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#also this was inspired by a weird dream i had!
ancientschampionau · 19 hours
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Double Trouble... switched?
A tiny little thing for a lovely artist who's comics and art brings me much joy and inspiration.
Inspired by the lovely: @somegrumpynerd
And specifically this post, and this comic :3
Have fun :D
Warning, Very unedited and just me having fun ;P
(also most work was actually finding the posts to make the links work now enjoy this fanfic of which I will admit it took a few hours but I will not tell you how many words as I got no idea. Because I wrote the whole thing on tumblr and got no word counter here. Enjoy :D)
.-.-.-.-.-.-.
Dream knew something was wrong the moment he woke up.
His magic... it was being prickled by something. Over and over and over. It felt a bit like the sting of negativity but different.
That can't be right.
Drema struggled to full awareness as his mind tried to think of the reason why he felt the way he did.
Normally he only felt these type of prinkles and pain when he was near a lot of negativity but it had to be a lot a lot. As in, Nightmare using his own aura to fight him a lot.
But as he used his own magic of empathy he only felt a soft contentment and easy happiness in the air.
Had... Had the fight with Nightmare have afteraffects after all?!
They last fight, the one of the day before, had left Dream drained and tired. Nightmare and him had been fighting and Dream had tried to use his aura to get Nightmare to stay still and listen to him. Dream hadn't expected Nightmare to use his own magic aura. More surprising had been the fact that Nightmare's aura didn't clash with his own but instead reached him. It had burned and as Dream had said, he felt drained afterwards.
Dream hadn't thought too much off it. Especially as Nightmare had seemed exhausted and confused by it as well and he had quickly retreated afterwards.
But maybe Dream had been wrong.
Why else would he still feel this discomfort when there was nothing but positivity around him?
Dream groans as he finally manages to sit up in the very soft bed with many many pillows. Weird, Dream didn't have this many pillows on his bed and neither does Blue. Maybe Ink painted some more for them? Thoguth Ink rarely joined in on their sleepovers and Dream can't remember seeing Ink the day before.
Worse is that he feels disbalanced. Nothing feels right at the moment and the discomfort is making him cranky. He should just find Blue. Blue always makes everything better and has great ideas on what to try.
Yes, his best friend will help.
Dream opens his sockets only to stare in shock.
This... is not his room.
It isn't any room he recognizes.
It is a large beautiful place with a large, very large, bed with way too many pillows and soft blankets. There is a large bookcase just filled with books. The curtains are dark and shut. Next to him is a tiny alarm clock which reads that it is still very early in the morning.
Something else about his vision is off but Dream can't quite place it. Something that should be obvious but he can't make sense of it. He turns to the side and reaches for the bed only to freeze.
That is corruption. On his hand. And arm.
Dream feels himself start to panic as his soul pulses fast. Oh no. Oh no. What happened?! Calm down. Calm down-
Then he sees one of those corruption tentacles nad Dream flinches away, only to completely loose his balance and fall over sideways with a quiet yelp.
He lays frozen but can't feel any curiosity or hear anyone react.
He is starting to have an idea where he is and he isn't sure how to feel about this.
He slowly crawls to the side of the bed, only to keep misjudging the distance and he thinks he lost his depth perception which isn't good news.
He manages to get out of bed and only slightly panics at the sight of his own legs covered in corruption. Are it his own legs even?!
Dream pushes himself upright only almost fall over and he has to grab one of the poles of the large four poster bed to catch himself. He looks over his shoulder and is confronted with the sight of four tentacles shifting and idling behind him, all seemingly coming from his own back.
Dream takes a few unsteady steps and softly curses the way this feels. How does Nightmare DEAL with his tentacles?! How does he deal with the extra weight of it on his spine?! Dream already feels uncomfortable.
Dream manages to get to one of the two doors and opens it. He lets out a sigh of relieve when sees the bathroom. He flicks on the ligth in the room and manages to get to the mirror.
There in the mirror stands Nightmare. Staring at him in absolute shock.
Dream... Is in Nightmare's body.
Which means.
He is not at home.
Dream is in Nightmare's home.
-------
Nightmare tries to walk wiht confidence but it still takes effort to not overbalance for his lacking extra limbs.
When he woke up feeling comfortable and energised he had immediantly panic. He normally only felt that after they managed to make an universe fall fully into negativity and shift the balance.
Feeling that at home meant his boys felt unhappy and miserable and he would not have that.
Imagion his surprise when he sat up only to be in a completely different room and after a glance outside to realise he was in the Omega Timeline.
The one place he never had managed to get somekind of access too.
Nightmare wanted out right now because it didn't take a genius to figure out what happened.
Dream's and his magic had interacted strangly and connected with each other. Both had felt drained. Now Nightmare was in Dream's body.
Meaning, Dream was most likely in Nightmare's body. Meaning Dream was in Nightmare's hideout with his boys.
Nightmare didn't have time to panic or to have a crisis. He needed to somehow get to his own body and make them switch back. His minions needed constant supervision and management. Nightmare only just got Dust to agree to set an alarm clock and Horror had been improving with overeating.
He needed to get to them.
Which meant.
Be the perfect Dream so no one would think something was wrong and enable him to sneak out and search for himself.
This is starting to get annoying.
Nightmare had gotten dressed in Dream's clothes and got ready to leave.
Only for Blue to have shown up.
Which is what brought Nightmare to were he was now. Trying and struggling to maintain a facade he hadn't had time to prepare.
"You sure you are okay Dream?" Blue keeps staring at him as if he expects Nightmare to just spill the beans.
Wait. Does Dream do that? Does Dream just tell Blue everything? Probably right? But what do they normally talk about?
Nightmare is honestly unsure what it is that is between his brother and Blue. Nightmare knows that Blue and Dream are always together and Dream seems rather protective about Blue.
Nightmare realises he is taking too long to answer and puffs up his chest and speaks, being thankful for the small amount of luck there is for him in this multiverse that the voice he speaks with still sounds like Dream "Of course I am alright! It is a wonderful day and I want to spend it heloing others!" Dream and his ever need to please people and be liked.
Blue continues to grin at him, one brow slightly raised "Wowie! you are in a good mood today! Happy to hear you seem alright after the fight from yesterday."
Nightmare nods "But of course! Now! Lets get to work." and he starts walking. Only slightly falling fore over as he tries to balance for soemthign that isn't there.
"Dream!" Blue is by his side and tries to help him upright. The worry around him is slightly surprising.
Nightmare holds up a hand as he tries, and succeeds to steady himself. Old memories return of how to walk without his tendrils. He got this. "I am fine. Just a slight misstep... shall we?" Wait, how does Dream speak anyone? All the interactions Nightmare can remember were from them in battle. Which Ngihtmare knows is not a good reference for when you speak casually with others. The last interactions that Nightmare had with Dream wihtout fighting were... were from back at the tree... when both had been 6 and before their magical growth.
...
Ngihtmare doubts Dream still acts as his six year old self, even if he sometimes seems just as naiev to the world.
Blue frowns at him "If you are sure. You sure you want to go out already?"
Nightmare nods "But of course!"
Blue gives him another grin "Well. If you are sure. Let's go!"
----------------
Dream doesn't know what to do or say.
What do you say to your enemies when you are suddenly in their boss's body, who happens to be your twin. like. How do you decide what to say?
Dream tries to remain quiet and just watch. That is probabyl what Ngihtmare does right? Just watch and glare and tell them to not bother him?
Their happiness is burning him. That he has realised.
Dream had wanted to tell them he is going to take a moment for himself but then second guessed himself. How much would Nightmare tell them? Would he tell them that their happiness burns him? Would he be honest? Would he even tell them? Or would he just stand up and leave? Were those four expecting him to give them orders? To tell them what to do? Or would a simple 'go do your work' do?
Drema had never realised that positivity burned his brother this badly.
Did... did that mean that being around Dream burned him as well? That going near him at all in battle was as if he was being burned?
Dream knows his aura can get... a lot. but... He never considered... He never thought...
Only extreme negativity hurt Dream and all positivity energised and powered him...
If low levels of positivity already hurt his brother... would only extreme levels of negativity energise him? Would only extreme levels feed him?
Was... was Nightmare attacking AUs not as much an attack on the multiverse but more of a way to feed himself? To keep himself alive?
Dream just... didn't know.
"Boss! boss! what do you think? Awesome right!"
Dream eneds a moment to realise Killer is talking to him. Dream looks over and freezes at the knife Killer is tapping between his phalanges with a concerning speed.
Dream sits there frozen before panic overtakes his soul "What do you think you are doing?! Stop that right now before you hurt yourself!" only to realise that he spoke form panic and worry. Oh no he totally messed up! Dream wasn't thinking and-
Killer pouts but lays the knife down. Horror snorts "Told you boss would be unimpressed and mad at you for practising that."
Killer mutters something about it being cool and Nightmare just being a worrywart.
Dream blinks. Excuse but Nightmare is a what now?
Cross looks at him "What is the schedule for today boss?"
Killer snorts and copies the sentence at a softer volume but in a sillier voice.
Dream can't imagine that would be allowed but before he can even think of a fitting reaction or answer one of Nightmare's tentacles moves over to Killer's skull and gives him a soft tap.
