#A CUT ABOVE THE REST / BLUE & YELLOW.

[kentopedia]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ safe haven — levi ackerman

summary: all you've ever wanted to do was take care of levi.

contents: fem!reader, established relationship, 18+ mdni, baths, fluff, soft!levi, light angst, takes place in early seasons, love, handjobs but the smut is very brief and not graphic — 2.1k

notes. i am so emotional about him

the bathroom door opens, cracks of light filtering through the shadowy space, causing beams to bounce off the soapy water. you don’t hear levi enter, but you feel him, just as you’ve always been able to.

he’s so silent, so careful as he steps, like he’s still expecting a titan to be around the corner at any moment, even when he’s home safe and sound. 

the door shuts, and the flash of yellow fades, the room glowing only by the few candles you have lit around the tub. 

levi says nothing, and you finally open your eyes, lazily trace your gaze across his frame, blurred by the grainy vision of darkness. he’s still wearing his uniform, the straps tight across his chest, though he’s already removing his cape, the emerald, billowing cloth resting loosely in his arms. 

there are swirls of dark colors on his face, deep scarlet cuts and blackened violet bruises. his hair falls over his forehead, thick strands stuck to his forehead from sweat and grime. the shadows under his eyes have only gotten worse, his cheekbones more prominent under his pale skin. 

“levi,” you say, in a voice that’s barely above a whisper, hesitant to break the peaceful silence. 

he glances over, severe blue eyes softening as they take in your relaxed form, glistening under the soapy water. your head rests on your forearms, and you gaze up at him from under wet lashes, the droplets of water sticking to each one. 

for a moment, he says nothing, contemplating as he gazes at you silently. then, he takes a step forward, kneels down to cup your cheek softly, a version of him no one else has ever seen emerging in the comfort of the darkness. 

you lean into his palm, his long, slender fingers rough and callused from all of the fighting. though there’s a comfort in that, in knowing that despite all he’s been through, all that the both of you have been through, you’ve made it home to one another. 

“sorry, the meeting ran late.” he says, studying you before tracing his thumb over your lips, watching the delicate skin bend with the pressure. “some people don’t know how to stop running their mouth.” 

you exhale a short breath, something akin to a laugh, and tug on his wrist, your hand soaking the sleeve of his white button-up. “come get in the bath with me.” 

levi makes a face at you, yanking his wrist loose from your grasp as he reclaims it for himself. “not after you’ve just washed off three days worth of grime. you’re sitting a tub of filth.”

“it’s clean, levi,” you sigh, sitting up so you can reach over the side of the tub for him once more. “i drew another bath, just for you.” 

a snort leaves him, but when he glances back over, he’s distracted by the droplets of water running over your chest, down the soft mounds of your exposed breasts. “i’m sure your intentions were nothing but pure,” levi remarks, but he’s already tugging at the leather straps that support the odm gear, unbuttoning his shirt. 

you laugh, and relax back into the tub as levi folds his clothes up neatly into a pile, despite needing to wash them later. his arms flex as he pulls at the straps of his boots, plains of corded muscles exposed from years of training. 

it’s stupid, really, that levi can’t see how beautiful he is, how he is a work of art, molded from the hands of gods. though they have treated him kindly in appearance, their generosity did not extend to other areas of his life. you try to remind him every day that he is loved, even if he is still uncomfortable about it, if he still shies away when you spout sappy, emotional words at him. 

levi dips a finger into the bath, testing the water, before he climbs in, the tension draining from his shoulders as he sinks into the tub. you’re upon him in an instance, maneuvering him so that he is between your softer thighs, his scarred, tense back on full display. 

“what are you doing?” levi asks, the words leaving him with a sigh as you trace his biceps, muscular and lean, a testament to the fact that levi is the strongest. 

“i’m washing your hair,” you say, but you focus instead on kissing his spine, dragging your fingertips across his hips. 

levi grabs your wrist, yanks hard, before his grip loosens. he twines his fingers with yours, peering over his shoulder so that your eyes meet.

“after all that work to get me naked, you won’t even let me kiss you.” 

you laugh, resting your forehead between his shoulder blades as he presses circles into your palm, relaxing the tendons. “you’ll get a kiss eventually.” 

levi huffs, but releases you, and lets you do as you please. you spill water over his head, the droplets running down the planes of his back, his dark hair turning an even deeper shade of black. 

as his breathing evens out, he grabs your knee under the water, lifting it so he can run a delicate touch down your calf. although, it’s soothing, distracting, you still manage to focus on massaging the soap into his scalp, the strands untangling as you run your hands through them. 

levi hums and leans further into you. it reminds you so much of a cat; he will always shirk away from affection, but he hate it even more when you stop giving it to him. 

you dig your fingers into the base of his skill, releasing the pressure there before massaging his shoulders. fists roam down his back, kneading out the muscles that so rarely get a break. the facade he puts on as captain of the survey corps fades away, and he becomes a softer version of himself, one who is still afraid to love but has always yearned for it even more. 

your hand drifts around him, around his waist, before you reach for his cock under the water, stroking it firmly as you rest your head on his shoulder. 

a stuttered exhale emerges from his chest. “what happened to pure motives?” he snorts, but his eyes flutter closed as you feel him grow harder in your palm.

you kiss his shoulder, up his neck, smiling against his skin. “i just can’t help myself when it comes to you.”

levi huffs out a sound of amusement, and though you can’t see his face, you don’t need to, to know that he is rolling his eyes. “you still haven’t let me give you a kiss,” he says, and you laugh into his back, feeling careless and happy and so full of love for the man who doesn’t let anyone treat him gently but you. 

“fine.” you sit straighter, lean forward so that your lips are the only thing levi sees when he turns his head. you curl them into a gentle smile, pucker them foolishly, but all of his attention is already on you. he craves you so deeply, he doesn’t bother to offer a snarky retort.

levi shifts into you, puffs of air leaving his lips before he kisses you, blue eyes a smokey color, grey with desire. he swipes his tongue along your mouth, tasting the soap that lingers on your skin, devouring you whole. while he kisses you, you stroke your hand up and down his cock, listening to the little sounds that leave his throat, the hoarseness that grows in his voice. 

it doesn’t take much to get levi to turn to putty in your hands; he hides his lust well, his devotion for you, but it is there nonetheless. perhaps he is a strong soldier, but he is a weak man when it comes to the affection of those who love him. 

“fuck,” levi mutters into your mouth, swallowing down his groans as you swipe a finger over his slit. he’s close, obviously so, and you run your other hand up his stomach, feel the ridges of his abdomen that are tense, even under the warm water. “feel so good,” he rasps, lazily kissing across your face. “you’re so pretty.” 

you smile, preening from the compliments that don’t come often, but are always so genuine. 

levi rests his forehead against yours and spills into your hand a moment later, his breathing off-kilter.

there is darkness in his stormy irises, but it clears around you, and that’s all you want, really; to be able to free levi of everything that plagues his mind, if only for a fleeting moment. 

he says your name, whispers it into lips that catch it, the word like honey in his deep voice. 

��hm?” you close you eyes, hearing the soft sounds of his breathing, the heart that beats beneath his ribcage. and it will continue to beat, until you can fight no longer, because you’ll never let a titan or anything else take him away from you.

levi cups your cheek once more, traces his thumb softly across the harsh bones. “you do know i love you… right?” 

the admission of affection catches you off guard. he’s said it before, but he uses it sparingly, and that’s always been okay with you. you know he is afraid of what might happen to you, and you know him too well to try and convince him otherwise. 

“i know. i’ve always know,” you say, kissing him again softly, his lips warm and plump. “you don’t have to tell me.” 

disbelief contorts his face, his dark eyebrows pinching together as he studies you. though you aren’t always the best at convincing him, you stroke his arm, massaging the muscles that are perpetually tense. it’s difficult to avoid the smattering of tender bruises that he can no longer hide under the military uniform. 

“i’m afraid i’m not good at showing it,” levi admits, and you soften, watching as uncertainty infiltrates his normally steadfast eyes. “but i hope—”

“levi,” you say, and you know the tenderness of it makes him cringe, but you can’t help it, not when your heart aches at every moment for the man before you. “just because you don’t show your love in the same way as me, doesn’t mean that i don’t feel it.” 

he stares, blinks once before nodding, letting the words seep into his soul. even though you know it won’t be the last time he admits his self-doubt, you don’t mind reassuring him. you’ll tell him as many times as it takes, repeat the words every moment you’re together for the rest of eternity, if only to make him realize how loved you feel by him. 

you lean back in the tub, your fingers wrinkled and pruned from sitting in the water for so long. but when you try to climb out, levi grabs you wrist once more, stops you with a gentle touch, and guides you back into him. 

his arms wrap around you tightly, nearly crushing your naked, warm bodies together with the force of his embrace. though he not one to let his vulnerabilities show, he still buries his head into your shoulder, lets you see how weary and broken down he has become. 

your nose digs into his dark, wet hair, the scent of shampoo lingering as you melt into him, hugging him back as closely. tension that you hadn’t realized you were hanging onto finally drains from your body, and you feel lighter than you have in days. as if your body has, at last, realized that you are no longer outside of the walls, and this is not a dream, but you truly are home, safe and sound. 

his fingers dig into your back, and you rest against him, never able to resist a moment wrapped up in his arms. 

levi sighs, dragging his nose across his neck. the water will turn cold soon, but you don’t mind. you’ll do whatever levi needs, wait here with him until you are both a shivering mess. 

“i’m glad you’re here,” levi says, just above a whisper as he kisses your collarbone. 

you smile. it’s not exactly another i love you, but you know that’s what he means.

[novaursa]

Eternal Blaze

- Summary: You go after Aegon with your dragon to fight at Rook's Rest.

- Paring: reader (twin!wife)/Aegon II

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N and has same shade of eyes as Aegon. The reader is bonded with a dragon called Starfyre. For full chronological order of these works visit my blog. The list is pinned on the top. Or, you can read it as a one-shot.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 2 475

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

You soar through the skies atop Starfyre, her gleaming silver scales reflecting the sunlight, with hints of pale blue and alabaster shimmering underneath. Starfyre’s powerful wings beat in rhythm with your heart, carrying you swiftly to the battlefield at Rook’s Rest. Below, the chaos of war unfolds, but your focus remains on the sky, where your twin brother and husband, King Aegon II, battles Rhaenys Targaryen, the Queen Who Never Was.

The air is thick with the scent of blood and smoke. You can hear the clash of steel and the screams of men, but above all, you hear the roars of dragons. Starfyre lets out a fierce cry, a call to her brother and mate, Sunfyre, as you near the fray.

In the sky, you see them: Aegon on Sunfyre, his golden scales glowing fiercely, locked in combat with Rhaenys on Meleys, the Red Queen. Meleys clamps her jaws around Sunfyre’s neck, and your heart skips a beat. Without hesitation, you urge Starfyre forward.

"To Aegon, my love," you command, your voice steady despite the turmoil within.

Starfyre responds with a burst of speed, her silver form cutting through the air like a comet. You reach the battle just as Aegon lets out a cry of pain and fury.

"Y/N!" Aegon shouts, his voice strained. "Help me!"

You and Starfyre dive at Meleys, claws extended and jaws snapping. Starfyre's roar echoes through the sky as she rakes her talons across Meleys' crimson scales. Rhaenys turns her attention to you, her eyes blazing with fury.

"Y/N, you traitorous wretch!" she yells over the roar of the dragons. "You will fall today!"

Your only response is a determined glare as Starfyre breathes a stream of pale yellow fire at Meleys. The heat is intense, and the air sizzles with the clash of flames. Meleys releases Sunfyre, turning her wrath on you and Starfyre.

Aegon, though injured, maneuvers Sunfyre to attack from the other side. "Hold on, Y/N! For the throne, for our family!"

You nod, feeling the bond between you and your brother strengthen. Starfyre and Sunfyre, born of the same clutch, fight with a ferocity unmatched. However, Meleys is a formidable opponent, her jaws snapping dangerously close to you more than once.

Suddenly, Aemond and Vhagar join the battle. Vhagar's ancient form casts a massive shadow over the battlefield. Aemond circles above, waiting for the right moment to strike. The combined might of Sunfyre, Starfyre, and Vhagar seems overwhelming, but Rhaenys is undeterred.

"Burn them all, Meleys!" Rhaenys commands.

Meleys unleashes a torrent of dragonfire, and the world around you becomes a blaze of red and gold. You feel the searing heat as Starfyre is engulfed in flames, her scales sizzling. She cries out in pain, but you hold firm, determined to protect Aegon.

Aemond seizes the moment, Vhagar's massive jaws closing around Meleys. The Red Queen thrashes, but Vhagar's grip is unyielding. Meleys' death throes are violent, and in her desperation, she lashes out one final time, her flames mingling with those of Vhagar, Sunfyre, and Starfyre.

The sky is a maelstrom of fire and blood. You hear Aegon scream, a sound of both rage and agony, as Sunfyre crashes to the ground, one wing half-torn from his body. You reach out, but it is too late. You can only watch as your husband and his dragon fall in a blaze of fire.

"Aegon!" you scream, your voice raw with despair.

Starfyre, grievously injured, struggles to stay aloft. Her once gleaming silver scales are now scorched and bloodied. You hold on tightly as she begins to falter, the strength draining from her with each beat of her wings.

"Hold on, Starfyre," you whisper, your voice trembling. "Just a little longer."

But the effort is too great. With a final, mournful roar, Starfyre's wings buckle, and you begin to fall. The ground rushes up to meet you, and the world around you becomes a blur of smoke and flames. The sound of your descent is like thunder, a deafening crash that echoes through the battlefield.

As you fall, you think of Aegon, of your love and your shared dreams. You reach out, as if you could grasp him from the air. The last thing you see before darkness claims you is the shattered form of Sunfyre, and the knowledge that you fought together until the end.

The ground trembles beneath the onrush of Criston Cole and his men, their armor clanking and weapons drawn. The sight that greets them is one of devastation and heartache. Smoke and dust fill the air, mingling with the acrid stench of burnt flesh and dragonfire.

Starfyre, despite her grievous wounds, has crawled over to Sunfyre. Her body, a gleaming silver now tarnished with blood and ash, curls protectively around her brother. Sunfyre, his golden form marred and broken, lies motionless beneath her. The two dragons, once the epitome of beauty and strength, now lay in a pitiable heap, their breaths shallow and labored.

Cole’s eyes scan the battlefield until they fall upon the twins. Aegon and Y/N lie side by side, their bodies bruised and bloodied. Aegon’s one side is horrifically burned, his armor melted and fused to his flesh, the pungent smell of charred meat filling the air. His ribs and hip are shattered, his breathing ragged and uneven. Beside him, Y/N is no better off, her body covered in bruises, blood trickling from her nose and mouth with each strained breath.

“Over here! Quickly!” Cole shouts, his voice urgent and commanding. “The King and Queen need immediate aid!”

The soldiers rush forward, their faces pale with fear and determination. As they reach the fallen royals, Aemond descends from the sky atop Vhagar, the massive dragon landing with a ground-shaking thud. Vhagar’s ancient eyes survey the scene with an almost sorrowful gaze, while Aemond dismounts swiftly, his usual cold demeanor shattered by the sight of his siblings.

“Aegon! Y/N!” Aemond cries, rushing to their side. He falls to his knees beside Aegon, his hands trembling as he reaches out to touch his brother’s charred form. “Brother, hold on. Help is here.”

Aegon’s eyes flutter open, pain and exhaustion etched deeply into his features. “Aemond…” he rasps, his voice barely a whisper. “Protect… her…”

Aemond nods, his eye glistening with unshed tears. “I will. I swear it.”

Y/N’s breaths come in shallow gasps, her eyes barely open, but she reaches out weakly towards Aegon. “Aegon…” she murmurs, her voice frail. “Together…”

Aegon’s hand, though shaking with pain, reaches out to grasp hers. “Always,” he breathes, the simple word carrying the weight of their bond.

Criston Cole watches, his expression grim but resolute. “We need to get them to the maesters. Now!”

The soldiers work quickly, lifting the twins with as much care as possible. Their bodies are fragile, and every movement elicits groans of pain. As they are carried away, Starfyre lets out a weak, mournful cry, her eyes following them until they are out of sight. She then curls tighter around Sunfyre, her protective instinct undiminished by her injuries.

Aemond stands, his gaze hardening as he looks at Cole. “Rhaenys and Meleys may be gone, but this war is far from over. We must regroup and prepare for what comes next.”

Cole nods, his face set in determination. “Aye, my Prince. We’ll see to the wounded and fortify our defenses. The realm needs its King and Queen alive.”

As they move to attend to the aftermath of the battle, Aemond casts one last look at the fallen dragons and his injured siblings. He vows silently that their sacrifice will not be in vain, and that the bloodshed at Rook’s Rest will be avenged.

In the depths of unconsciousness, you relive your last night with Aegon. The memory is vivid, as if it were happening all over again. The firelight from the hearth bathed your chamber in a warm, flickering glow. Aegon's eyes, the same shade as yours, were filled with a mixture of determination and a tenderness reserved only for you. 

That night, the world outside ceased to exist. The war, the politics, the looming battle at Rook’s Rest—all faded away in the sanctity of your shared moments. Aegon’s touch was fervent, his kisses desperate, as if he were trying to etch the memory of you into his soul. You responded with equal passion, your hands exploring the familiar planes of his body, every scar and contour telling a story of shared history and love.

