they shove in his mouth.

“Close your eyes, you should not have to see this.” You tell him. He ignores you, ripping his arm from your grip, but you move in front of him your hands on his chest, your strength is nothing compared to his, but the tears in your eyes stop him for a moment. “Please, Jon, he will kill you if you interfere.”

A whistling sound fills the air, then Lord Payne falls to the ground, an arrow sticking out his back. Another flies towards Joffrey and misses, clattering to the steps beside him. Chaos breaks out, people scream, arrows fly, the steps of the sept are tainted with blood.

His father gets to his feet, grabbing Ice, Theon rushing to him, a flash of Sansa’s red hair then Jon can no longer see them, the crowd closes in, and he hears a scream. It is you, he knows your scream, heard it time and time again in his nightmares. Jon turns on his heel, you should be right beside him, you are always right beside him, but now the space you always occupy is empty.

“Y/N!” He yells, scanning the crowd, hand on his pommel as the crowd surges against him.

“Jon!” Your voice comes from somewhere on his right, and he pushes through the crowd, catching sight of your gown. It is enough, and he presses on, a wolf stalking its prey, even as bodies crash into him, the sounds, and smells overwhelming, he follows you, elbowing and shoving others to get by, gaining ground until he is able to see you fully.

Some man has you, one he has never seen before, hooded, and cloaked, his arm around yours, a knife to your side as he drags you along.

You do not call out when you see him, smart girl, and he quickly overtakes the man, driving his sword through his back, the man freezing and sputtering, before collapsing as Jon pulls his blade out. This is the first life his blade has taken, and it is a righteous deed.

“Jon, oh gods, oh gods.” You sob, throwing your arms around his neck, your body trembling.

He wraps his arms around you, crushing you to his chest. “Seven Hells, y/n, are you hurt?”

You shake your head, jasmine perfume drowning out the scent of the city, of the crowd. “No, no, are you?”

“I am unharmed.” He assures you, releasing you only so he can pull back and examine you.

You are unharmed, roughed up, dirtied and scared, but there is no sign of injury. More screams, more people push past, and you look at him, tear rimmed eyes, large and fearful. “I want to go home.”

He is strong, stronger than Robb, than his father, and you weigh nothing compared to the barrels Lord Santagar makes him run with day after day, so he throws you over his shoulder.

You yelp at the sudden switch in gravity, clinging to him as he pushes through the crowd, his knuckles will be bruised and bloodied, but he cares not, he must get you to safety.

Jon does not put you down until you are safely inside the Red Keep, your father is there, in the throne room, as well as your grandsire, a surprise Jon is unsure whether is welcomed or not. Both men were not due to arrive from Casterly Rock for another fortnight.

“And here comes the White Wolf with my daughter slung over his shoulder like a Dothraki warlord.” Tyrion sighs.

Now on your feet but still clinging to Jon, you face your father. “He saved me, it is what he swore to do, I will not stand here and allow you to insult him.” Your words are weak, stained with tears, and you are still trembling, but they are earnest.

“Yes, yes, good job, Ser Jon.” Tyrion says, patting Jon’s hand.

“Thank you, My Lord.” He says, stunned and unsure. Where is his family, have they escaped? Been killed?

“Where is Sansa? Is she alright?” You ask, searching the room for her.

“The bitch has escaped, along with her traitor of a father, and that Greyjoy scum.” Joffrey’s voice rings out, as he sits down on the throne, the queen standing beside him, Lord Tywin going to flank her.

He is alone, alone in enemy territory, but at least his family have been able to escape. He sends a prayer to the old gods for their safety, then one for his own.

You smooth down your hair and craft your expression into one of disbelieving outrage. “My King, I am sorry. I never thought sweet Sansa would betray you.”

“She is a Stark, it is what they do, Ned Stark betrayed my father, and now his daughter betrays me.” Joffrey turns his eyes onto Jon, they are not like yours, no life lives within them, only death, sickly green and glowing with malice. “And what about your Stark, dear cousin, will he betray you?”

Jon shakes his head; he has seen you play this game with Joffrey enough times that he believes he knows what role he must play. “No, My King, I am a bastard, and sworn to Lady y/n, I hold my oath to her higher than that of my so-called blood.” It pains him to speak the words, to play this game, but he will have no chance of seeing his family, of seeing Arya, again if he’s dead.

TL: @mostclevermiss, @solacestyles, @2valentines, @sharknutz

[andrea-lyn]

atla rec post the third! this round basically all zukka recs!

atla recs - part 3

noble blood by lupus (khaleeseas)

The Southern Water Tribe was no place for a firebender...or even a Fire Prince for that matter. And yet here Zuko was, not only in the South Pole’s capital itself but in the Royal Palace, protecting the tribe’s Chief after a failed assassination attempt. Chief Sokka, his old friend and a man who was intelligent and witty, yet kind of a dumbass. A man who was brave and strong and kind. A man who Zuko was utterly failing not to develop...personal feelings for. __

aka: a kind of roleswap AU with Southern Water Tribe Chief Sokka and bodyguard/mercenary Zuko.

it's more about the things that you take with by winterfire22

it’s been a few years since zuko took the throne, and he's doing his best. but there are some things missing.

enter his new ambassador program, and an opportunity to reconnect with an old friend.

before we jump ship, let me teach you how to stay afloat by eurydicees

He doesn't remember when his feelings changed, just that, somewhere between the fires of his homeland and the ocean of Sokka's pirate ship, he fell in love.