Dream feels mortified. What do you mean those tendrils just... do that?! Dream hadn't even thought or considered that! Wait... Was... Was the corruption still negativity and so technically Nightmare... Was it like a muscle memory and so instinct for his body to do that? That implies that Nightmare has done that a lot.
Killer pouts more and crosses his arms befroe he mumbles "Fine fine. I get it. I get it. Sorry Crossy."
Crossy beams and the happiness stings Dream as Cross answers "Apology accepted!" then Cross looks at him with bright sockets "But what will we do today boss?"
Dream glances around the room as he tries to think of something that would fit. He has no idea what Nightmare does when he isn't out fighting him. Dream remembers the books in Ngihtmare's bedroom but Dream doesn't want to lock himself in there. He will go insane and just not know what to do. He needs an excuse to search around the castle. Something that will fit with their vision of Nightmare.
"I... need to... research a few things for our next... raid." Dream tries to desperately remember what Nightmare sounded like and which words he used. Dream thinks his lucky stars that Nightmare's body still sounds like Nightmare.
Cross nods "okay! Need our help with anything?"
Dream slowly shakes his skull as he tries to follow their emotions to see if he is managing to sell this. "No. I should have what I need." Okay, good so far, now how to say he will get them if he needs help. euh... "If I have need... of you. I know where to find you." That should work... right?
Killer nods as he is already out of the room and gone with a shout "Going to the cats!"
What does he mean CATS?!
Cross nods "Okay! in your office?"
office? office! An office will no doubt have information that will hopefully help Dream. Dream nods as anwer and Cross seems to accept it before he goes around grabbing the plates.
Horror asks him if he wants lunch together or brought up and Dream can feel the stress rise. damnit why are these four so focussed on Nightmare? They turn to him for everything! It makes Dream miss Blue. Blue knows what to do when and helps him more than anything.
Dream ends up saying together. Seeing as they straight up called and pulled him over for breakfast that is probably the go to. Horror seems pleased by this and nods as he starts cleaning the food in a careful manner.
Dust has just been staring at him with a frown on his face.
Dream stares back and feels the need to look away but Nightmare wouldn't look away. Dream waits and waits.
Dust huffs before leaving wihtout much of a word. Dream will take that as a win.
Dream leaves the kitchen and sees Dust disappear into another room, Dream can hear the sounds of a tv coming from there and will assume Killer is in there.
Okay... Now...
Where the hell is everything? He has no idea what the layout is of this place and it was pure luck he even found the staircase that morning to begin with.
He makes his way back to the staircase and follows it up. He makes sure he isn't watched or followed before starting to silently open doors to check what is behind each one.
Why did his brother have to be dramatic and get a castle?!
--------------
Nightmare hates this.
His cheeks are starting to hurt from the constant smiling. It is emotionally and mentally exhausting to be happy all the time. No one leaves him alone and everyone seems to have something they very pressingly need Dream's help for.
Which. Meant you. Are not important things!!
Dream needs a better work/home balance and learn to say no.
Nightmare can't even just return to the house that is, probably, Dream's and just hide for a moment because Blue has been by his side the whole time.
Nightmare will admit he is starting to get why Dream likes Blue so much adn seems so protective of him. Blue is a beacon of positive energy and motivation. Blue also seems happy to help Dream with anything and everything.
Honestly at this point Blue is the only reason why Ngihtmare hasn't started losing his mind at Dream just yet.
Everyone around him. the whole time. noise or people and their emotions. the pressure of everyone looking at him and trying to get his help. The amount of people trying to just stand next to him and soak up some of that positive aura is disgusting.
Nightmare has half the mind to kidnape his twin just to make sure that he knows he can actually say 'No' and tell people to piss off because it is starting to get concerning.
Nightmare hasn't had the impulse to throw this many people through windows in a while.
One more person from somekind of universe runs up to him "Dream Dream! I need your help!"
Nightmare has to take a very deep breath as he tries to control his temper. easy and calm. easy and calm. He manages to pull the smile back full force and turns to them "But of course! Happy to help. What do you need help with?"
The person smiles "Well! I wanted to do my grocerries but I ended up not going because I was watching this movie and it was jsut so good! Anyway. Would you mind doing my grocerries for me?"
Deep breaths Nightmare. Deep breaths.
The person continues on "The next part just started and I also really want to see that but by the time that one finishes the store will be closed!"
Deep. Breaths.
They continue the smile "And obviously I will pay you back later but-"
"No."
they blink. Nightmare stares back.
They frown "Waht? Why not?"
Nightmare honestly tries to keep it in but why would he? This is an idiot and they deserve to know "Because this is a result of your own neglect of your responsibilities and I don't see why it would then be up to me to fix this. Especially as you yourself still have the chance to do it yourself. But instead you are trying to use me and get an easy out. Not only that but you are also asking me to pay for this?"
The slowly cross their arms "You enver minded before..."
Anger. Rage. Nightmare manages to just stare "Well I mind now. Do it yourself. If you are adult enough to live on your own wihtout supervision you should be able to take care of yourself." Nightmare turns and walks away.
The person is enraged at him and Nightmare feels very smug about it. The person shouts after him "You are being a real asshole there Dream! And very selfish!"
Ngihtmare just keeps walking. don't commit murder in Dream's body. that is a very sure way to get others to notice you are not him.
Blue still walks with him and Nightmare glares "What?"
Blue blinks and tilts his skull "I am just happy you are finally starting to take my advice to not help everyone with everything. You gotta limit yourself or get burned out." Blue stops him and stares at him worried "Are you finally ready to tell me what is wrong Dream? I am worried about you..."
Nightmare considers what to say before sighing "I need a break." weak. Nightmare just, can't handle this. The constant demands and people asking him to do things. It is different with his boys. the real happiness they feel for him may sting slightly but it is real. The happiness of these people. It just isn't truly on that same level. There is no actual affection or care or even understanding behind it. It is about possession and demand and feeling like they earned it.
While they earned nothing.
How does Dream deal with them?
Blue nods "Yeah. Lets go to my place. People are less likely to bother you there. and If anyone asks I will just tell them you are sick."
Nightmare stares at Blue "I don't get sick. I can't get sick."
Blue snorts "Dream. The only three people in the whole multiverse that know that are, you, your twin, and me. If anyone asks we tell them you are sick." and he grins.
Ngihtmare stares at Blue for a moment "You are the only being in the multiverse with a functioning brain."
Blue snorts and laughs "Nightmare will be happy to hear you say that Dream." and he grins widely.
Nightmare snorts himself, a little inside joke just for him, "I know what I said."
They manage to find Core for a ride. Ngihtmare is relieved by that as he hasn't quite figured out how Dream makes portals just yet. Luckily Blue had decided for him that they would catch a ride instead of trying one themselves.
-----------
Dream reads through another report on the changes and shifts in the balance between positivity and negativity. another one that Dream had thought had been an attack agaisnt the multiverse but instead this report spoke about the high positivity levels making the universe unstable and them having to shift it.
The report speaks of a mild success and mentions a message to Error that this universe could be skipped for destruction for a while as they had managed to make it stable enough to last it a bit longer.
So many reports. So many universe which had been unbalanced.
Compared to all the reports Drema had read until now only about 10% spoke about getting higher negativity levels for Nightmare or getting supplies in a raid.
Everything else? All about universes that needed rebalancing and a shift in the right direction to keep them stable.
Dream leans back in the chair and yelps as the tendrils ache. He looks up adn groans as he sees the tentacles once again completely braided together. He doesn't want to have to try to undo it again and-
"Sup Boss!"
Oh are you kidding him?!
Dream had thought the people in the Omega timeline could be pushy or clingy. But it is nothing on these four. They just. Keep showing up!
It is like they are taking shifts! Dream manages to get one out and a new one will show up within 15 minutes.
Dream sighs and looks up "Waht do you want this time you. you..." you... you... Dream doesn't want to be mean. But Ngihtmare probably insults them... right? "Worms."
Cross's whole face turns sad and worried "Worms?" Oh Dream feels so bad about this. Oh no he looks so sad and hurt and why did Dream say that?
Killer however grins widely "worms! new nickname lets go!" he grins widely
Horror just looks at him with a raised brow "You okay boss?"
Dream feels himself get anxious as he tries to channel some stern face but he is unsure how well he is managing "what is it?"
Cross just keeps looking down at the floor with a sad expression as he mutters the word 'worms' to himself.
Horror looks back "Oh Killer pushed Dust down the stairs."
Drema blinks before looking at Killer "You did what?!"
Killer grins widely as he throws out his arms "I would never!"
A second later a very angry Dust shows up "He so did! The asshole pushed me!"
"Did not!"
"Did too!!"
"Did not!"
"Did too!"
"Did not times infinity! Hah! I win!"
Dust glares and tries to tackle Killer but Dream, or lets be real Nightmare's tentacles, stop him and catch Dust mid air.
Dream takes a few breaths but he gives up "No pushing each other down the stairs! I can't even believe i need to say this!"
Horror speaks up "Again."
Dream feels himself stand up straighter "Again?!" luckily all of them seem to not hear the question in his outraged cry as Killer nods with a pout and Dust just huffs.
It is slightly concerning how unbother Dust looks by being up in onf of those tentacles.
Dream rubs his face as he tries to keep his spinning thoughts calm "I am going to be quick about it. I want all four of you to behave for ten minutes so I can look through my reports and figure out where to go to next!"