“Aegon,” you whispered, your voice a mix of longing and love. “Promise me we’ll come back to this.”

His lips trailed from your neck to your ear, his breath hot and uneven. “I promise, Y/N. We’ll always find our way back to each other.”

Your bodies moved in perfect synchrony, each touch, each kiss, a silent vow of your unbreakable bond. The world might be at war, but in that moment, it was just the two of you, lost in each other, making love with a fervor that spoke of both desperation and eternal devotion.

The memory fades, and you are pulled back to the present by a wave of excruciating pain. Your body feels heavy and foreign, each breath a struggle. Slowly, you open your eyes, the bright light of the room blinding you for a moment. As your vision clears, you see your mother, Dowager Queen Alicent, sitting by your bedside, her face etched with worry.

"Mother?" you croak, your voice barely a whisper.

Alicent’s eyes widen in relief and she quickly leans forward, grasping your hand gently. "Y/N, thank the gods you’re awake."

You try to sit up, but the pain is too much. Every part of your body protests, and you fall back onto the pillows with a groan. Beside you, Aegon lies unconscious, his face pale and drawn, the sight of him sending a fresh wave of fear through you.

"Aegon…" you murmur, reaching out weakly towards him.

Alicent’s expression hardens slightly as she follows your gaze. "He is alive, but his injuries are severe," she says, her voice a mixture of relief and reproach. "You should never have gone after him, Y/N. You risked your life recklessly."

Her words sting, but you can see the fear and concern in her eyes. "I couldn’t let him fight alone," you reply, your voice strained. "He is my twin, my other half."

Alicent sighs, her grip on your hand tightening. "I understand your love, but you are the Queen. Your duty is to your people as well as to Aegon. If both of you were lost…" Her voice breaks slightly, and she takes a moment to compose herself. "The realm needs its King and Queen, Y/N. We cannot afford to lose either of you."

Tears well up in your eyes, partly from the pain and partly from the weight of her words. "I know, Mother. I know."

Alicent’s expression softens, and she brushes a strand of hair from your face. "Rest now. The maesters are doing everything they can. We will get through this, but you must be strong. For Aegon, for the realm, and for yourself."

You nod weakly, the exhaustion overwhelming you. As you close your eyes, you feel Alicent’s comforting presence beside you, her hand never leaving yours. The last thing you see before sleep claims you again is Aegon’s still form, and you silently vow to be there for him, just as he has always been there for you.

The room is dimly lit, the only light coming from the flickering candles casting shadows on the walls. You are barely awake, drifting in and out of consciousness for days now. The pain is a constant companion, a dull ache that ebbs and flows with every shallow breath. The maesters have done what they can, but their prognosis remains grim. Your fate, they say, is now in the hands of the gods.

Aemond enters quietly, his usual confident stride subdued by worry. He pauses at the foot of the bed, his gaze moving between you and Aegon. Orwyle, who left a few hours ago, had briefed him on your condition earlier.

“She suffered severe internal bleeding,” Orwyle had explained, his voice heavy with concern. “Her fate is uncertain. We’ve done all we can. Now, we must pray.”

Aemond steps closer, his face a mask of determination hiding his worry. He sits beside you, his presence a solid, reassuring anchor in the storm of your pain.

“Y/N,” he says softly, reaching out to take your hand. “Can you hear me?”

You manage a slight nod, your eyes fluttering open. “Aemond…” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “Our dragons… Starfyre and Sunfyre… how are they?”

Aemond’s jaw tightens, but he answers with as much calm as he can muster. “Both are grievously wounded but alive. Starfyre and Sunfyre are being tended to. Ser Criston ordered his men to feed them with the bodies of fallen soldiers until a steady source of cattle can be provided.”

A flicker of relief crosses your face. “Good… they need to be strong.”

Before Aemond can respond, Aegon stirs beside you, his face contorted in agony. He awakens with a gasp, his eyes wide with pain and fear. “Y/N… where is Y/N?” he croaks, his voice thick with desperation.

“I’m here, Aegon,” you whisper, mustering all your strength to squeeze his hand. “I’m right here.”

Aegon’s eyes lock onto yours, and for a moment, the pain seems to lessen. He clutches your hand tightly, his grip trembling. “Don’t leave me,” he pleads, his voice breaking.

“I won’t, ” you promise, forcing a weak smile.

Aemond watches the exchange, his heart heavy with emotion. He feels a surge of protectiveness, vowing silently to do whatever it takes to keep you both safe.

“I’ll get Orwyle,” Aemond says, standing up. “You need more care, both of you.”

He leaves the room swiftly, his mind racing with thoughts of how to ensure your recovery. As he walks through the corridors, he passes soldiers and servants, all bowing respectfully, their faces lined with worry. He finally reaches the maester’s chambers and bursts in.

“Orwyle, they need you. Now,” Aemond commands, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Orwyle nods, gathering his tools and potions quickly. “I will do everything in my power, Prince Aemond,” he assures, following him back to your chambers.

Upon their return, Orwyle immediately begins to tend to you and Aegon, checking wounds, administering potions, and murmuring prayers under his breath. Aemond stands by, his presence a silent promise of protection and support.

As you drift back into a fitful sleep, the last thing you feel is Aegon’s hand in yours, a small comfort in the midst of your suffering. Aemond watches over you both, his heart a mixture of hope and fear, determined that the gods will grant you the strength to survive this ordeal.

[pastelcheckereddreams]

I added more things to Lotus Tower! Can you spot them all? To be honest, I can't pick anything I'm the most proud of. I'm so pleased to see all of it come together like this. Perhaps my brain will finally let me put the project to rest 😂

Breakdown of all the new fun decorations and modifications below.

You can see the first part of my model build here, or more of my art and my craft projects in my pinned post, where you can also find a link to my INPRNT store and my ko-fi if you would like to support my creative projects in any way 💛

So, the first thing I wanted to do was utillise some spare parts from my Life of Su Dongpo booknook kit to make Li Lianhua a small tea tray:

I cut tiny planks of wood from a strip of basswood to form the sides, but the base and teapot come from the Su Dongpo kit. I was also able to make the goodest girl Hulijing a stand from the same piece that makes the base of the tea tray. Now she can sit in Lotus Tower anywhere she wants to instead of being stuck into the wood outside her kennel!

To hold the tea tray, I also made a table and stool similar to the one in the show, and created some tiny baskets out of beige cross-stitch aida to replicate the many baskets and storage Li Lianhua has hanging from the Tower:

In that same vein, I used thread to make a net for some more storage beneath the stairs:

And used part of a bamboo place-mat and some dried flowers to create a herb drying rack on the upper level.

One of the more complex pieces I created was a second sail to hang under the eaves of the gourd door:

It was difficult trying to get this sail to hold a good final shape as, just as with the other sail in my first build, I had to guess how much material would be needed and how to gather it. But I'm pleased with how it turned out in the end! It, like the herb rack, is hung from the eaves with small pieces of metal wire, bent into hooks and stuck into the reinforced card.

You can also see in the pictures above that I added "rope" and a fake hook to the shelf on the side of the Tower to make it a bit more accurate to the show's design.

(You will also see in the very first picture that I made a set of removable stairs for the porches - unfortunately, I didn't take any pictures of their building process and kept forgetting to move them back into the big picture.)

The biggest addition, though, is of course the lanterns:

I am so proud of these. I made them from paper and basswood, and they are ridiculously tiny (about 1.5cms). I wasn't going to put lights in them to start with, but when I bought the tiny bulbs (I was planning to try and put them inside Lotus Tower at the time) and shone them behind one of the lanterns - it looked so good I knew I just had to try it.

So here's how I pulled it off:

I first carefully slotted the bulbs and their wires through the beams of the sail awning, twisting the red and blue cables around each other to give them more structure and make sure they were hanging at the right length. I made sure the wires both led back to the side of the Tower I was going to store the battery pack on, and fastened them to one of the supports of the awning so that the wires would discretely trail down to the floor of the upper level. (I also painted them at this time.)

As for the battery pack, I stuck a small piece of wood underneath the porch where Hulijing's kennel sits for the battery to sit on. I tidied up the wires as neatly as I could and fastened them to the side of the Tower with a spare U-shaped piece from the Su Dongpo kit, wedged into the window slats of the ground level (making sure there's plenty of slack for me to unfasten it and change the battery without struggle). I then joined the wires as best I could and painted it all a yellow-brown colour.

As you can see, it looks a bit crude, but once the roof is back on over the door, the wires all but disappear!

I am so sooo happy with how it's turned out. Please let me know what you think! Is there anything else you would add? Anything you would do differently?

[idyllcy]

gentle are the hands that hold you

word count: 6.1k || banner art by @chesue00

summary: the mind may forget, but the soul will not

Leon has a set routine that he has grown used to. He wakes up, and he prepares fruit from the garden for the small temple his family has passed down to him, four peaches placed at the altar before he goes back to prepare his own breakfast. When he cooks, the sun early in the sky, and the morning dew is still present. He's certain that the sound of animals is the sound of the peaches getting eaten, and when he cleans up his plate and looks for that of the temple, the fruits are gone, including the pits, and the herbs around the altar have returned to their natural health.

He cuts three of them — one of each color.

His family has passed down the art of worshipping a forgotten deity— one whose marble statue has chipped and grown covered in vines. The marble carvings of the title of the deity only retain the words "health" and "herb", and the herbs that can be used for illness grow around the altar and are seldom cut. Leon learned it from a long time ago as a child, and he never stopped. Some might consider the routine to be a nuisance, but Leon enjoys the routine, singing hymns in the temple at noon, brushing out the lion's mane on the god's head after his singing, tending and snipping the herbs that grow beautifully around the marble, blue eyes stuck to the beauty of the forgotten god that only his family tended to, relishing in the statue's beauty.

How lonely they must be.

At sunset, he lights the four candles at the foot of the statue by the altar, lowering himself onto his knees, whispering a prayer passed down for centuries in his house, eyes closed and heart still as he chants. The words are to come from the heart, he recalls. So, he reads them

Typically, he finishes the prayer and the four candles go out on their own.

This time, however, he finishes and the candles stay lit.

He wonders if he should try again to pray, but as he opens his mouth to start again, two snakes slither from both sides, curling up the body of the statue as a comet passes in the sky, and Leon is startled to the ground. He falls backward, watching as a glow of gold erupts from the statue as the snakes turn into the same marble, and the altar cracks, tablet of the title in the front sliding down as a shadow is revealed.

The body.

A body.

Someone opens their eyes from the inside of the altar.

You open your eyes from the inside of the altar.

"Where... am I?"

Leon would recognize that face anywhere, and at that moment, all he can do is thank the skies above for what he is about to be graced with.

"Oh, sweet heavens of health." He whispers. "Do forgive this mere human for what he is about to do."

He takes a step closer, offering his hand to you, his veil sliding down his hair.

"Welcome to earth, dearest deity. This mere worshipper greets you."

You blink down at Leon slowly, tilting your head.

"The heavens greet you, kind mortal. Pray tell, what you wished to receive from a minor god of healing?"

"Nothing." He breathes.

God, if he could keep worshipping you for the rest of his life, then he would be fine.

"Nothing at all, dearest deity."

You blink at him slowly once more, looking around the temple as you stare at the herbs. Leon notices the otherwordly glow that seems to emit from your body, and the color never seems to leave your skin. You glow the same shade as your complexion, crown of yellow on your head as you observe your surroundings, staring at Leon.

Leon does not know what you think. He can not know. How could he? He was not more than a mere worshipper who was taught to care for you eternally. Eternally to be your servant, never to dream of meeting you. You, who seemed to appear out of nowhere and cry gold and green, skin naked to the eye and touch. Touching you is out of the question, yet he holds his hand out to you. You seem to lack a reaction, still taking in your surroundings as Leon breathes. Breathing heavily. Heavy is his chest as he stares at you — it feels like a violation to be able to see you so up close.

"If I may?" He offers.

You take his hand, and Leon's heart lunges into his throat at your touch.

"Thank you."

Your voice flutters along with the wind as he pulls you out of the altar, and you stare around at the opened scenery.

"My temple has deteriorated."

"Yes." Leon whispers. "It is only my family left, you see."

"The blood of the temple's knights." You mumble. "I am grateful that your blood has stayed. I do not know what I would do had you not."

Leon nods slowly. "Do you... wish to do something?"

You glance at the garden that Leon tends to and the produce, blinking ever so slowly as you smile.

"Will you teach me to tend to the plants?"

"Do you wish for it?"

"I miss my roots." You blink slowly. "The plants miss me. My mortal body has lost itself."

"Then, if I may, I shall tend to them with you again?" Leon tilts his head.

You blink at him, staring into his eyes, past his soul and straight to his heart as he holds his breath. You tilt your head, and your eyes gloss over with a distant look, almost as though you were reminiscing of something. Instead, you nod slowly, blinking as you nod, eyes clearing up as you nod again. This time, you seem sure of it.

"Thank you."

"The pleasure is all mine." Leon mumbles.

Goodness, you're not good for the heart.

You let Leon guide you, his questions lingering in the air when you ask him of everything, needing to be guided and taught how to take care of certain things, and Leon wonders if he could truly do a good job. To worship you, he finds, is to treat you as glass is. When you ask him what to do, he tells you. You are clueless of certain things yet you know much more than he does. He does not understand this dynamic that he has gotten himself into. Teaching a god how to listen to human responses, how works work, and how gardening does.

When the sun rises in the morning, he places a singular peach onto the altar for the wildlife, and he offers you a peach that you have grown used to eating. You thank him with a slow nod, biting into it as he makes a breakfast in a larger than usual portion. He offers you an egg from his pan, but you shake your head, content with the peach in your hands. The juice sticks to your hands as you bite into it, and the fruit gets all over your chin, but you are happy, and even as Leon watches you eat, nearly missing his mouth with the fork, you seem content. Leon finishes his food only after you stare at the peach core left in your hand.

"Will this grow into a tree?"

"It will take a handful of years, but yes." He hums. "We can plant it with the rest of the peach trees in the garden."

You nod slowly.

"I shall go change. Please make yourself comfortable while I do, dearest deity."

You nod, looking around at the wildlife from the window, climbing out as your feet land in the grass, much more comfortable to you. The snakes in the garden slither around your calves, sitting there as you continue walking through the garden to find your temple, the medicinal herbs surrounding the altar looking dimmer than usual as you press your hand to them, the same golden glow restoring the herbs to their colors. You would have to bring a second peach to the altar in the morning from the trees.

"Will you be alright in these clothes?" Leon's changed into something easier to move in, finding you as you stare at the fallen tablet from the night before.

"It will be fine." You smooth your hand over the marble, blinking slowly as you frown. "Do you know what words were once written here?"

"I am afraid not." Leon's heart races in his chest, and you sigh.

"I have lost part of me." You glance at the eroded stone on certain words.

"If I may, I shall help you find it once more."

Leon teaches you the ropes of managing the farm, showing you the equipment and what meant fresh and not fresh. The herbs, you are familiar with, stopping Leon from pulling the rosemary because it was not at its prime, and nodding when Leon shows you how to ripen tomatoes despite them being orange. He shows you how to hide the strawberries from the birds and the indications that the blackberries were ready for harvest. The olive trees are shown to you with the peaches, and you snack on one as Leon hands you another.

In the afternoon, he shows you how to harvest the wheat and store the grain, showing you how to bake bread as you grind the grain into flour with Leon, pushing the till as you heave, falling to your knees once you have made enough for the bread of that night. You lay on the dirty stone for a minute, groaning as Leon packages the flour, holding a hand out for you as you gasp. You hold your hand up for a minute, catching your breath as you take it to get up.

"Do gods not labor?"

"What is there to labor over when the worshippers send you food?"

"Do gods disappear once they are forgotten?"

"Yes." You dust off your clothes, humming. "I have only lived this long because of the care of your blood."

You help Leon season, not much help when it comes to cooking or preparing dishes, and Leon tries to have you keep your hands off of the majority of things, only letting you tend to the herbs and spices, the olives prepared with the oil as you dip the bread in it to try it. You have not much of a reaction, sitting down at the table as Leon serves you the salad, a smaller fish prepared for him.

You settle with the salad, another peach given to you for dessert, biting on it as Leon washes up, cleaning and drying the silver with a rag as you stare at the peach in hand. The green is a little jarring, and you appreciate that Leon picks the riper ones for your temple. Yet, when you bite down, it's sweet, nectar staining your chin as Leon disposes of the peach peels, offering you a cup of water alongside some honey.

You accept it, thanking him with a nod as you go back to the peach, hands stained with sugar.

"Dearest deity." Leon starts. "If I may?"

"Feel free to." You nod, licking your fingers.

"Do you know why you have returned to being human?"

"I'm not quite sure." You look out past the windows, eyes distant.

Leon wonders if he's struck a nerve, but he doesn't have much time to think over it.

For the first time, Leon dreams and remembers.

He's in a field of grass, your head in his lap, closed eyes and blissed smile on your face as he runs his hands through your hair. He's bigger than he is in reality, lion's skin on his head, his fingers rough from what he assumes to be the blade. He pushes your hair out of your face, blinking down at you slowly. The green of the grass creases under your body, and Leon thinks there is a strange sense of domesticity with the way that you trust him so much.

