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elane-in-the-shadows · 1 year

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Red Queen Fan Fiction - Off-Duty

February 2nd - Happy Birthday, Shade Barrow

A/N: This year, not fun edit-making but the finalization of the fic of pure self indulgence I laboured in love for 7 months. It was a marvellous joy, based on two old shit posts of mine (x y) I now offer to share to celebrate Shade’s birthday. (How much I enjoyed this, seven years after Glass Sword, shows me how much this character and couple still mean to me. Maybe I can believe in lasting love after all. For them.)

5504 words, it is long

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Off-Duty

The rain pounded a rhythm on the makeshift balcony roof both irritating and comfortable. The first because of its dissonance with the ball’s music wafting up, the latter as the sound was certainly more homely than the howls of the storm ruling the skies of the Monfort capital for the last days. It was its own kind of uplifting, despite the wetness and still dark horizon, that Shade gave up keeping Clara indoors and set up their picnic on the balcony. The light at least was shining in a warm red from the gathered night lights beside them, reflecting the colour of the rain protection foils above. To keep them dry, Shade had scavenged umbrellas, wires and canvas and fumbled them into the resemblance of a roof through some risky ledge gymnastics relying on his teleporting ability to save him in case of falling. He hoped the same ability made him fast enough to grab Clara should her constant, curious skygazing lead her to lean too far over the ledge. In fact, he didn’t trust on teleporting alone when it came to her, as he was too nervous to leave her out of his sight for a second too long and eat in peace.

He tried to lure her away with some of the food he’d sacked from the snack buffet for the party downstairs in the palace. Though Clara did turn around, she ignored the orange-glazed yeast cake he held out in favour of a tiny rice and vegetable bowl. Shade exhaled with relief, but Clara seemed barely so. When he offered the rice pudding with cherries next, she shook her head. “For Mama,” she said. “Sure,” he replied with a forced smile. Clara could be more perceptive than he expected at her two and a half years. Did she understand Diana was missing her own party? Or had he been too exact about her anticipated return from the Lakelands? It wasn’t officially “her” party, more an annual ball to remember the fallen and the veterans, but in Davidson’s circle, it was known that General Farley was to meet with representatives from Prairie who finally showed the start of an interest in brokering an alliance – with Monfort and the Scarlet Guard, no less. Diana wasn’t the usual choice for diplomacy though given Ella’s advice, the warlord from Prairie would rather be convinced by a brusque military leader. More so if she brought as a negotiating feature intelligence on the latest lakelander movements. As she’d been engaged in them. Or still was. As of, right now. Shade bit off some spicy bread with a slice of smoked ham. He supposed he would’ve heard of it if things had gone that wrong and Diana’s unit was still tied in battle. But if the situation was that dire, anything could’ve happened and with the communication cut off. No wonder Clara stared at the sky as if she could see the light of the plane returning her mother. He couldn’t wait for it, either. Diana had been set to be back two days ago. Leaving them three whole days of family life before his own mission to Ciron loomed and whose preparations he felt less and less inclined to proceed with. While Mare was with Cal in Piedmont and Kilorn and his brothers in Norta, Shade had been recommended to scout in the western country for possible allies, ideally to initiate first contacts together with other high-profile spies he barely knew. The opposite to quality time with his longed-for beloved and their daughter couldn’t be harsher when the lack of contact also made him worry - if not freaking out - about the well-being of the rest of his family. He felt terribly egoistic and also almost unashamed of it. He was fed up. It broke his heart enough to see Clara staring after a glimpse of her mother, how could he abandon her now, without Diana to relieve him? As if it could be called relieve, like a battle strategy, but it was the plan the two of them had come up with: Just one of them would be engaged in operations at one time, and this had lasted for almost two years now. Only Shade doubted the system more and more. He hardly wanted to leave Clara out of his reach and miss her growing each day. He’d also wanted to welcome Diana, had dreamed of her skin, her smell, her voice. The way she only smiled at Clara. Yesterday should’ve been theirs and this pitiful picnic should’ve included her. In the sunshine. Climbing the hills as if on a vacation, to forget the dangers they were in or just escaped even though she would’ve questioned him about his mission in her way to see him off safe. Thanks to the storm, any part of this became impossible and Clara’s glare at the cloud didn’t lessen in concentration. If she could, she’d challenge the weather itself. Shade risked a second to dip a pig-shaped cake in caramelized milk and devour it in one go before trying to offer another to Clara. This time, she took it, dipping it absentmindedly, yet on the way to her mouth, she let it drop. “There!” she pointed, jumping up. Shade was too startled to think and, still struggling to swallow the food, simply reached for Clara. She grinned, pointing again. But he didn’t see, too relieved to have Clara secure against his chest. Then he heard the aircraft approaching the palace. When he grasped its meaning, his grin mirrored Clara’s. The storm drove rain in his face before Shade was fully materialized, and the ground swayed beneath his feet. The truth about teleporting was that the dizziness never went away, not even for a teleporter himself. The irritations and imbalances coming with contradicting the corporeal world had to be fought with resilience, willpower, and focus, whether you were sneaking behind an enemy or escaping them. Now, though, he was grounded by Clara on his shoulder and before him – Her eyes, bright despite the dark, finding them immediately – The surety of her gait, approaching – Her smile, growing clearer and broader with every step – She was a woman in parts, and he longed to have her whole in his arms, and so he strode to her – until Clara heaved and then he stumbled for real, glancing at his daughter, trying to shift or steadying her. But to no avail, as she puked all over his chest and he was thrown out of his dreamy desires and stood there, frozen and dumbfounded. He jerked his head to the sound of a snort and there she was, Diana standing right before him. “Come here, dove,” she said, taking Clara from Shade and already comforting and cleaning her with her scarf, as efficient as ever. “Mama,” cried Clara, and Diana was quick to answer with soothing phrases. He searched her eyes darting between Clara and him and around and when their gazes locked, he found her glance full of joy and amusement as she bit her lips to keep from laughing. “Well, Dee,” he said finally, “the ball’s food we ate was better than it seems right now.” “Was it?” she asked, smirking, and reached out to caress his cheek with her thumb. It sent a shiver over his whole body. He hoped there wasn’t vomit on his face, too, and he cursed the rain for interfering with the intensity of her touch. He wanted to take her hand and pull her close, despite it all, because who gave a shit, but then her hand was back to hold Clara whose temple she kissed while he was still full of sick. He decided he didn’t care after all and shook off his freeze, just when Diana changed direction. “Ah, there’s Grandma, dove, let’s greet her and Grandpa,” she said as she walked ahead where, indeed, Shade’s parents approached, supposed to have Clara while he and Diana attended the ball. Diana looked over her shoulder. “So we all have to get changed,” she said to him. Winking. “I bring Clara to Ruth and Daniel and we meet upstairs, okay?”

“Bye, Papa,” Clara said. “Okay, bye,” he replied with a sigh filled with deprivation as he crossed his arms – wet and dirty. He’d make do with a shower for now.