His brother had so many reports. If Dream could find some positive universe and spread a tiny bit of negativity then Nightmare, in Dream's own body, would feel that and come to Dream and then Dream can try to get them to switch back.
Silence answers him and he looks up to see all four of the gang look at him and nod. Dream waits for a moment before nodding himself "Good!" He has to focus on the tentacle and imagines it putting Dust down before it actually listens. The tendril seems unwilling to let Dust go.
Dream takes a deep sigh and sits back at Nightmare's desk as he starts reading through reports. He looks back up only to see all four of the gang relaxing around him and Nightmare's desk.
Dream rubs his face. considers going against it before just going wiht the flow. Fine! if they want to watch him read reports so be it! Dream turns back to the many reports as he tries to figure out which place would be best. By the stars Nightmare has so much information and he straight up has a whole catagory on different universes and what key differences are and how to spot these when first entering an universe.
There is just so much knowledge and understanding about all of these universe. Nightmare even took time ot learn which universes are most likely to interact. to cross over. or to even be able to hold a stable connection to serve as trading route.
Dream looks up and spots that those stupid tentacles had moves again! Each of them holds one of the four gang members and Dream is trying to think on how to put them back down.
Then he sees all four of them... asleep. peacefully asleep as they lay either rolled up in the tentacle or seem to hug them in their sleep.
Dream stares for a moment and wonders just how often this happens for that to be the natural reaction before he turns back to the reports. the answer has to be in these.
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Nightmare feels the spike of negativity as soon as it happens. It si fear from somewhere in the multiverse and he sits up straight.
Blue looks over worried "Dream?"
Nightmare knows it within a second with absolute certainty "My brother." it is dream. Dream has entered an universe and is... causing fear?
Maybe a trap. Or... a beacon.
Blue frowns at him "Are you sure you are ready for this Dream? I don't think you are... fully rested yet."
Nightmare is already up and nods "I am sure." Now the hard part. He focusses on the magic so much like his own but different. the only thing that is avaiable to him is Dream's magic and it will have to do. He focusses on the positivity and wills it to open a connection to where he feels the spike of negativity.
A portal opens before them.
Blue nods as he grabs his hammer "Let's go."
They step through together and Nightmare looks around. He is quick to spot himself.
Nightmare glares as he crouches low before he is off like a bullet right at his own body. The shock on his own face is satisfying.
More satisfying is tackling himself as he and Dream tumble down the sloop into the overgrowth behind it.
Dream yelps and tries to retaliate but Nightmare knows his own body and his own limits. Nightmare is quick to get Dream in a headlock and hisses "Give me back my body."
Dream groans "I am trying! Let go so we can figure this out before they find us!"
Nightmare frowns and waits for just a moment to see if they are followed. He feels some slight confusion and worry from everyone else but there seems to be a bit of a standoff.
Nightmare sighs and lets go of Dream "Quickly then."
Dream huffs as he gets up only to stagger as Ngihtmare sees his tendrils flex. Nightmare snorts "Haven't figured out how to keep them still yet?"
Dream glares at Ngihtmare wiht his own face "Shut up. Just tell me you have na idea how to switch us back."
Nightmare sighs "Obviously we tried to recreate what happened in our last fight." Nightmare focusses and calls forth his, Dream's? this is getting confusing, aura.
Dream hisses slightly, no doubt feeling the burn, before nodding and quickly doing the same.
Both hold out a hand and inch their aura's around each's other's aura and towards the other twin.
Nightmare feels his own magic reach him and it feels like a blast of cool air on a summer day. He lets himself follow it and-
His body burns by the positivity right before him and he jumps back. His tendrils helping Ngihtmare move back and away from Dream.
Dream lets out a loud sigh of relieve as he lets himself sink to his knees "Oh that feels so much better..."
Nightmare nods as he flexes a tendril "I agree."
A moment of silence and peace between the two as neither makes the move to attack first.
Dream speaks up first "I... I never realised how... how much just tiny bits of positivity hurt..."
Nightmare shurgs "You get used to it. and sometimes it is better to feel the sting than the alternative."
Dream nods as he shoots Nightmare a smile.
Nightmare frowns "You can say no."
Dream blinks "Excuse me?"
Nightmare sighs "You should say no sometimes. It is unhealthy to keep giving everything you have to everyone. especially if they don't actually need help or are even thankful or grateful for it." Nightmare shoots his brother an unimpressed look "Learn to manage your work/home life."
Dream blinks before laughing and shooting him a grin "You sound like Blue."
Nightmare nods "You should listen to him more then."
Another moment of peace before both their groups get to them. Neither feel much for fighting and both call for a retreat very quickly.
Both have a lot to think about anyways.
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"Wait?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU AND YOUR TWIN HAD BEEN SWITCHED?! THAT EXPLAINS SO MUCH!"
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Fic Prompt #3
Fandom: Baldur’s Gate 3 Characters: Dame Aylin/Isobel Thorm, Shar; also features Selûne, and Balthazar, that wretched walking content warning Length: ~4000 words Summary: Aylin prays in the Shadowfell, to a mother who can't hear her - and an aunt who can.
What can silence the Nightsong? @stachless prompted "nightmare" and also drew [this art]. Brainworms heavily inspired by @featherwurm's [art] and its followup [here]. Also inspired by a bunch of Aylin's Shadowfell dialogue, the extremity of what she went through, her mother, and the Jesus-Christ-Superstar-Gethsemane of it all. Then we have my own need to see her cherished and taken care of and protected, along with a bit of weird fascination with how the Calm Emotions spell is actually supposed to work.
Hurt/comfort. Warnings for canon-typical violence and references to torture.
---
Once, there would have been a steady hum, a warmth blooming eternal in her chest. An undeniable, reassuring presence, like a hand on her shoulder, and a loving murmur in her ear as if her Mother were there, but only just out of sight. Now there is nothing.
There is worse than nothing; there is a tug, a pull, a leeching so unnatural and wrong it makes bile rise in Aylin's throat. Makes her first steps into a stumble, as she pulls herself to her feet from where the latest Sharran had felled her, leading her so close to the bounds of her enclosure that the sickly glow of the grasping claws starts to manifest. 
So instead she kneels, as she has done countless times before: in magnificent temples and humble shrines, in muddy battlefields before and after skirmishes, in winter storms and in bright summer showers. Privately, or as one in a crowd of worshippers. Or, a traitorous little shard of her heart pipes up, with Isobel, whose devotion was always catching like the most pleasant of flames. 
"Moonmaiden, hear me," once she finally speaks, Aylin's voice is strong to her own ears, rising clear and resonant from the depths of her chest, unhampered by her predicament or by the bitter sting of grief. It is a bracing thing to note, and it makes it easier to straighten her shoulders and persist.
The odious essence that permeates the Shadowfell makes calm, comfortable meditation a distant dream, but Aylin does her utmost to shake off the worst of it. She chooses instead to focus on going through all the well-practised, familiar, reassuring motions. Hands open, relaxed, palms resting on her thighs, eyes closed but not clenched shut, chin upturned slightly, waiting for the light of an absent moon.
"Weaver of the silver loom, look upon me with mercy and pluck the threads of my fate to lead them away from this place, away from this dungeon of loss and dark and grief." 
It is easy, natural, to intone the words, even as the recitation feels slightly more formal than Aylin is used to. The conspicuous absence surrounding her and blanketing her heart does nothing to deter her.
"Guide me out of the grasp of shadow. Turn the tides, so that I may vanquish Your enemies once more and shield Your faithful from the darkness in turn, under Your watchful eye."
Ketheric will bleed, a Sharran plot that was allowed to fester and grow much too far will finally be thwarted, and Reithwin salvaged, recovered, a haven for those basking in the light of the moon once more.
Surely, whatever time Aylin has spent here… surely it is enough.
Her only answer is a coward's blow; a would-be justiciar who has snuck down to her prison oh-so-quietly, who has chosen to anoint herself with the blood of an unarmed, unaware opponent knelt in prayer.
In the rush of her own lifeblood Aylin could swear she hears laughter.
-
"Hear me. Moonmaiden," the words are ground out this time, slowly and painstakingly. "Our Lady of Silver. Shine Your gleaming light upon me, dispel the grip of shadow and pain, bolster my heart with Your radiance…"
There is an arrow lodged in her flank, and another one near her shoulder blade, still burning with the telltale traces of poison. This one wanted to make sure - a good Sharran: thorough, prepared. Lurking in the shadows and well out of reach, even for this. Truly meant for his mistress' embrace.
"I, whose hand has ever borne Your sword against wickedness gladly and with pride…"
The third in what can't have been more than, what, a day? But how to tell, when her own body falling and rising is the only thing she can rely on to try to gauge the passage of time? In any case, Ketheric is ramping up the production of his army, that much is clear.
So much of Reithwin has paraded before her eyes. People she had lived beside, even if for a little while, coming here to kill her. Some of them acknowledge the fact, even - let her know they never trusted her, sneer about their welcome and respect being but pretence, or forced by fear of divine retribution. Others avert their eyes and pretend they weren't the ones to help her pick out flowers for a bouquet to gift Isobel early in their courtship, just as they weren't the ones to help with the delicate petal-cups of the moonflower arrangements for her funeral.