His mouth moves on its own. "Dearest, are you not uncomfortable?"

"Surely not while in your lap." You peek up at him, smile on your face as you beam. "You are comfortable, beloved."

The daffodils in the field are pulled, Leon's fingers clumsy with the stems as he tries to make you a crown, weaving in the green into the braid as you let the breeze tickle your nose. He feels his hands are rough from some sort of labor, and his body feels weary. Yet, there is a fullness in his chest as he finishes the crown, placing it on your head as you open an eye to stare up at him.

"How do I look?"

"Dazzling, darling." He hums, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. "You look dazzling."

Leon wakes from the dream in his bed, sitting up and gasping as one does, and he stares at the rising sun and the calling rooster. He rests his head in his palms, groaning at the way his heart refuses to slow down. He hears the sound of the door opening in the back, and he assumes that you've gone off to the well to wash up for the day. He assumes it's a routine for you much like the four peaches he places at the altar, so he gets up, bed covers kicked off as he makes his bed. The peaches have ripened after being left out for the night, and he takes the basket with him, offering you one on the way before taking the other three.

You bite on the peach and follow him to the altar, watching as he leaves the basket. You stare at the peach in your hand and place it back into the basket, teeth marks visible in the one you had placed there, but Leon doesn't mention anything.

Then comes breakfast, eggs for him, an assortment of fruit for you.

Despite your lack of diet, it seems you do not complain. Perhaps your body abides by different rules when compared to his.

He ponders over the idea of insanity when he turns red from eye contact alone. Truly, you are dazzling, and unfortunately, Leon is not immune to such beauty despite staring at your statue each morning. Heavens, he's screwed.

"Is there anything you need, dearest deity?" He offers.

"Not much." You hum. "Do we have other fruit?"

"There is an orchard in the east." Leon hums. "Would you like more fruit?"

You nod.

The orchard is due for some tending. Leon only ever went for olives to have in his meals and peaches for offerings, so it wasn't surprising that the figs were eaten from the inside out alongside the apples and pears. You offer to help, palms held out as you argue that you could technically restore them to their prime. Leon has you rest, pulling out the figs and bad fruit into one basket, tossing the good ones to another.

"Are there any fruits you'd rather not eat?"

You ponder over his words, shaking your head.

Leon finds you familiar. You sit at the corner of the orchard, trailing after him with a basket of your own fruit, and he finds it familiar. You yourself are familiar to him. He has no memory of you, but he can not argue that it is because he has never met you either. He no longer remembers the faces of his own parents. All he knows is the ritual of worship, the routine of faith that he has grown used to. All he remembers about himself is that, now that he thinks about it.

The rest of the night passes in a blur, and Leon has not much of a choice when it comes to resting at night.

When he closes his eyes, he's unsurprised at what he is met with.

It's another dream.

A lion's robe is still on Leon's body this time, and he feels significantly bigger than he is in present. His heart does not beat as harshly as it does in reality, and with each step he takes, he becomes increasingly aware that he is taller than he is in reality. The garden of his home is replaced with a marble home of his own, and he walks through the ruins that have been replaced with a garden in present day. His steps are heavy as he stops in front of the temple, watching as there's a golden hue from the altar — noticeably larger than the one in present.

Leon steps behind you, eyes glued to the words on the tablet that is now restored, frowning.

god of health, herb, home. the lion's beloved

"Are you returning?"

Leon cannot control his mouth, but he stares at the way you tense at his voice.

"My time on earth is short." You turn around to face him, voice quiet as you close your eyes.

Leon's heart rattles in his chest from the way you refuse to look at him. "Can you stay longer?"

"Beloved" You whisper. "I ca—"

"Will you stay longer?" He whispers, voice shaking as he asks. His heart races at being called beloved, but his chest contorts painfully as the man whose body he resides in.

"I cannot." You open your eyes, heart shattering in your ears as you catch his tears. "Oh, beloved, please do not—"

Leon wants to stay, but he watches as the man turns his back, stepping away from the altar as the sound of bells chime to indicate your disappearance.

Instead, when he turns around again, all that remains is a shrunken altar and the temple from the modern day. Leon has what he was holding prior to entering into the past — three peaches in a small basket. You are still behind him, white of your eyes the only visible part of them as your irises cloud over and Leon stares at you. A flash from the past for him, a flash from your life for you. He wonders just who that might have been.

He looks around, catching the fact that you are behind him.

When you return, you stare into nothing, pupils wide as the black of your eyes engulf the entirety of the color of your eye, and Leon stands there, unsure of what to do, blinking slowly as you close your eyes and open them again and again. You blink again, and again, and again, and again. You try to break yourself from the trance— from what Leon can tell.

"Dearest deity." Leon whispers. "Are you alright?"

You blink at Leon again, exhaling as you grimace.

"I will be. Let us drop off the fruit for my herbs first." You take the basket from him, fruit placed on the altar as you bless the peaches.

"How does it work?"

"They live off of the water and juice." You squeeze the fruit, Leon watching as the liquid trickles down your fist onto the plants, the red herbs brightening up nearly immediately. The yellow follows, and the green last. You take the scissors to cut three of the herbs, two of each herb, juice-stained fingers sticking to the plants as you place them into the basket.

Leon nods as you hand him the herbs, thanking you.

Food is simple today. It is typically a loaf and some legumes, occasionally fish if the two of you decide to head out to fish at the lake. Leon has grown used to a life like this, and you make do without eating fish, so Leon goes out less and less, growing legumes with you as you learn from him, forming an appetite for fruit as well, snacking on blackberries as he picks at the strawberries that he hides from the birds. You bite down on certain ones, slipping a piece past Leon's lips as he places a cucumber in your basket, thanking you quietly as he checks out the lettuce.

"What do you want for dinner?"

You glance at the lettuce and the berries, tilting your head.

"...salad?"

"Fruit salad? I should retrieve some olives as well, then." Leon holds his hand out for the basket, and you give him your hand instead.

Leon does a double take, blinking at your hand and then at you, and you offer him a shy smile.

"If this is alright?"

"More than alright, dearest deity." Leon smiles. "I am honored you would initiate it."

Leon finds that you are much more affectionate now that time has passed. He does not keep track of the days, time something he no longer holds, sharing dishes and bites with you when he can, showing you the rest of the garden that he leaves to tend on its own. Leon understands something. Whoever he is in his dreams, you left. Whoever you are in the dream, you did not wish to leave. He understands not much from it. The heart of whose body he was in his dreams was scarred when you left.

It hurt him to think about it, so he busies himself with the sand between his toes.

"We had a beach?"

"We have a sea." Leon stares out at the horizon. "I wonder if the lobsters are ready for harvest."

"You can eat those?"

Leon nods slowly, laughing as you furrow your brows.

"How does... that work." You pause. "You crack the head?"

"You pop the head off, and you pull out the meat from the whole tail."

You blink twice.

"May I... watch you prepare it?"

"With pleasure." He smiles. "Shall we go catch one?"

You watch Leon ditch the top, skin out for the world to see, and Leon feels a little embarrassed being so bare before you, but you don't seem to mind, watching as he takes a trident.

"You pierce them?"

"They don't move as fast. Perhaps I have grown used to the water."

The blue of the ocean is pretty. Leon still isn't over the beauty of it, and it always surprises him when he dives for crustaceans, trident heavy against his arm as he pierces through the shells, three tucked into the bag net he carries, paddling back to the surface as he wonders how he had been able to hold his breath for so long. The question fades just as quickly, eyes meeting yours as you blink, doe-eyed, eyes wide as you seem to drink in every part of his skin.

"Dearest deity?"

"Apologies." You hide your face, sinking into the ground with embarassment as Leon laughs, letting the net fall into the sand as he crouches in front of you, hair pushed back, saltwater still dripping from his hair and skin. He watches as your eyes dart to his chest and then abdomen, thoughts written all over your face as you hide again.

"I shall dress again."

"There's no need." You manage, still hiding your face. "I... prefer the way you are."

Leon feels an arrow pierce his heart, ears ringing as he processes what you've just said. He's sure he's turned red like the tomatoes once ripe, and he hides his face in his knees, shaking slightly as he processes your bluntness. Dare he say it, he liked it.

Though, it would be his grace if you were to fall for him. It was only a given that he would worship you.

He doesn't feel as though he is in a position where he could truly get to profess his love to you first.

At night, you request of him to tuck you into bed, pout on your lips as he sits by your bed, letting you squeeze his hand with a gentle grab, watching as you drift off to sleep.

He wonders if you need sleep truly — considering you are a deity and all.

Though, Leon does.

The third time Leon dreams, he is no longer in a lion's skin.

He feels younger, white on his body, blue brooch around his neck and blouse on his skin. There is a veil on his head, and it seems as though he is in the temple of yours once more. He does not understand this quite that much. It seems as though he is being offered up for some kind of ritual. It is some sort of marriage, he assumes. Blue eyes and golden hair, cerulean brooch and white blouse, ruffled bow and laced veil, Leon truly feels that he is being offered up as a groom rather than a servant. He wonders if the person he has possessed is aware of it.

His body moves on its own, veil over his head shifting as he looks down, standing before what he assumes as the head priest. The priest places a crown of... herbs on his head, and he is placed on the altar, some sort of glow occurring around him as he forces his eyes open. The veil sticks to his head as he notices the priest and all their followers are gone when he opens his eyes. Instead, he catches a glance of you above him, head tilted as you blink down at him.

"You're quite young, sacrifice." You grin, teeth visible. "What might your name be?"

Nevermind the fact that Leon's heart is racing a thousand pes an hour, his heart is about to leap out of his chest. Yet, Leon is curious of the man's name, but he finds it surprising that he chokes out his own name.

"Leon, dearest deity." He whispers. "I am your... groom."

"How rare that they would send a groom rather than a servant." You tilt your head at him. "Well, do make yourself at home. We've got plenty of plants and fruit."

Leon steps down from the altar, stepping on a piece of marble before taking a tumble, the tablet breaking under his foot as he blinks.

"I'm sorry." He gapes.

You raise a brow, mumbling to yourself as you tap your chin.

"Oh, dear." You laugh. "I'll restore it sometime. Please take care of the garden while I do."

Leon's dream is far longer than he is comfortable. He wonders how much time has passed in reality in the dream, and he learns to take care of the garden that resembles the one he tends to each night. There is a lake in the back where he fishes, and he learns to cook meals for the two of you, typically baking bread and making soup. He learns that you prefer the best harvest of peaches, but you share them with him, teaching him how to make crisp and how to cook the oats until they are crispy. You adore peaches with or without honey and spices. It is why the peach tree was so large in the orchard.

During the time, he learns that gods do in fact visit the earth outside of their domains. You return in time for dinner every single day, and you tell him of what has happened recently with the temple over his meals. He likes this life. At one point, the worshippers send him the very lion skin he wore in his previous dream. The connection between your domain and reality is created through prayer. Not faithfulness, number.

You complete a number of miracles, and in return, your worshippers increase in number, which, in turn, grants you access back home.

When Leon wakes, his heart is racing in his chest for no reason, blinking at the knife in hand and cutting board on the counter and then at the tomatoes.

"Kind mortal?"

"My apologies." Leon sighs, going back to cutting the veggies. "It seems I had gotten lost in myself."

Not reality. Leon is not in reality. Instead, he has been stuck in an endless cycle of immortality, and without you around, the age had worn him down until all he remembered was to worship you. If your temple was run down in your domain, he can not imagine how ruined your temple in reality was. Leon has become immortal from partaking of the food of the gods. The peaches he offered to the gods was for you, and the herbs he cut was granting him immortality in return.

Leon Kennedy had lived for so long that he forgot this was not his home, it was yours.

The immortality from the herbs had been eating his mind from the inside out.

He wonders if you remember, but he doesn't ask.

Instead, he asks you if you would like to go fishing with him, fishing rod in hand.

You tilt your head at the rod, nodding as he takes everything. The pond spawns all sorts of fish, now that he thinks about it. The expensive fish he used to dream of owning back when he was in reality, the fish that he had when his family had a nice harvest, just about everything. It feels strange to remember that this is your home and not his, but he doesn't dwell too much on it. Instead, he sits at the dock, holding out the fishing rod as you sit next to him, basket of strawberries in your lap as you eat them.

"Do you eat fish?" The answer is no, yet Leon finds himself asking anyway.

"No." You hum. "I can live off of produce."

You take a bite of the strawberries almost as if to make a point, pointing at the fishing line with a kick of your legs as Leon reels in the fish, pulling it out of the water with a ceremonious thud.

"Good job." You hum. "I didn't know we had catfish."

Leon raises a brow at you. "What else do we have?"

You shrug. "I don't know much. My followers only ever send me peaches now. Not that I do not appreciate it."

Leon finds it strange that there happens to be both a lake and an ocean, the two connected by a small river, a waterfall that collapses into the ocean, and the sea leads into nothing. It seems that you knew, but you never mentioned it in any way. If this domain was yours, then he found it intriguing that you had been offered enough fish that there would form an ocean. The offerings given seem to not expire, and the ecosystem seems to reproduce and go on as it would in reality.

He wonders if reality is the right word to describe his world, though. Perhaps earth would have made for a better word. He wonders what is happening on earth. Maybe this was some sort of Mount Olympus... or whatnot. He doubts it is. He would have recognized living on an actual mountain.

Well, at the very least, fishing is quite fun.

When he pulls in the second catch of the day, he decides that it's enough.

"What do you want for dinner?"

Leon wonders if he should try making pie in one of the vessels.

You tap your chin. "Something baked sounds good."

"Oh, I'm sure it does." Leon mumbles. "Pie?"

You nod. "Shall I help?"

He shakes his head.

The more Leon thinks of it, the more he realizes that he's always been making portions for two. It was embedded into his soul. When he had leftovers, it was much easier to feed it to the poultry in the back and the pigs. Now, that second portion had a reason. He had always found it bizzare. It was because he used to cook with his mother for his father, not the fact that he had been cooking for the two of you for such a long time.

When Leon sends you to bed at night, he watches you for a few moments longer, wondering if this was something he had done in the past.

He does not dream this time.

So, when he wakes in the morning and you have a pear in hand with a knife in the other, he blinks at you.

"Dearest?"

"Teach me how to cut fruit?"

Leon wonders if you were the one to teach him first, but the more he thinks back on the dream, the more he wonders just whether or not you had been eating in the time that you lacked a sacrifice. Would sacrifice be the correct word? The more he considers it, the more he thinks of himself as a gift from the priest rather than a sacrifice. Is that egoistical? Perhaps it is. It is more of a blessing on his end to be able to stay with you for so long. The herbs he had each morning must have been keeping him nice and healthy despite his time in your realm.

He may have forgotten, but it seems that his body had remembered.

He teaches you how to hold the knife, cut by cut showing you how to peel the fruit, and you decide that peeling half of it and then eating the other half after spitting out the core was the better decision. He finds that that ties into what he remembers about you as well.

It seems he remembers now.

Leon understands that you expect a singular peach and then three more at the altar, but he does not do so this fateful day. There is something he must check, and someone he must attempt to understand. There was no way you did not know. You were not as foolish as to not. It had been in the way you looked at him. He knew, from the very beginning. You knew perhaps, as well, that when you had opened your eyes from the inside of the altar, you had been observing him and not your surroundings.

You had been observing your lover who had forgotten you, not the home you resided in.

"You are home, dearest deity." Leon offers. "You need not the peaches anymore."

You blink at Leon, hesitation bleeding through you as you pause to breathe.

"Since when have you recalled?"

"A while back." Leon mumbles. "I was not certain if you wished for me to bring it up."

You blink at Leon, sitting yourself back on the altar, the lack of glowing visible now that everyone has forgotten about you. You will no longer be able to return to the world that you had left to. You would be stuck tending to the garden that you had started long before Leon joined you here. At the very least, he would be able to stay forever with you, only needing to tend to the herbs and grow them. Yet, he wonders where all of the maidens you had been offered so long ago ended up.

You stare at the broken tablet, laughing embarrassingly as you smile at Leon.

"Truly reminds you the first time we met, huh?"

"Yes." He rests the empty basket on the altar, taking it from your hand as he smooths the rusted words over. "God of health, herbs, home."

"The lion's beloved." You whisper back. "I missed you."

"I know." He mumbles, setting it to the side as he lets you sob into his chest.

"I missed you." You gasp. "You... you forgot me. I expected it, but I had been in the fabric between reality and my realm that I was sure you would stop building my way home, but you remembered the prayers. You recalled the words you had grown used to prior to your sacrifice, and I... you found my way home."

"I'm sorry, dearest." He whispers. "I had forgotten. I have been around for far too long. I am sorry I had forgotten to welcome you home."

There is a certain beauty that comes with remembering, Leon finds. In the centuries that he had forgotten all about you, his heart had somehow remembered, adorning you in the lion's mane until he forgot it was his first, singing hymns he knew you cherished from the time he had spent with you, leaving you peaches because you had always shared the best harvest of them with him, sneaking in that you adored the taste of the nectar on your tongue. His mind had forgotten, but his heart had not, burying you into the depths of his consciousness until he would remember you again one day.

His hands have grown rough with a different kind of labor over the years, and he has lost much of the large muscle he had arrived with from his way of living, but the feeling of your skin is still familiar to his touch.

Right.

His mind could forget, but his soul could never.