He'd hurried cleaning up in the shared bathroom but long hair had its demands, especially in case of an event. With his long hair just dried and out of its bun for the ball, Shade found Diana in their apartment, mistreating a dress uniform in front of a mirror. At the second of his entry, she glanced at him, currently forgetting her battle but revealing the sum of the mess frontally. She couldn’t stop fidgeting with the clothes just for a second, always dragging the sleeves this way or that. The uneven buttoning revealed her bare throat down to her skimpy undershirt, making her look as unstyled as Cal in his workshop clothes and the medals she tried to pin were all over her chest, but not in a becoming pattern. He burst out laughing, in revanche, louder and freer than Diana earlier without a sick Clara in vicinity. Diana flushed, increasing her visible contempt for the outfit. “I suspect medals are really meant for punishment if they come with this horrible dress uniform.” Shade wiped his mouth, stepping closer to inspect the horror. As he touched the jacket where Diana had experimented with shifting the alignment of buttons and buttonholes, she sucked in a breath. He swallowed in turn, a shiver running over his arms. He felt the ghost of their missed welcoming hug. Now, as near as they hadn’t been for weeks, the yearning for reunion was overwhelming. As it was for cupping her breasts. Another swallow ended in a cough. “First of all, try a proper shirt, loose on the shoulder, not a tank top.” “But – “ “I’ll leave the top buttons open and fix your tie in a fancy knot. And the pins I can use to keep the collar from your throat.” Assessing her styling kept him cool. Even as her eyes bored into him. Eyes that should match her style. So he should look – He stepped back but Diana caught his hand. “Help me take it off.” “It is already more off than on,” he said with a snort, pulling away for good to search for the right shirt. Some women were okay with clothes fitted for most men but curvy and broad-shouldered Diana was not one of them. He did not glimpse at her. “I left Clara with your parents,” she called to his back, “as usual at these blasted events. Tsk. As if I wouldn’t rather stay with her right now … she fell asleep before I could barely talk to her.” He heard her walking around. A hand on his shoulder. “You're right,” she said, glimpsing over his shoulder and eating a dish of rice pudding. “The food is great. I hope your parents got some snacks, too.” "I'd be surprised if they didn't." He smirked. "Clara wanted to leave that rice pudding for you, you know", he told her. "Really?" Diana beamed. "She can be so sweet." "Or almost grown up." Diana sighed, the remark nagging at her for a few seconds. He felt for her hand and squeezed it. “Was she better, no more throwing up?” he asked. She shook her as she took the shirt. “It just exhausted her. Maybe she’s just like me, uncomfortable with teleporting.” The thought amused them both, even as they cosseted and worried about Clara the immediate moment. The daughter of a teleporter couldn’t stand the ability. Did that mean she didn’t have the ability herself? He sighed. Suddenly he strongly wished to hold Clara and solace her. Indeed, a blasted event upsetting the millions of things they could better do tonight. Least of all tracing the curves of Diana’s body beneath the formal attire as she changed. Instead, he could talk. Neutrally asking about her recent operation. How did her mission go? Diana seemed hale and whole enough but the relief at the first sight of her washed over him again as she confirmed it. So, what about the rest of her unit? What was left out of the reports, what would affect the negotiations to take place? Would there be repercussions, also on his mission – the very next day? Diana was dry in her replies even as she chattered along nonetheless, playing along if Shade wasn’t open to “taking off” her uniform. He knew they wouldn’t leave the room this night if he gave in to that. As he produced his own dress uniform from the closet and moved to put it on, he cursed at their deal simply cut for unpredictable schedules. He should refrain from his missions. The thought, once appeared, dropped like a stone. He couldn’t imagine abandoning his comrades-to-be on a whim. But he was unable to unthink it. To stand back and steal the time for their family to stay together appeared like a goal. He straightened his posture, the reflection of his prim, military outfit belying his true resolution. “That we should have to steal the time to be together,” he said aloud. She met his eyes, softly for once. “We do it for Clara.” At first, he said nothing as he returned to dressing Diana and paced around her. “Clara needs a lot of things,” he replied finally as he put her jacket back in place. “You've been great with her the last weeks,” Diana whispered as the jacket almost glided onto her with the silky and loose-fitting tunic beneath. It was her favourite pretty shirt, one she hardly had chances to wear. "She already misses you," she said, glancing for the corner of his eye rather than his reflection. As do I, she mouthed. Why don't you say that aloud? he wondered. Her eyes in the mirror sparkled with something unsaid. She felt for his arm and squeezed. “I’ll look after her first thing in the morning. Rise with the dawn, and all that.” “I know, I know, you never forget about the Guard,” Shade answered, though with a dose of humour. He could see before his eyes how Diana would spend the next day spoiling Clara while staying alert for new military developments. He’d rather see it for real than imagine it, though. As he stood behind her, both before a mirror, he stretched out her arms, settling inner and outer sleeves. The he felt for her front for the buttons, watching their reflections as his fingers went up, pressing against her belly. “You’re so nimble,” she whispered. Finished at the front, his hands glided along her arms to entwine their fingers. “You’d know,” he answered quietly into her ear and his lips were just about to kiss her neck when he froze in the act. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Diana’s disappointment flash in the mirror. “I won’t undo my work right when it’s complete,” he said and, without letting go of her hand, spun around as if in a dance. If Diana was still flustered, she didn’t show it but only a wicked, dazzling grin as she swayed along with him. “See, you can move in it,” he said. “More elegant than you claimed once.” She snorted in affront. “These dress-up things are an insult to those who fight in the field, with how little movement they offer.” He increased the pace of their dance. “I find it quite comfortable right now.” Despite her complaints, she went along with the faster, more complicated dance moves he started. “Well, obviously the uniforms have been designed with your body types in mind from the start, all lean and straight.” “Straight.” He tsked. “Only outwardly,” she clarified and initiated a new step. “In a more – most – desirable way,” she added under her breath. “Glad to hear you still find me beautiful.” “Hm. You should say that to me,” she countered before he twisted them around, one, two, three times, until he let go of the dance pose to cup her face. “Has the gorgeous General Diana Farley of the Scarlet Guard and mother of our child finally become vain?” he asked. Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “Just that I’d enjoy to hear it, as a general, mother and your …” she bit her lips. He blinked. “What?” She took his hands to remove them from her face and pull away, turning to the mirror to control whether her outfit had survived. Or to check how deeply red her cheeks were. “A miracle,” she muttered. “Of course you are.” She smiled at him. “When did you even learn that?” Did she really think this obvious shift of topic would work? “From Gisa, for a start. Had to serve as her mannequin and model and you know she had to work for silver tastes.” He rolled his eyes. “But yeah, she also said the basic styles are like designed for sticks like me.” “A beautiful stick.” She cackled. “But good she had other customers and body types now.” “Like you? Truly.” He bit his lips. “Though there were always stockier silvers, too,” he said absentmindedly, though he was already thinking about someone else. Diana noticed. She waited for him to continue, merely blinking once or twice. She was never so calm or patient with anyone else but Clara – or him. It encouraged him as he took to his time to consider his words. “It was before we met, when I was newly conscripted to the nortan army. As an aide, I had to manage an officer’s supply including his clothes. “He treated me like a butler at times. Missed the luxuries from home but didn’t have the chance to bring them. Including servants.” Diana winced. “You only told me he was an idiot before, though smart enough to hire you.” “Smart?” Shade grimaced. “Not so rewarding for him given where we got as he went lost.” “So is he? Lost?” Shade shrugged and Diana prodded further. “I know you’d check what became of him.” Shade glanced away and quieted, listening in for the faint waves of the sound barely reaching them. They were more felt than heard. “It was a dark time I don’t take pleasure in telling and reliving,” Shade admitted finally. She hugged him back as he stood still for good. “But I'm here to listen when you need me to.”

His fingers drummed with the music as Shade glided through the ball. At times, he was about to start humming before stopping himself. At least it managed to distract him; almost too well. He didn’t have the nerve to spy tonight, to chat and deceive while the pressure of the next day loomed over him. Still, as his blood pulsed in anticipation of Diana’s return from conferring with the Prairie warlord, Russell. He had considered following Diana to hide and listen, but for what reason? She knew him too well not to notice and he wouldn’t bother her that way. And he trusted her. She’d succeed in negotiations and either way, he couldn’t look after her from tomorrow on –

“Thinking about me?” he startled and choked on his drink as Diana arrived that very moment to take him by the arm, entwining their fingers. She wasn’t one for public affection, so this display of closeness was as demonstrative as a kiss. It certainly felt almost as intimate as he glanced over the crowd in her grasp, aware of the people who saw them. He set aside the glass and completed their embrace, already pulling her along to sway to the rhythm of the song. “For sure,” he replied with an exaggerated drawl. “I longed to resume our dance where we left off.” She raised an eyebrow in amused doubt as her hand roamed over his back and he sucked in a breath. His own hand on her waist began to prove a temptation he tried to battle by focusing on intensifying the dance steps. He listened for the first beats of a new song, changing into a different dance and he was ready for the shift. A taxed Diana followed his lead. Despite her flush, she enjoyed the challenge of the dance. “You do seem eager.” He shrugged, smiling. “And you seem smug. You have the warlord wrapped around your fingers already?” She made a scale gesture with her fingers. “He’s predictable enough, as was his reluctance before. I know the type. Doesn’t want to state his offers, so I let him dangle and stay vague myself. He’ll spill soon enough.” He let her twirl under his raised arm.” And we have the time?” Her mouth twitched after the spin, unperturbed by the move, dancing as fresh as if just woken from sleep instead of locked in a tumultuous flight. “In this case. He’s so eager for the edge in an alliance he doesn’t grunt about efficiency in meetings.” “So he’s spying.” She mock-hit his shoulder. “Of course he’s spying, Shade Barrow. You’d know best.” He chuckled and she went on. “As I said, I’m acquainted with the type. I know where to bring his attention and Davidson knows how to appear generous.” “But do you want me to shadow his retinue?” Between the quick steps and the movements of the other dancers, speech was limited between catching breaths. Only as the song rolled out and slowed, they did as well, into a lazy motion staying on the spot, two people in their own pace and place, careless of the rest. Their grip on each other grew firmer and their gaze shifted from playful into serious. Diana swallowed, without losing sight of him. “You’d rather stay?” Her grasp became even tighter, almost hopeful. Could she be agreeing with his doubts? Shade traced her face with his figners. “If you hadn’t arrived this eve – right when you did – I wouldn’t be joining my mission tomorrow.” Diana’s eyes widened. “It’s exactly the promise we mode, isn’t it?” he went on. “One would always stay with Clara. So she’ll never see both parents dying in one battle.” For once, Diana hesitated to meet his eyes as she chewed on that. He shook his head. “Even if I’d spoken to you the day before, when your operation was over and you’d only have to return. Anything could’ve happened still, your base attacked, the airplane crashed – it wouldn’t matter. I couldn’t go on if we’d lost you, not knowing what’s become of you.” He stopped, his brow leaning against hers. Diana covered his hand on her face, her eyes aligning with his. “You would fight no longer … without me?” Shade broke her grip, stepping back. “It’s not like anyone can make me fight for them, can they?” he said, glimpsing Diana’s irritated frown before he teleported away. A silly joke, he knew. Jumping exactly out of reach but still in eyesight, urging Diana to follow him through the rush of partygoers. He could hear Diana calling his name, just not enough under her breath to avoid attention. She sped up, her instincts winning over the chaos. “Are we being dramatic now?” she spat, panting, when they’d reached the empty stairs outside the ballroom with only meters between them. The doors slammed shut behind her. He glanced over his shoulder; she was climbing up after him. “But you didn’t ask…!” she said, still panting, and quieter now. “What we could do differently …” She swallowed while her gaze continued to burn at him nonetheless. “Or if you believe our promise is for the gutter. “I’d rather spent this evening watching Clara sleep, too. Relaxing after being stuck in a plane for hours, delayed because of the weather as well as fake threats. Then hear how you and Clara spent these weeks together. How she grows, what she learns. Quarrel about who of us gets to do what with her. “I want so much, Shade. I’m full of it, so full I can only act to live with it. I understand what you say, I'd do the same. But not … forever. I want Clara, and us, any children we might have, our people, to have it better. I can’t and won’t stop before we win. Or we might lose it again.” She pushed through the final step and reached him at arms’ length. Her fingers fluttered against his back until he spun. “Why do you run away?” she muttered. “As long as it’s needed to make you talk as much as this,” he replied. She snorted but grasped his arms tight, nearly ending their balance – or just about keeping it. He gasped, and she leaned her head against his chest. They were rarely in this position, with her being taller than him. The unusual feeling of it both flustered and elated him, as he imagined her hearing the fast throb of his heart, or how that thought alone made it beat even faster. He started to caress her hair almost automatically. “I know you might not…”, Diana began eventually, lifting her face right so he could see her warmed gaze. “Maybe you don’t see it like that anymore.” What? He nearly said it aloud, having forgotten their topic for their embrace. “Maybe you wouldn’t fight no matter what anymore,” she went on. Ah. “Because we have Clara.” “I never said that,” he replied after clearing his throat. Quiet but sharp. Determined. “I can’t give this up no easier than you. But if – if– I lost you, I couldn’t go on like before.” “Then I want to know that!” she cried out, then exhaled until she caught herself. "There're always other jobs to do either way. I have to know. You could do anything, it doesn't have to in the field." She shook her head, pondering. His hand was on her waist, hugging her closer and closer. Indeed, Shade wasn’t sure himself if that was the solution he craved.