If she thinks of what has happened, what must be happening to the ones who she hasn't faced here, the rage mixed with the bitter bite of failure threatens to overwhelm her utterly. They were hers to protect. Just as Isobel was.
She can't reach the accursed arrow in her back to pull it out. The sting mounts and mounts and meets the agony driven deep in her heart.
-
"Moonmaiden, hear me. As You guide the lost back onto their paths, as You set before our feet roads out of darkness, I pray. For my path is winding, never-ending, yet I have ever heeded--"
How much more? How much, how much, howmuch…
The spear to the heart she would have taken for one of the quick and merciful ones - but no. Because the Sharran misses, curse them, and then stops to deliver a tirade - before being swallowed by vicious, hungry shadows.
"The tides turn, inexorably," she mutters, half-dazed with blood loss, stumbling to her knees. "The tides, they… in Your strength, as all things, they…"
Aylin's head lolls forward, proud chin meeting chest, prayer cut short. "Enough. It is enough. I have borne--" What, she cannot say. Penance? Some crucial holy burden? Instead, she ekes out syllables around the agony in her chest, where the spear is still lodged. The spear left in her in disgust, once the acolyte realised it was a mere inert replica of the artefact they sought, incapable of delivering true death, of elevating them beyond a mere ordained assassin. Before their own fate was sealed so very efficiently.
One does not become the Chosen of a goddess by choosing themselves, after all.
"Please."
In the silence, she scrabbles with bloody hands and pulls the spear out herself, inch by painfully slow inch. Throws it into the abyss with a roar of fury and disgust, for she has no use for a weapon here. She cannot fight and tear and kill her way to freedom, a sword that cannot cut itself free. The best she could achieve by destroying her captors here and now would be oblivion, to be forgotten here. 
Lost.
"Mother," she whispers, and feels burning shame at prayer being reduced to pleading. "Mother, please."
Nothing.
-
The necromancer visits again, when she is barely recovered from the last freshly-made justiciar, still catching her breath and clutching at newly-unshattered ribs.
Aylin has goaded him before. Barked out whatever insult came to mind, every threat and vow of vengeance most bloody on both him and his coward of a general, who so adamantly refuses to come face her. But this time - she will find she cannot remember, after, what it was she said that led to this - if she even said anything.
But whatever she does or mutters or simply is right then crosses some threshold, unfathomable to her. Something that permits such aimless, gratuitous cruelty, justifies it in the mind of the truly monstrous. 
Balthazar is uncharacteristically silent, the usual sick gloating absent, when he gestures for the hands to pull her to her knees, to hold her in place; when they grip her neck and claw her head back and rip her jaw open against all her mighty strain, as if she is not even trying to resist. When she tastes the rust of the blade and then the rust of her own blood.
Her mouth burns, jaw and chin and palate aflame, agony spreading from the carelessly cut lip down to her throat. She spits blood, and blood, and blood, but it will not stop, and it chokes her. Dizzying, mortifying. Hunched over after she is released, one hand clenched in the dirt of her rocky prison, barely holding her up, the other scrabbling at her neck.
She cannot speak aloud the words that old and young, great and small throughout Faerûn know will bring the Moonmaiden's keen-eyed, loving gaze to them. But then, she has never really needed to. Selûne has ever kept watch over Her daughter, Her sword.
Mother. Aylin tries to think, upwards, upwards, imagining flying up to pierce the shadowy dome. Mother, hear me, when they would silence me.
Nothing. 
Balthazar shuffles into her blurred view, doing something with a jar, and silver-flecked muscle and--
And what will he do with it? What does he do with all else he steals from her? It is a horror she does not want to contemplate.
Her tongue, made for poetry, made for battle cries and striking fear into the unworthy and the wicked, into the scheming and the twisted. Made for jubilation and proclamation, made for testifying the glory of her Mother and the good, righteous cause she championed so gladly. Made to argue and philosophise. Made for joy and pleasure taken in the mortal and worldly and wondrously, preciously, divinely mundane: tasting fine wine and succulent food and the sweetest of lips and the softest of skin and most cherished of flesh, all hers, once, all of it -- all of it taken, gone.
Lost.
Instead, violation and violence. A cut throat, and spilt guts. And here comes one with a cruel mace - atypical, for Sharran clergy. She would laugh at herself, a half-mad thing, at the spark of absurd, sick excitement at being murdered slightly unusually - but what else is there? What is there, here, in the void?
Nothing. Nothing nothing nothing. Pain, or nothing.
Her.
Aylin does not attempt to pray when she next rises. She screams curses and barely-coherent tirades against her hated, hateful aunt, if only for there to be something, anything else.
"Silence," comes that rarely-heard voice. Despised, yet known. "My sister spawned a rabid dog, it seems."
A gleam of feeble triumph warms Aylin's heart. A response provoked. A goddess' hand forced, even if in a matter so very small. She stands, as tall and proud as she can in bloodied rags. "I was chosen to bear her light, to be her sword, to champion her cause--"
"She did not choose you," the voice cuts her off, growing louder and closer, echoing in the endless chasm of its domain, surrounding. "She made you. And what a pitiful job she did of it, too." The disdain is palpable, radiating out of every wisp of shadow swirling around the lonesome platform. "She whelped you to hunt down my faithful."
"She charged me with protecting her own." Aylin glares into the darkness, turning this way and that, trying to fathom where to best aim her fury from her perch in the eye of a growing storm. 
"She who seeks always to steal from me, to supplant me, she who knows no measure, whose ambitions know no end."
The raging shadows swirl ever closer, angrier and angrier still. But Aylin refuses to be cowed, refuses to yield, faced with the one who gives her purpose. For the Sword of the Silverlight is a necessity, yes, but it is not Selûne who makes it so. It is her spiteful sister and her misguided followers, ever prowling and looking to harm.
"You lie, as always, Lady of Loss. She wishes only for peace, for her faithful to be left to make their own way, to flourish. Without your schemes, there would be no need for my service at all."
A clap of thunder behind her; Aylin turns, but not in time to see the grasping shadows that rush towards her, wind around her legs and arms, around her neck and chest. Restraints nothing like the eerie, necrotic claws, but just as cold and cruel and unmoveable.
"Ah, so my sister needs to bind her paladins with chains of bloodline to ensure they serve her?" The voice is mocking, and so very, very near. As if Shar herself is standing there, speaking in Aylin's ear as her shadows mercilessly pull her down. "Perhaps, for once, she is right. For I have claimed a prize from her already, and he has brought me you."
"I am not bound," Aylin spits out, pulling against her fetters, grinding her knuckles to dust and bone on the cold stone of her prison. "I am not bound. I choose, I serve, I am faithful--"
"You are a failure."
"I am-- I am Dame Aylin Silverblood, Sword of the Moonmaiden, Moon Daughter, Bearer of the Silverlight. When I am free, there will be a mighty reckoning. I will bring it on wings of silver, on the edge of my blessèd sword, in the name of my Mother, and in my own name."
"You are a failure," the darkness repeats, unphased, calm, certain, factual, "and so you have been discarded."
"I am," Aylin starts, barely forces out, then stops, gritting her teeth against the burning pressure, the rancid atmosphere cloaking her prison. "I am--"
"I am the Nightsinger and you are my Nightsong, and so it is mine to silence you."
The darkness becomes tangible, cloying, suffocating. Aylin tries to draw breath but finds that she cannot. Cannot see through the thickening murk even to the sickly blazing runes of her prison-circle.
"The moon does not shine its foul light here, and it never will. Here, in my perfect dark, we are gloriously free of it. Howl your foolish prayer-ditties, Nightsong - they will fall upon no ears. Your ever-whimsical, capricious mother has abandoned you to my care."
The shadows tighten and Aylin chokes on darkness like she choked on blood. Her back burns with phantom pains, spiking up and down her shoulder blades, and every wound and indignity feels visited upon her again. A scream feels like it should tear itself from her throat, but there is only silence.
"In the creation of my army, I have given you purpose. Much more than my pathetic sister ever has. And once that purpose is fulfilled, I will silence you forever."
She finds herself sprawled on the ground, suddenly free of the restraints, as the final, threatening proclamation rattles through her muscle, deep into her bones.
"The loss of a daughter," Shar sounds amused, almost, a cruel smile tainting her words, "is devastating, I hear. It will make a fine gift for my deserving kin. Now rise. One approaches who must prove their worth."
Aylin's mind is flooded with Isobel, Isobel, Isobel, and her chest feels like it will cave in on itself.
-
The air rushes in, finally, and Aylin tastes blood in her mouth from a bitten cheek, feels a pounding in her head - and very little else. A cool balm, a much-needed distance has been put between her and the red-hot thornvine of the past century, and it allows her to breathe.
She blinks, and knelt before her is Isobel, alive and whole, in a simple nightgown, hands aglow with the remnants of a freshly cast spell.
"Aylin?" She asks, cautiously, with the telltale downturn of the corner of her mouth that means she is concentrating. Her eyes are wide and filled to the brim with such tender concern, the restrained but clearly pained tremble in her voice more agonising than any Sharran knife. She keeps her distance, though the tension and the need to leap forward, to be close, to hold, is palpable.
"You were… I tried to wake you, but you weren't responding. It was like you were lost to me."