"You're making me a crisp later." You huff.

"Of course." He laughs. "Anything else?"

"And I want a kiss for all the years you forgot about me for."

"That can be made up with the life ahead."

And to seal the promise, Leon kisses you, hands gentle on your skin, clarity restored.

[naffeclipse]

Sand and Sea

Reader x Orca!Eclipse

Commission Info

I have the pleasure of being commissioned by @missdreamyhead to write a fluffy and sweet fic for @tubbyartz's birthday! Happy birthday! I hope you have a lovely day! Enjoy a little slice of Orca!Eclipse and the reader in a tropical setting and spending time together in the water! <3

———

Eclipse meant what he said: he would hunt you down to the ends of the earth. There is nowhere you can go where he can’t find you, reach you and draw you back into the water into his sea salt embrace. 

You find yourself rather content with such an arrangement. Leaving the Arctic wasn’t easy, not with how long you knew he would have to wait to find you again, but you sit on a warm, white sand beach. The ocean softly laps up against the land, eager to touch your toes and drench your ankles. 

Where is he? Eclipse is not one to keep you waiting or to stay away from you. He couldn’t hardly keep his hands off of you when he did rediscover you again standing waist-deep in the shallows and eagerly snatching you up to admire you once more. It had only been a few weeks, but he greedily devoured you with his eyes as if he were a man who had been shipwrecked without food for days.

You hum and tap on your journal. There are a few interesting species growing on this island, especially of the fungal kind. You’ve kept yourself busy searching for mushrooms along the decaying wood. The rich moisture and the fallen trees lend to a beautiful crop of fairy inkcap mushrooms and oyster mushrooms. 

Beyond the edges of your journal, the waves splash and toss further from the island, overturning softly with white crests and deep, aquamarine hues. The air is blissfully warm as it heats your skin. The sun shines brightly upon the pale grains of sand. You wiggle your feet a little deeper into the beach just to feel the ground shift and heat the top of your feet. 

You couldn’t have gone farther from the frozen Arctic tundra if you tried. Eclipse doesn’t seem to care that these waters are not of his home—so long as he has you close by. 

You feared for a time that these warm waters would be uncomfortable for him, so unlike the icy, gray wafts of his cold homeland. He reportedly told you that he is none too affected by the change save for getting used to the prey that he must snatch up around the shores of the island. The fish are not as tasty as seals, but he says it means little to him now that he has you.

You catch a sharp red dorsal fin cutting through the surface. You straighten where you sit on the beach, your heart picking up softly at the familiar sight. The water is crystalline and blue, giving way to a sharp shape of black and white and red just below the rippling surface. 

There he is.

Setting your journal aside before it can get wet, you patiently brace for Eclipse to get your attention. You don’t have to wait for his head to rear. Framed in sharp, pointed frills, bleeding burnt orange and deep red hues like a darkening sunset, his face rises above the water with heavy trickles dropping back into the ocean. His black and white crescent mark face splits into a grin. Razor-sharp teeth flash in sheer delight. 

He stops his shark-like approach, almost beached in the shallows. His tail waves slowly side to side and stirs up sand, clouding the space where he lies in anticipation. Resting on his elbows, his sleek and dangerous frame half submerged and revealing his beautiful, shiny pattern of black and white, Eclipse slowly lifts a hand. Arching a black-bone clawed finger, he grins.

“Come closer, mushroom,” he rumbles low, sweet and abysmal. He beckons with his fingers. “I want to see you.”

You lift your chin, a mischievous streak painting you with playful intent. You grin. Eclipse is already on guard, his wide eyes drilling into you with the intensity of twin suns, one yellow, and one red. 

“But it’s so nice on the beach.” You reach down and pat the sand beside you. The heat of the sun warms it underneath your palm. “Won’t you join me?”

His grin turns harsher, askew. He lowers his hand but you watch it drag just underneath the water, cutting into sand and leaving ribbons in his wake. 

“You will be so much warmer in my arms.” As if to emphasize this, he opens them to welcome you into his embrace. His claws curly slightly with a greedy need. “Come closer, my fairy.”

“I didn’t hear a please,” you answer, batting your eyelashes sweetly. “Besides, the sun is so warm already! If you joined me, you could find out for yourself.”

He will beach himself. You know he will, but he wants you in the water today. You see it in how his tail curls, almost as if to slap the surface with his frustrations but the game is still going. It’s his turn now.

Eclipse is no less spirited when he snaps his jaws. “Please, mushroom. I won’t beg again. Come closer. Let me hold you. Let me have you entirely.” 

You brush your hair back over your shoulder. Fixing your red hat, mushroom in shape and dotted with small white specks, you slowly get to your feet. You stand, pushing Eclipse’s patience as you regard the water and then him with a mirthful smile.

“Come closer to me. Meet me halfway,” you press, flippant and challenging, all at once.

The orca siren snarls low, yet he never loses the glimmer in his gaze as he pushes himself up the shore. You balk internally, catch off guard at how quickly he beaches himself, his tail almost entirely out of the water as he regards you with a hunger bordering on something savage. 

“I am here.” He presses a wet hand into the hand, pushing himself into a looming, threatening shadow over the sand. His one claws curl. Your insides bubble at his intensity. “Come. Closer. You only need to take a few steps to be mine.”

Softly, you take a step forward. His eyes flash to your toes curling in the sand and you hold your stance again. A growl rumbles through his chest. You shouldn’t enjoy this so much. He could have sang and already had you in his clutches, but he enjoys your feisty dares as much as you do. Holding yourself strong, you return his gaze unblinkingly. 

“You have to be nice, or else I’ll swim far away.” You bite back a note of laughter.

Eclipse, however, does not. His pulsing chortle echoes, almost rippling over the waves in melodic amusement.

“Even in your siren form, you aren’t fast enough to escape from me.” He holds out a hand. The slickness of his palm, just inches away from snatching the edges of your pale dress. “But I will be good to you. I always am.”

You muse for a moment, and his gaze narrows in the slightest. You’ve reached the end of his rope.

“Be good, my little fairy.” His black bone claws turn underneath the sunlight, glinting wickedly, and you almost choke at how beautiful and terrible they are. “Come closer.”

You have resisted him for long enough. Teasingly, you walk slowly, stretching your stride and sinking into the sand. Eclipse shimmers slightly, almost drying out underneath the baking sun. His tail and fins shift anxiously as if he intends to pounce upon you. Once you move within reach, you can hardly blink before he captures your wrist and gently pulls you down with him.

You laugh once as he quickly covers you in his shadow. He’s been waiting far too long, you imagine. Your knees are propped on otherside of him as he bears down upon you, nearly pinning you underneath his weight before studying you slowly. His looming form provides a gentle reprieve from the harsh sunlight. 

“You need to be good,” he reminds you. A deep rumble vibrates the very air and touches you. You gasp softly underneath him. A claw carefully brushes away a thick, dark brown lock of hair from your face. “I must always have you within reach.”

“You always grab me when you do,” you counter with a pointed look, but a smile traces your lips.

“I want to see you.” He lowers himself until he’s almost laying on top of you. His sleek body gleams and a few drops of water fall from the end of his head frills and onto the sand around you. “All of you. I want to feel how soft and sweet you are.”

Internally, you begin to melt. A softness washes over you, taking you underneath his gentle touch. The orca siren draws his fingertips carefully along your cheekbone, carefully memorizing the shape of your face. His slick touch leaves a residue of sea salt and water behind. It cools your skin gently. He parts his mouth and swipes his tongue over his rows of teeth. Your eyes follow the movement, captivated. He chortles.

“You want to see me as well,” he purrs. “You must have me close. You always want me here with you. Say it.”

You resist for a moment, a teasing retort somewhere in the back of your throat, but he takes hold of your chin and you are lost in his burning eyes. He is too stunning, too overwhelming. Your body is hot and molten. 

Softly, you echo his words. “I do. I want you close to me.” You blush as you keep speaking, unable to resist the red surge in your cheeks. “I want you here with me. Always.”

“Good, my little fairy,” he drawls, and his grin widens with delight, “Come here. Swim with me in the water again.”

He gently tugs you further and further off the sand. You let him, carefully cradled in the strength of his arms, small and tiny in his embrace. You hide your face briefly in the crook of his shoulder. The scent of sea salt and a harsh musk like rime fills your nostrils, and you breathe easier. 

The first touch of the water against your skin sends a shiver up your spine. Quickly, your body adjusts to the warm, soothing temperature of the water. The sand stirs, filling the shallows as Eclipse manages to flip his tail and bring you with him as the slope of land underneath your body falls lower, and lower still. 

“Eclipse?” you ask softly. You touch his hands, holding them tighter to you as he begins swimming from the safety of shore. He easily keeps you above the lapping waves trying to drench your head and mushroom hat. 

“I won’t allow you to sink,” the orca siren rumbles as sweetly as the lowest cords of bass in a song. Held to his chest, the water splashing your sides, you believe him. There is no place safer than within his arms. “I have missed your beautiful tail and how silky your hair becomes in the water. Let me see you like that again.”

He stops well within sight of the island. You turn within his embrace. His large hands rest on your waist and keep you afloat. A gentle shudder falls over you with the encouraging brush of his finger along your spine, pressing the fabric of your soaked dress against your skin. 

“You swam with me yesterday.” You meant to answer with more resolve, more of a teasing bite, but it leaves your lips softly, as if reminiscing on how far he swam with you, the great reefs he helped you explore and then the sandy shore you both laid upon as you explained to him the nature of fungi and how beautifully and diverse they grow.

“I did. I want to see you again.” His gaze softens. His pelvic fins softly sway to keep him steady against the ever nudging presence of the tide. You watch his tail for a moment, breathless. His black and white colors strike out against the blues and his red and orange tipped flukes cut through the depths with ease. 

His hand, slick and salty, cups your cheek. You fall softly into his embrace. Gently, you cup his much larger digits closer against your face. 

“My little fairy. Swim with me,” he murmurs, raspy and yearning. 

His voice lowers to a gentle hum as he presses you closer against him still. Your legs slide against his sleek flesh and your breath rattles out of your throat, overwhelmed by his closeness. How much he hungers for you. You close your eyes and nod gently.

“Alright,” you chuckle, “Just this once.”

But you’ve said that before.

Eclipse clicks a joyful series of sounds. His jaws clap as his hand cups the back of your head. Claws entangled with your long, brown locks. A smile tugs on the corner of your mouth as he closes the distance. 

In the sea, the orca siren dips you low into a kiss, pulling you underneath the surface with a soft swirl of bubbles. The great eruption of magic and power flows into you, set free by his lips and gently pressed into your body, stirring up your marrow and lying over your skin. It is energy and love; it is the will of a siren who has claimed you as his mate.

He gently eases you back. You float softly in the water, but when your lips part, free of his magic and air, you freely intake water. Oxygen flows through you, keeping you buoyant and uncensored as any other fish who swim these crystal clear tides. 

A sweet hum ripples through the water and washes over you. Eclipse eyes roam you freely, hungrily. Softly, you open your arms and look down at yourself, your dress still hanging wet and secure against your body but your legs are no more. Instead, a slender, flowing tail flicks through the sea. You’ve grown used to the waving motion of fins, flipping back and forth—though Eclipse often saves you from such effort by carrying you where you would like to go. 

Long tendrils flow from your mushroom hat. Your senses awaken to the new appendages as they surround you like the tentacles of a jellyfish and your cap acting as the bell. Your hair flows freely through the water, softly twisting and waving. You gently push up your hat to gaze adoringly at Eclipse.

His hands find your waist and gradually slide down. His palms are large, almost squeezing you with his adoration before he brushes a hand softly over a red flowing fin, dotting in white not unlike your mushroom cap. 

His eyes glimmer. A tenderness fills his frame while softly, he admires your stunning new form. It is thanks to him you can even experience the sea in such a way. You wonder if your red tail stands out too much or if the vivid yellow tendrils falling down from your cap are too strange to a siren, but Eclipse easily brushes those aside to meet you underneath the water. His mouth parts and a few bubbles escape. His lips mouth words of sweet nothing. 

You blush fiercely when he takes your face gently in his hands. You breathe softly as he draws nearer. His claw carefully traces the shell of your ear, following the sharp point and admiring it as if it were sea glass or a treasured seashell. How he looks at you, how he holds you spills over with cherishment that sets your heart aflame. It is a miracle the water around you doesn’t bubble and fizz when he at last pushes aside the last of the ocean separating you and captures your mouth sweetly in a kiss.

The gentle pressure of his presence trickles into you, filling you like an empty well given fresh rain. You trace his arms. Underneath your touch, you marvel at the lithe cords of muscle tucked underneath his sleek, shiny skin. His claws wickedly trace the corners of your jawbone until you let out a soft, sweet sound of awe. 

He parts from you gently and grins like a shark with the prey already between his teeth.

Gently, he turns and tugs on your hand. You follow with a flick of your tail, your soft, translucent fins seemingly more for beauty than any speed or agility akin to an orca siren. 

Eclipse told you when he first changed you with his siren song that you are perfect. Though you don’t have his teeth and talons, he promises to protect and provide for you. You always thought he was far too eager to serve, to give you everything, but his love has always been like a floodtide, washing you out to sea with the force of it.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

His flukes flick carefully, minding how you fit along his side. Even in a siren form, you are tiny in comparison to his natural streamline body and cutting-edge fins. You don’t mind. Eclipse has tried to feed you fish time and time again and you refused, opting to wait until you had your human legs back to find food and feast. 

Towards the back end of the island, the trees grow too dense and the ground too muddy and slick to traverse well, but through the water, you arrive without an ounce of difficulty. 

Eclipse gently takes you by the arms, guiding you forward while he swims you faster than you could have hoped. A beautiful reef teams with life, bursting with colors in dozens of corals and darting with tiny fish and creatures who propel and jump and dash through the aquamarine and sunshine dazzling the ground.

You marvel. Your hand softly flies to your mouth as you gaze at the vision. Gently, you reach for Eclipse’s hand. He slows enough for you to push your mushroom cap up, peeking out from underneath, and beam at him with all your might. 

Eclipse chortles. He doesn’t speak in the water but he doesn’t have to. You show him how pleased you are, and softly, while twirling one of your yellow tendrils gently around his finger, Eclipse glides with you over the reef to admire the beautiful wildlife.

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

cumulus / nephos / “cloud” / ☁️

[plain text: cumulus / nephos / “cloud” / ☁️ cloud emoji]

[id: pastel fem looking person in pastel manual wheelchair looking down to slug in lap. there also slug on head n slug slide down skirt (don’t ask how). (all color pastel). person hair pink bangs, purple side hair, & blue low loose pigtails go below hips. purple eyes & medium-light ish skin. wearing bright turquoise ish color shirt collar with pink ruffles, & white shirt body with blue ruffles decorate, n green long sleeve cardigan over it also with ruffles. rainbow midi above knee skirt with white ruffles overflow from side of wheelchair. wear mismatch stockings, person’s left side rainbow stripes, n person right side turquoise blue with clouds on it. person not wearing shoes.

their wheelchair has yellow headrest, teal stroller push handle, green contoured backrest with supportive panels on two side lateral, teal to blue transition arm rest, orange big wheels with rainbow windmill candy swirl as cover & red push rim. frame is turquoise blue gradient to pink, has dump/slant, with yellow slug on one side’s turning point. purple fat caster wheels. attach to backrest is big white angel wings, & above arm rest has glowing yellow halo. their AAC device floating by them, has turquoise blue case with white cloud patterns. is saying “slug” icon. border of art lined with rainbow gradient lace. end id]

☁️.

(otherwise known as hate names terrible at decision)

VERY pastel n rainbow overload >:)

they level 3 autistic (“requiring very substantial support”) with high support needs—meaning they cannot independently do most adaptive functioning skills, needing other people physical help to do/do for them. they also need 24/7 supervision & physical help for all iADLs & bADLs.

they nonverbal & use AAC full time. their AAC is symbol based speech generating device.

their (most likely [<haven’t decided] partner who act as their) disability caretaker is hyacinthos shinya🪻🌌.

they also full time non-ambulatory wheelchair user with very specific posture & seating positioning needs so not out of it for long or really much at all.

angel wing on back of wheelchair is power assist! is magically powered by hyacinthos (who angel) & can be powered even remotely / far away. way control wheelchair & power assist part by intuitive / hand motions & gestures / etc, part by halo hover above armrest that act as joystick. can use it like traditional joystick or wear as bracelet n control that way! (gimme it i want one) (if you recognize this setting it may be because previous version)

they do mix of self propel, power assist, & caregiver push. their wheelchair have stroller style push handle instead traditional push handle for easier caregiver push, especially one handed.

is set in magical world & they do some magic (< haven’t decided]!

character not slug obsessed, artist the slug obsessed one

character sheet below cut!!

artfight character profile (VERY wip)

please do feel free draw them (with credit) n tag me!!!!!!

reblog welcome but please don’t repost

will fight you if debate about autism levels & support needs

.

hi under cut

[character sheet. functionally described below]

top left is full character clothing (with wheelchair translucent in background) because in original there some key parts blocked by wheelchair especially arm rest.

skirt around waist have purple band with blue small ruffles. center have rainbow bow with rainbow star on top.

n also have front n back of AAC device. what drawn here is 5x7 grid with various colored squares showing different parts of speech but grid size more so because like. is how much could fit comfortably. so even when redraw n isn’t exact 5x7 with colors exactly right where is right now, is okay. colors & where they are based on own AAC device >:) because of course

design of aac device case basically same as above. back side just have bigger clouds. oh also device has handles. tho it float around so handles get used less. float around so don’t have worry about how to carry it how to mount on wheelchair etc etc etc it follows you it automatic come to your hand when you wanna say something (kinda also acting as prompting bc sometimes think about say something but don’t actually say in device) it get out way when you don’t want it. if only like this irl lol

bottom left is info about character already said

bottom right is wheelchair design

parts covered up by person: rainbow gradient side guard, blue contoured cushion.

n also drawing of back of backrest: when not in use, wings power assist shrink to small decoration on back. not big there all time.

also have stickers! sticker of nessie, banana slug, sheep, cloud, star, rainbow, & an AAC symbol of “AAC”

wheelchair may also have magical tilt & recline & elevate. how? don’t know!!! why not just make full powerchair? uhhhh like manual chair look better

n picture of irl windmill candy

border of art also rainbow gradient lace.

yea that all please draw them 🥲

praise me put lots work into them

pls be nice to them

[awkward-walking-potato]

Hey, I was wondering if I could request something for Nightcrawler x Reader? I was thinking the reader feels ugly and has been treated unkindly because of it. Then he finds them scrutinizing themself in the mirror on a particularly tough day, after someone calls them ugly to their face, leading to the two of them commiserating and bonding over their experiences of looking different. If you do take my request, could you make it as gender neutral as possible? People of all gender identities know what it's like to not stack up to society's standards.