Finally, she lifted her piercing eyes. “Will you join your mission tomorrow?” she asked, her voice low. He sighed. He was here, at an event for soldiers and veterans, celebrating success as well as survival while they were about to broker a new military alliance. Diana stood before him, decked in medals earned in spilled blood, her own and others’. “A recon operation in Ciron,” he said. “I confess, I wonder about the point of where it all might lead.” Diana frowned. “Reconnaissance isn’t a coup.” “It might lead to one,” he countered. “So you’d rather leave it wholly in the hands of others?” “Well, in yours,” he admitted. “And you listen to me.” “I’m not sure if that flatters me,” she said with an ice-cold smile. The general’s smile. “Would you be as reluctant if Mare came with you?” His face fell, caught guilty as charged. No wonder she smiled like that. “No, I wouldn’t,” he confirmed. “I’m a terrible soldier, I suppose.” Diana straightened while he only longed to maintain their embrace as a cackle escaped her throat. “Inclined to blatant favoritism,” she said. “Disobeying orders and acting on his own advice. Questioning officers but without intention to take command yourself. Up for the sneaky jobs and avoiding supervision. Expecting personal relations to cover up misdemeanors.” For all the sharp accuracy, Diana listed the call-outs with an amused grin. “You’ve always been an awful soldier, Shade Barrow,” she concluded. “But I think that’s what brought us together in the first place, isn’t it? You aren’t cut to obey but would follow me lead anyway. To be honest, I’m very glad how you’ve kept running after me – ” Shade blushed at the memory he couldn’t deny. “Umm – “ “Indeed,” Diana went on, “I’ve been honoured to follow you as well. To be with you, as we watched each other’s backs. To see new options – to be made to see new options, because of you, as you insisted on my attention.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve changed for meeting you and I don’t regret a minute of it. Whatever you’ll choose, whoever you become, I want to be with you. I ... won't give you orders if you'll disobey in the end." He grimaced at that remark but Diana paused, puzzled until resolve flashed over her face. "I won't command you where to go but I promise to never leave you behind. Whatever the future holds for us or how we’ll react to it.” She swallowed and goosebumps rose over his skin as blood rushed through his head and her voice was warped by a ringing in his ears. “We’ve … made a promise after Clara was born. That one of us will always stay back for her. And maybe this promise doesn’t work out as well as we thought. But we can make other, new, … different promises. Or vows. A vow …” Her face shone with a flush. “Like?” he breathed, barely audible. “Like, Shade Barrow, would you marry me?” And her eyes sparkled as she said that, despite the way she’d stumbled over the words with insecurity. For a moment, he thought it was the bravest speech she’d ever held. As if she didn’t know what he’d reply. Nor did he, actually. “You never cease to surprise me,” he managed to utter and cursed himself next to her heaving breaths. She deserved a better answer. So he grabbed her by the waist and, as she didn’t kneel but still stood below him, lifted her up to the same stair as him and as she yelped, he embraced her so tightly he could bury his face in her neck. He panted now, harder than her, and not only due to the effort of lifting her. Her arms, hugging him back, were force stronger than gravity, so powerful he forgot he even could teleport. It was just what she always did. After he prodded and urged her to come closer, she’d give more than he’d even imagined asking for. Marriage had sounded so plain and formal, it felt pointless for them. They were comrades in arms, relying their lives on each other, as well as parents raising their little, lovely child. Any considerations to deployments or housing were granted them due to that; their intimate relationship no one else’s concern and he thought that only just. Silvers could keep their conjugal restrictions to settle their finances with marriages; any of Diana and Shade’ s endless but fruitless discussions about a second baby felt more significant. Until she asked him and it suddenly was significant, lighting a flame in his heart that filled him with an energy he craved without knowing what to use it for. They were in love, and it mattered. They became who they were and got to this point, in a palace with leaders on their side because of it and if anything, this flame should keep on burning for the world see and feel as they celebrated it. Shade startled, to look into her eyes and finally give her her bleeding reply, but this time, nothing could save their balance as a distraught Diana jerked as well and they would’ve tumbled down the stairs if their hands didn’t find each other, without thinking, and they maintained footing only to fall over each other with Diana on top of him, both loudly exhaling after the shock. Diana tore at her rumpled uniform. “All your work, undone again,” she exclaimed and laughed. “I’ll help your out of it,” he answered and their eyes met, filled with longing, and the centimeters between them broke into kisses like breathing, until they required real oxygen again. "Did you just come up with that?" he asked quietly, nuzzling her neck. Diana grasped his face to make him look at her but didn't say anything, only blinked. Shit. Guilt settled in his belly. “I didn't mean –” An uncertain smile appeared on her face in slow motion. "Partly?" she offered. Almost like she was prepared if he was taking it as a joke. Her flush intensified, but not just from kissing. Her nervosity heightened, too; he could feel that in her pulse. "I mean, it, the idea to ask, came over me in the heat of the moment, but ... well, I did think about it for a while but if it's all too much of a surprise for you, or not your preference at all-" A laugh rose in his throat, a laugh of elation he just about managed to swallow. "Diana, no." Her face froze. "No, sorry, I didn't mean – sorry!" He took he deep breath. Not a breath of hesitation, but one like drinking in the love for this woman. He found her gaze again. “I'll hold on to you for every minute we have. And I'll still rise before dawn to wake Clara with you, before I'll go to Ciron, for one final round of our plan and then I absolutely do want to marry you, Diana Farley. And throw a bloody royal feast for it.”

A/N 2: I hope that was a surprise for you! It sure was one for me that I managed to write something that made Me The Aro not disregard marriage as a repulsive patriarchal tool to control money and female sexuality let’s stop here but beam along with my OTP. As I worked really long on this, some things were changed and I want to make a honourary mention of the dancing montage bringing Fade from their room to the ballroom including a time skip - it’d work better in movie version ;-)

@elliemarchetti @lilyharvord @mareshmallow @maudthebookeater @king-maven-calore @samanthaslytherin @evangeline-of-montfort @farleydiana @scxrletguardsdawn @freaky-freiday @petergrantkavinsky @inopinion @hannaharies

#red queen #red queen fan fiction #red queen fanfiction #shade x farley #shade barrow #diana farley #victoria aveyard #war storm #glass sword #king's cage #broken throne #post war storm #death by cuteness #happy birthday #clara farley-barrow #general farley #imagine shade was still #off-duty #steel scars

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feyretales · 2 years

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ELIDE'S ONESHOT: Perranth will be great again

I am back!! This sweet scene takes place in Orynth, sometime around 3 weeks after Orynth´s battle, when Elide receives the news that people in Perranth discovered she survived the war and will be back home!

Enjoy! And remember english isn´t my first langague too lol

words: 1846

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Elide descended the stairs of the Orynth´s castle holding Lorcan´s hand, as they had done for 3 weeks now. Since the end of the war.

This was the first - and last, for all she cared - war Elide had actually saw, so she wasn't prepared for the mess of the afterwards: cleaning everything, healing from your own traumas, helping the other to heal their own scars, internal and externals. And noticing that now you actually survived, and need to plan for the future ahead.

She was almost hopeless about this at first. She would never be a good lady. How could she? What kind of education had she received? What would she say to the people and the counselors of Perranth when she couldn't read a simple document?

But when these nightmares about dishonoring her family tried to take place, Elide looked at Lorcan. How hard he was trying, in his own, discrete way, to learn all he could about Perranth: reading its story in various books, going on rides through Orynth to learn about Terrasen´s people, soil, trade, culture. Even attending some of Aelin reunions with the lords, local and foreign, about the future and discussing with them. And Elide knew that the language Lorcan had learnt in his life to convince wasn´t the oratory skills.

He was trying. Trying hard to become a good lord to Perranth.

Elide would try, too. And perhaps, by his side, she could become a good lady, too. She could try to learn how to read and write as fast as possible, and Lorcan would help her understand any documents in the meanwhile, she knew…he had a great deal of experiences in different kingdoms, and that would be so good to their homeland…

That could work out well. But now, when she knew they would go back home in 2 days, she was nervous all over again. And she knew Lorcan had noticed.

When they arrived at the breakfast table, all their friends were already there. The first thing Elide did, smart as she was, was take a slice of the chocolate pastry in front of her.

“Do you want one?” She asked Lorcan.

“Too early for all this sugar”

“You don't know what you are missing” Was her muffled answer, with chocolate all over her mouth already. In return, Elide received one of those good tempered snorts from Lorcan, which she knew weren't very usual for anyone but her, and made it all the more special.

“Here” he said, sliced into the leek-and-ham quiche and set a chunk on her plate, along with an apple, before taking the coffee pot to fill her cup, and his “Remember to eat some fruit and meat as well, to at least balancete with all this sugar”

Elide smiled and nodded at him, noticing the discreet looks in their direction from the others around the table. She was already accustomed to them. All of their friends had lived with a different, old version of Lorcan, one who was brute and egoist, and would never worry about anyone but himself. What a shock it must be for them, seeing such a difference of attitudes in a short amount of time, seeing sparks of happiness and love and care in a face which was like made of stone.

Elide had a great amount of stories from this war. And a couple of big, memorious attitudes too. Great victories.

But this.

This happiness that couldn't quite be hidden, these shining eyes, the better tempered mood…this was her greatest victory at all.

As they were the last one to get to the breakfast table this morning, Elide and Lorcan were still eating while all their friends had already finished their plates. The Lady of Perranth noticed, drinking the last remains of her coffee, the eyes of the queen on her, and knew her friend was waiting for the best moment for some important talk.

So she left her coffee cup on the table and nodded to the queen. And she knew Aelin had understood.