In which Zuko learns to swim, Sokka falls in love, and the sun and ocean remain as steady as ever.

in silence; ripen, fall and cease by aiyah

Zuko reaches out with trembling hands and tucks it behind Sokka’s ear.

“A pretty flower for a pretty boy,” he whispers.

- - -

[or: this is the story of an ikebana artist and the man who visits him.]

zing by meteor-sword (vaenire)

“I’ll just put away the rest of the treats for them. Toph, hold this will you?” He hefts Zuko’s bag over to her before Toph can protest, and she has a mind to drop the bag at her feet before she feels something interesting inside the bag. As her seismic sense ran passively through the bag, she sensed something small; it was heavier than the parchment but lighter than the bag of coins-- giving a feedback of vibration somewhere between glass and limestone.

//

Like usual, Toph sees this coming when no one else does.

gold in the air of summer by leopardfringe

Sometimes, Toph likes to ask about colors. Not often—people generally aren't great at explaining them to her, but her newfound metalbending abilities have left her curious.

(This, of course, has nothing at all to do with how she doesn’t even need her feet to know who's crushing on who in this group. Nope, this is just purely for research, and definitely not because she's sick of them dragging their feet.)

the stars go waltzing out in blue and red by tristanyvaine

Zuko falls in love with Sokka in the Southern Water Tribe. Sokka falls in love with Zuko in the Fire Nation. It spirals from there.

or: (Zuko thinks a lot about blue, words, love, and Sokka // Sokka thinks a lot about red, touch, love, and Zuko)

To Be Named, To Be Known (To Be Loved) by Erisenyo

Zuko needs tomorrow to be perfect, but when one person is so many things to so many people--My Lord, Fire Lord, Nephew, Zuzu, Sifu Hotman--how is he going to find the time to make sure everything goes exactly right?

Or,

Five titles Zuko has earned himself + One more to add to the list. If he can just get through this Very Important International Celebration first...

this ultraviolet morning light by GallifreyanFairytale

“Sokka?” Zuko’s voice is quiet and raspy as he shifts just enough that Sokka lifts his head up from Zuko’s shoulder. The confession Sokka had ready to go dies on his lips at Zuko’s expression - at the red he can just barely make out in Zuko’s eyes. “Sokka, I… need to tell you something.”

Sokka swallows and nods silently, not trusting his own admission to not slip out if he dares to open his mouth. Zuko must be confessing the same thing Sokka wants to. Which, admittedly, Sokka hadn’t actually planned for, but it’s fine. He can adapt to this. He just needs to shift a few words around in his brain, and--

“You’re my best friend, you know that right?”

And why does Zuko’s tone make this sound like a break up?

OR

sokka and zuko break up, make up, go undercover, thwart a rebellion, watch the sunrise, and change the course of fire nation history. not necessarily in that order.

the stars sighed in unison by spellboundrose

For some reason, Zuko can't stop looking at Sokka out of the corner of his eye. It must be something about the way the moonlight reflects off his skin—or maybe how his eyes, such a vibrant shade of blue, glimmer like the stars above them—

Oh.

Oh, no.

(Or, five moments under the night sky and one beneath the sun.)

everything and nothing at once by tristanyvaine

See, everything would be fine if Sokka was here, because if Sokka was here then Zuko wouldn't be thinking about him over and over and over again while he misses him from the stupid ponytail to his weird Water Tribe shoes.

signs of light by beachytablecloth

And now, out of breath from running, Sokka can feel the anxiety beginning to overwhelm him, stitching his sides and pounding in his ears.

“It’s Zuko,” he finally gets out, panting. “He’s missing.”

or,

Zuko gets kidnapped; Sokka falls apart.

A Predictable Story by mindbending

"On this night, you shall share a kiss with a great love of your life!”

That lying, scummy Aunt Wu predicts a grand romance for Sokka. To disprove her "fortunetelling" once and for all, Sokka decides to spend the night with least romantic person he knows.

Zuko.

Boomerangs and Rainbows by mindbending

At Sokka’s behest, the Gaang skips rescuing Zuko during the Siege at the North Pole. Instead they leave him, unconscious, buried in the snow.

In completely unrelated news, Sokka’s haunted by a ghost now.

little taste of heaven by loserlesbian

"His mom had given him a diary.

No, not a diary–– a journal, she had specified. He knows it’s a diary. Zuko thinks she only called it a journal because she thought that Zuko wouldn’t use it if she said otherwise. A diary is for feelings and angst, but a journal was for working through your problems without all that mushy, gushy stuff. It was for writing out simply what was in your head, nothing more, nothing less."

or, zuko through the years, struggling with himself and his sexuality.

[nevesmose]

Nostraman Nature Sucks: An Attempted Lore Post

Ave dominus nox Night Lords fans. I thought I'd take some time to go through the various NL stories I have to hand and see what I could find out about the animals that lived on Nostramo. Might come in useful for something, who knows?

Sharks and Whales

As a child, on several coastal journeys with his father, he had witnessed the eyeless barrasal sharks that would group together to hunt the great whales of the open ocean. (Night Lords Trilogy)

His voice filters into something savage and predatory, as hungry as the eyeless white sharks of Nostramo’s blackest depths. (The Long Night)

Not a big surprise since they talk about them fairly often and have the Space Sharks as a successor chapter but Nostramo does have sharks. Pretty gnarly-sounding sharks if I'm honest.

I didn't know what "barrasal" meant, so I looked it up and only found one thread on r/40klore that had the same quote in it as above. Hmm.