Lost.
"I am…"
Aylin stops, because she does not know what words could follow and not be lies.
"This will only last a minute. Please, stay with me, Aylin. Alright?"
Aylin nods.
"Breathe with me." 
Aylin does.
"May I touch you?"
Aylin hesitates, where she should have roared her enthusiastic consent. But her entire body still feels raw.
"...yes," she says only when she truly feels it to be true, and Isobel seems… proud?
The lightest, gentlest hand comes to rest on her cheek and jaw. Familiar, loved, ever so slightly colder than… than before. Isobel.
She would have nuzzled into it happily, usually, pressed a kiss or two to the soft palm. It is a bit much at the moment, though, just that little bit too close, and so Aylin slowly pries it off her cheek and holds the hand between both her own instead.
Then the minute is up and the spell wears off, and the veil that was between her and what seems like the rest of the world abruptly falls away. Aylin draws air in with mounting effort, then lets it out in a hiss at the flood of sensation.
But the hand between hers serves to ground; Isobel's eyes, luminous in the moonlight that seeps into the room, hold her own and seem to encompass her entire.
"Should I cast it again?" Isobel asks softly, free hand already rising towards Aylin's temple.
She moves to decline, muster up some sort of casual air, but stops herself at the last moment. Digs down to the soldierly disposition that has been a help to her, an ingrained way to make sense of so much. It does no good to overestimate one's own capability. Her mind rattles off, almost of its own accord. A correct measure of one's strength is key to all engagements.
"Once-- once more, please, my love," Aylin asks, and is mildly surprised at the complete lack of shame and nauseating sense of inadequacy that had, for a time, become her stalwart companions.
"As many times as you need," Isobel says reassuringly, already leaning forward and reaching out with both hands. "There is no shame in accepting help."
It is a song and dance they both know well by now. The words Isobel has spoken what must be hundreds of times, in an effort to make them real and true to Aylin.
Her touch on what feels like the sides of Aylin's troubled mind accompanied by a murmured incantation take all of a second, but the coolness and numbness and the slight drowsiness ripple outward and encompass her again. The separation from herself, the distance from everything, is always mildly discomfiting and ever-so-slightly reminiscent of the Shadowfell - a reassuring fact, as Aylin takes it to mean she is in no danger of craving it, or growing to depend on it.
It is but a moment of reprieve each time. But it is just enough to buy her a chance to shore up her own defences, when they have been so cruelly torn down by the workings of her own unconscious mind. She places her hands over Isobel's own once again, breathes in time with her, and thinks, very deliberately, of little else.
This time, when the minute runs out, the shock of being plunged back into the world is barely noticeable. 
There is no brand-wound placed on her by Shar, like brave Shadowheart still bears. And yet it still feels so often like her aunt's cruel grasp is lying in wait behind every shadow, waiting to snatch her up and pull her down, down, down, until her knees meet the cold rune-inscribed rock in the heart of the Shadowfell.
It makes Aylin still want to laugh at herself, sometimes. Her knees are, in fact, resting on the finest mattress of the grandest bed Waterdeep's House of the Moon could provide. Her legs are entangled with duvets filled with the softest down, with sheets of finest silk. And yet, and yet.
But she does not let out any bark of bitter, self-deprecating laugh, for even after everything, there is Isobel. The anchor. The crux of everything. The eye of a swirling storm. A beacon of light so blessedly blinding it washes out all else, all pain and sorrow and acrid, biting memory.
Isobel, whose mere presence drowns out the roaring winds of the Shadowfell, fills up the Lady of Loss' cursed silence that steals and numbs everything it touches.
Isobel, something to focus on when all else is too much, or too little. Who scuttles closer to Aylin on the bed once she sees her calmed enough, and leans in until they are pressed shoulder to shoulder.
"Would you like to talk about it?" Her thumb rubs small, delicate circles into the back of Aylin's hand.
Aylin sighs. "I cannot possibly begin to explain… to put into words…"
"Could you try? For me, my love, and for yourself?"
The only thing silencing Aylin now is she herself. 
Truth and honesty, ideals to strive for - and the light that chases away any Sharran shadow. Aylin draws in a deep breath, as much as her chest that still feels cramped will allow. Squares her shoulders as if preparing for combat.
And still her words come out hesitant, almost meek. "I would not have wanted you to bear witness, then. To… to their crimes, their sins against me. To my shame. And so I do not want to make you a witness to them now, even if it is only through my telling."
She feels reluctant to expose Isobel to any of it. Even when, yes, she is an accomplished cleric and a healer and has seen and dealt with her own share of horrors, but…
"Aylin," the palpable pain in Isobel's wide eyes is already too much as she reaches out a gentle hand again, turning Aylin's face towards her. "You are the woman I love, and the chosen of my heart. Nothing will ever change that."
"It has been nigh a year." Aylin knows she sounds petulant. Knows she would have thoughtlessly blinked away the meagre span of a single year, before.
"Compared to a hundred?" Isobel shakes her head, looks at her almost pleadingly. That way she does, the way she seems to have reserved for whenever Aylin insists she should think nothing of the way she hastily exited a too-tight or too-dark space.
"Fine. Fine, my love, for you," Aylin breathes out. "But… outside. Let us first recover somewhat, in my Mother's light."
Let Her hear as well.
Isobel rises, takes her by the hand, and pulls her along, gently, out onto the balcony. Theirs is a spacious, luxurious suite situated in the prime spot of the temple complex housing wing, overlooking the luscious inner gardens in the House of the Moon. Usually, neither of them care for the pomp and circumstance their visits tend to invite in Selûnite spaces. But this time Aylin feels grateful for both the privacy and the position under the moonlight dome, as she does little but breathe in the scent of the moonflowers, freshly opened for the night, each cupping a little mote of moonlight and embracing it in blue.
For a good while, until Aylin feels ready, Isobel chatters, hums, softly fills any second of silence. She has come to understand so much, and Aylin is so grateful as she lets the sweet voice buoy her heart, carry her. 
It felt near-blasphemous, at first, these calls to a goddess over things she would have once called trivial. But the joint efforts of her Mother and her beloved have convinced her they are anything but. 
Mother? Aylin sends out the simplest of thoughts as she gazes upward and feels the moonlight bathe her face, fill her heart to bursting, settle around her shoulders like a blanket.
I hear you, daughter. I see you. I hold you under my gaze, safe.
This, too, is her birthright. Simple reassurance.
Under her Mother's silver eye, guarded in the circle of Isobel's arms, Aylin speaks. Once her words run dry and she is left feeling drained, scoured out, head dizzyingly feather-light, Isobel finally moves from her side. She returns within moments, wraps herself around Aylin and wraps them both in a star-embroidered coverlet. 
"Never again," Isobel whispers, all moon-bathed steel, as she presses a dozen soft kisses to Aylin's face, then holds her to her chest. "I will not let anyone harm you again."
It is a heartwarming, if impossible thought. Aylin doesn't have it in herself to do anything but believe it.
The moon continues on her path across the sky, her Tears shining bright, as the night descends into a silence that is both warm and comfortable.
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garbbitch · 3 days
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Mine
1/2
jb x reader
inspired by Guilty as Sin? by Taylor Swift
also!! happy lesbian visiblity week!
after a long night you were finally in bed at 11 and like clock work your mind drifted to the one person you shouldn't be thinking about. you tossed and turned as thoughts of her flooded your mind. her eyes, her lips, her nose, those fucking hands, her tattoos. it was almost a ritual for you at this point. you met her at an event with naomi, they had convinced you to go with them cause katie and jo were busy, but julien had been on your mind ever since.
you grunted and turned over in bed.
YN: i could kill you
NAOMI: what?
YN: this is all your fault
NAOMI: what're you even talking about?
YN: i feel like i've caught the pleauge 🤮
NAOMI: eww stay away from me
YN: UGH not acutally
YN: it's julien
NAOMI: huh?
YN: JULIEN
YN: she's all i can think about
YN: and its your fault.
YN: i'm loosing sleep
YN: and when i do finally sleep i dream about her
NAOMI: eek!
NAOMI: don't talk to me about your weird freky sex dreams
YN: I NEVER SAID ANYTHING ABOUT SEX DREAMS
NAOMI: well, are they?
YN: shut up
YN: i'm going to sleep.
NAOMI: need batteries?
YN: 🖕
You threw your phone at the wall and stared at the cieling. this shit sucks. you swore the ceiling started to look like her. i’m going insane.
your mind drifted to her again, thinking of the 2 second conversation you had with her, you could’ve sworn she was flirting with you, but when her attention was pulled elsewhere it killed any hope you had in your mind.
[flashback]
“go talk to her, she’s super chill” naomi said to you after watching you gawk at julien from across the room.
“no” you said simply. “it’ll kill me, i can’t” that made naomi laugh quite loud and you whacked their shoulder.
“shut up” you said back to them.
you psyched yourself up enough to go talk to her. she was wearing a tank top with a button-up over it, it wasn’t buttoned up though.
As you walked over you felt your stomach drop to your toes, you started to turn back to naomi who practically pushed you into julien.
"OH MY GOSH! sorry! i didn't see you there" you spoke quickly as you stepped back from her.
"it's alright, you're good," she said gently, turning to face you. you stumbled backward and she gently grabbed your waist. "careful" she said softly, smirking a little.