“Elide” she said, and cleared her throat. This made Elide raise her eyebrows. “I received a letter earlier today. From Perranth”

A shot of adrenaline runned through her, and she felt Lorcan holding her hand below the table. The queen now had their full attention, along with the attention of the other members of her court.

“I thought about telling you something I read there. I mean, you and Lorcan will have the opportunity to read the entire letter and learn about the situation of your place, but there is a single sentence…There's one single part I would like to read out loud, if you two allow me”

They both nodded at once, and Elide tightened the grip in Lorcan´s hand.

Aelin took a brown paper of her pocket, unfolded it and read:

“ [...] We do understand that the enemy knew the importance of Perranth when striked us. The damages are big, and reached central points of one of the most powerful cities of Terrasen, more important than Orynth itself at some points in our history.

When the army fell, we felt relieved and faithful that a miracle had occured in front of our eyes. But at dusk the next day, the deep understanding of the real damage hit us, and it was extremely difficult.

Our central square was destroyed. There are blast points on our roads, making it difficult to get around. Our water system has also been damaged, and our women have faced long journeys on foot to fetch water that is no longer reaching our community sources.

But the greatest destruction was in Perranth's ultimate symbol: the family.

The demons left a trail of blood in our streets, and concentrated their forces on those they deemed strongest among us.

We have dozens of fae orphans on our streets who have lost parents, uncles and cousins overnight. This was a heavy blow to our people, and it despaired us more than anything.

The war stories portrayed in the books tell of days that followed with celebration and joy, and I am sorry to be the bearer of the news that, in Perranth, our day after the end of the war was one of weeping and hopelessness.

How would we get back to what we were before?

Until, at the beginning of the second day, a letter arrived. A single conselour of Perranth read it, and as white as paper, announced that he would confirm the information before sharing it. He sent letters to the four corners of the kingdom that day, and five days later, he received several replies that confirmed the same information: Elide Lochan is alive.

Elide Lochan was held prisoner in Morath, and she survived.

Elide Lochan aided in the battle of Anielle, and then marched with Terrasen's army to Orynth.

Elide Lochan fought in Orynth alongside the queen, and survived.

Elide Lochan faced Erawan face to face, and survived.

Elide Lochan stabbed Erawan. And survived.

Elide Lochan is actually in Orynth, recovering from the war, and looks set to marry the legendary Lorcan Salveterre of Doranelle.

Elide Lochan was in the coronation of queen Aelin, and, along with the other lords and ladies of Terrasen, received the official title of Lady of Perranth in this same event.

Elide Lochan will soon return to Perranth.

The lord shared the various letters, with different pieces of history, with the other lords of Perranth.

I was there, Your Majesties, and I felt the shock that everyone else felt as well. It couldn't be real. Elide Lochan had been dead for 10 years, a victim of an infection caused by a broken ankle, that's what Vernon told us over and over again.

Three minutes passed, and someone slammed the door. A messenger from the gates of Perranth announced that there was a commotion in the city.

I do not expect you to remember, dear queen, that Perranth was always as magical as Orynth. There is a flower that grows only here, in our mountains, a symbol so strong that adorns our flag.

The white kingsflame.

A long time ago, white kingsflames sometimes grew in people's doors or other random places, and that was a sign of good luck. Our dear Lady Marion was in love with these flowers, and no one here forgets the flowers that were born out of season many years ago, to announce that the girl Elide was born.

When magic was banished, we saw these flowers die, all at once. Nobody ever saw it again. Some of our children were born and raised listening to stories and thinking that our magical flowers were legends.

That day, returning along a dirt road with buckets full of water, an entourage saw a strange flower in the middle of the road. A woman recognized it, knelt on the earth and cried.

The flower was brought to town and shown to everyone. Was that a sign of better days to come? But how, if the Lochan family was dead? Was it a sign that there was hope for Perranth?

This was the commotion that ran through the city, and which the messenger came to communicate.

There was hope, yes, we realized. And it was also a sign, yes.

As the white kingsflame bloomed to let us know that Elide Lochan was born, she came back to warn us again that our lady was alive, and coming home.

My hands tremble at the thought that this letter can reach Elide Lochan and our lord-to-be Lorcan Salveterre. There's a lot we'd like to say, but we don't know how. How to thank or express our happiness.

If you are reading this letter, dear Elide, know that we have never forgotten you. A wreath of white kingflames made by a group of our children goes with this letter to remind you of this: we are waiting for you.

And since we got our answers, and the news spread through the streets of our hometown, the rebuilding work has continued stronger.

We still have problems that we don't know how to solve. But there is hope in our people, for white kingsflames continue to be born in droves in our mountains, and harvested to decorate the entire city. And we look forward to the day when we can celebrate, with our magical flowers, that Elide Lochan has returned home at last.

Lord Aron Taron, from Perranth.”

Elide Lochan saw her queen place the wreath of white kingflames atop her head, and smile wetly down at her. Then, Elide covered her face with her hands and cried.

At once, all of her doubts and fears were replaced by overwhelming love. There was hope, yes.

She felt the embrace of Lorcan and Aelin and the others around the table, and felt their tears, too.

People were waiting for her. People were comemoring her survival. They never knew she was alive, never knew she was there this entire time…that's why no one tried to help her.

And white kingsflames were blooming again. Her mother's favorites. She remembered the long years looking at the mountains and realizing that if the flowers were dead, there would be no more hope for her home, too.

But now there were flowers again. And hope. And her people were waiting for her.

Elide Lochan knew, right away, that she would make Perranth great again. As great as it had been during Cal Lochan's rule. Her father would be proud of her. And her mother. And her people.

Perranth would be great again.

#elorcan #sarah j maas #elorcan fanfiction #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #lord lorcan lochan #lorcan salvaterre #tog #tog fanfiction #throne of glass #sjmaas #elide #lady elide #lady of perranth #elorcan supremacy #fan fiction

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daylight-imagines · 2 years

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Do you prefer 1st or 3rd person in fics?

And with x reader imagines do you prefer 2nd person (you, your) or 3rd person? I feel like 2nd is a little more inclusive for anyone reading, but I’d love to hear your thoughts.

#fanfic #fan fiction #imagines #acotar fic #acotar x reader #throne of glass x reader #throne of glass fic

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gregwild1917 · 2 months

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Working on a fic outline for a pirate storyline and just realized I don’t know anything about ships or traveling by sea

But guess who’s going keep writing it anyway just in really vague nautical terms bc who’s gonna stop me?? The ocean police? They haven’t even stopped piracy itself and that’s been going on for a lot longer than inaccurate fanfics

#fan fiction #throne of glass #can’t wait to have all these characters shirtless in the tropics for no reason #and yes Sam is still dead

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emilystheories · 1 year

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Maeve is Theia, the original Starborn Queen.

This theory contains spoilers for ACOTAR, Crescent City, and Throne of Glass!

As discovered in CC2, Ruhn and Rhys look identical. If they are not reincarnations of each other (still a plausible theory), then they must share a common ancestor. As most people have already deduced, logically, this must be Queen Theia; the first Starborn Queen, and ruler of the Dusk Court.

It then begs the question; "well, who actually was Queen Theia?"

I truly believe that there is only one candidate for this; Maeve, from the Throne of Glass (TOG) world. Here is a summation of the evidence for this:

Maeve, Ruhn and Rhys are the only 3 characters who have the "violet" or "violet blue" eyes. (Some argue that this is irrelevant as Maeve could change her form, but so could Erawan, and his gold eyes were passed onto Manon).

They all have the same "raven black hair."

Maeve, Ruhn and Rhys have the same darkness/shadow power.

They also all have the rare mind-speaking (or "daemati") power; an ability we first saw originate in Maeve and the other Valg Royalty.

Even Ruhn's name is (seemingly) derived from the Ruhnn mountains; the place in TOG where Maeve kept her handmaidens (and I suspect where Maeve walked between worlds).

Rhys is Lord of the Night Court; Ruhn is Agent Night; and Maeve is Queen of the Night.

With this many uncanny similarities between all three people, it makes the most sense that Ruhn and Rhys descended from Maeve, and that ultimately, Maeve is Queen Theia.

Queen of Glass.

I first suspected that Maeve may be Queen Theia when reading the Original Throne of Glass book, 'Queen of Glass,' that SJM published on a fan fiction website when she was younger.

This is how Maeve was originally described; does it not sound like a Starborn Queen (and also... exactly like Rhys)?

See also:

And:

Even the iconic way that Rhys's eyes are described (as having stars inside of them), is akin to how Maeve's eyes were originally described:

Additionally, in this original version of TOG, Maeve was engaged to Athril (which is similar to the events of the published TOG). However, Athril was said to be the first Fae to ever exist, and the greatest warrior in history.

When the Valg broke into their world, Athril forged Goldryn (and 3 other weapons). It was a death sword that was capable of slaying the Valg, and emitted a bright "white light." Sound familiar?

Athril then fought on the the peak of a mountain "archway," in an attempt to stop the Valg from entering his world. Although he was successful in destroying the Valg, he was killed - right on the mountaintop. After that, the cities were formed and a period of peace ensued.

This sounds EXACTLY like the story of Fionn that Rhys detailed in ACOSF (the mighty "fae warrior" who used Gwydion to overthrow the Daglan), AS WELL as Enalius (the first Illyrian who fought an "unknown enemy" on the top of Ramiel, and died there).

What's more, is that after Athril died, Maeve closed the gates and all rips between all worlds.

This is EXACTLY what Queen Theia did.

Proof in the published version.

Although 'Queen of Glass' is not officially canon, it gives us important clues regarding SJM's line of thinking.

However, there is still evidence in the actual TOG that points to Maeve as being Queen Theia. Most prominently, Maeve states that in her "original world," she came from a "small territory" where she was made Queen.

This sounds just like Theia and the Dusk Court.

It is also explicitly stated that this "small territory" that Maeve ruled was a place where powers were not given, but "simply born" (as if... starBORN?)

Further, Erawan also suggested that Yrene's power (which is almost 100% certainly the Starborn power) existed in his home world. Interestingly, he refers to wielders of this power as "death maidens," which sounds an awful lot like Nesta's power (and perhaps explains why she has the Starborn tattoo...)