Reflections

Nightcrawler x Reader

The day had been harsh—one of those days where the world seemed to have it out for you. You had endured the usual snide comments, the sideways glances, and the subtle but unmistakable rejections. But today, it had crossed a line. Someone had called you ugly, straight to your face, with a look of disgust that cut deeper than any insult ever could.

Now, you found yourself alone, standing in front of the mirror, scrutinizing every inch of your appearance. The words echoed in your mind, over and over, until they felt like they were etched into your skin. You stared at your reflection, trying to see what others saw—trying to understand why you were treated like this. Your heart ached with a familiar sadness, the kind that made you feel small, unworthy, and utterly alone.

As you stood there, lost in thought, you heard a soft bamf behind you, followed by the familiar scent of sulfur. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

"Mein Freund..." Kurt’s voice was gentle, filled with concern. You glanced at his reflection in the mirror, his golden eyes watching you with a deep empathy that made your chest tighten.

You didn’t say anything at first, just kept staring at your reflection. Kurt stepped closer, his three-fingered hand resting lightly on your shoulder. "What troubles you?" he asked softly, though you both knew he had already guessed.

You sighed, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on you. "Someone... someone called me ugly today," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "And I just... I keep thinking, maybe they're right. Maybe... maybe that’s why people treat me the way they do."

Kurt’s gaze softened, a pained expression crossing his face. He gently turned you to face him, his hand still resting on your shoulder. "Oh, mein Schatz," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I know what it is to feel different, to be judged for how you look. But you are not ugly. You are beautiful, inside and out. And those who cannot see that... they are the ones who are blind."

You looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity in his words, but the doubt still lingered in your heart. "How can you say that, Kurt? You... you know what it’s like, but you’re... you’re beautiful in your own way. Unique. But me? I’m just... different, and not in a good way."

Kurt’s tail curled slightly behind him, a subtle sign of his discomfort. He knew all too well the pain you were feeling, the sting of rejection and judgment. "I used to think the same," he admitted quietly. "I used to believe that I was cursed, that my appearance made me unworthy of love, of acceptance. But I have learned, over time, that true beauty is not found in the reflection of a mirror, but in the kindness we show, the love we give, the way we treat others."

He paused, searching your eyes. "The world can be cruel," he continued, "and people can be unkind. But you must not let their words define you. You are more than what they see. You are strong, and compassionate, and worthy of love."

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, and Kurt gently wiped it away with his thumb. His touch was warm and comforting, and for the first time that day, you felt a flicker of hope.

"You see this?" Kurt gestured to his own face, his blue fur and pointed ears, his fanged teeth and yellow eyes. "Many have looked at me and seen only a monster. But you—you have never looked at me that way. You have seen me for who I am, not what I appear to be. And that is a gift, a rare and precious gift. Please, give that same kindness to yourself."

You swallowed hard, his words sinking in. Kurt had faced so much in his life, had endured so much pain because of how he looked, yet he had never let it break him. He had found a way to see beauty in himself, and in others, despite everything.

Kurt wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a gentle hug. "You are not alone," he whispered against your hair. "Not in this. I will always be here, to remind you of the light within you, to help you see what I see. You are not ugly, mein Freund. You are loved, just as you are."

You closed your eyes, leaning into his embrace, letting his words wash over you. For the first time that day, the self-loathing began to fade, replaced by a warmth that you hadn’t felt in a long time. In Kurt’s arms, you felt safe—seen for who you truly were, not just for how you looked.

"Thank you, Kurt," you murmured, your voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for being here, for understanding."

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his golden gaze filled with a deep, unwavering affection. "Always," he said softly. "And whenever you need to talk, or just be reminded of your worth, I will be here. You are never alone in this, mein Schatz."

You nodded, feeling a small smile tug at the corners of your lips. With Kurt by your side, you knew that you could face whatever came your way, no matter how cruel the world could be. Because in his eyes, you were not just someone different—you were someone cherished, someone beautiful.

And maybe, just maybe, you could start to see that in yourself too.

[awooghan]

[11:41 pm] ✧.* l.mh

➳ PAIRING: lee know x gn!reader

➳ GENRE: fluff, slice of life, silent/mutual pining, friends to (implied) lovers

➳ WARNINGS: none, just tooth-rotting fluff and simp!lino :]

➳ WORD COUNT: 1k exactly which is a bit long for a timestamp but are we surprised

➳ SUMMARY: you and minho are out with your friends one night. minho notices you won't leave his side.

➳ NOTES: wow i actually completed a fic and it wasn't for christmas LOL hope you enjoy <3 also i know the banner is lee know in a puffy coat but this is supposed to be a summer night timestamp and this was the closest photo i could find 😭 (and as always ty @ujimoo for helping me make a banner)

➳ SONG REC: headliner (seventeen)

network tags: @kflixnet @straykidsland-main @kwritersworld @k-labels

“Ah, Y/N…” Minho says, lightly nudging you. “When are you gonna get off me?”

His voice, flat but gentle, cuts through the air around you, making the crickets chirping nearby sound like a mere pin drop. He doesn’t mean to sound rude, though his tone alone would have raised the eyebrows of strangers passing by. Luckily, there aren’t many people around to spare him weird glances this late at night.

It’s a genuine question, though. Instead of stomping around on the playground down the slope with your friends, you have effectively trapped Minho next to you atop a nearby hill. Your legs are outstretched before you, your shoes innocently tapping against his as you rock your feet side to side. Your arm sits comfortably next to his, and your head rests on his shoulder. He’s all but stuck now, like sap on a maple tree in January, and if you don’t move soon, he’ll be doomed to spend the rest of the night here in the grass.

He feels you shrug next to him.

“Hmm?” Minho hums. His eyes widen just slightly as you scoot closer. Your hand brushes against his, and your fingers lazily drum a pattern into the warm earth below you. He tries to ignore this and pokes you repeatedly in the arm.

“Come onnnn…” he says. “When are you gonna get up?”

Your quiet “I dunno” in response fills his ears.

“What do you meeeaaann, ‘I dunno’?” He makes a show of rolling his eyes, then clicks his tongue. “Why don’t you wanna get up, hmm?”

A scream echoes through the park and makes Minho look up for a moment. Changbin’s short figure flies through the air, his arms flailing. The swing behind him rocks erratically as he falls onto the mulch with a thud. Wooyoung points and cackles loudly from the swing next to him, but quickly lets out a shriek of his own and grips onto the metal chains. Further right, Jungwoo and Chaeryeong’s silhouettes chase each other around on the main playground equipment. Lampposts at the edge of the playground cast a dim yellow glow across the space, like the ones in retro film recordings. Minho can imagine the little “PLAY” icon floating at the top left of the scene, blinking periodically several feet above the dark blue awning.

He feels a light tap against his shoe again.

“Owww!” Minho feigns a cry. He picks up his feet and swipes them away from you in one swift move, the corners of his lips pulling down in an exaggerated pout. “Y/N, that hurt~ how dare you…” 

Looking back at you, you’re mindlessly clicking your feet against each other, and you’re still all cuddled up on his shoulder. His heart thumps a little louder in his chest when you shove your head closer to him.

“Yah, Y/N…”

“Hmm...” Your soft hum comes out more as a statement than a reply.

You flutter your eyes closed, your lashes gently batting against your skin. He heaves out a sigh, and the warm breeze tickles his cheeks with a light blush. It seems to have more mercy on you, though, as it delicately brushes your stray hairs away from your forehead, framing your face perfectly. Almost too perfectly. The crickets blend into the quiet air as he takes in the sight.

“Hey…” Minho tries one more time. He tilts his head slightly as he gazes at you. “Why don’t you get up? Our friends are waiting.”

The breeze picks up for just a moment, making you scrunch up your nose. Minho gestures down the hill. It’s getting more difficult to look away from you. “See?” he continues. “Playground's right over there. ‘S loads more fun than I am.”

Another shriek rings out from the playground area. Chaeryeong lies in an awkward position at the bottom of the slide. The wind picks up again at the same time, whistling against Minho’s ears right as Chaeryeong yells something at Jungwoo. All he can make out is another scream as Jungwoo tumbles down the slide and knocks Chaeryeong onto the gravel.

But a light tap sings louder to Minho than all of it.

Looking back at you, his eyes trace down, stopping where your fingers meet his arm. As light as a hummingbird’s wing beat, your fingers tap across his forearm and leave a path of spreading warmth in their wake. They seem to float in the air as they skip further down. Your touch, so faint and gentle, nearly lulls him to sleep. He lets his eyes fall shut.

It’s like Minho is at the beach for a moment, and your fingers brushing against his skin are the ocean waves calmly swaying over his feet. Then, he feels a sudden blast as a tidal wave crashes over him, its currents pulling him under and leaving him unable to breathe. His eyes snap open and right toward the spot where your hand has come to a gentle rest over the top of his own.

Minho’s eyes meet your soft ones. Your head is still comfortably nestled on his shoulder, and your cheeks seem to glow in the dark when you smile at him. For a moment, perhaps a moment too long, time comes to a still as he takes you in, watching you slowly melt into his side. You look so at peace, and he dare not disturb you, despite his urge to spring up and run down the hill and scream at Changbin. Thankfully, he’s too engrossed in the feeling of your hand on top of his to even try. He thanks his lucky stars once more that you’re also looking down at your hands, so you can’t notice the blood rushing to the tips of his ears.

Slowly, he spreads his fingers and gently threads them with yours. He glances at you, then looks down at his lap, a shy smile finally forming on his lips.

“Ah…” he says softly. “ Our friends can wait a little.”

[snailpaste]

Hi! This is my first time requesting, so am kinda nervous to request!

Can I get Shanks x HalfDragon! Male reader? Or gn reader if you prefer that more, like they were secretly childhood best friends then got separated when HalfDragon! Male reader got captured by the Marines? (He was too weak that day) then few years pass and they meet again? Like Shanks found him all chained up on a island that belongs to the Marines (is there any island that belongs to the Marines??) and considered as dangerous?

Fluff and angst too pls!!

(Sorry if am not making any sense, English not my first language)

(Also, if you're uncomfortable with this, ignore it or delete it! I don't want anyone to feel uncomfortable with me :D)

Shanks x Dragon! Male Reader

CONTENT: SFW, gen fic (can be read platonically or romantically), imprisonment, kidnapping, child neglect, male reader, dragon reader (like seraphim)

AN: I hear ya I hear ya. I’ve never written for anything remotely anthropomorphic before. This took so long I'm so sorry 💀 if you're still around I hope you like it (:

The Roger Pirates had been laying low for a few months, wandering about in the South Blue following a particularly high-profile rendezvous with an Admiral, when they drew in to dock at Bakemono Island.

It was here that you were found, sneaking up on, and stealing from, a tipsy Crocus. You’d nearly made it out the door too, cloak pulled tight over your shoulders, the rowdy drunken cheers of the crew providing a great distraction… until a firm hand clasped around your elbow and tugged you back. You spun around in shock, coming face-to-face with a red-haired boy roughly your own age, and a looming figure above.

You froze seeing his expression morph into one of shock, mentally preparing for him to be disgusted or angered by your eyes, the smattering of scales across your skin, your slightly pointed teeth, but his gaze only softened.

But the first things Shanks noticed were the cuts and scrapes covering you, evidence of the resentment and fear the locals had. You clearly hadn’t bathed in weeks (the lake long since frozen over in the harsh winter) and your lips were purple and trembling from the bitter night air. Bruises littered your skin, some fresh and some yellow.

Before you could run off again, Shanks had frantically called over a tall blond man. Rayleigh had looked down at you from behind shanks, immediately noticing the wallet clasped in your shaking hands, but his annoyance at a brat -And hell, you must’ve been no older than what, five?- stealing from his crew was quickly dulled when he saw your face. Any scolding died in his throat, and he gently forced you down into a chair, sliding you a bowl of stew with a simple demand, “eat.”

Courtesy of Shanks’s incessant probing, you reluctantly admitted you had no family or caregivers. Hearing this, Rayleigh and Roger had all but decided you were to become a member of their crew, a proposition you agreed to so quickly you accidentally choked on the bread roll you were given. The night had gone well after that, the crew didn’t ask questions, too tipsy or busy with terrible karaoke to bother, and once things had subdued you were brought aboard the Oro Jackson. 

You were carried to a small cabin by Rayleigh, barely awake. He tucked you into a comfortable hammock where you fell asleep feeling secure for the first time in your life.

That sense of tranquillity was lost the second you woke up.

A boy your own age grinned down with bright red eyes and equally shocking hair, interrupting your startled scream with a chirpy “Hey! I’m Shanks. Who- no don’t scream you’ll wake the clown- who’re you? Whatcha doin’ here? I like your… scales? And your eyes! And-”

From that moment on Shanks became a permanent fixture in your life, whether by your own volition or not, and while a little overwhelming for an orphaned social outcast to begin with, the redhead quickly became your best friend. Shanks, and the rest of the crew, helped you come out of your shell

Over time the two of you more or less became a packaged deal— wherever you went, the crew knew Shanks was soon to follow suit; wherever Shanks went, you’d be hot on his heels. Quickly, the Oro Jackson became home and the crew the family you’d never had.

You quickly caught up to Shanks in swordsmanship, leading to amused gambling from the crew during your many duels. As you got older, the crew learned to make the two of you wait until a nearby island before fighting, following a rather nasty incident of a cleaved mast. Your dragon abilities became stronger as you got older too, and a nasty bout of flu led to you setting Buggy’s hat on fire.

The sea was calm the day you’d pulled in to dock at orchard island. Roger entrusted the task of gathering a few specific supplies to you, a routine you carried out often. Hours passed, and the atmosphere on the ship grew uneasy. Shanks returned from his own chores, expecting to see you, but you were nowhere in sight. The crew began searching the ship frantically, calling your name with increasing worry. However, as the minutes turned into hours, and the hours gave way to nightfall, it became evident that something was terribly wrong.

Shanks discovered your belongings untouched in their shared quarters. The half-finished drawings, the worn-out pirate hat - all left behind. The crew descended on the town in search of you. 

In the heart of the town square, Gaban discovered a series of wanted posters plastered to the wall, large red “X”s painted over them — displaying your face. Shock ran through the crew as they first realised that the marines had been watching you closely. Then, that you’d been taken.

──────────────────── many years later...

The scent of salt and decay lingered in the air as Shanks and his crew disembarked onto the abandoned Naval Fortress, its walls cracked and crumbling, long since reclaimed by nature. 

Possibilities of treasures or hidden secrets about the World Government drew Shanks to investigate the fortress

The soft slap of his sandals echoed as he wandered through the corridors.

As the crew rifled through old storage rooms and examined dusty maps, Shanks couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to this forsaken place. His instincts led him to a particularly intact section of the fortress; the walls stood strong, showing no signs of weathering.

“Hey, Benn,” he called over his shoulder, palm splayed against the cool stone, “you seeing what I’m seeing?”

A wave of Haki accompanied by a soft grunt confirmed it. Shanks pushed his hand forward, the brick beggining to slide backwards at the same time as a bookshelf on the opposite end of the room swung open. A draft of cold air greeted them as the secret door creaked open, revealing a dark passageway leading downwards. 

The two exchanged looks before descending, Benn lighting a bundle of old lamps as a torch. The descent was eerie, the walls damp and the air heavy. The further they went, the more ominous the surroundings became. Shadows danced on the walls, and the distant echo of dripping water kept them on edge. 

At the bottom of the passageway, Shanks caught his foot on something, something that clanked and grated against the lichen-covered floor. Benn swung the torch downwards, casting the corner of the room in dim light— and Shanks couldn't believe his eyes. Chained to the cold, the stone wall was a figure. You.