Assuming it's not a typo or a more straightforward reference to something I'm just not getting, I'd venture a guess that barrasal, understood here to mean of or relating to "barras" like with "abyssal" could be connected to the French Revolutionary leader Paul Barras who is mostly remembered for supporting Napoleon's rise to power before being overthrown by him.

So maybe the older barrasal sharks will make use of younger ones as temporary hunting partners only to be inevitably betrayed and consumed by them. Sounds about right I think.

As for the whales, where do I even begin? I would imagine they're "whales" in name only like in Dishonored:

This does imply the possible existence of a whaling industry at some stage in Nostramo's history, though.

Crows

Jago reached into his pockets, offering a handful of breadcrumbs. Come, he said to the crows. Food for tonight. Flesh, flesh, flesh, they called back. He laughed as several of the black birds landed on his shoulders and outstretched arm. (Prince Of Crows)

‘Yes. I’ve seen them in books. Is a crow a type of bird?’ ‘Black of feather and dark of eye. It feeds on the bodies of the dead, and sings in a raw, croaking caw.’ (TLN)

Breaking news - legion that keeps referring to crows in shocking has crows on its homeworld scandal. "This is outrageous," said local Nostraman cutpurse and skin disease enthusiast Verxaglryn Quickstabber, "here we are trying to make a good name for Nostramo as a respectable hellhole, a place you'd be proud to exile your worst enemy to, and yet we're surrounded by some of the most intelligent and curious birds in existence. I was shanking someone in a back alley the other night and suddenly I saw a crow learning how to use rudimentary tools! Not on my watch, I said to the rapidly cooling body, and I threw my shiv at it. But it just flew away." At this point Mr Quickstabber was obliged to end the interview due to having been eviscerated by the Night Haunter.

I know their communication with Sevatar is happening in a dream but I really like the idea of the crows adapting to Nostramo by developing some kind of psychic hive mind that's also able to be understood by human psykers.

Crag Cougars

A beast of my home world. When next you see one of the Atramentar, look to their shoulder guards. The roaring lions on their pauldrons are what we called crag cougars on Nostramo. It was considered a mark of wealth for gang bosses to be able to leave the cities and hunt such creatures. (NLT)

Every single one of them is Scar from the Lion King, isn't it? An interesting hint about Nostramo's geography though, of which more later.

Rats

Groundcars whisked by, headlights brighter than deep-hive rats’ eyes, the occupants snug and safe behind armoured glass. (Konrad Curze: The Night Haunter)

No surprises here either. Where there's people there's rats after all.

Something with tusks?

The older Astartes grinned, wolf-like and keen, as the Atramentar either side of the Exalted’s throne growled through their tusked helms. (NLT)

This isn't that conclusive because a lot of Chaos Terminators have tusks no matter what legion they are, but Nostramo being Nostramo they probably belonged to a species of giant carnivorous mammoth that ate babies and sprayed acid from its trunk.

Cows? On My Sunless World?

‘They are still of standard human stock, and not to be mourned. What does it matter if the cattle fear the herdsman?’ hissed Krukesh the Pale. (KC:TNH)

This one's a real reach on my part as it's very likely just a turn of phrase, but I noticed it because wouldn't it be slightly more typical to use a sheep metaphor here? Plus it supports the existence of Nostraman cowboys/ranchers/vaqueros which is fun.

No bats?

His helmet bore a new, spread batwing crest in blatant imitation of Sevatar’s own. (A Safe and Shadowed Place)

A sole space was neat: a circle around an iron lectern fashioned in the form of a bat’s outflung wings, which carried a heavy book bound in human skin. (KC:TNH)

Although they appear a lot in the VIII legion's iconography and artwork, oddly enough I wasn't actually able to find a direct reference to Nostramo itself having bats. Let's cover my ass by saying this aspect might therefore have been brought in by the legion's Terran component instead.

Some Nostraman geography

The Hill Folk lived away from the cities, eking out an existence in the mountains. (NLT)

What's worse than living in a Nostraman city? Living on a Nostraman hill, apparently. This seems to just be an idea of ADB's that doesn't come up again but I've always found it quite interesting. Were the Hill Folk as scummy as the City Folk, just with more of a down-home Dukes of Hazzard vibe? Seems likely.

This also supports the idea of Nostramo not being completely urbanised like some Hive Worlds are. In my view its continents might have had a geographical layout a bit like Italy or Scotland where the cities are mainly on the flatter coasts with a more sparsely populated hilly/mountainous interior.

What else? (This part is just me making stuff up so feel free to ignore it. I'm not ADB, I'm not even ADB's hat.)

If the rest of Nostramo's marine life is anything like the sharks and whales then it's fucking terrifying. I would imagine, because it's funny, that a lot of Nostraman food features disgusting industrially-processed fish in some way or another. Like the food in Dishonored but even worse.

Is something wrong, dearest offworld husband? You haven't touched your stale bread, whalemeat and jellied eels.

Since all life on Nostramo seems to be comically carnivorous and aggressive, it would make sense in a 40K kind of way for there to be giant predatory penguins living at one or both of its poles. A bit like the monstrous blind albino penguins HP Lovecraft wrote about.

Last known infrared pict-capture of an early Nostraman settler attempting communication with a juvenile specimen of the native penguin species. There were no survivors.