Maeve in mythology.

In some strains of Celtic mythology (which appears to greatly influence the ACOTAR world), Queen Maeve was seen as the chief and deity of the Tuatha dé Danaan. Is it then any coincidence that Ruhn's (and possibly Rhys's) last name is Danaan?

In the same mythology, Maeve had 7 sons.

Just like the 7 High Lords.

Or the 7 Princes of Hel.

Or the 7 Asteri.

Maeve's power.

A pitfall of this theory is that Maeve's power (as far as we saw in TOG) did not manifest as light. But, are we sure we know the whole story of the Starborn? It is mentioned multiple times in CC2 that Bryce has not fully understood what her power is capable of. Similarly, Rigelus seems to hint that Bryce can walk between worlds simply because she is Starborn, and Maeve was a world-walker.

And perhaps more curiously, most people in the Starborn lineage (ie. the Avallen people) actually have shadow/darkness powers - just like Maeve did.

Aidas.

For this theory to be correct, it also suggests that Maeve was involved with Aidas.

Yet, as per another theory I have posted, I have already theorised that the Princes of Hel are actually the Valg.

Aidas is also a play on the name "Hades," and Hades is another name for Orcus - Maeve's original husband. This checks out.

Prythian.

As Theia and the Starborn likely originated from Prythian, there must also be evidence of Maeve's existence there.

It is then not surprising that many have already theorised that Maeve (and subsequently Queen Theia) is "the Mother" in the ACOTAR world.

Maeve is the only character we have seen with the ability to manipulate fate (and assign 'mating bonds' to people); just as the Mother does. Even in Celtic mythology, Maeve is another name for Mother.

Then, by extension, the Valg (or Princes of Hel) must also have existed in Prythian for this theory to be true. Interestingly, in the Crescent City audiobooks, all of the Princes of Hel have distinct British accents.

Is it then a mere coincidence that Prythian is in the shape of Britain, and similarly, Prythian is an ancient name for Britain?

(Map courtesy of Cassiopeia Reads).

Further:

Thanatos (a Prince of Hel) is also seen in the Hewn City.

The 7 layers of the library are reminiscent of the 7 layers of Hel (with many musing as to whether the 'cat like' presence is Aidas).

And, when Bryce says she is going to Hel, she lands in Prythian.

Timeline.

Alternatively, for Maeve to have been Queen Theia, she must have also existed 15,000 years ago. This suggests that Throne of Glass is a story that takes place in the PAST.

Linking with this idea, I theorise that the ACOTAR and TOG characters actually shared the same world (with the TOG characters existing many thousands of years ago). In fact, the notion of ACOTAR and TOG characters sharing the same world is something that Rigelus straight up suggests is true:

It also links in with Merrill's theory about the universe; that different worlds share the same space, but are separated by TIME.

This would explain why Rhys suggested that the old fae, 15,000 years ago, were more "elemental," and would imbue their swords with their magic.

Just as Aelin and the TOG fae did.

It would also explain why the Night Court and Terrasen (both in the North) are so similar.

Velaris is also exactly how Rowan described the future city that Aelin would rebuild.

What's more, is that Velaris smells like "lemon verbena," which is Aelin's scent.

This may all seem impossible if you believe the timelines to be concurrent - but, what if they're not?

What if, when Aelin fell through worlds, she fell forward in time? The Harp even mused that when it was last played, it transported the user through "TIME and space," and through the "eons."

ACOTAR last names.

If this is all true, perhaps it offers an explanation as to why the last names of most ACOTAR characters have been hidden. That the big reveal is that they all descend from TOG characters.

For example, the Winter Court would descend from the Whitethorns; with their wind/ice power, and signature white/silver hair.

The Spring Court (and Tamlin's lineage) would descend from Lysandra (with her shapeshifting abilities), and Aedion.

I mean, the resemblance is rather uncanny.

Even the Dawn Court, the place of healing, with their parallels to Yrene and Silba's descendants (even their book being called Tower of DAWN...).

Ultimately, the connections and possibilities are endless.

Yet, no matter what, I theorise that the person at the centre of everything, across all worlds, is Maeve.

Or, otherwise known as Queen Theia.

#sjm crossover #sjm multiverse #sjm theory #sjm spoilers #acotar theory #acotar #throne of glass #crescent city #crescent city theory #rhys acotar #ruhn danaan #aelin galathynius #nesta archeron

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spicywhenspeaking · 4 months

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hi friends :) welcome 🪄💖

I'm Michelle <3 I'm 29, an Aries, ramen fanatic, fangirl and average fan fiction writer.

I'm so happy you're here :)

if you like

Bad Omens (my fics) (fic recommendations)

Jujutsu Kaisen (moodboards)

Baldurs Gate 3 (moodboards)

Avatar The Last Airbender (moodboards)

Teen Wolf >o<

Marvel

ACOTAR & Crescent City & Throne Of Glass

The Empyrean Series (Fourth Wing/Iron Flame)

we should be friends :)

REQUESTS ARE closed :) moodboards/fics instagram templates

WIPS

If I'm There -> It's a RPF fanfiction (pls don’t engage if you’re a haterrr) Noah Sebastian and an original female character, Natalie.

Star-Crossed Connection -> RPF fanfiction with Nick Folio and OFC Seraphina Holloway! Fake dating AU

let me know if you'd like to be tagged in anything :)

coming soon…

A Soldier’s Redemption -> Bucky Barnes x OFC (hurt / comfort)

Part 2 Katara x Aang fic -> Angst w/ new OFC

part one here

untitled Matt Dierkes Rivals to Lovers fic

Sneak peak

utitled Sterek Smut

xoxoxox

can you please watch these guys for me?

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shallyne · 2 months

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Daylight

This is my very first tog fic (that isn't a crackship) and my very first rowaelin fic and also my very first entry for @throneofglassmicrofics and for my dearest @timesconvert || I hope you'll like it!

This is a song fic based on Taylor Swift's song Daylight

Words: 818

TW: triggering canon scenes mentioned!

Aelin looked at Rowan, really looked at him as he talked to Fenrys and realised once again how lucky they were to be here. How much shit they went through to even get to this point at all and how far they’ve come since they first met, how fate hat fucked them up so thoroughly that they still healed and Aelin realized right then how lucky she was to be able to heal, right beside her mate. What an honour it was to not only be able to have him at her side but to be there for him, too, at his side. Yes she looked at Rowan because Rowan was what she could look at and what she wanted to look at. She saw him and he saw her, she never wanted anything to change about that.He loved her, saw through all her faults, the lines she had crossed in the past to survive, her saw her and he loved her,

She still felt guilt about how easily she had trusted Arobynn, how trusting Arobynn was her only chance at survival at only 8 years older but especially that she had harboured hope that he wasn’t the cruel man she had witnessed over and over again, how he had failed her last test in trust but Rowan...he still loved her throughout her misplaced hope in Arobynn and every fucked up thing she had to do to get them where they were now, to get to a peaceful life.After they went through so much darkness, through endless nights, he was the light at the end of the tunnel. Rowan was her daylight, the breaking of dawn. He had helped her leave the young assassin behind and step into the role of Queen of Terrasen.

Yes, Aelin finally was out of the dark, thanks to her beautiful mate and she finally had the peace to take the time to look at him and appreciate him and love him.

Although there were nights they took a long, long time to appreciate each other it was something different to look at him now. How his posture had become relaxed, how the darkness had left his eyes, less haunted than ever, and his sassy remarks, Aelin huffed a laugh that had both fae males looking over their shoulder. She waved for them to continue their conversation, a smile glued to her face. Yes, his sassy remarks definitely increased, but she couldn’t blame him, it was the very same for herself.

After what felt like twenty years full of darkness, he was her daylight and Aelin liked to believe he felt the same about her.

The darkness was finally over.

Fenrys sighed after Rowan clapped him on his shoulder, he turned around, mocking a bow and bid her goodbye. Aelin stuck out her tongue before Fenrys had fully turned, and saw a hint of a smirk as Rowan walked towards her, the sun shining behind him, making him look like there was a golden glow around him.

After Sam, she hadn’t believed she would ever find a love so all consuming that her whole body would react to everything, but here she was, her mouth drying up at the beauty of her mate.

“Are you done with your broody male conversations?” she asked, picking at her nails.

Rowan plopped down beside her, his familiar pine and snow scent enveloping them. “You can’t really call two people a club, can you?”

Aelin shrugged, turning her face and cherishing the sunlight. “No but you probably planned another broody fae male meeting where you talk about…well…broody fae male stuff.”

Rowan huffed amused and she felt how he leaned closer. “What have you laughed about earlier?” he asked, his voice quiet and deep,

Aelin hid her shudder at the pleasure that brought his voice and turned her head towards her mate, meeting his beautiful green eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to know, buzzard?” Rowan only raised a brow, waiting for her to continue. She sighed, “I was just...I’m happy.” she admitted. Happy that she now could live a life where she could choose what she wanted. That she could be defined by the things she loved, not the things she hated. She wouldn’t be defined by the things that she was afraid of or the things that still haunted her in the middle of the night. They would be defined by the things that they love, they would become the people that made them happy.

“Me too.” Rowan said and although he wasn’t a man of big words, she saw the emotions in his eyes.He knew what she thought and he agreed.

Rowan stretched his hand out, for Aelin to take, and she did. He pulled her up and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Then they began walking, into the bright future that awaited them. Full of laughter and life and light.

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rokhal · 2 months

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Recently, a writer that I admire and respect has been harassed into deleting their fic, by fans who purport to be objecting to a reference to incest. (I guess the cold-blooded murder by the minor protagonist, with the cooperation of his guardians, was not a problem.)

These fans need a fucking wakeup call. 1. Game of Thrones is a multimillion dollar media empire. 2. MURDER. MURDER IS WORSE 3 and most important Three: even if Writer had included explicit incest erotica scene between characters who were actually blood brothers, Writer would be the one using ArchiveOfOurOwn for its explicitly designed purpose.

AO3 was created as a safe haven to post gay incest porn. It is the gay incest porn site.