Word Count: 1094

[serpentface]

Full ref outline of the main White Calf characters, a dysfunctional noble family and two monks, all tied with the titular sacrificial wild oxen calf.

Left to right: Couya Haidamane, Faiza Haidamane, Janeys Haidamane, Hibrides Haidamane (née Uryashta), Brakul 'Red-Dog', Palo Apolynnon, Tigran Otto.

Design notes and very brief character summaries below the cut

Couya Haidamane

Odonii priestess, assigned to the sacrificial white calf, pretty sure that God has chosen her as Its emissary. Half sister to Faiza and Janeys. Constantly three seconds away from killing Janeys with a rock. Friends with Hibrides.

Has an awkward demeanor, doesn't talk much, borderline humorless, both intentionally and inadvertently intimidates those around her, regarded as strange and unsettling, very much in her own head most of the time.

32 years old.

Wardi and Titen-Wardi, born and raised in the city of Wardin.

5’9’, yellow-brown eyes, light brown hair, lanky muscular build

Usually wears a men’s styled robe.

Wears a standard issue Odonii's veil and headband.

Almost always carrying her pistol with no sheath, and usually positions it to be prominently exposed.

Often wears her hair unbraided, which is somewhat unconventional.

Terminal resting bitch face and signature cold, dead eyed stare.

Has a mole on the left side of the face, above the lip.

Routine bloodletting scars on the side of her left index finger.

Doesn't wear jewelry unless she has to.

Faiza Haidamane

Senior Odonii priestess, personal friend of the king and a de-facto leader of the pilgrimage, sister of Janeys and half sister to Faiza. Just desperately trying to make sure everything goes alright.

Skilled with diplomacy, shrewd and pragmatic, charismatic and confident, has a bit of a martyr complex about protecting those around her and enjoys power.

35 years old.

Wardi and Titen-Wardi, born and raised in the city of Wardin.

5’6’’, gray eyes, brown hair, wiry build

Hair is almost always braided and worn down the front.

Wears a standard issue Odonii's veil and headband.

Likes to keep her arms bare, and usually wears her cloak around the waist outside of blazing sun or very cold conditions.

Wears a lapis lazuli necklace

Has a serpent pelatoche bracelet she wears on her left wrist, a gift from the king Stavis Amanti.

Really likes the color blue (blue clothing is typical wear for Odonii but it's a thing for her specifically)

Routine bloodletting scars on her lower left forearm.

Janeys Haidamane

Unaccomplished wealthy brat mercenary, is in command of 25 soldiers entirely due to nepotism via Faiza. Married to Hibrides and sworn brother/lover to Brakul.

Generally regarded as unpleasant and an all-around jackass, perpetually anxious and spiteful, superstitious and intensely religious, low self esteem.

34 years old.

Wardi and Titen-Wardi, born and raised in the city of Wardin.

5’6’’, gray eyes, brown hair, wiry and stocky build

Upper arms, thighs, chest and back are covered in razor scars inflicted by Brakul.

He and Brakul have a matching scar through their left eyebrow.

Routine bloodletting scars on his palms and left thumb.

Hair is usually worn slicked back with (obnoxiously scented) oil. When untreated, it’s wavy and falls in a part down the middle.

Has sideburns and a thin beard on his chin. This is the full extent of facial hair he can grow.

Almost always wearing at least one pelatoche charm, usually as a cloak clasp.

He and Faiza look very alike and can pass for twins.

He and Couya share a signature dead eyed stare

Hibrides Uryashta

Daughter of an Erubinnos chancellor, brought along with the wives of noblemen attending the pilgrimage. Miserably married to Janeys. Has a strained platonic emotional affair with Brakul. Friends with Couya.

Shy and somewhat lonely, very nervous about her presentation, very intelligent, frequently condescending, puts up a serious and tough front but is very sensitive. Heavily germaphobic.

5’2’’, hazel eyes, dark brown hair, delicate build

Yuroma-Wardi, born and raised in the city of Erubinnos.

29 years old.

Always well protected from the sun, rarely seen outside without a hat or veil.

Her hair is kept in very long braids, worn down the back.

Wears closed toed high heeled shoes, which keep the wearer away from dirty city streets.

Usually bedecked in jewelry, especially fond of pearls. Has a particularly fine odatochent necklace.

Really likes wading birds and ducks, a lot of her clothes have bird motifs.

Routine bloodletting scars on her right thumb.

Brakul 'Red-Dog' (actual full title- Brakul virsum Kuligan et Borunil an Briyonis ne-Taig an Bict-Urbinnas)

Originally of the Bict-Urbinnas people and considered a 'heathen' by most compatriots, mercenary with a passion for riding sports. Mostly present on the pilgrimage due to nepotism by proxy. Illegitimate father of Hibrides' children, sworn brother/lover of Janeys.

Usually quiet and placid, calculating and thoughtful, prone to startlingly intense emotional outbursts and fits of melancholy and just really fucking annoying self-pity.

37 years old.

Bict-Urbinnas, born and raised in southeastern Greathill in the Erubin River Valley.

6’2’’, brown eyes, light red-brown hair, heavyset muscular build.

Doesn’t particularly like cloaks, and usually wears a less common tunic over his robes.

Has tattoos- clan identifiers on his face and family history on his upper arms, a purely decorative dog over his heart.

Usually keeps his arms covered in public to minimize annoying questions about aforementioned tattoos

Face and forehead is frequently sunburnt, a problem of his own creation (he doesn’t like hats)

Usually wears riding boots and spurs.

Head shaved close to the scalp

His upper arms, shoulders, chest, back and thighs are covered in razor scars inflicted by Janeys. The dog tattoo is avoided.

Matching eyebrow scarification with Janeys.

Palo Apolynnon

Newly initiated Galenii monk, son of glass traders from Godsmouth, assigned with Tigran to the sacrificial white calf.

Thoughtful and analytical, somewhat catty and vain, suspicious of others and slow to trust. He's going through several personal crises that have him under a lot of stress, and has a fairly pleasant (if guarded) personality under normal circumstances.

23 years old.

Kos-Wardi, childhood spent in the imperial city of Godsmouth with a few years in Kosov.

5’10’’, brown eyes, light ash-brown hair, very skinny, lanky build

Has dark purplish-gray patches on his skin from use of hidije in his youth, an (ineffective) alchemical treatment for epilepsy

Only wears his sunglasses in particularly bright conditions/around water (having picked up on sunlight on water being a trigger)

Large forehead and long face.

Benefits socially from not being visually identifiable as a eunuch, though his facial hair has stopped growing.

Usually keeps his hair in a single braid, wrapped around the front (somewhat unconventional)

Has one iron ring per ear, showing he is a 1 year Galenii initiate.

Usually wearing a standard issue Galenii robes, cloak, and sash.

Tigran Otto

Galenii monk since the age of 11, son of immigrant Ubiyan laborers, assigned with Palo to the sacrificial white calf.

Nervous, cowardly, impulsive, a fast and excessive talker, superstitious, very book-smart but devastatingly foolish in action.

19 years old.

Ubiyan, born in a farming village on the Brilla river, has lived in the city of Wardin since the age of 11.

4’11’’, brown eyes, brown hair, short and heavyset build

Perpetually sweaty

He has five iron rings per ear, a sign of a fully initiated Galenii.

His features are considered soft and androgynous, and he is easily visually identified as a eunuch.

Keeps his head shaved to stubble.

Usually wearing a standard issue Galenii robes, cloak, and sash.

Wears a Galenii ceremonial dagger and routinely takes it out to fidget with it.

[anonymouspuzzler]

everyone has been so darned kind about the update!! to everyone who has taken a peek at our work, explored the site, shared it with their friends, drawn fanart, done ANIMATICS, MUSIC VIDEOS, everything and anything - thank you, thank you, thank you!!

also here's a lot of little doodles i found i did during production that i completely forgot about until now. the last little comic is a True Story that happened when i was hosting the exhibition

[Image IDs/transcripts under cut!]

[Image 1 ID: A full-color, digital drawing of a puppet version of Puzz lifting up Wally on her right hip. Wally is smiling gently and waving with his right arm. There is a light green and blue gradient behind them, and rainbow text above their heads reading "THANK YOU!" with little heart symbols in several colors. End ID.]

[Image 2 ID: A photo of Puzz and the Wally puppet, with a caricature of Puzz's face drawn over where her head would be. She is wearing read heart earrings and has her hair in a curly updo similar to Wally's pompadour. She is smiling with her tongue sticking out, looking into the camera. Wally is also smiling into the camera, one arm resting behind Puzz's back and the other hand on her arm. There is an arrow pointing to Puzz with handwritten text reading "PUZZ!" in blue colored pencil, and various yellow- and blue stars drawn around the image. End ID.]

[Image 3 ID: A black-and-white digital ink drawing of Puzz sitting at a messy L-shaped desk. She is wearing a baggy black t-shirt over a striped long-sleeve shirt, a grey skirt, and tights with a swirly pattern. There is a laptop to Puzz's right, a takeout container and cup of pens to her left, and a monitor right in front of her. There is a close-up image of Eddie's smiling face on the monitor. Puzz leans in close with an intense, thoughtful expression, going "hmm...". End ID.]

[Image 4 ID: A black-and-wite digital ink drawing showing Wally watching in horror as Puzz, spinning in circles with a vapid grin, ascends into the sky with a giant box balanced on top of her head. Her tiny top hat is in turn balanced on top of the box. End ID.]

[Image 5 ID: A black-and-white digital ink drawing of puppet Puzz and Wally. Puzz is standing in front of Wally, back facing the viewer, with an empty grin. Wally, who is about a full head taller, looks down at her with dumbfounded horror, apparently unable to comprehend someone being smaller than him. There are several question marks above his head. End ID.]

[Image 6 ID: A black-and-white digital ink drawing of Wally. He is leaning against a surface holding a phone, staring at the viewer with a gentle smile. He is holding the phone to his ear with his left hand and twirling the cord around his finger with his right. End ID.]

[Image 7 ID: A black-and-white digital ink drawing of Frank and Barnaby. They are recreating the meme image of two men in the snow, with Frank looking off to the right holding a small snowball in his hands, while Barnaby jumps up behind him holding a huge snowball, grinning widely and prepared to Dunk. End ID.]

[Image 8 ID: A black-and-white digital ink comic about Puzz and Wally at the Playfellow Exhibition. Puzz, wearing a N95 mask and dressed up like Wally, holds the Wally puppet on her left. In front of them is a woman with a short bob haircut and striped shirt, holding the toy phone receiver up to her ear. In the first panel, the woman says, "this is your voice?", to which Wally nods and Puzz looks on. In the second panel, the woman cheerfully adds, "you have a sexy voice!", to which Puzz and Wally both look shocked. The third and fourth panels shows Puzz and Wally looking at each other, then back at the woman. The final panel shows Wally covering his face with one hand and ducking his face into Puzz's shoulder in embarrassment, while Puzz and the woman both laugh good-naturedly. End ID.]

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 All Wrapped Up

All Wrapped Up: When your date with Morpheus is cut short, you are left with his coat and your own thoughts… and a bleeding finger from where said coat bit you. You find out that Morpheus’ coat is very much alive as the rest of the realm.

Warnings: Morpheus’ Coat Fucks You (this is your only warning on how nasty this is), Explicit Language, Explicit Material.

To Note: AFAB!Reader x Morpheus’ Coat

Word Count: ~6.4k

You stroll through the shifting landscapes of the Dreaming, your boyfriend Morpheus by your side. The sky above you morphs from a star-studded abyss to a canvas of swirling pastels, the colors melting into each other like ice cream on a hot day. A soft breeze carries the scent of blooming nightshade and distant rain. Yet another perfect night to spend with your handsome and beautiful boyfriend.

"You know," you say, glancing at him, "this place could use more flowers."

Morpheus' lips twitch into a barely-there smile. "Flowers? Are there not flowers throughout my realm? What more do you wish for?"

"Gilbert is currently hoarding all the best ones" you huff out in half complaint. "I'm talking about everywhere else in the realm. The places that don't have his super awesomeness."

"And what do you propose I should add?" Morpheus asks, tilting his head to the side.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe some unique roses? Lilacs? Orchids even," you gesture vaguely, enjoying the way his eyes—currently a serene blue—catch the light. They glimmer so prettily with stars. "Fun and unique flowers that you would never see together. Tulips, birds of paradise, hydrangea…"

"Fun and unique flowers, you say?" Morpheus muses, his voice like a gentle hum in the background of a dream. He lifts a hand, and with a flick of his wrist, the ground around you begins to shift. Suddenly, the once bare earth is alive with a riot of colors. Roses in every hue imaginable bloom alongside lilacs, their delicate petals brushing against the striking shapes of orchids.

The air thickens with their fragrance, a heady blend that fills your senses and makes you feel dizzy with delight. You laugh, spinning around to take it all in. "See? This is what I'm talking about."

"Indeed," Morpheus replies, a trace of amusement in his voice. "Anything else you desire?"

Before you can respond, a loud caw breaks through the tranquility. You glance up to see Matthew the Raven circling overhead. "You two look like you're picking out wedding flowers," he comments, swooping down to land on Morpheus' shoulder.

"Do you have something to add, Matthew?" Morpheus asks, one eyebrow arched.

"Just that maybe you should throw in some dandelions," Matthew says, ruffling his feathers. "You know, for variety."

You chuckle, reaching out to scratch Matthew's head. "Dandelions? Really?"

"Hey, don't knock 'em till you've tried 'em," Matthew quips.

Morpheus waves his hand again and suddenly dandelions sprout amidst the more exotic blooms. Their cheerful yellow heads bob in the soft breeze, adding an unexpected touch of whimsy to the scene.

"I have to admit," you say, bending down to pluck one from the ground. "It does add something special."

The Dreaming reacts to every movement and word from Morpheus. The sky darkens slightly as if acknowledging his focus on this moment with you. The colors become more vivid, each petal and leaf shimmering as though made of dreams themselves.

You catch a hint of ozone in the air—like just before a thunderstorm—and it makes your skin tingle with anticipation. It's as if every sense is heightened here: the sound of distant waves crashing against unseen shores; the feeling of soft grass beneath your feet; the sight of flowers blooming in impossible combinations.

Morpheus watches you with those enigmatic eyes that seem to hold entire galaxies within them. "Anything else?" he asks softly.

"Hmm," you ponder aloud. "How about some bioluminescent fungi? Something that glows when it gets dark. Can't go wrong with a good mushroom."

Matthew caws approvingly. "Now that's an idea! Glowing mushrooms could make this place even more magical."

With another wave of Morpheus' hand, glowing fungi begin to appear among the flowers. They emit a soft light that bathes everything in an ethereal glow as twilight descends over the realm.

Morpheus pulls you closer, your body fitting perfectly against his chest. The feeling is almost overwhelming—his coat is soft and warm, like the comforting embrace of a dream you never want to wake from. You really didn't. His fingers trail down your back, sending pleasurable sensations up your spine.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" His voice is a low murmur in your ear, each word vibrating through you like the distant rumble of thunder.

You nod, drawing your fingers down the lapel of his coat. The fabric feels like velvet under your touch, and the galaxy within it seems to pulse with light and energy. There is even a humming vibration beneath your fingertips that almost echo the coats appreciation of your touch.

"Morpheus," you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper.

Matthew flaps his wings in agitation from his perch on Morpheus' shoulder. "Come on, guys. Do we have to do this right here?"

Ignoring Matthew's protest, you let your fingers wander further down Morpheus' coat. Each touch ignites a spark of passion that crackles between you both. His grip on you tightens slightly, as if he can't bear to let you go.

"If he does not wish to witness me kissing my beloved," Morpheus says, his eyes darkening with intensity as they lock onto yours, "Matthew is welcome to leave."

The raven lets out an indignant squawk but takes flight, disappearing into the shifting sky of the Dreaming.

He lowers his head slowly, giving you just enough time to close your eyes before his lips meet yours. The kiss is gentle at first, a mere brush of lips that sends a rush of warmth through you. But then it deepens, becoming more insistent as he pours all his longing and desire into that single point of contact.

The sounds around you seem to amplify—the rustle of leaves in the breeze, the distant roll of thunder, even the faint hum of bioluminescent fungi glowing softly in the growing twilight. It's as if every element in the Dreaming is attuned to this moment, enhancing every sensation.

Your hand slides up into his hair, feeling its softness between your fingers. You press yourself closer against him until there's no space left between you. His arms wrap around you tighter still as if he could pull you into himself completely.

As you lose yourself in the kiss, your hand continues its journey down Morpheus' coat, the fabric smooth and cool against your fingertips. You can feel the coat almost react to your touch, a subtle vibration that seems to echo Morpheus' own desires.

Your fingers brush against the edge of one of his coat pockets, and without thinking, you slip your hand inside. The interior is surprisingly warm, a stark contrast to the outer fabric. But then, something sharp bites into your finger. You pull back abruptly, breaking the kiss with a gasp.

Morpheus' eyes snap open, darkening from their serene blue to a concerned silver. "What is wrong?" His voice is soft but filled with an urgency that sends a shiver down your spine.

You blink in confusion, glancing down at your finger. A drop of blood wells up from a tiny puncture wound, bright red against your pale skin. "I... I think something bit me," you stammer.

Morpheus frowns deeply. He takes your hand gently in his own, lifting it to inspect the wound. His eyes narrow slightly as he studies the small drop of blood. Without warning, he brings your finger up to his lips and slides it into his mouth.