[cuubism]

For the wip ask game, I'd love to hear about Deja Vu, I just read the first three chapters and I thought they were really good 😁

aw thank you!! I really enjoy that one still even though it takes me so so long to write it

I even have all the chapters planned out, it's just an intense and emotionally draining fic to write so it takes me FOREVER

from chapter 5, which takes place in 1699. some light spoilers for chapter 4, but tbh you can probably predict how that whole situation with Eleanor is going to go down in the end XD

--

For ten years, it has been nighttime in the Dreaming. For ten years, no sun has fallen through the stained glass of Dream’s throne room, no morning light has risen, no sunset has marked the passing of time. No stars manage to glimmer through the heavy clouds, no moonlight on this night between lunar cycles, the beginning and end. Only the darkness of a winter night, somewhere far north where the sun is not expected for months, and life must adapt to its absence. Life in the Dreaming continues. Plants still grow, as little in the Dreaming follows strict earthly laws. Days are marked by instinct rather than sun. It does not rain, for Dream does not have the energy for such a marked expression of loss, not since that first, catastrophic thunderstorm that had nearly rent the palace in two, so many years ago now. It does not rain, but it sometimes snows. On those nights, he will step out into the palace courtyard, wading through cold and ice he does not need to feel, watching the meager light bounce and multiply off the snow. Albedo. Yes, the only brightness he feels is reflected, now, from other sources. Dream does not feel; Dream works. When he doesn’t work, which is infrequent, he paces the palace ramparts—it has ramparts, now, as if waiting for an imagined future battle—trying to fortify the empty place in his chest lest it keep expanding. Ten years ago, Dream had met with Hob Gadling at their scheduled meeting time. He almost hadn’t gone. It had felt… wrong, to go to Hob when he had fled. To come to Hob as himself, when the person Hob knew truly, loved truly was Eleanor, a disaster that Dream had pulled him into, a loss that Dream had put him through. More than that, Dream had not been certain he could trust his own reaction were he to encounter again the man who had once been his husband. (No, not his husband. Eleanor’s husband.) But gone he had. He told himself it was merely to keep their agreement, because Hob did not deserve to be left in the cold. But in his heart of hearts Dream simply had to see him. He had not looked at Hob’s dreams since their horrendous parting. He had not looked at anything. He had gone. He had found a Hob who was ruined.

[acourtofquestions]

Aelin took a step forward. One step, as if in a daze.

She loosed a shuddering breath, and a small, whimpering noise came out of her—a sob.

And then she was sprinting down the alley, flying as though the winds themselves pushed at her heels.

She flung herself on the male, crashing into him hard enough that anyone else might have gone rocking back into the stone wall.

But the male grabbed her to him, his massive arms wrapping around her tightly and lifting her up.

Aelin was laughing as she cried, and the male was just holding her, his hooded head buried in her neck. As if he were breathing her in.

"Who is that?" Nesryn asked.

Aedion smiled. "Rowan."

She was shaking from head to toe, and couldn't stop crying, not as the full weight of missing Rowan crashed into her, the weight of these weeks alone. "How did you get here? How did you find me?" Aelin withdrew far enough to study the harsh face shadowed by his hood, the tattoo peeking out along the side of it, and the grim line of his smile.

He was here, he was here, he was here.

"You made it clear my kind wouldn't be welcome on your continent," he said.

Even the sound of his voice was a balm and a blessing.

"So I stowed away on a ship. You'd mentioned a home in the slums, so when I arrived this evening, I wandered until I picked up your scent."

He scanned her with a warrior's unflinching assessment, his mouth tight. "You have a lot to tell me," he said, and she nodded.

Everything she wanted to tell him everything.

She gripped him harder, savoring the corded muscle of his forearms, the eternal strength of him. He brushed back a loose strand of her hair, his callused fingers scraping against her cheek in the lightest caress. The gentleness of it made her choke on another sob. "But you're not hurt," he said softly. "You're safe?"

She nodded again and buried her face in his chest. "I thought I gave you an order to stay in Wendlyn."

"I had my reasons, best spoken somewhere secure," he said onto her hood. "Your friends at the fortress say hello, by the way. I think they miss having an extra scullery maid. Especially Luca—especially in the mornings."

She laughed, and squeezed him. He was here, and he wasn't something she'd made up, some wild dream she'd had, and-"Why are you crying?" he asked, trying to push her back far enough to read her face again.

But she held on to him, so fiercely she could feel the weapons beneath his clothes. would all be fine, even if it went to hell, so long as he was here with her. "I'm crying," she sniffled, "because you smell so rutting bad my eyes are watering."

Rowan let out a roar of laughter that made the vermin in the alley go silent. She at last pulled away, flashing a grin. "Bathing isn't an option for a stowaway," he said, releasing her only to flick her nose. She gave him a playful shove, but he glanced down the alley, where Nesryn and Aedion were waiting…

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Alice 'Allie' Parkington is WonderSpider!

____________________________________

Miguel: One year and four months ago, I devised the formula for inter-dimensional travel, allowing me to open portals across the multiverse. I created an elite stri-

Alice: Oh, Okay! -

[Alice is the result of a 'Adapt-A-Spider' Challenge, where you adapt a pre-existing character into a Spider! You can see more of my fun Spidersona challenges HERE]

(Also HUGE THANKS to @fairytalespider who made the OG SpiderSnow!)

Gwen Stacy isn't the only blonde who knows about miraculously falling through wormholes.

Except Allie got sent to the universe with talking animals, and a maniacal queen with of taste for beheadings. Not that she's complaining. Not when the tea parties are so delightful~

At 7 years old Alice Parkington found a white waist-coated rabbit, on a hurry to who knows where -

And she followed him, fell down a hole, and never came back.