People like me, who do not write erotica (at least not with our name attached), let alone gay incest erotica, are like that dude on PornHub who posts ASMR of Tucking You In and Giving You A Glass of Water After You've Cum. We're toodling around in our little sweater vests acting comically surprised at all the depravity happening around is. Comically surprised, because this is the Depravity Website.

If you log on to AO3 and are Shocked and Appalled to find sexual implications you find distasteful, you are doing the equivalent of logging on to PornHub and acting shocked and appalled to see a cumshot.

[Important qualification: I in no way believe that consensual queer sex between adults is depraved. I do believe that people who want to shut down websites believe that.]

Please maintain a sense of perspective.

The characters we write about are not real. We care about them, and they feel real to us, but still: knock on every door in Queens and you will not find Peter Parker. Check the FBI Most Wanted list of every year and you will not find Dean Winchester. Scour East LA and you will never find Robbie Reyes.

Fictional characters are pieces in a game we are playing together. They are variables we each get to use in our own thought experiments, whose results we can share for each-other's amusement, joy, titillation, or horror.

If reading about fictional sex crimes angers you (and that is often the point of writing them) channel that anger into a donation to an organization that works for the benefit of real living breathing feeling child abuse or domestic violence survivors who need help. If you are too young to have a bank account with which to donate to real life abuse victims who actually exist, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING ON AO3, THE INCEST PORN HOSTING WEBSITE. Jesus fuck.

#fandom

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bambiesfics · 7 months

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𝜗𝜚 Don’t be stranger

wanna know my name?

it’s Bambie. My mutuals (I love you sm) nicknamed me BamBam, Bambs and Bamberella. I’m a black fem writer <3

age?

I’m in my early twenties, just started!

blood type?

type o negative (jk, that’s a band I listen to).

where I live?

Ooh’ Canada our home & Native land. True patriot love in all thy sons command! 🇨🇦

what I look like?

gonna get my hair done and show you soon

hobbies

going to underground raves, crocheting cute items, curating new Pinterest boards, re-inventing my style monthly, falling asleep on mdma, getting distracted despite having a lot of work to do (live, laugh love adhd), responding to anons, reading slightly boring fiction (🤍 Hi Mieko Kawakami, ily), making my crushes in the sims 4, people-watching on my college campus (so many artsy/alt hotties), making up scenarios to songs, reading manga.

fandoms I love?

aside from The last of us (my baby), I like Yellowjackets (sapphic fandom too), Voltron, The Walking Dead (zombies yum), Castlevania, Adventure time (I’m a bubbline WARRIOR, and I want to sit on marceline’s face), My little pony (Do. Not. Laugh), and too many anime’s to list (send me an ask abt them if ur ever curious ) + a few more

music?

Just to give you a range: crystal castles (Alice glass only), ken Carson, Tool, Hole, Kittie, Traitrs, Destroy lonely, iggy pop, lancey foux, Boy Harsher, Alex g, Team Sleep, Arca, Bring me the Horizon, Blood Orange, vocaloid, City girls, Yves tumour, Elliot smith, Mitski, Yeat + more

shows?

the fandoms I mentioned + Interview with the vampire (it’s entertaining, strongly recommend), The boys, The Bear, Game of thrones, Shameless, The white lotus, Rick and Morty

aesthetic?

I jump back and forth a lot on it. But right now I’m leaning towards bimbo-core. Pink lipgloss, pink clothes, cleavage spilling, tight clothes, camel-toe facing the world, high pleaser heels, long acrylic nails to hold the strap.

say no to?

Drugs

say yes to?

Sucking the strap

quick game of this or that ?

Mascs or fems? Both, just want a wife

Hot weather or cold weather? Hot weather

Pancakes or waffles? Waffles

Pineapple on pizza or no? Pineapples on pizza

Ability to turn invisible or ability to read minds? Turn invisible

Shopping in-store or online? Online (Covid changed me)

Shower or bath? Shower (that one icarly episode changed me)

Avocado toast or waffles with Maple syrup? I’m Canadian, it’s waffles n’ syrup for me.

While sleeping: Fan or No Fan? Fan on, even in winter

Live on a farm or live in a forest cabin? Forest cabin

Tumblr or Twitter? Twitter, even though it’s bad for my mental health.

Kids or no kids? Kids, wanna give my wife a small family

Ass or tits? Tits. But it’s ironic for me considering I have a huge fucking butt.

Ellie or Abby? Love you Abbydoll but it’s gone have to be Ellie.

Hope you’ve warmed up to me a bit, see you bae.

Me af if u even care ^ 🦌

#navigation #don’t laugh at my little pony or me being Canadian I’ll start sobbing 🙏🏾

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rudie-wr1tes · 2 months

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Endless Passion- A Sandman Fan Fiction

V. Sleep Debt

Synopsis: Sabine is summoned to testify before Dream the Endless for her misuse of the "Dreamstone". It is then she realizes the debt she must repay in eternity for her mistakes. An exchange ensues- leaving her in the Dreaming for eternity, in this place, under his wary eye. Should she be grateful for his mercy? Or was it mercy at all that brought her here?

Violent echoes of large doors flying nearly off their hinges broke Sabine from her trance-like rest. She flinched, her eyes flashing wide open. The room around her was dimmed, mostly by a large silk curtain over a grand glass window. But the air was heavy, despite the soft breeze that lapped at the curtain’s edge.

The sensation sat deep in her breast, as it did when she called upon Lord Morpheus in the hospital for her mistakes. She knew he was here. The weight pooled on her bones like sleep paralysis, as she froze wide-eyed in the pitch. Her freed hand pressed to her side- finding the skin to be bandaged, beneath a satin white nightgown with lace atop the bodice. The thin strapped, delicate thing made her eyes nearly pop out of her sockets. This gown was one she imagined months ago- how did anyone know her taste?

“Where is she?” A dark, deep voice echoed from beneath her, beyond the window. Goosebumps raised on her arms and exposed skin at the very sound, as if he were in the same room. Sabine slowly rose, despite the stinging pain of her injury.

“Sir,” Lucienne began, “She is quite fatigued, and her injury is at the hands of the Corinthian. It was a laceration on her ribs. She is in recovery now.”

Sabine’s feet slowly placed down into plush white slippers set out for her. The clothes she arrived in were nowhere to be found. A midnight blue robe hung opon the door of a wardrobe before her. The chill of the room cut across her arms, as she slowly made her way to warm herself, before arriving to the window.

“Bring her to me.” The displeased voice ordered, “I must know how she was able to obtain the false Dreamstone, and how it was created in the first place.”

“She’s barely had anytime to rest. She couldn’t walk all the way to these doors without fainting!” Lucienne exclaimed, “It would not be wise to have her see you in such a state until she’s better.”

His voice, as chilling as it was, commanded attention. Sabine’s hand carefully brushed half of the curtain aside and peered down below. Shhe was, in fact, still in the Dreaming. A golden hour strip of sun cast over the realm, blinding her partially. She blinked, squinting to find the source of such a terrifying voice. And how afraid she was, she could not escape her mortal intrige. Lucienne was the only person Sabine could see between black spots in her vision, but the Lord’s figure was covered by the front fascia. The twinging pain of stitches burned in her side, as she leaned forward down below.

Lucienne’s eyes glanced up towards Sabine, a mixed expression of shock. Her expression was stern, urging her to go back inside. Sabine gasped as a head of black hair turned to look towards her, shutting the fabric curtain between them both.

“She’s awake.” He uttered, “Guide her to the throne room.”

“.... Very well.” Lucienne said in a tightened mouth.

He stormed inside. The further he walked away from her, the lighter Sabine felt. Her hands ran over her chest to make sure her heart was still beating. She hadn’t felt this afraid since confronting the Corinthian. But this? What can become of a mortal’s mistakes in the presence of an endless?

Sabine cringed in the shadowy dark of her guest bedroom, running a hand through her hair.

“Shit.” She seethed, wringing the flowing robe to her body close. She closed her eyes a moment to recall the silver of pale skin that caught light for an instance, wondering if it was him. Of course, it was him. There was nothing else she could change into to present herself to this figure, but it was too late to ask. She knew she was doomed.

The doors to her chamber opened. Sabine flinched, to find Lucienne entering the room.

“Hello, Lucienne.” Sabine strained her words.

“Hello.” Lucienne managed to maintain some sense of calm. Her eyes darted the room, flickering with fear, “You look well. I take the wound is healing?”

“Uh… Sort of. How long was I out for?” Sabine asked.

“You were asleep for two days.” Lucienne answered, “Well, two days in this time. And you’ve made a quick recovery.”

Sabine’s eyes widened, “Oh god, my sister…. Is he looking for me?”

“Are you well enough to stand?” Lucienne asked, stepping closer to come to Sabine’s aid.

“Yes.” Sabine said, “I’m sorry for my eavesdropping. This window is… Open, and I could hear you.”

Lucienne stepped closer, lowering her voice.

“Lord Morpheus intends to see you immediatley upon his return.” She said in a serious tone, “And I will be honest. He is furious. I have managed to explain your circumstances to the best of my ability, but now he wishes to speak to you alone. I made him aware of your condition.”

“How furious are we talking here?” Sabine asked humbly.

Lucienne shook her head, “I cannot tell you that. I can only guide you to the throne room where he waits.”

The walls of his palace were stone cold, but beautiful. A mix of opal hues and iron stiff surfaces. Sabine mindlessly trailed her hand across the wall as she walked beside Lucienne, to distract herself from the fear that began to churn its way through her stomach and intestines. As they approached the interior hall. she grasped the robe closer to her skin, biting the inside of her cheek.

“Is he going to try and kill me?” Sabine asked in a low tone, “.... Not that he can, if Death left me here. She said… She said it wasn’t my time? But he… What else is he capable of worse than death? I can take the pumishment of what Kalea’s under. I can do anything but…. Is he really that angry?”

“I cannot speak for him.” Lucienne said, “He also does not know everything about why you achieved the Dreamstone initially. Can you honestly tell him how it came into your possession?”

Sabine took a deep breath and nodded, as Lucienne motioned her to the corner entrance of that main hall.