The sensation is electric. His lips are warm and soft against your skin, his tongue soothing as it laps at the wound. You shiver as Morpheus' tongue glides over your finger, each lap sending a tingling sensation straight to your core. The warmth of his lips contrasts sharply with the cool evening air, creating an intoxicating mix of sensations that makes it hard to focus. His eyes, now a deep, mesmerizing silver, lock onto yours, and you feel the world around you blur into insignificance.

The faint taste of iron lingers as he continues to lick the small wound, his movements slow and deliberate. It's almost as if he's savoring every drop of your blood. You can hear the soft sound of his tongue against your skin, a rhythmic, almost hypnotic noise that seems to echo in the stillness of the Dreaming.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally releases your finger. The wound is gone, not even a scar remaining. You flex your hand experimentally, marveling at the seamless healing.

"That was... weird," you murmur, pulling your hand back.

Morpheus' lips curve into a slight smile. "My apologies if it caused you discomfort."

You shake your head, brushing it off. "No, it's fine. Just unexpected."

He straightens, his expression shifting from concern to something more reserved. "I must return to my duties," he says softly.

Your heart sinks at his words. The thought of him leaving, even for a short while, fills you with a sense of loss. "Already?" you pout, unable to hide your disappointment.

Morpheus chuckles, a sound like distant thunder rolling through the night sky. He reaches up and slips off his coat, the fabric whispering against itself as it moves. The galaxy within it seems to pulse with life as he drapes it around your shoulders.

The coat envelops you in warmth and comfort; it’s like being wrapped in the night sky itself. Well, you are wrapped up in a galaxy.

"Wear this," Morpheus murmurs, his voice low and soothing. "So I will be with you until I physically return."

You snuggle into the coat's embrace, feeling its gentle hum against your skin—a soft vibration that echoes Morpheus' own being. The fabric is impossibly soft, caressing your body like he truly is wrapped around you.

He cups your cheek with one hand, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "I will not be long," he promises.

You watch as Morpheus disappears into the ever-shifting landscape of the Dreaming, his silhouette blending seamlessly with the twilight. The weight of his coat around your shoulders is comforting, like an embrace that lingers long after the person has left. With a deep breath, you turn and begin to make your way back to the palace.

The path ahead winds through a forest of bioluminescent trees. Their leaves emit a soft, otherworldly glow that illuminates your way. The air is filled with the faint rustling of leaves and the occasional distant call of nocturnal creatures. As you walk, the sound of your footsteps mingles with these ambient noises, creating a symphony that feels uniquely alive.

The palace looms ahead, its grand spires reaching up to touch the star-studded sky. The entrance is guarded by three majestic creatures—a Gryphon, a Wyvern, and a Hippogryph—each one regal and imposing in its own right. They nod at you as you pass through the gates, acknowledging your presence with silent respect.

Inside, the palace is a labyrinth of corridors and rooms, each one more fascinating than the last. You wander aimlessly, letting your feet guide you. The walls are adorned with intricate tapestries that seem to move and change as you look at them, depicting scenes from countless dreams and nightmares. It was hard to be bored in the dreaming, but you really just wanted to spend time with your boyfriend!

You make your way through the winding corridors of the palace, each step echoing softly against the marble floors. The air is cool, almost refreshing, carrying with it the faint scent of night-blooming jasmine. The palace itself seems to breathe around you, walls shifting subtly as if alive.

Finally, you arrive at Morpheus' private chamber. The door creaks open with a whisper, revealing a room that feels both infinite and intimate. Soft starlight filters in from the high windows, casting gentle shadows across the floor.

Stars float lazily in the air, tiny orbs of light that shimmer and pulse as if they hold entire galaxies within them. You reach out to touch one, and it flutters away like a shy firefly before coming back to hover just above your fingertips. Its light is warm against your skin, sending tingles up your arm.

You wander around the room, brushing your fingers against the floating stars. Each one responds to your touch with a soft hum, a melody that seems to vibrate through your very being. It's like touching pieces of Morpheus himself—fragments of his essence scattered throughout his sanctuary.

As you explore, your gaze drifts down to the coat pocket where something had bitten you earlier. The memory of that sharp pinch makes you pause. Curiosity gnaws at you as you slip your hand back into the pocket cautiously this time, but all you feel is the warm, velvety lining.

"At least I have you to cuddle with," you murmur to yourself, a small smile playing on your lips. "Morpheus' coat is better than no Morpheus at all."

A warmth spreads through your body and you snuggle your face into the neckline of the material, enjoying the way the galaxy feels against your skin. You make your way over to Morpheus' bed and climb onto it, sighing as your hands and knees sink into the cloud like mattress.

The scent of Morpheus lingers on the sheets—a mix of stardust and midnight air that fills your senses and makes you feel even closer to him. You curl up in his coat, pulling it tightly around yourself as you nestle into the soft bedding. A nap would do nicely until Morpheus returns.

You wake with a start, the sensation of fabric skimming across your skin pulling you from the depths of sleep. Your eyes flutter open, and you find yourself staring up at the shifting, pulsating galaxy that adorns Morpheus' coat. It's draped over you like a protective cocoon, its warmth seeping into your very bones. But something is different this time.

The coat is moving, its fabric undulating with a life of its own. You gasp as it begins to slip beneath your clothing, the smooth, velvety material gliding effortlessly over your skin. The sensation is both startling and arousing, each touch sending shivers of pleasure coursing through you.

Your shirt is the first to go, the coat's sleeves tugging at the hem until it's lifted over your head and discarded. You try to sit up, to grasp at the fabric and halt its progress, but it's as if the coat anticipates your every move. It wraps around your arms, pinning them to your sides with a gentle but unyielding pressure.

"Hey!" you protest, a mixture of amusement and alarm in your voice. "What do you think you're doing?"

The coat doesn't answer, of course. Instead, it continues its slow, sensual exploration of your body. You can feel it tracing the contours of your chest, the touch as intimate as a lover's caress. The fabric seems to have grown impossibly softer, its movements deliberate and teasing.

Your breath hitches as it trails lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your pants. The sensation is maddeningly erotic, a blend of ticklish delight and mounting desire. You squirm, trying to escape the coat's insistent advance, but it only tightens its grip on your legs, preventing any chance of retreat.

"First you bite me, and now you want me naked?" you murmur, the words coming out in a breathless whisper. The coat, of course, offers no response, save for the continued slide of fabric against your skin. "I don't think so!"

You thrash against the coat's hold, your heart pounding as the fabric tightens around you, holding you fast. It's an odd sensation, the feeling of being trapped yet cared for, dominated yet cherished. Despite your initial protests, there's a part of you that's intrigued, a small voice whispering that you should surrender to the coat's desires.

With surprising gentleness, the coat lifts you off the bed, suspending you in midair. You're aware of the cool air against your skin, the vulnerability of being so exposed. The coat's grip on you shifts, and you feel it deftly unhooking your bra. The fabric slides away, leaving your chest bare to the night air and the coat's lingering touch.

Your breath catches as you feel the coat's fabric against your nipples. It's a strange, intoxicating sensation that sends waves of pleasure coursing through you. The coat caresses your breasts with an almost reverent touch, the fabric stroking and fondling with a lover's skill. You can't help the soft moan that escapes your lips, the sound echoing through the silent room.

The coat's attentions shift lower, and you feel it tugging at your pants. You're powerless to resist as the fabric peels away, leaving you clad in nothing but your underwear. The cool air teases your newly bared skin, and you can feel your arousal growing with each passing second.

As the coat continues to caress your breasts, you can't help but think that it's savoring this moment, relishing the feel of your soft, yielding flesh beneath its touch. The fabric moves with purpose, each stroke and caress sending shivers of pleasure up your spine.

Then, without warning, the coat vibrates against your skin, a subtle but unmistakable affirmation. It's almost as if it's communicating with you, confirming your suspicion that it wants—needs—this connection just as much as you do.

The vibrations are maddening, a constant, thrumming reminder of the coat's desire. You can feel it resonate deep within you, stoking the flames of your arousal even higher. The sound of your own breathing fills the room—harsh, ragged gasps that mirror the intensity of the sensations coursing through you.

Your body responds to the coat's ministrations with an urgency that's both startling and undeniable. You can feel yourself growing wetter, your underwear clinging to your damp skin. The coat's fabric teases your sensitive nipples, each brush sending jolts of pleasure straight to your cunt.

You're lost in a sea of sensation, your body moving instinctively to meet the coat's touch. The fabric strokes and fondles your breasts, the movements deliberate and maddeningly skillful. You can feel your arousal building, a tidal wave of pleasure that threatens to sweep you away.

The coat's vibrations grow stronger, more insistent, as if it can sense how close you are to the edge. The sensation is overwhelming, a constant thrum of pleasure that leaves you gasping for breath. You're aware of the wetness between your legs, the slick, aching need that demands fulfillment.

And then, just when you think you can't take any more, the coat's touch becomes impossibly gentle, a soft caress that brings you back from the brink. You're left hovering on the edge of climax, your body trembling with need as the coat holds you suspended in midair, caught between ecstasy and anticipation.

"Oh come on," you whine, tugging on the fabric holding your wrists. "Don't tell me you're gonna tease me too! Morpheus is already a bastard when it comes to teasing, I don't need both of you being mean to me!"

In response to your plea, the coat seems to hesitate for a moment, as if considering your words. Then, with a newfound determination, it resumes its careful exploration of your body. You feel the fabric gliding over your hips, dipping into the crease where your thighs meet your body, and then it's slipping beneath the waistband of your underwear. The sensation of the fabric against your most intimate area is surprisingly erotic, and you can't help but moan as it begins to move with purpose.

The coat tugs gently at your underwear, peeling it away from your damp skin. You feel a rush of cool air against your wetness, a stark contrast to the warmth of the coat's embrace. The fabric slides down your legs, leaving you completely naked and exposed in the coat's grasp.

You're lifted higher, your body suspended in midair as the coat positions you for its next tantalizing move. The sensation of weightlessness adds to the surrealism of the moment, amplifying the erotic sensations that course through you.

Then, without warning, the coat begins to rub between your legs, the fabric soft and insistent against your sensitive flesh. You gasp as it finds your clit, the rhythmic motion sending waves of pleasure radiating through your body. The vibrations grow stronger, the coat's purring growing louder as it busies itself with your wetness.

The sound of your arousal fills the room, a slick, wet noise that mingles with the coat's purring. You can hear the soft rustle of fabric as it moves against your skin, the subtle whisper of the galaxy that forms the coat's lining. It's a symphony of sensations, a cacophony of sound that threatens to overwhelm your senses.

The coat's movements grow more insistent, the fabric rubbing against your clit with a maddening rhythm that leaves you gasping for breath. You can feel the orgasm building within you, a tidal wave of pleasure that threatens to sweep you away.

Your body responds instinctively to the coat's touch, your hips moving in time with its rhythmic motions. The sensation of the fabric against your most sensitive area is exquisite, a blend of friction and warmth that sends shivers of pleasure coursing through you.

The coat's purring grows even louder, a constant thrum of pleasure that resonates deep within your core. You can feel your arousal growing with each passing second, your body tensing as the orgasm draws nearer.

And then, just when you think you can't take any more, the coat's touch changes. The fabric between your legs begins to pulse, the rhythm matching the beating of your heart. It's as if the coat knows exactly what you need, exactly how to push you over the edge.

The sensory overload is too much to bear. Your body tenses, and then you're falling, your orgasm crashing over you in waves of overwhelming pleasure. Your cries echo through the room, a testament to the ecstasy that courses through your veins.

As the waves of your climax wash over you, your body convulses with the intensity of the sensations. Your legs are thrashing, feet twisting in the air as they seek purchase on something—anything—to ground you in this moment of pure ecstasy. Your arms pull against the coat's embrace, the fabric tightening around your wrists in response to your struggles, holding you fast as it continues to lavish attention upon your trembling form.

The coat, sentient and eager, is greedily drinking up your release, its fabric writhing and pulsing against your most intimate areas. Each spasm of your cunt sends shockwaves of pleasure through you, and the coat seems to absorb every tremor, its vibrations harmonizing with the rhythm of your orgasm.

You're acutely aware of the erotic sensory details—the wet, slick sound of the coat moving against your drenched folds, the way your breath hitches with each wave of pleasure that crashes over you, the feeling of the cool air against your heated skin. The coat's fabric is like a thousand tiny fingers, each one caressing and teasing and coaxing you towards greater heights of pleasure.

The erotic sounds that fill the room are almost as stimulating as the physical sensations. The wet squelch of the coat's ministrations, the ragged panting of your breaths, the soft whimpers and moans that escape your lips—all of it combines to create a symphony of desire that resonates with the pulsing of your blood.

"Oh god," you strain out, your body falling slack. That was an incredibly explosive orgasm. All from the coat. The coat, however, seems far from finished.

Its fabric begins to move again, slithering down your stomach in a series of slow, deliberate waves. You can't help but squirm as it traces teasing patterns on your skin, each touch sending little shivers of sensation coursing through you. The coat purrs in response.

You can feel it trailing along the insides of your legs, a soft, ticklish touch that leaves you gasping for breath once more. The coat's purring grows louder, a constant thrum of pleasure that seems to echo your own rapidly beating heart. Always thirsty it seems.

As your breathing begins to steady, the coat's fabric continues its unhurried exploration of your body. It caresses your thighs, your stomach, the soft swell of your breasts. Each touch sends ripples of pleasure coursing through you, a reminder that the coat is far from done with you.

You feel the fabric shift, a subtle movement that draws your attention back to the apex of your thighs. The coat's touch is gentle yet insistent, its fabric teasing your sensitive folds with feather-light strokes. You can't help but moan, your body responding instinctively to the promise of more pleasure to come.

But then the fabric between your legs begins to change, to grow and harden into something entirely different. You gasp as you feel the unmistakable shape of a phallus emerging from the coat's inner lining, its size and girth enough to make you catch your breath.

"Wait," you protest, your voice barely above a whisper. "That place is for Morpheus."

The coat seems to hesitate for a moment, its fabric pulsing against your skin. And then, with a sense of inevitability, the phallus continues to grow, its length pressing against your entrance with an insistence that leaves you both exasperated and intrigued.

"You've got to be kidding me," you mutter, a flush creeping up your cheeks. "First you strip me, then you make me come, and now you want to fuck me? You're a coat, for crying out loud!"

In response, the coat vibrates, a low, rumbling purr that vibrates all the way through your cunt. It's almost as if it's chuckling at your incredulity, its fabric shifting against your skin with a maddeningly sensual rhythm.

The phallus nudges at your opening, the blunt tip slick with your own arousal. You can feel it teasing you, pressing just slightly into your warmth before withdrawing once more. The sensation is both startling and arousing, a tantalizing promise of what's to come.

You're aware of the erotic sounds that fill the room—the wet, slick noise of the coat's phallus moving against your drenched folds, the soft, needy whimpers that escape your lips with each teasing stroke. You hate how delicious the sounds are. The coat purrs in response, the vibrations adding another layer of pleasure to the sensory overload.

The phallus nudges at your entrance once more, and this time, it doesn't withdraw. You feel yourself stretching to accommodate its girth, your body yielding to the coat's insistent advance. The sensation is intense, a mix of pleasure and a slight sting that leaves you gasping for breath.

"Oh," you gasp out, your hips twitching and your pelvis muscles twitching from the stretch.

As the coat's phallus begins its slow, inexorable push into your body, you can't help but gasp at the sensation. It's thick and warm, a solid presence that fills you in a way you've never experienced before. Almost tentacle like, worming around against your clenching walls. The fabric of the coat's inner lining is soft against your sensitive skin, a stark contrast to the firmness of the phallus that's currently buried inside you.

You arch your back, a soft moan escaping your lips as the phallus continues its exploration. It seems to be searching for something, its movements deliberate and unhurried. Each slight shift sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, the sensation both startling and intensely arousing.

The erotic sounds of your coupling fills the room once more—the wet, slick noise of the coat's phallus moving inside you, the soft, needy whimpers that escape your lips with each thrust. You can feel the coat purring in response to your sounds of pleasure, the vibrations adding another layer of sensation to the mix.

You're acutely aware of the erotic sensory details—the feeling of the coat's fabric against your skin, the warmth of its body as it holds you close, the scent of your arousal mingling with the musty aroma of the coat's inner lining. It's an intoxicating blend that only serves to heighten your pleasure.

The phallus inside you seems to be growing larger, its girth stretching you in the most delicious way. You can feel it pressing against your vaginal walls, each movement sending ripples of pleasure radiating through your body. The sensation is overwhelming, a constant thrum of pleasure that leaves you gasping for breath.

Your heart pounds in your chest, the rush of blood a rhythmic counterpoint to the thrum of the coat's purring. Each pulse of your heart sends a fresh surge of arousal coursing through your veins, making your skin flush and your breath come in short, sharp gasps. You're so attuned to the sensations that every twitch and shudder reverberates through you, a testament to the coat's mastery over your body.

And then, just when you think you can't possibly get any more aroused, the coat's phallus reaches a depth within you that makes your breath catch in your throat. You feel it probing against your cervix, a gentle nudge that sends a jolt of sensation straight to your core. Your eyes widen, and a startled gasp escapes your lips. "N-no," you stammer, your voice tremulous with a mix of desire and trepidation. "No. That place is for babies, not...not this."