"thanks," you said, your cheeks felt like they were on fire, and you were no doubt blushing.
"oh, i'm sorry. where are my manners. i'm julien," she said as she took her hand off your waist.
"i'm YN," you said gently, she held out her hand to shake yours. you shook her hand, you were suddenly conscious of whether your palms were sweaty or not. her hand lingered on yours for a moment.
"nice to meet you," you said as you met her gaze. someone came by, you loosely recognized the person to be phoebe.
"lucy needs you for somethin," she spoke quickly, not even turning to see who julien was speaking to. phoebe quickly pulled her away leaving you in the dust.
you walked back to naomi, “i wanna leave.” you said gently. naomi looked at you concerned.
“what happened?” they asked with genuine confusion.
“i don’t even know, some person named lucy needed her for something.” you said softly, you were a little sad the conversation ended so abruptly.
[end of flashback]
now you were in bed, staring at the walls, at the ceiling, and the ground. trying to get her off your mind. you started to doze off, still thinking about the way she held your waist.
the feeling of her hand rattled around your sleepy mind until you were fully asleep. you had no doubt it was gonna make you dream about her… again.
you were back at that party, but it was just you and julien, you guys were standing together talking like you were before you were interrupted by phoebe.
“it’s nice to meet you,” she said gently, her hand was still on your waist and she held out her hand for you to shake it.
you shook her hand and she brought your hand to her lips to kiss your knuckles. you blushed and she smirked.
“well, yn, you’re very pretty” she said gently as she looked you in the eye.
“you’re not too bad yourself.” you said as you blushed even more. you not so subtly checked her out and she noticed immediately.
“my eyes are up here.” she said softly, she was teasing you, and you were just letting her. you blushed even more, you were convinced your face was beet red.
she chuckled, “you’re cute when you blush” she said gently, you were convinced you were gonna explode.
“th-thanks.” you stuttered. she chuckled again.
“can i kiss you, pretty girl?” she asked softly, you guys were standing close together and you subtly stepped closer. you nodded.
“i need words, babes.” she said gently.
“please?” you mumbled softly, she closed the small gap between her lips and yours. as you kissed you were brought to a bed of clouds, both you suddenly laying on it together. [an: shut up, ik it doesn’t work that way but it’s a dream] she gently deepened the kiss making you moan softly. you tangled your hands in her hair.
“julien—” you moaned her name softly. she gently caressed your cheek.
“what’s the matter, princess?” she asked gently. your cheeks flushed.
“jules, i need you” you mumbled, she kissed you again.
“so cute.” she whispered before kissing your cheek and moving her lips to your jaw and neck. you moaned and tangled your hands in her hair.
she gently tugged on your shirt and you pulled it off before she could say anything. her mouth watered at the sight of your tits in your bra.
“wow—” she breathed softly, “can i- uh, kiss them?” she asked softly, you nodded.
“words, babes, words.” she said gently as she toyed with the strap on your shoulder.
“please kiss my tits.” you said softly. she chuckled and pulled your bra off before kissing both tits, giving them equal attention. she sucked on one, as she fondled the other. you were squirming beneath her. she pushed her leg between your legs.
“oh fuck— julien!” you moaned out, she smirked up at you.
“enjoying yourself, princess?” she asked softly, you nodded and she laughed softly. “so fuckin cute” she whispered as she kissed your stomach and made her way to the top of your jeans. you felt like you were on cloud nine.
“fuck julien—” you moaned. she looked at you with a smirk.
“what’s the matter baby?” she asked gently as she ran a tattooed finger over the button of your jeans. you whined softly. “words baby” she chastised.
“please j, please” you whined softly, she unbuttoned your pants real slow, kissing your hips and upper thighs as she pulled them down. you tried to move your hips in an attempt to get any friction where you needed her.
“so naughty” she teased.
your alarm went off and you groaned. fuck this. you tiredly walked to where you threw your phone the previous night.
UNKNOWN #: hey! it’s julien, from that party the other day.
UNKNOWN #: is this yours? [insert picture of a hair-clip]
your stomach did a backflip. what the fuck?
[THE END]
AN: don’t be mad at me for the abrupt end. there’s a reason.
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Text
One more tomorrow, with you.
Hi. Sorry if this isn't good, it's 4 in the morning.
Warning(s): None really. This isn't yandere, and there's not really any other content I feel needs a warning. It is a bit angsty though.
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Isn't it fun?
Being friends with one of the scariest people in the school had its benefits. Nobody dared mess with you, because they knew what he would do to them.
Why is Floyd so nice to you? You'd never know.
Especially not with how everything turned out.
"(Y/N)!" Some faceless classmate called your name. "I was wondering if I could practice a spell on you?"
"Oh... sure, I guess." You were unsure. You didn't want this, but you couldn't say no for some reason. Perhaps it was fate?
"Thanks. It's nothing too bad, don't worry. It's just a very simple, and very weak, time travel spell." Your classmate explained. "It'll send you one minute into the future. You'll be a bit disoriented, but nothing too bad will happen."
One minute...
A lot can happen in only one minute.
"...alright, do it."
You didn't want to agree. You felt like something was going to go wrong... but, you couldn't stop yourself from agreeing.
Your classmate pointed their magic pen at you... but just at that moment-
"Heyyyyy, what's going on here~?" A very familiar voice chimed in, as a certain someone placed his hands on your shoulders. "You threatening my little cleaner shrimp here??"
"Ah, no, don't worry, Floyd." You told him. "It's nothing major, he's just gonna test out a spell on me."
"Mmmmhh... well, it's probably nothin' good, knowing how people like to treat you... whatever you do to 'em, you do to me, alright?" Floyd asked, trying to threaten your classmate.
Floyd's threat probably worked... which could have been why your classmate messed up so severely.
They were worried about messing up. Worrying about messing up leads to concentrating on the spell even more, perhaps accidentally making it more powerful...
The spell was only supposed to send you one minute in the future, and yet...
When the light cleared...
Nothing was there anymore.
You and Floyd were met with a wasteland.
Crumbly old rocks were all around... perhaps the ruins of what was once NRC.
"...where the hell are we-?"
You remember Floyd was confused. You were too, obviously, you were only meant to find yourself one minute in the future, not... whenever you are now.
You were both panicked and confused, of course... everything (and presumably everyone) you ever knew was just... gone.
...
Floyd helped you through it.
Oh, Floyd... he either didn't care at all, or was simply very good at hiding his emotions.
On the incredibly rare occasion that he did open up to you... you were there for him, like he was for you. Or at least, you'd like to think you were.
It's a strange thing, knowing you'll be the last person to ever do something.
It's like when you throw a rock into the ocean. You don't think about it for the most part... but then, every now and again, you'll look at that rock you're about to throw... and you'll realize you're probably the last human who will ever see that rock. But then, you throw it anyways... because at the end of the day, it doesn't matter.
It doesn't matter that you're the last person to walk on this world.
You made footsteps in the sand with him as you two walked through the endless wasteland, through a strange field of gigantic stone spikes...
As you walked through this field... through this wasteland... it was hard to stay alive.
There wasn't any food around, and there wasn't any water...
Floyd would one day revert and suffocate, and you would one day starve.
There wasn't anything the two of you could do about it... but that was okay. You were at peace with it.
...
Was he?
Was Floyd at peace with it?
You never actually asked him.
Would anything have changed... if you were there for him, just as he was there for you?
Could something have changed?
...probably not.
On that final day, as you succumbed to your starvation, that was the only thing you could properly think about.
Your regrets.
Nothing else, just regrets.
Then, you woke up.
You woke up in a hospital bed.
And that was when you realized you weren't hungry, it didn't hurt to breathe, you weren't subjected to the relentless heat and cold.
None of that ever happened.
None of that ever existed.
...
Floyd never existed.
But if that's true, why do you still feel such regret for not being there for him as he was for you?
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firesmokeandashes · 4 months
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I had a weird dream last night.
Izuku was some kind of mystical wishing star boy who had been trapped in a cave, and Katsuki, who was batman for some reason, found him.
There were relatively no rules to what the finder of the wishing star could wish for. So Katsuki wished for Izuku to travel with him and grant him (Katsuki) anything he wished for whenever he wished for it.
But Katsuki was very wise with his wishes because, like he's batman, he's kind of a billionaire and can get whatever he fucking wants anyways. He was also extremely kind to Izuku, and Katsuki thinks Izuku is pretty and sweet, so they ended up falling in love. In my dream, I'm shown this through a batman tv show montage intro.
Like it was cinematic, with mysterious music playing in the background mixed with a cinematic version of the batman theme song, panoramic camera shots, and one of those comic style 'on a dark rooftop' silhouette kissing scenes.
It was all very interesting.
Then the dream cut to this scene where this villain, who I think, was a mix of egghead and a mafia cartel guy, thinks he has somehow convinced Izuku to betray Katsuki (a.k.a batman), and is bringing Batman to him.
Izuku, of course, told Katsuki about this, and together, they came up with this genius plan that only worked because it was a dream.
The plan was that Izuku would take a mechanical bat suit with him and make it look like the suit was somehow under his control due to mind control or something. The bat suit looked like the one from the bat man versus super man movie except it had red glowing eyes and was mechanical.