“I’m sorry for all of this, you know.” Sabine said, “I haven’t thanked you for helping me with my wounds.”

“Don’t apologize.” Lucienne smiled warmly, “The fact that you’ve made such a quick recovery is enough thanks for me.”

Sabine smiled at her one last time, “I hope we cross paths again, if this is the last time I see you.”

Lucienne shrugged her shoulders, “If you ever wish to stop by my library, you’re more than welcome to. I don't mind some extra help with sorting away old books.”

Sabine knew she was stalling. She nodded, turning towards the hall and walking there to meet with the creator of this realm.

The only sound that echoed from one room into the next was the tapping of her footsteps. Sabine’s shoulders rolled back, as she held her head high. Appearances of confidence were one thing. But with each step, her legs trembled. As she entered, there was no immediate sighting of Lord Morpheus, or anyone for that matter.

However, her heart dropped at the beauty of the room before her. She looked up to the throne room ceiling to find it decorated with patterns of purple night skies and glimmering stars. Contrasting the cool white and grey hues of the floors and walls were stained windows of three patron figures she did not recognize. Colorful shades of light shone through at her feet beneath them. She walked forward, swallowed in their glory. Statue figures were carved into each archway leading towards the winding staircase, where a dark throne lay empty.

Sabine was so overwhelmed with the beauty of the room before her, she couldn’t bring herself to speak. There were tears almost formed into her eyes- she had not seem something so overwhelmingly beautiful in her existence. But as she approached closer to the winding throne’s staircase, a jolt of fear made her hesitant to come closer. An obscured figure in the umbra looked back at her from the shade beneath the stained windows, eyes glinting reflective light like a cat’s. A chill ran down her spine, feeling suddenly very insecure in nothing but her nightgown and slippers. The eyes bore into every fiber of her body and spirit, winding their way between her fears and hopes. Sabine’s knees felt weak, threatening to buckle before the being. Sabine fought the suffocating sensation of his presence, looking right back into them despite the urge to flinch away.

“Sabine Aonani Kanaka.” A deep voice, with the hue of smoke rang through the silence. Sabine sucked in a breath at how sharp it cut through the silence of his chamber, sending child down her spine. And yet- she was intrigued, despite the fear growing deep within her breast.

“What happened to hello? How are you? My name is?” Sabine thought to herself.

“Lord Morpheus.” Sabine matched the energy of his tone, staying calm, “I wish we met under less strenuous circumstances. Lucienne said you wished to speak to me.”

“That is correct.” He uttered in a dry tone with murky hands sweeping behind his back, “I see that you are in recovery from an injury.”

“I was stabbed” Sabine nodded, “A man with teeth for eyes cut me. The Corinthian, as Lucienne called him. Is he a resident of this realm?”

“The Corinthian has been detained.” Lord Morpheus informed her, “He shall be of no harm to you from now on. He was a corrupted nightmare of my creation. There was no reason for him to harm you that way.”

Sabine’s thumb rubbed agains the edge of her robe, something to center her with this information, “You… Created him?”

“The Corinthian is a nightmare of my creation, as is everything in this realm.” Lord Morpheus replied, “Everything you see here is of my creation. He is but a black mirror of humanity. He feasts off of fear and harming others.”

Sabine cringed at memories of the Corinthian and his terror he inflicted upon everyone, running her hand across her throat, where he had pressed his blade.

“As long as he isn’t hurting anyone anymore.” Sabine said in relief, “Thank you for detaining him. I tried to stop him, he has some self defense wounds because of me-”

“That is not why you are here. You have taken something from me.” Dream accused, “You manipulated the Dreamstone to cheat mortals of their nightmares and dreams, as all are balanced.”

His glowing eyes bored into hers. Sabine froze before him, feeling her throat tighten.

“I did. But it wasn’t my goal.” She said, “I only wished to reprieve them from night terrors. I am a sleep psychologist. I was only trying to heal them.”

“Your intentions were in vain, Sabine.” Lord Morpheus spoke sharply, “And for that, you placed them in a comatose state and your patient was killed.”

He was straight to the point without hesitation. Sabine admired him for that, as she stood under the lights, looking like a saint before him in satin. He could not fight the anger within his core upon the sight of the young woman, if he dared to look at her any longer, it would break him.

“For this foolishness I should have you punished to an eternal slumber as you inflicted upon them.” Lord Morpheus retorted.

“I tried that already.” Sabine said, “My last intention for the Dreamstone was to take my life. I didn’t…”

She began to choke up, her voice cracking in the back of her throat. She looked down.

“And what changed?” Lord Morpheus asked in a cold voice, almost disappointed at the dreamstone copy himself.

“Well, there’s no need to be so disappointed.” Sabine said cooly.

“I asked you a question.” The lord said in a fervent tone, “Answer me.”

Sabine stepped back, her sadness turning into resentment towards this Endless,

“I made a mistake. I put people in harms way, even with my best intentions.”

“How can I be sure you weren’t lying?” Morpheus inquired, standing firmer.

“I found the Dreamstone through a system of black markets to help everyone I cared about!” Sabine argued, “I tried everything! My entire career has been dedicated to helping people.”

“Please.” Morpheus tutted, “All your mortals care about are your waking lives. You lie, Sabine, and you continue lying about your intentions. Was it always about your patients?”

Sabine paused, feeling the tears in her eyes still.

“I would never go in for it with money in mind.” Sabine stammered, “I gave everything to make sure things would be right.”

“That was not your decision to make!” Morpheus’s voice raised as he stood, “You stand here before me, like an insolent child, as if this study wasn’t going to make you wealthy again?”

Sabine felt the pit in her chest exposed at his words. There was no use in hiding it.

“If capital came I wasn’t going to deny it.” Sabine admitted, “I needed to make sure my sister went through college.”

“And instead, you traded it with your soul and the lives of others.” Morpheus remarked coldly, “Surely, you do not take me for a fool?”

Sabine’s eyes were far from dry, as she felt herself sink lower and lower.

“It was a debt that I wasn’t anticipating.” Sabine spoke truthfully now, “I tried to take my life for what I did, and you want to know why? Because I didn’t feel like I deserved to live after that. And I still do.”

“That can be arranged.” Morpheus disparaged. Sabine shot him a look of sharp, almost black pupils. Morpheus looked into them, seeing a feminine rage that contained millions of dying stars in her dark eyes. She stood, her hands fixing to something, anything to center her.

“Some being you are.” Sabine hissed, “Go ahead and try. Death was the one who sent me here. You can go on about how much you want to punish me, but I’m the one who made that call first.”

A part of her begged to stop, but even in the face of a natural force, she didn’t care.

Lord Morpheus scoffed as he took a step closer, “Did Death herself deny you?”

He intended it sarcastically, to shrug off her angry tears. Her response, however, wasn’t anticipated.

“She did, actually.” Sabine said quickly, “She said it was not my time.”

The Lord was at a loss for words. In the darkness, he looked away, having more questions than answers provided for him. He was dumbfounded- it should’ve killed her, ripped her to shreds for taking awya her humanity- but she was here, and he did not know why. And he was angry that he didn’t know why. Death was hiding something from him.

“What else did she say to you?” Lord Morpheus asked in a quick tone.

“I don’t remember.” Sabine admitted.

“What don’t you remember?” Lord Morpheus raised his voice.

“If I remembered, I would’ve told you!” Sabine exclaimed, “I don’t know why I ended up here either.”

Lord Morpheus stilled his temper. But Sabine couldn’t.

“You know… From such a beautiful world I’d figure you’d be a lot more benevolent than this.” Sabine thwarted, “I tried to die. I begged for it, to be away from here. I didn't want to live knowing I’ve harmed others. If you want to kill me, go ahead. I never asked to be here. At least anyone I helped would have a chance.”

He stood silent for a moment.

Sabine huffed and took a seat on the steps away from him, her back facing towards him with a swish of satin white and blue. She shuddered as a cold drawl came over her shoulders. A thin veil of sweat formed on her brow. She was weak, and starving. Only one thought loomed over her.

“Kalea.” Lord Morpheus paced, “She was the root of it all along.”

Sabine wiped the corner of her eyes where tears were forming, “Of course she was the main reason behind it all. She’s had night terrors since we were little. All my family did. I wanted to fix it…. But it ruined them. Consumed them. I lost them all to it. I was the last of my family to dream, and Kalea just wanted to be in peace.”

She looked back over at the Lord with puffy eyes.

“Whatever you wish to do to me…..” She exhaled, “Don’t take her from me. Do not take anything out on her. Let her live a life of normalcy. Please, she’s all I have left.”

Morpheus paused, looking her way. Her beautiful eyes were leaden with tears- years of anger, of fear, and fatigue forming in them. And yet, she chose to be soft. To be kind, even after snapping earlier.

Lord Morpheus spoke gentler tone, “It appears you have punished yourself enough for this more than I could ever try.”

“It’s one of my best assets.” Sabine remarked sarcastically, turning back to him.

“It will be done, then.” Morpheus announced, “Your sister will wake from this coma and continue her normal life.”

Sabine’s eyes flustered close and breathed a sigh of relief, “Thank you, Lord Morpheus. That is all I wish for now-”

“I was not finished.” Lord Morpheus’s tone darkened, “You will not bear witness to her triumphs and milestones. You shall remain here, in this realm, while she lives her life in the Waking World. You cannot be trusted to return by her side knowing the mistakes you’ve made.”

Sabine’s teeth began to grind in her skull at his calloused deal. The seven stages of grief filled her, remembering all the promises they made to be there for eachother no matter what. It would be gone now, but she would be safe. Kalea would be alone. That was her greatest fear, knowing she would be stuck in this world with a scandal on her coat trails from her mistakes.

“And my best friend Quinn. Can you ensure her safety as well? She saved my life.”

“That can be arranged.” Lord Morpheus said ominously.

Sabine thought a moment, wishing she had better words for her girls before leaving them forever.

“Deal.” Sabine agreed flatly, “I shall remain here with you….” Her voice cracked again, emotions running high, “...In this realm. I will not attempt to contact them.”

“Do you believe yourself fit to this agreement?” He asked in an urgent tone.