Origins:

[Alice's world is a mix of the book's portrayal, the cartoon's, and Tim Burton's (though I haven't seen the movies). Her story begins at the end of book - a similar ending to the cartoon movie, but instead she doesn't wake up.]

After losing a game of croquet to The Red Queen of Hearts, Alice is sent to the dungeons, awaiting her beheading on the Queen's orders. That is, until she finds an enchanted Spider in her cell, sent by an ally. When she's bitten, it gives her all the power of Wonderland - and binds her there forever. After escaping The Red Queen's Death Row, Alice was adopted by the woman who helped free her - The kind but exiled The White Queen or Marmoreal, aka Her Aunt Mirana.

Now The Blue Princess of Marmoreal, Alice is next in line for the throne, and the web-swinging protector of Tugley Woods, Wonderland. She spends her days fighting against the tyrannical and murderous rule of The Red Queen of Hearts, and The Court of Cards. With The Mad Hatter as her martyred Uncle Ben - Alice calls Wonderland her home, though she's always left questioning what's real and what isn't. At this point, she's accepted she'll never know the answer. So when she's recruited for Spider Society, it's just another rabbit hole to go down, and another adventure to fall into. On campus she's known as WonderSpider, and she's a lot more powerful (and ruthless) than you'd think.

Design and Personality:

Alice is a lot less sugar and a bit more spice, with her personality taking after the book (moreso than the movies).

Alice is bubbly and independent. She's as curious as a cat and as chatty as a bird. And she's all about asking questions and finding her own way in the world.

She's loves tea parties and foraging and making crazy experiements in the Hatter's workshop. And now that he's gone, she still finds herself in there, cooking up another magical sweet or Victorian style gadget. When she's not doing that, she's at The White Queens side, begrudgingly taking (literally) nonsensical etiquette classes. She isn't afraid to speak up for herself and others. And once she makes her mind up, it's settled.

Despite what some may think, she's isn't an entire lunatic. She's hasn't gone Wonderland Mad yet.

Even since a young girl, Alice has always been known for asking questions - trying to find the sense in nonsense before coming to a conclusion. She's great at picking up on details, and thinking outside the box. And she's always the one to keep a level head, no matter what the circumstances. Doom is not assured when reality is subjective. She's as logical as she is loopy, and although some may think there's nothing going on between her ears, they are sorely mistaken.

She always wears her glasses. She needs them to see.

Or rather, she needs them to see correctly. Having a cause of The Mads, taking off her glasses distorts her vision of the room into a psychedelic and disorienting wonderland version itself - which hurts. She keeps them on always. Though they can be knocked off during battle. Like other Spider-people - The lenses squint, blink, and emote. They have a permanent and consistently moving patterns and colors. Between blinks, the design may change, the swirls changing color or direction. Sometimes the words she's saying may flash over them for emphasis, and they can contain anything from exclamation points to tie dye.

Alice is a de facto genius.

An expert chemist, Alice has mastered dozens of recipes and chemistry formulas using the vegetation in Wonderland. She's cracked the code to rabbit holes, and has an amazing affinity for science and theoretical theory. And if she doesn't understand a certain law of physics or something, she can just choose to ignore it. Literally.

Powers & Abilities:

Hobie told Alice that laws are oppressive. She agreed, told him she hates the laws of physics - then started floating to the ceiling like a balloon. Needless to say, reality doesn't really work for Alice. And she cannot control it.

But no matter what her misfortune, though - She'll always say 'Oh, dear.'

Reality Warp:

Wonderland has side effects. Alice can grow and shrink at will, but once she's there, she can't go back. When she wants, she can manifest rabbit holes to Wonderland on any flat surface, but she doesn't know where they are - so she always falls into them. Her tears are huge, and they flood any room. And for some reason, she's obsessed with cookies. It she sees one, she'll eat it. It doesn't matter if it says 'Eat Me' or not. If you hand her something and tell her to drink, she will. It's the one thing she won't question, although she should know better. She'll read the label, and if it's not clearly labeled bleach or poison, she's drinking it. If it's not those two things, it must be safe right?

The Power of Imagination:

Like Spider-Ham has the Super-Slapstick ability, Alice has the Power of Imagination on her side. If she can make logic of it or believe it, then there is a random chance it will happen. If the team is looking for a way past a locked door, Alice may say 'If only there were a mousehole somewhere here. Mice are such scampers, they can get into anywhere!' There will probably be a 1/4 chance of a mouse running by, leading them to a cartoon like mousehole she can shrink and go through. However, Alice can't will it to happen. She can't be asking or hoping for it, and the thought has to be completely innocent and 'wonderous' for it to work. The ability can also be compounded, with multiple unlikely things happening rapid fire - however this is less likely and HIGHLY dangerous if done in other universes, and is likely to cause an anomaly. Plus everyone else involved goes a tad bit 'loopy' for a bit.

This ability only works outside of Wonderland, and it was discovered by Miguel.

When Alice met Miguel, she began to question his interesting suit, and so she asked. Miguel began to explain to her, but confused, Alice said 'Well, that's nonsensical. Surely you can't wear light like fabric. If that were true, I could pull this right off you.' - And then she did. And suddenly she was holding his suit in her hands as if it were made of fabric, and Miguel was there in his underwear.

Alice's response: 'Oh dear.'