Anyway, Izuku brought the suit with him. It basically followed his every move, and he brought it to the villain. The villain, of course, was very pleased with this and told Izuku he would be well compensated. Then he pulled out a pistol, that looked like it belonged in one of the westerns my grandpa watches, and tells Izuku to get out of the way.
When Izuku didn't move, the villain clicked the gun safety off and told Izuku one more time to "get out of the way before he shot both of them."
When Izuku didn't move again, the villain pulled the trigger, Izuku somehow managed to duck just in time, causing the suit to duck with him because it was somehow hooked up to follow all of Izuku's major body movements.
Then Katsuki comes crashing in through a skylight and knocks the villain unconscious.
Then my dream ended.
Also, during the entire dream, I got the sense that Katsuki and Izuku have full undying trust in the other and that they are deeply in love.
It wasn't specifically stated, I just knew because that's what my subconscious told me.
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fbfh · 2 years
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No bc Billy is such a fucking caring protective boyfriend. Once he decides you're - for all intents and purposes - part of his pack, he will always protect you. The party, the other teens, even Hopper and Joyce (along with Max and Susan obviously) are all part of his little circle of people that he will never let anything bad happen to. Any time you're having a problem, he can tell. You've just started going straight to Billy when you have a problem because he's so quick to tell when something is wrong. You know why he's so good at picking up on miniscule changes in someone's mood and behavior, and it breaks you heart. But now, like so many other traits and defense mechanisms he's developed, he's able to use them for good, to protect you and your friends. It's not perfect, but it's a huge improvement.
One time you ran up to him, he knew something was wrong just by the way you were walking before he even saw your face, and started telling him everything, trying to hold yourself together. Whether the guys you had bumped into made fun of you or just made you uncomfortable, you know Billy won't let it slide.
"I was just trying to walk my dog, and they won't leave me alone, and-"
He puts a hand on your shoulder, and you know he has this under control.
"Those guys over there?" He asks, voice low and calculated. You nod.
"Stay here." He states, giving your dog an appreciative scratch on the head for helping to look after you. He resolves the issue out of earshot and out of your sight. You don't know the details, but the next time you see those guys, they turn and practically run the other way. When you thank him for taking such good care of you, keeping you safe, he presses a kiss to your forehead.
"'Course. I always will."
Every day that you or one of the kids or even his friends feel safe enough to come and talk to him when you're feeling vulnerable, every day someone comes to him to feel safe is another day he knows he beat the statistics, broke out of the cycle. It's more and more proof that he did it, and he can keep doing it, for you guys and for himself.
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whumpy-wyrms · 5 months
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yk i was having trouble writing tllr chapter 12 because Dew is sick with a fever in the beginning and i just,, idk felt uninspired or something because im not the biggest fan of sickfics or whatever
well now i’m sick with a fever and it’s helll so sorry Dew im gonna have to put you through this now my bad 👍👍 at least i am now inspired
if this post makes no sense it’s because my brain hurts and i’m tired 👍👍👍
#i’m fine it’s just kinda funny#like last night i was writing ahead to chapter 14 because i was stuck on chapter 12 cuz i didn’t know how to write it#and now i’m sick with a fever just like Dew hahahaha sorry buddy but we’re in this together now 👍👍👍 and it’s 105 idk if that’s normal#at least it’s giving me inspiration and i am no longer stuck on it#but i’m too sick to fucking write it!!!! i wanna write uhhgjjfjdjd#ok im done#well actually i had the craziest dream last night#it was about this new animated movie that doesn’t exist and i was watching it/ acting it out as the main character and it was so fucking#cool like i was flyingggg!!! i was a weird purple creature with wings and was flying just like dew it was fucking awesome#like there were so many really cool characters with really creative designs and the antagonist was a weird giant bug who could also fly#so he was chasing me around in the air and it was so cool i was so fast flying around like in a minecraft elytra course#i love vivid dreams like that that feel real and like after the movie was finished i posted on tumblr about how much i loved this new#netflix animated movie and my mutuals were there and also thought it was cool#anyway it was fun i love flying in my dreams i feel so free.. unlike Dewey oopsie sorry buddy#deweyeyeyeye ur so silly i love him SO MUCH#ok im gonna shut up now#wyrms says stuff#fever#fever dream#if i tagged this as irl whump would i also have to tag it as minor whump hahahhaha#idk i wanna play roblox with my mutuals again#mutuals if ur reading this u can literally bother me to play video games all day every day because the answer will always#be an enthusiastic YESS!!!!#i should watch nightmare time today#no dumbass i should REST dumbass ehehheehe#i’m being so annoying again sorry everyone 😼😼😼😼
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cluelesslesbian · 10 months
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sad sapphic hours ✌😔
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achillean-knight · 1 month
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The incredible urge to do more surrealism in my FNAF AU GEEEHHH
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sysig · 2 months
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New dream OCs drop (Patreon)
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letstrywritingmaybe · 4 months
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A pop up marriage license bureau is opening up in the Vegas airport because it’ll be 123123, alright who’s going to write me this kaishi fic cause it’s gotta be done now
Update: I’m all caught up on Bob’s Burgers, and how I have no idea what I should watch that I can play in the background without necessarily paying attention at all times. I am finally finishing Schitt’s Creek and I’m crying cause Patrick and David are so freaking cute. But I’m still sad about Alexis and Ted, I’ve loved them since the start. I never liked what’s his face, Mutt? I don’t even remember his name any more. And Twyla being the best friend ever. Omm and Stevie, I just love all the brotps okay. I’m gonna watch the last episode now and probably cry some more. Okay now I want a CoAi wedding. My whole heart, someone write me this fic
Update 2: catching up with spy family and I finally finished season one. I do adore this anime. Becky and Anya are the best brotp and I love them so much! Like yes I love the found family aspect too, but I really have a thing about girlies sticking together and being bffs, it’s why I say death to the love triangle trope
Update 3: I’m slowly starting the pov series, but all I want to do is read fics. I don’t want to write *sigh. I haven’t gotten very far, but I woke up very early for me and took a nap on the couch cause I couldn’t be bothered to go upstairs to my room and my brain was being very loud. It’s why I’m a midnights girly even though it’s daytime. Anyways I was thinking of something I missed out on and I thought I was over it but evidently I wasn’t cause I was getting sad. So what better way to fix it then to write fic about it and give the happily every after to my ship. But for the record, missing out on HS things is a part of the journey and it’s okay. The one who got away mentality is too harmful me thinks, but as someone who loves romance and the idea of it I get it. *sigh I sometimes still think about writing a fic just hella projecting, it’s me I’m the problem it’s me. It’s why I gave up on pursuing romance, I can’t handle it and I’m so afraid of losing myself because I know I’m the type to do it. But anyways, magic portal into the past to change one moment fic cause I’ve never written one of those before
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you-are-my-neverland · 9 months
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taking a creative writing intro course this fall and i’m so, so excited!!!!
#.txt#it definitely wasn't in the books but the other two courses i had slotted aren't going to work until the spring so i chose it as a filler#and then got really attached to it#first had to submit to the humiliating ordeal of confirming it was a personal interest course to my advisor but she was chill with it haha#(bc she was pushing for me to take another course that's only offered in the fall but i said maybe next year because i'm already taking two#other language courses) (it's too complicated for the tags)#i'm just genuinely so so excited#hoping it will consistently inspire me to write + i'll feel a little more learned#since i loved creative writing in high school but the first year of college was just crazy insane busy (which is kind of the vibe for my#future endeavors as well because almost full time work full time school ahahah)#of course scared that i'll have hardcore imposter syndrome and everyone else will be better writers and talented and passionate#which i want! but it also makes me feel a sort of weird vibe idk i know i'm good at writing. but the technical aspect is tricky#plus there's also weird feelings about childhood dreams -#as in i always wanted to be a writer but i learned to bite down on that dream because obviously it wasn't going to work out#so sometimes i feel like i failed myself by giving up on my dream even though i didn't really?#because studying something else was the practical choice for ensuring i have more prospects for career etc#plus i do like what i'm studying now#but writing was just what i always wanted you know#so i guess i can reclaim it a little now#school starts in two days though. haha *dies*
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goldpilot22 · 2 years
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possible reactions to becoming a god when it's been over 100 years since the gods last incarnated and nobody thought it could still happen
inspired by this post by 27thfirefly!
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sinniebon · 8 months
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babes i ought to tell you all about the weird dreams i've been having recently.
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Only in Dreams
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Pairing: Azriel x Reader
Summary: In his dreams, Azriel recounts how he got to his mate.
Word count: 2k
Warnings: Some angst, mentions of injuries
a/n: Hi this is my first acotar fic idk what I'm doing. I've been reading them for years so here's a little one for fun <3 I know it's different from my usual but inspiration is a finicky creature :) Also, italics denote flashbacks.
~~
There was very little Azriel wouldn’t do for his mate. 
He had learned that early on. 
In those early days, when the bond had made itself known to only him, there was so much confusion and strife within the shadowsinger. He had known you for decades, admired you from afar, and befriended you under self-made pretenses. You were a light, a healer, too good and sweet to be anything to him other than a friend, a coworker. 
But you were also his mate. 
The air had been knocked from his lungs at the realization. 
“Is everything okay?” you had asked, sweet confusion bunching at your brows. 