“Do I need to repeat myself?” Sabine choked, “Yes, I do.”

“It is done.” Lord Morpheus said, “Your sister is still in the apartment you share.”

“Last time I checked. I mean, she’s asleep. She’s not going anywhere.” Sabine snipped in a bitter tone. She stopped then, taking a deep breath. Her heart was aching. It felt as if something was pulling on the stitches near her breast.

She was trying to stay calm. Almost too calm. The Endless was anticipating rage, or tears, or anger. He felt it still, the fuse dropping fast inside of her.

“I will attend to Kalea promptly.” Lord Morpheus said, “You are weak still. You need your rest.”

Morpheus pulled a pouch from his side, pouring its contents into his light exposed hands- the same sand she was surrounded bt at the ivory gates.

“And I have a condition as well.” Sabine asserted, crossing her arms.

He huffed a small laugh through his nostrils, “And exactly what that may be?”

Sabine stepped closer to him, “Reveal yourself to me. If I’m expected to spend eternity here with you, I may as well know what you look like now.”

His eyes seemed to simmer from their glowing silver hue at her request. She had a point. There was no need to masquerade himself before her, as tempting as it seemed to only frighten her. She was already filled with fear- the last thing he needed to do was to keep her in the dark any longer. It was a small request in exchange for her entire lifetime in the Waking World.

“As you wish.” Was all he said, before stepping forward into the light.

Shades of golden orange, blue, and green fell over his shoulder, as he turned to face her. Half of his pale face was covered in shadows, but piercing blue eyes bore into hers. The tall, elegantly shouldered Endless revealed himself before her. Jet black hair fell over his pale forehead and brow, matching the matte black of his coat, pants, and boots. He walked toward her with the air of a panther stalking its prey. His angular jaw and thin lips pursed into an unreadable expression, seemingly glowering at her. The Lord’s slim, angular nose curved down at her. She studied it in seconds, marveling how light bounced off his features.

It was as if the face she saw in her diaries had finally come to clarity, in the form of a beautiful figure. He was beyond a god now, before her, in the form of a sweet dream and a beautiful nightmare. Morpheus’s strong brows curved low above his shining eyes, framed by dark lashes… And dare Sabine assumed, eyeliner? It was a subtle shade framing his eyes, a soft whisper of charcoal smoke. Urban Decay, maybe? If there was a Sephora in the Dreaming, she would stay forever. The idea of him curling his lashes and applying eyeliner each morning before being such a cold figure was only a distraction to make her laugh from what she truly felt- intrigue and trepidation. He was equally cold and beautiful in disposition, and he looked down at her with almost disgust. Being trapped an eternity with someone beautiful who hated her already was a fate crueler than death. He was beautiful. Too beautiful to take in, as she struggled to breathe. She looked him in the eye, drinking him in, wanting to run, and yet-

“I’ve seen you before.” Sabine mustered the courage to say, “In drawings, and old artwork from previous civilizations. I didn’t think those were ever accurate.”

That was only half a lie.

The words spilled from her mouth like vomit, only lazy attempts to dance around one word in particular-

Divine, and hauntingly so; the grace of violent tides colliding with black sea cliffs. With white hot flashes of lighting striking the surface of water within his eyes. She felt herself being pulled into his ripcurl.

“How flattering to be able to exceed your aesthetic expectations.” Lord Morpheus remarked in a smarmy tone, “As I have crossed many daughters of Eve, I have yet to see one who carries her humility as you do.”

Sabine paused. Was that a compliment? It rolled off his tongue too easily. As if he were intending it to be an insult, he failed. And he knew.

Lord Morpheus’s expression soured into something cold once more, letting sand sink between his fingertips.

“I must go.” He said, “Return to your chambers to rest. You will need it.”

“Thank you, Lord Morpheus.” Sabine’s voice cracked, as she quickly turned on her heel. A flourish of sand took him away in a flash followed by a stiff wind. She dared not to look back at him, feeling if she did, she would look again too long at the bitten smudge of red on his lower lip.

Sabine wasn’t too keen on sticking around alone. This was a mistake to think such things. Too many feelings at once seemed to cloud her judgment, despite her heart fluttering at his remark. She hurried out of the empty chamber into the hall, feeling heat prick in her cheeks. Her hands balled into fists, blood rushing into them. She wanted him to return. She wanted to slap him across his alabaster face for his audacity after taking her life. She wanted to go home, but there was no home to return to, doomed to such a glimmering agate prison. Tears betrayed her anger, falling from the corners of her eyes like smoke alarms would to simmer the fury within her. In her feelings, she had failed to notice the tall man of straw in her path, crashing directly into his chest.

“Ack!” the figure exclaimed, “Watch it!”

Sabine stumbled back, watching as a mop’s wooden handle clamored onto the floor. She gasped, face tp face with a pumpkin headed lanky figure. A puddle dribbled in response, as the being let out a sharp cry of frustration. He appeared with the whimsy of something she’d see in a children’s book many, many years ago.

“Oh, god, are you okay?” Sabine choked on her tears, “I’m so sorry about that, please let me help.”

“I just cleaned that!” He fussed, “You gotta watch where you’re going. You got an astigmatism or something?” He scoffed, “Well, I wouldn’t blame you, from the Lord’s taste in minimalism, this place is like a hall of mirrors!”

Sabine smoothed her hair out of her eyes, “No, I just have a lack of spacial awareness… Here, let me help you, please?”

He shook his head, “No, no, Lucienne told me about you. You should be in bed by now, I can’t let you lift a finger. Especially if you’re in a rush crying like that! Lord Morpheus didn’t give you a hard time, did he?”

His brash nature and strange appearance seemed comforting in the moment. Sabine took a deep breath, still feeling uneasy. But friends would help, in this new life.

“It’s okay. Really, I deserved it.” Sabine was quick to defend herself before the scarecrow, “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Mervyn Pumpkinhead, at your service. But mostly everyone call me Merv.” He said, offering a gloved hand to her. Sabine carefully shook his hand, which was a tight bunch of straw beneath.

“Sabine.” She said, swallowing hard, “I don’t suppose you’ve seen Lucienne or Matthew around? Or this library she told me about?”

“Down the hall to your left. But I promised her I’d make sure you got back to bed.”

Sabine frowned, “If I go back to my chamber now, I don’t think I’ll come out to face anyone for a few days.”

Merv shrugged, “I get those days. No one’s gonna judge you for that….” He trailed off, leaning in closer to her, “Listen, I may have swabbed this area two days ago, but I’m a bit of a nosy pumpkinhead… That’s why I’m scrubbing it clean. Tell me… Did you just sign your life away to live here?”

“Well, when you put it like that…” Sabine admitted, “Yes, for my sister.”

“That’s tough, kid.” Mervyn sighed, “But honorable. I’ll give you that.”

He paused, choosing his words carefully again.

“Well, I got no issue cleaning up after you for now. Just… Maybe don’t cry so much down these other halls, I just swabbed them.”

Sabine nodded, “Where can I grieve, then?”

Merv scratched the chin of his orange jaw and hummed, “Well… The West Wing is pretty empty. Not a lot of dreamers stay there. We even have a small garden. But after a certain hour, Dream wanders there.”

“I’d like a book to keep me busy then, if I need to be bed ridden.” Sabien requested, “Can I have some book requests, then?”

Matthew entered, landing on the mop’s handle. His sudden flourish of wings scared her again, making her flinch.

“I’ll do it!” He volunteered, “It’s good to see you standing, Sabine. I mean-”

His beady focus shifted on her, catching onto her grief, “How are you feeling?”

Sabine exhaled, forcing a smile, “Thank you. I do feel a lot better but I must go and rest. Lord Morpheus and I struck a deal in exchange for… My sister’s life, over my own. We’ll be seeing more of eachother from now on.”

Sabine’s eyes cast to the floor beneath her feet, as the smile plastered on her lips.

“And may I just say, your Lord has a certain way of making me feel welcome.” Sabine added in a satirical tone.

“Don’t mind him so much….” Matthew heartened,, “He can be a bit rough around the edges, but… I talked to him. He understands you were trying to do the right thing. I knew it when I saw you. And trust me, I used to be human too. I know humans are capable of evil, and you’re far from it.”

Sabine smiled softly, “Thank you for that… I’ll take your word for it, But that’s all I want to say for now… Can you just take me to the library?”

“Sure, let’s get out of Merv’s hair for now!” Matthew began to fly, “This way!”

“... I don’t have any hair.” Merv scowled, scrunching his orange brow. Sabine smiled at him one last time.

“I’ll see you around.” She said in a gentler tone, “It was nice to meet you, Merv.”

“You too, sweetheart.” Merv waved. He began to return to his work, just for his boots to squeak from a puddle beneath his feet, “Eesh! He definitely hurt her feelings. You could put a slip and slide down this hallway.”

The remark would have made her giggle if she didn’t ache so badly, walking away from Mervyn. And Matthew knew it well, the grief of havung her life taken away swiftly into something else.

“I gotta say, when it comes to books, yu’ll have plenty to pick from here.” Matthew reassured her, “And Lucienne seems to really like you, so that’s a plus.”

“My safe space as a kid was always a library.” Sabine admitted, “It may as well be so long as I’m here…”

“Well, is there anything you’re into?” Matthew asked, “Genre wise?”

Sabine put her hands in the pockets of her dressing gown and hummed, “Poetry. I like Emily Dickinson, mystery, romance, dark fairytales… I’ve got a list of books I’ve been meaning to catch up on.”

“Oh, well we got plenty of that to go around.” Matthew honked, “Anything in specific?”

“I’m not sure if you’d know it.” Sabine shrugged, “But I’m sure Lucienne would. I could use a change of scenery… You think she’d let me stick around?”

“Only one way to find out.”

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Author's note: Can you tell this was my favorite chapter to write? Lol, me too. <3 That grumpy old endless ... Sigh.

#dream of the endless #fan fiction #writeblr #my fanfiction #the sandman netflix #fic writing #lord morpheus #the sandman #mervyn pumpkinhead #lucienne the librarian #matthew the raven

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