Chesire Mode:

When surrounded by enough chaos or kinetic energy, Alice can go Chesire Mode, and really goes off the bend. She experiences full Wonderland Madness - similar to the Hatter, and gains the ability to unravel herself and turn invisible. Her voice begins to echo, creating a disorienting and hallucination-like affect. Doing this is known to cause madness, but it affects everyone in the room.

Equipment:

WebShooters: Alice uses mechanical Web-Shooters created by her and The Mad Hatter. Her webs are silly string and streamers. 'Bow'-nus Arms: Alice's waist ribbon is extendable like Mr.Fantastic's limbs, serving essentially as a second set of arms. However, when it's off of her, it's much more similar to Doctor Strange's cape, having a mind and personality of it's own. She can take it off and ask it do it, and it'll go off and (try it's best) to do it, just like a snake. It's name is David Bowie. She does not know who David Bowie is - it's just a coincidence: it's family name is Bow-ie, and David is a common name.

Random Facts:

Alice hangs out with a lot of the 'Eccentric' and Mini Spiders - She likes others from cartoons or fairytales, or anyone made for whimsy.

And she likes spending her time small.

She has a crush on Lego Spider-Man. She shrinks to be with him lol

He naturally finds her a little offputting, they're NOT a thing but she wishes (sis he's literal plastic)

Alice's best friends are SpiderPetal, SpiderSnow (@fairytalespider), SpiderFairy (@stardust948) and Spider-Ham.

Since they all live in either a woodland area, a cartoon, or both, those are usually who she's with

Though she only goes small around people she trusts - but never someone like Miguel. In fact, with Miguel, she does the opposite.

When Miguel is in the room, Alice prefers to grow 'full size' as in... taking up the whole room giantess style.

She says it helps, because 'It makes Mr.O'hara look like a little toy soldier.'

With the size of his lair, she can often grow taller faster than he can get lower - so he'll stay up there, and she'll grow to meet his eye.

She can decide when to stop growing or shrinking, just not when she'll turn back.

This power is transferable. Alice's wonderland powers still work elsewhere, and so her cookies and drinks do too.

Alice can only keep 1 cookie and 1 drink on her at one time, never more, it'll always be ruined.

She can use these to either extend her state, or have someone shrink or grow along with her.

But once she uses the one of each item, she can't get more until she returns home and makes more.

HOWEVER. HOWEVER - Alice is down for deals.

If you come to her world and ask for some cookies or potions, she'll give it to you. But there's a mandatory tea party involved, and the only payment she asks is that you bring sweets for the guests - Vegan please!!

(Her favorite is angel food cake, after cookies of course)

Those aren't the only ones - she has dozens of sophisticated concoctions for any need - floating and weightlessness, invisibility, even the ability to mimic voices perfectly -

And just the same, she's able to carry one of each when outside of Wonderland.

A frequent customer of hers is Hobie. He puts the potions to work - plus he makes the best vegan coconut macaroons.

Oh - also DO NOT Drink her tea though - it's made with Wonderland Tea Leaves....Great for a good time, horrible for bedtime.

Despite not knowing her specific age - Alice is a young adult - and she works at The Society.

Her Uncle Hatter was a master chemist, alchemist, magician, chef - and dozens of other things. And for years, Alice studied under him.

Originally, Miguel assumed all of this knowledge would be non-transferable nonsense, but - wrong.

Alice is one of the leading scientists at The Society - with a concentration in Multiversal Physics, studying everything from the visual styles of universes, the path between universes, and differences in time.

She'll often say something, only to get dismissed by Miguel.

But Lyla will cut him off, telling him that scientifically, Alice IS making sense.

It's just that because her world is totally backwards, the ideas she has to describe her thoughts are backwards too.

After a while, she becomes one of the main people to write the updates and programs for the watches, working with Miguel as her boss.

She's like a bop-it, full of weird and very useless quirks.

If her feet get wet, they make the duck waddle sound when she walks.

If she hits her head, it makes the TikTok 'Boink' sound. She runs and it makes the Flintstones noise.

If she stubs her toe or gets hurt on something tiny, she'll scream like Tom The Cat.

She burps bubbles (like the soap kind) and her sneezes sound like one of those party straw thingies.

Sometimes her Wonderland powers play tricks on her. She'll be like 'I'm outta here!!' then walk into a looney toons wall. And she's so embarrassed cause the cartoon noises make it so much worse fhgsuigdf

Sometimes when she tries to run she stays in one place for a second before the running kicks in (like a cartoon) - and Miguel just grabs her and she's like 'Dratz, I was trying to get away.'

She enjoys hanging out with Hobie, though she does not understand him at all.

Like, she's British too - did I mention she's British, cause she's from Victorian England -

But she has no opinion on his ideology because it's ???? lost on her

He's like 'This is a metaphor for capitalism' and she'd be like 'I don't know what that is.'

He's like 'count your blessings'.

But Hobie LOVES that Alice doesn't stick to the rules -

and that she gives the middle finger to the laws of physics by just existing

He's like 'That's so cool, what you just did. Real Metal.'

She's like 'I suppose I am just a container, filled with slowly decaying food - so in that way, I am quite like a fridge, which is cool and made of metal-'

And he's like 'what are you talking about-'

And they mainly hangout because they're both lazy.

Alice is tirrreeed of all these weird physics rules and new technology and non talking cutlery.