And Azriel couldn’t answer, not for several long beats. 
“Az, what’s wrong? You look like Cassian after he took that weird herb Majda wanted me to test.”
Another bout of silence, this time accompanied by soft, warm hands along his cheeks. You leaned in, the sweet scent knocking him out of his stupor. As he jerked back, you only followed, blinking in surprise. 
“Azriel—” 
“I apologize,” he finally—weakly—stammered out. “I was talking with Rhys.” 
“You were talking with Rhys?” 
It hadn’t sounded much like a question, but Azriel nodded anyways, enraptured by you and your closeness. He needed to get away, to leave. You were too close. He was too weak. 
But then you giggled, and the sound was so melodic and saccharine that he found himself breathless again. He could get lost in that sound. If he was being honest with himself, he had gotten lost in that sound plenty of times before. But now… now. Gods, now you were his mate. 
As you laughed some more, teasing retorts echoing in the air, Azriel knew you had no idea. 
And, as Azriel had learned, that was fine. You didn’t need to know. Because he knew, and that was enough. 
Enough for the overwhelming devotion he felt for you to finally have substance. To finally be validated. 
You were his—everything sweet and good was his to protect. And, gods, did he want to protect you. 
You made that very difficult in the weeks after the bond had snapped for him. His instincts were in overdrive, taking note of your every move and praying to the cauldron that you were careful when he was sent on missions and you stayed back in Velaris. He had nothing to worry about when that was the case. The inner circle loved you almost as much as he did. 
But then Rhys decided you were needed. 
With an unreciprocated mating bond and a mate that cared so little for her own self-preservation, that had been Azriel’s worst nightmare. 
“Reconsider.” 
“There is nothing to reconsider, Azriel. We need a healer in Windhaven to show them that the clipping won’t be seen to fruition. And y/n just so happens to be our court healer,” Rhys carefully explained for the third time. 
“Send Majda.” 
Rhys held the bridge of his nose. “There is a reason y/n took over her post. Madja is far too old to be making those kinds of trips.” 
“Send anyone else,” Azriel rasped, a tightness to his words. 
“No. She is the best. It will only be for a few weeks and Cassian—” 
“Rhysand.” 
Rhys paused at the desperation laced within his brother’s tone. He removed the fingers attempting to abate the ache along his temple and observed Azriel’s clenched fists and restless shadows. Rhys’s lips parted in shock, his eyes blinking in quick succession. Something clicked within his gaze.
“Is she…” 
The muscle in Azriel’s jaw quivered. “Just don’t send her there. Please.” 
Rhys raised a hand to run down his jaw. “My gods, Azriel. This is…this is—does she know?” 
“No,” he replied, quick and low. 
“I understand what you’re feeling, but I can’t stop her. You know that, brother.” 
And, unfortunately, Azriel knew that. 
When you set your mind to something—when you knew you were going to help people—that was it. There would be nothing keeping you from helping those in need. Especially the Illyrian women. Azriel was pretty sure you kept a dartboard somewhere in the house with Lord Devlon’s face on it. 
He loved that about you, truly he did. But it also made you reckless.
There were plenty of instances where you burned yourself out from healing. You would come home swaying on your feet or be so depleted you couldn’t even winnow correctly. He could count on two hands the amount of times you passed out at the dinner table after work. When he thought about you doing that in Windhaven… Azriel couldn’t even stomach the thought. 
“Then order her,” Azriel gritted out. He could hear you coming. You and Cassian, bags packed, chatting down the hall about something insignificant. 
Why couldn’t he come, again? 
Right, because he would “stir up the camp” or whatever obtuse reason Rhys had given him. 
“You know that won’t go over well,” Rhys countered. 
“Neither will the entirety of Windhaven if she gets hurt.” 
Azriel’s threat fell on deaf ears as you came bounding into the room, bright and determined and smiling at him as if you weren’t leaving. 
“Here to see us off, Az?” 
That trip to Windhaven had been awful—for Azriel and for you. Rhys’s “ordering” hadn’t been effective, and neither had Cassian’s ability to pick up on context clues. As you stood, baffled at Rhys’s sudden change in plans, Cassian didn’t so much as look at Azriel’s subtle vies for assistance. Because Cassian had been just as baffled as you were. 
So, you went to Windhaven. 
And then you came home hurt. 
Not terribly, just a few cuts and a black eye that rivaled his own from the last time he trained with the Valkyries. 
Cassian explained that there had been a fight unrelated to you, but you had gotten caught up in it. He suspected it was a ploy to get hands on you, but Azriel had stopped listening to him the second you landed on the balcony with stitches on your forehead. The moment he saw your hands bandaged and your eye purple and blue. 
You had laughed about your inability to fight, knocking an injured hand into Cassian’s side as he jested that it was time for you to get into the training ring with him. Later, Azriel would agree with that sentiment. In that moment, however, unparalleled fear had coursed through his veins. Rhys was the only one ready for it. 
Cassian’s back slammed into the far wall of the house, wings splaying out against stone. Azriel’s shadows were gone as he held his brother against the wall, abandoning him in favor of wrapping around your wounds. 
Azriel thought he heard you scream. 
“You said you would protect her!” he seethed, pushing his forearm against Cassian’s throat, blue siphon blazing atop his hand.
“Azriel, stop!” Your call went unheard. Rhys stood ground in front of you, arm jutting out when you tried to get around him. 
Cassian pushed back against him, face twisted in confusion. “I did. I pulled her from that fight as soon as I could, Az. You think—” his words cut off with another shove from his brother “—you think I would have let anything happen to her on purpose?” 
Azriel growled, low and dangerous. “All I think is that my mate came back looking like that when you swore to take care of her. You swore.” 
The room went silent, stagnant. Even the shadows halted their appraisal of you as you held onto Rhys’s arm. Cassian stopped fighting. Somewhere down the hall, the rushed footsteps of some other member of the family abruptly stopped. 
“She’s your mate?” 
“Azriel—” Your whisper was lost in the lingering chaos of the room. 
The time after was a blur for Azriel. He knew he left the balcony, retreating to his room hastily after sending you a longing, apologetic glance. He knew you called after him, that you were breathless and shaking and Rhys kept holding you back… telling you to give him some time to cool off. 
He didn’t need time. He needed you, and Azriel had been positive that would never happen now. 
Half of his shadows joined him in his room, engulfing him as he sat on his bed with his head in his hands. The other half stayed with you, still worried about the pain that you had endured. It was a miracle you hadn’t sent them away. They would have listened to you if you had. They would always listen to you. 
When the door creaked, his shadows covered him even more, encasing his fear and worry and embarrassment into a shell that kept him safe. 
He was a fool. 
“Azriel?” 
He had to be imagining the sweet trill of your voice. There was no way you had come for him, not after all of that. But soon, your shoes slinked into the mess of shadows between his legs, and a bandaged hand gently guided his chin up. 
When he met your eyes, his shadows circled faster. His wings fell lower and lower against the bed, giving himself up to your gaze. 
“Azriel,” you repeated, music within the swish of dark air. “Care to explain, shadowsinger?”
The bruises on your face made his stomach turn. He went to look away, to escape this physical and mental turmoil, but you only locked your wrists and kept him there. 
It took him a moment, but he finally relented. 
“You are my mate,” he spoke, gravely and unsure—even though that was the one thing Azriel was sure of above all else. “You are my mate and you are hurt. I am sorry for my actions… if I scared you or—” 
“I wasn’t asking about the display of male violence on the balcony.” Your teasing smile made some of his shadows rest.
It also made hope swell within the deepest parts of Azriel’s wearied chest. 
You didn’t look forlorn at his offhanded declaration, nor did you look repulsed. You just looked like… you. You looked at him as you always had, and maybe that meant something. 
Maybe that was something for Azriel to hold onto. 
“How long have you known?” you asked, when he spent a moment too long admiring the upturn of your mouth. 
Azriel blinked, moving his eyes back to your own. “A while.” 
“And you weren’t going to tell me?” You didn’t sound accusatory, or even angry as he was sure Feyre had all those years ago. You only sounded sad. That made it worse. 
“I wanted to tell you,” Azriel stressed, leaning forward on the bed to capture your legs between his. “I wanted to, I just—y/n, I just…” 
There was no solid explanation. You didn’t rush him as he stumbled over his words—you were patient, as you always were. You were patient and Azriel was a coward.
Determination set a line in his brow. 
“I was a coward,” he affirmed. “I didn’t want to push you away… to make you feel unsure or pressured. You are… you are everything. You have been everything to me for many years now. If I had ruined that—if I had pushed something upon you that you did not want—” 
“Has it occurred to you, Azriel, that I would very much like to be your mate?” 
Azriel paused his spiel, licking his drying lips as he searched your eyes for the lie. 
“Only when I dream.” 
You had kissed him after that, all bruised and scratched and broken, and Azriel found himself dreaming.
As he stared at you across the sitting room, surrounded by your raucous, disruptive family, Azriel dreamed again. The glow of the fire lit up the side of your face as you laughed, sending warmth up the long-accepted mating bond, and he dreamed of you in every iteration of his life. 
And he would do anything to keep that dream alive.
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lan-wangjis-autism · 1 year
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Ugh my mouth is dry and I don't want to get up bc when I get up I have to clean my room
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