She'd much prefer to take a nap, or wander off, of have a tea party, or do ANYTHING that isn't work. Same girl same

And that's it! Most of it, I'll probably maybe maybe not write a post about her joining the society and how it completely warps her perception of reality because she's been trying to get home for so long, she doesn't even know if her home exists then there's this new society through ANOTHER wormhole but she still can't get home-

Oh and before I go, her intro art is inspired by Qveen Herby's single Abracadabra!

Yeah. If you made it this far THANK YOU FOR GIVING ME UR TIME! Thank you so so much for entertaining me I MEAN IT THANK YOU I KNOWI POST SO MANY OCS AND IT'S KINDA OVERWHELMING SORRY AAHHH MY BRAIN CANT STOP I CANT FOCUS HELP

Anyway I'm normal

HERE HOBIE

Bye.

[skaikruswan]

reader overloads herself by trying to be a good queen for the kingdom and for morpheus, reading and practicing and neglecting herself telling herself that there are important things to learn, after she doesn't want to disappoint everyone just for being human and wants to be better for him and everyone that he loves and that she loves too.

Thanks for the request of desire disguising himself as a morpheus, I loved the touch of anguish (relax I'm not a masochist lol😜😜) but I love her writings. 😍😍

Heavy crown, heavy burden

WC: 1.6 k Ao3

Relationship: Morpheus x f!reader

Notes: established relationship, king and queen, some angst

Dear anon, thanks for the prompt and for your kind words. I'm glad you liked the prompt :D I am sorry it took a while and I hope you like it!

If you liked this story, i have written others.

It started small. 

You’ve always loved assisting Lucienne in the library, sorting and shelving the many tomes and books. It gave you a purpose while Morpheus was busy, and the smell of leather and paper was soothing. 

“My lady, do you have any recommendations on how I could improve this library?” Lucienne asked after you’ve finished your work, and you owlishly blinked at her. Her hands linked behind her back, Lucienne gave you an expectant look. 

“I don’t know. I would have to think about it,” you answered slowly. The library was a marvel and Lucienne was a very apt and resourceful person. “If you don’t mind me asking, why do you ask me?” While you felt flattered, you wondered why she didn’t just ask Morpheus. 

“Given your position in this realm, I thought it best to include you in such matters,” Lucienne answered, readjusting her glasses. You only frowned at her cryptic answer. Your position? What position do you have? “I may have overstepped. Please forgive me.” 

Lucienne walked away, called by a dream requiring assistance, and you were left alone with your questions. 

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

“Don’t forget to bow,” you heard Cain hiss. He must have thought that you wouldn’t notice it as you observed Goldie, smiling as the little gargoyle flitted around you, letting out delighted croaks. 

“Your grace, can I offer you something to drink?” Cain asked, and you disliked his overly formal tone. You’ve started to consider Cain and Abel to be your friends, and you didn’t understand why they suddenly kept their distance. Did you do something wrong? 

“Cain, you can call me by my name,” you answered, giving him an amused smile. “I would like a glass of juice, if that’s all right.” Dreams were incredible, and every night you were impressed anew by how adaptable they were. You knew you could just dream up a glass of juice, but you didn’t want to snub Cain. 

Cain elbowed his brother, who hurried away into their cottage, only to return balancing a tray with several glasses of juice. 

“There you go, your grace,” Abel offered nervously, almost trembling. Your worries only grew, twisting your insides. 

You reached for a glass and took a sip, under the watchful eyes of the brothers. The juice was delicious, and you drank it in one go. You gently put the glass back on the tablet, curious to try out another juice. 

“I can bring you another glass, my queen,” Abel said, avoiding your gaze, and you froze, almost spitting out your drink. 

“Queen?” You pronounced that word with indignation, as it continued to ring inside your mind. 

   --------------------------------

You marched inside the heart of the palace, your curiosity and confusion stronger than your worries. Morpheus would have the answers. 

The King of dreams and nightmares was sitting on his throne, a pensive look on his face as he observed his empty throne room. As he noticed you approaching, he rose gracefully, taking your hand after you climbed all the stairs. 

“My love,” he said, pressing his lips against the back of your hand. Such small gestures usually melted you, but you willed yourself to remain hard. 

“My king,” you replied, catching the briefest flash of discontent in his bottomless blue eyes. Morpheus preferred you to usually use his name. “Shouldn’t you call me your queen?” There was no need to beat around the bush. Morpheus let out a small sigh, and you waited. 

“My love, I apologize if the citizens of the realm may have confused you. They did not mean ill. However, they should have waited for my approval,” Morpheus explained, and you understood even less. He reached for a wayward strand of your hair and gently tugged it behind your ear. 

“Your approval for what? Morpheus, I don’t understand,” you admit, feeling stupid. What was going on?

“My love, our relationship brings me joy. You’ve won my heart and the affection of the residents of my realm. If you’re willing, I would like you to be my queen.” His earnest proposal rattled your heart and made every thought inside your mind vanish. It was true that your relationship with him has become a cornerstone of your life. You couldn’t imagine living without him. And yet… 

“Morpheus, this feels like a proposal,” you couldn’t help but giggle, your heart doing summersaults while butterflies flew inside your stomach. 

Instead of replying, he reached inside a pocket and presented a beautiful golden ring with a gleaming ruby in the middle. 

“Be my queen,” he asked, falling to one knee. Dream of the Endless was kneeling in front of you, and you started laughing, tears of joy running down your cheeks as you moved your shaky hand and allowed him to put the ring on your finger. It fitted perfectly.

“Yes, my king.” 

    --------------------------------

You wake up in the real world and blink at the darkness inside your room. Your bladder has woken you up, and you let out a low curse. You had almost finished the chapter of your book. 

Inside your bathroom, under the harsh light, you see yourself and almost startle. The dark circles under your eyes seem to be drawn on your pale skin. You don’t look good, but that is a small price to pay. 

Queen of the Dreaming. After accepting Morpheus’ proposal, you swore to give your all to your new function. Days and nights are spent reading and practicing so you can fulfill your duty. 

You spray some water on your face. Now that you’re awake, you can continue your research in the waking world. Nothing beats the Dreaming’s library, but here in the waking world, you have the Internet. Close enough. 

You rub your thumb against your ring. You know that you’re not the first Queen of the Dreaming. Calliope’s shadow hangs above you. How can you, a mere human, follow in her footsteps? How can you compete against a goddess? 

You rub away your tiredness and prepare your breakfast. Every day and every night, you dedicate yourself to your goal: becoming a worthy queen. You owe it to Morpheus and his realm. 

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

Matthew caws a few times as he soars above you, and you’re either too exhausted or distracted to notice him; he can’t decide which one is worse. 

Matthew has watched you become a mere shadow of yourself. You spent your dreams inside the library and your days researching or taking ridiculous courses to improve your posture or correct your pronunciation. As if you needed all that. 

Matthew gets that becoming the freaking queen of the Dreaming is big deal, but nobody needs or wants a half-dead queen. 

He’s going to talk to the boss and make him listen. 

      ---------------------------

You enter the Dreaming, and don’t find yourself back at the library, but instead in your favorite meadow inside Fiddler’s Green. You allow yourself to close your eyes and enjoy the soothing nature for one minute, and then you will return to the palace. A queen has no time to lose. 

When you open your eyes again, you find Morpheus standing next to you, giving you a loving look. You hope that he doesn’t pay too much attention to your appearance, that you managed to hide the traces of your tiredness.  

“My love, please sit with me,” Morpheus asks, and you wish you could accept his request. At the beginning of your relationship, Morpheus had explored Fiddler’s Green with you, and you miss your dates. 

“I would love to, but there are books calling my name,” you answer, your voice light and cheery. Everything you do, you do for him. 

“Your king commands you,” Morpheus says, his lips curved into a small smile, and you comply, sitting on the soft grass. Morpheus sits down next to you, his knees touching yours. 

“My love, you hold my heart. It pains me to see you suffer. Please, take care of yourself,” Morpheus begins, his voice full of affection, and your heart stutters as your shoulders rise defensively.

“Morpheus, I am sorry. I will try to do better,” you say, avoiding his gaze. You’ve already started to disappoint him. Stupid, foolish human. 

“You misunderstand.” Morpheus gently grabs your chin, his thumb stoking over your jaw. “I see you fade away, and it hurts. I don’t need a perfect queen by my side. I only need my love.” 

Your lip wobbles as you let out a shaky breath. His concerned gaze holds you prisoner, and you feel your defenses shatter against his gentle touch and gentler words. 

You break. 

“I am so worried that I will disappoint you and everyone in this realm,” you confess, your voice a whisper, tears dripping down your chin. 

“My love, you could never.” Morpheus wipes away your tears with his thumb and cradles your face, and you lean into his touch. “All I need is you. All I want is you. Please, look after yourself.” 

You nod, swallowing the lump inside your throat. You readjust yourself so that your head is resting on his lap, his coat the best pillow in the whole Dreaming. Morpheus chuckles and starts to glide his fingers through your hair. The tension that you thought had settled inside your bones starts to disappear, and you let out a long, content sigh. 

You do what you haven’t done in ages: you enjoy a relaxing dream and allow yourself to rest. 

[bookcub]

ps i am not including modern retellings (there is too many) and adaptations i haven't read

[redstarfiles]

RECORD/// Speaker: MAKUTA FEROX / Subject: GLADIATORS -[“It was a simple matter. I kept a lot of the Toa Hagah training equipment and tools. The hardest part was deciding how big I wanted the spectator area to be. And getting enough chairs.

“When SCORCHER arrived he only had one leg. He tipped the ferrymen, hopped his way over to me and asked who he needed to kill to prove he was gladiator material. An excellent first impression. For his boldness I gifted him a new leg and let him loose in the arena. The longer he fought the hotter he would burn, until the ground beneath him was smoldering or turned to glass.

“One of the more prominent figures was the BOAR QUEEN. Regal, dignified, and calculating, she was a terror on the battlefield few could withstand. The word was she was the last in a line of succession in some far off dynasty. I couldn’t help but notice the rumor seemed to have less heirs standing between her and the throne whenever she returned to Trah. She used the arena as a place to clear her head and plan her next move, which would explain her disinterest in the championship.

“The longest reigning champion was named COLDER THAN MOST. That’s what his peers called him. He was a loner even amongst Ko-matoran. At least, I think he was a Ko-Matoran. He seemed to think he was when I read his mind. Hardly ever spoke, but he had a way of making himself understood. Slight tilts of the head, a measured wave of the hand, a tapping of a foot. Something about him seemed so - I don’t know how to describe it. Vibrant. Radiant? Bright, maybe.

“I’d probably still be running the Shadow Arena if I had my way. I could ignore a summons to Destral, but I couldn’t ignore evolution. Things were changing and not even my Adaptation powers could save me this time. I couldn’t have known it then but Destiny was redirecting my course, carefully steering me towards the Red Star. And I was not prepared.”]