In response, the coat's phallus vibrates, a low, rumbling sensation that reverberates deep within your belly. It's an acknowledgment, a silent affirmation of your boundaries, and the phallus withdraws slightly, avoiding the no-go zone with newfound respect. The change in sensation makes you gasp, and your hips jerk in response, the movement involuntary and desperate.

The vibrations increase in intensity, the coat's phallus humming with a steady rhythm that sends waves of pleasure coursing through you. You can feel your body clenching around the thick intrusion, your muscles fluttering in time with the coat's purring. Your toes curl, and a series of soft, needy whimpers escape your lips, the erotic sounds mingling with the wet squelch of the coat's ministrations.

As the coat's phallus begins to move within you, your body responds with a rush of moisture, welcoming the thick intrusion with a slick warmth that makes each thrust an exercise in erotic sensation. The fabric inside you is velvety soft, yet unyielding, each stroke a delicious friction that stokes the fires of your arousal. The coat's movements are deliberate and measured, a slow, steady fucking that leaves you gasping for breath as it claims your body as its own.

The slithering galaxy that lines the coat's interior wraps gently around your throat, the cool fabric a stark contrast to the heat of your skin. It tightens slowly, a sexual choking that sends a thrill of fear and arousal coursing through you. Your eyes widen, and a gasp is torn from your lips as the fabric restricts your airway just enough to heighten your senses without causing harm. The loss of control, the helplessness of your position, only serves to intensify the pleasure that's building within you.

Your body clenches around the coat's phallus, your inner walls fluttering in time with the rhythmic tightening of the fabric around your throat. The dual sensations are overwhelming, a blend of pleasure and pain that leaves you writhing in the coat's embrace. You can feel your orgasm building, a slow, inexorable tide that threatens to sweep you away.

The room fills with dizzying and erotic sounds—the wet, slick noise of the coat's phallus moving inside you, the soft, needy whimpers that escape your lips with each thrust, the subtle rasp of fabric against your throat as you struggle to breathe. The coat's purring grows louder, a constant thrum of pleasure that seems to echo your own rapidly beating heart.

You're acutely aware of the sensory details—the feeling of the coat's fabric against your skin, the warmth of its body as it holds you aloft, the scent of your arousal mingling with the musky aroma of the coat's inner lining. It's an intoxicating blend that only serves to heighten your pleasure.

The phallus inside you seems to grow even larger, its girth stretching you to your limits as it plunges into your depths. You can feel it pressing against your g-spot, each movement sending jolts of sensation straight to your core. Your toes curl, and a series of soft, needy whimpers escape your lips, the erotic sounds mingling with the wet squelch of the coat's ministrations.

As the coat continues to fuck you, the fabric around your throat pulses in time with the thrusts, a rhythmic pressure that sends you spiraling towards the edge of ecstasy. Your vision begins to blur, stars dancing at the edges of your sight as the combination of sensory overload and restricted airflow push you closer to the brink.

Your body tenses, and then you're falling, your orgasm crashing over you in waves of overwhelming pleasure. Your cries echo through the room, a testament to the ecstasy that courses through your veins. The coat's phallus pulses within you, drawing out your climax until you're left a quivering, gasping mess in its grasp.

As the waves of your orgasm begin to recede, the coat gently releases its hold on your throat, allowing you to draw in a deep, shuddering breath. The phallus inside you softens, retreating back into the fabric of the coat's inner lining.

The aftershocks of your orgasm softly ripple through you and the coat's fabric shifts, its touch changing from demanding to soothing in an instant. You feel its fabric stroking your body, a gentle caress that traces the contours of your skin with a lover's precision. The sensation is both comforting and arousing, a reminder of the pleasure it's capable of bestowing upon you. So much better than it biting you.

"Can we cuddle now?" you mumble, your voice soft and sated. The coat seems to understand, its fabric tightening around you in a warm, comforting embrace. It lowers your body back to the bed as if you were the most precious thing in the realm.

You snuggle against the coat, your fingers gripping the lapels while your body still trembles from the intensity of your release. The scent of your arousal is heavy in the air, a musky aroma that mingles with the musty scent of the coat's inner lining. You can feel your juices leaking from your body, a slow, sticky trickle that slides down your inner thighs. Another mess you were going to have to clean up.

The coat, ever eager, seems unabashed by your wetness. Its fabric shifts between your legs, the tip of its phallus emerging once more to lap at the moisture that pools at your entrance like an eager tongue. The sensation is startling, a cool, wet touch that sends a jolt of pleasure coursing through you.

Your heart pounds against your ribcage like a caged bird desperate for freedom, each beat a staccato reminder of the pleasure that still courses through your veins. You're breathless, your chest heaving with each ragged inhalation as you try to regain some semblance of control over your body. But the coat, it seems, has other plans. Greedy for your pleasure.

"I can't," you protest weakly, your voice barely a whisper. "I'm exhausted."

The coat ignores your plea, its fabric shifting against your skin with a maddeningly sensual rhythm.

The tongue laps at your entrance, slurping up the remnants of your orgasm with an eagerness that borders on voracious. You can't help but squirm as it traces teasing patterns on your skin, each touch sending little shivers of sensation coursing through you. The sound of the coat's ministrations fills the room—a wet, squelching noise that's almost as arousing as the physical sensations.

"Please," you beg, your voice trembling with a mix of desire and trepidation. "It's too much."

But the coat is relentless, its tongue delving deeper into your folds with each passing moment. You feel yourself stretching once again to accommodate its girth, your body yielding to the coat's insistent advance. The sensation is intense, a mix of pleasure and a slight sting that leaves you gasping for breath.

You roll and writhe on the bed, your body twisting and turning in a futile attempt to escape the overwhelming sensations. The coat's fabric tightens around you, holding you aloft as it continues its erotic assault. You're trapped, completely at the mercy of the sentient garment that seems intent on wringing every last ounce of pleasure from your exhausted body.

"Stop," you plead, your voice breaking on the word. "I can't take any more."

The coat, however, seems determined to prove you wrong. It knows you, knows your limits. Its tongue plunges into your depths, pressing against your g-spot with a precision that only serves to heighten your arousal. You can feel your body clenching around the thick intrusion, your muscles fluttering in time with the rhythmic thrusts.

Your fingers grasp at the sheets beneath you, clenching as your makes rake against the soft fabric. You can feel the coat purring in response to your sounds of pleasure and writhes of ecstasy, the vibrations adding another layer of sensation to the mix.

Your body tenses, and then you're falling, your orgasm crashing over you in waves of overwhelming pleasure. Your cries echo through the room, a testament to the ecstasy that courses through your veins. The coat's tongue pulses within you, drawing out your climax until you're left a quivering, gasping mess in its grasp.

As the waves of your orgasm begin to recede, the coat gently releases its hold on you. Exhausted and sated, you collapse onto the bed, your body still trembling from the intensity of your release. The sound of your ragged breathing fills the room, a stark contrast to the silence that follows.

And then, just as you're on the brink of unconsciousness, you feel the coat's fabric shift against your skin one last time. It wraps itself around you in a warm, comforting embrace, a silent promise of protection and care. You snuggle against the coat, your fingers clutching at the fabric as sleep claims you at last. About fucking time.

The last thing you hear before darkness takes you is the soft, rhythmic thrum of the coat's purring, a gentle lullaby that lulls you into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Date Published: 7/4/24

Last Edit: 7/4/24

[stagefoureddiediaz]

I am having a lot of thoughts about the Christopher of it all right now in light of this bts we got from Gavin!!!

Because - Mountains and rock climbers and forests!!!

Look I've already climbed onto the Eddie and mountains to climb train in this post here but I'm about to make it a Diaz boys have mountains to climb train!!!

So Eddie now has a photograph - in black and white - of Half Dome on his bedroom wall - right above his bed

And then he has a lone cowboy on a horse - on the opposite wall - a cowboy on a horse in a flat landscape (which is yellow/orange - and with the blue walls also therefore plays into yellow blue theory)...

...and there is just something about Eddie sitting in his bed - looking at a picture of what is essentially a lone ranger in a barren landscape, on a wall that Buck helped him repair, while behind him is this looming mountain that is notoriously difficult to climb - the thing he can see when he is having sex with M - upside down.

The rest is under the cut because being brief is not my wheelhouse!!

Something about playing into the idea that Eddie has been this lone ranger in a barren landscape - searching for something - an something about how that search in this barren landscape is hiding (happening) the holes in the wall that Buck helped him patch up - something about how he feels alone even though the help he needed and wanted is already there - just hidden out of sight.

How that mountain is looming behind him also out of sight. How Eddie is in t his good place right now, but there are still mountains for him to climb - how those mountains are connected to his past.

There is also something in the choice of black and white for the image - something about the thing Eddie needs to deal with - the mountain he needs to climb is black and white - Obvious - not a complex myriad of colour (something something about his catholic guilt being obvious - black and white - something about it being a part of him that is finite and defined and not changeable - something like being gay perhaps!!)

Then there is the fact that we can make a fair assumption, based on the fact that we were shown Buck helping him fix the holes, that Buck helped Eddie with all of the redecorating - that he helped him paint the room (and choose the lovely duck egg blue colour), helped him hang the pictures - helped him choose the artwork for his walls - implicitly tying Buck to that mountain - that his feelings etc tied to Buck are his mountain still to climb. The thing with this as a concept is that it also plays into the upside down on the bed with Marisol - things being wrong or upside down/ backwards with her - that the spectre of Buck looms large over their relationship.

The otehr thiing I'd like to point out is kind of the biggest thing of them all and plays into the two cut lines and red string of fate of it all. Because Half Dome has a permanent cable tether for climbers attempting to summit to use and the metaphor of that is fascinating to me. There is something in the idea of Eddie feeling untethered, but also in Eddie not fully trusting he has a tether. How Eddie still hasn't fully grasped the permanence of Buck in the Diaz family's life - in Eddies life. Eddie needs to scale that mountain and buck is metaphorically speaking the half dome permanent cable run. Eddie might've made him a permanent fixture from a legal perspective - but that was for Chris, not for him (and Chris has already figured out Bucks permanence if you ask me - he already ran to Buck and opens up to him in a way he can’t with his father) but Eddie still doesn’t fully trust that the support he has in his life through Buck is permanent rather than a temporary tether. Eddie is almost there - but not quite - it feels like there is something in Bucks coming out to him that will be the catalyst for him to figure that out (don't ask me what or how - I haven't figured that bit out yet but it has something to do with the whole nothing has changed between us and Eddies dawning realisation of that that gives him his own confidence to make changes in the same way Buck has!)and start his climb so he can explore the mountain (his queerness) safely.

But back to Christophers t-shirt and how it fits into everything. Christopher has his own mountains to climb - dealing with his feelings of being abandoned by his mom - by being abandoned by the women in his life - because we need to remember that Abuela is also now absent from his life as she is now back in Texas. How Ana also left and how we've very much not been shown Carla at all (or had mention on her I think) this season. we can even, by virtue of the relationship Chris and Buck share, include Taylor leaving (being kicked to the curb) as part of the list of women exiting his life in some way.

Bringing up Shannons letter and having Chris read it at the very start of the season, for me is a clear indicator that that is the arc he is going to go through this season - that while there are still elements of the Shannon of it all in Eddies story, it is actually Christopher who needs to let that ghost go and move forward, not Eddie.

911 loves to play with imagery - they excel at it in the Diaz house, and I talk about how the kids costuming on the show is always so deliberately chosen to reflect their arcs, Especially with Chris. So here we have Chris in a t-shirt with mountains, trees and climbers on - setting up the idea of exploring him climbing that mountain he has to climb, but also playing on the idea that he's a bit caught in a forest as well - cannot see the wood for the trees. It a great metaphor for his current abandonment issues - because he is still a bit too young to fully comprehend that some people are not meant to stay in your life in a permanent way or that sometimes, just because they are not physically present in a regular way, doesn't mean they have abandoned you. Hell that is a difficult thing for many adults to comprehend, so to ask a kid to - especially one who's hormones are starting to go crazy - is never going to be practical.

The fact they’ve very deliberately not shown him actually interacting with with Marisol before now - establishing her as existing in Christopher’s world but not actively being a part of it - really ensuring to set her apart and off to the side - apart form establishing the contrast between Shannon and Marisol, is so interesting and feels, to me at least, like it’s building up to possibly playing into some version of the idea of you’re not my mother etc etc. They've taken great care to establish Shannon as Christophers mother - that she is still a major presence in his life, even in her absence.

They're is also something in the way that the idea of Marisol being 'portrayed' (can't think of the right word but I hope you know what I mean) as essentially a babysitter - we've never been shown them interacting - just told that Eddie has been getting her to babysit and in tv show land if you want to tell the audience that two characters have a good relationship (of whatever form) - you show it - you don't allude to that relationship as existing - especially when you are developing a narrative around a child's fear of being abandoned by the women in his life - not showing her looking after Chris before this point, and after you have established said abandonment issue, just reenforces the nature of their relationship - that it is one Chris is not likely to be engaging in - because she's going to leave anyway so what is the point of getting attached.

Now this is interesting because it feeds into Eddies arc rather nicely - its an arc they have already established with the audience - his jumping in too quickly and without thinking things through properly. it also plays back into an already existing arc - the one where he does things for Christopher and not for himself. they are to all intents and purposes the same thing. Eddie lets Shannon back into his life - for Christopher, he re-proposes not for himself, but for Christopher and the second baby he thinks is coming, he starts dating Ana for Christopher not for himself, he Makes Buck Christophers legal guardian for Christopher (even though at this point we don't know if Chris knows this fact), yes a part of that id for himself as well, but it is predominately for Chris. Eddie asking Marisol to move in - almost immediately in the aftermath of Chris revealing to Buck that he feels abandoned by his mom and that is where his multiple girlfriends/ becoming a player is coming from - how it is having an impact on who he is becoming as a person (one who things women leave and therefore treats them as temporary), is Eddie doubling down on his relationship with Marisol as a way of giving Christopher a female who is present. The entire thing - Eddie - in therapy and healing and now in a place where he thinks his issues with Ana and becoming a ready made family etc are 'dealt with' and in the past - hearing Chris talk about Shannon that way and to then have his immediate response be to go one step further than he managed with Ana - to ask M to move in - to essentially create something permanent - the whole going with is gut - despite his own feelings and thoughts on the matter - boils down to him still doing things for Chris’s happiness and not his own feels kind of loud. Because that is what his gut tells him - double down and sacrifice yourself and your own happiness for Christopher.

on the subject of guts - its very clearly a major theme for the Diaz boys this season, the show has been using the Diaz house to great effect already on this front.

Christophers homework that he was doing in episode 1 - all aobut guts

we had him studying blood types and transfusions

the function of kidneys and the nephron (literal guts!!)

and then - when he's read Shannons letter - frog dissection - again literally looking at guts

then from up coming episodes - thanks to Jihanes bts content we know that the fridge has the following charts on it

All things related to the gut and gut health. something something about Eddies heart having been worked on and now his gut is next in line to be sorted out. Especially as catholic guilt is something that plays into the idea of being something you feel in your gut rather than heart or head - related.

And there is also something in relation to the catholic guilt of it all and Eddies gut and Chris feeling like women don’t stay thats in play with Eddies relationship with his mother - that she's stayed too present in his life and that she treated him is such a contradicting way - the juxtaposition of not letting him be a kid whilst he was a kid - needing him to be the man of the house in his fathers absence whilst then not letting him grow up/ treating him as a child when he became an adult - and dominating (or trying to) his life and how he (and Shannon) raised Christopher.

Because it is fair to assume that it was Helena who took Eddie to church every Sunday and who was predominately responsible for his religious up bringing (we don't know how long Ramon was away for but to me at least it feels implied that his business trips would be for several weeks or months at a time and then he would return home for a period before disappearing again) an therefore much of his catholic guilt is attached to her and how if they are going in the catholic guilt/queer repression direction it is Helenas forceful personality that kept him in the closet even if he managed to step back from Catholicism

Something something about hearts and guts and minds being concepts of the human condition that are so intricately intertwined and needing to be in balance - how Eddies heart has been looked at and worked on (his relationship with his father), how his gut needs to be worked on now (which is related to his mother) and then finally his mind - Eddie needing to learn to communicate and talk things through with people rather than burying it - something he cant do until he has worked through is catholic guilt and his letting his gut rule his decision making (even though it rarely pans out for him) - much like his mother has ruled over his life in one way or another until recently.

Something something about that being a mountain they are both climbing - but in different ways and therefore separately and it all comes back to them not talking - Eddie not talking to his son (he even had Buck have that initial conversation with him rather than do it himself) there is still so much misunderstanding between the Diaz boys!

Wow I did not mean for this to get long!!!! Hopefully it makes sense!!

it may just be the incoherent ramblings of a woman obsessed with the way they are picking a part Eddie and putting him back together - endlessly fascinating to me!!

[hybriddh]

The Colours of Her Soul by HybridDH

In the green of morning, she wakes with grace,

Her eyes like trees that softly trace

The world in hues of life and spring,

A quiet calm, a gentle thing.

Her laughter rustles like leaves in the breeze,

A touch of warmth beneath the trees.

But green is more than growth and light

It’s the envy stirring in the night,

A shadow creeping beneath the vine,

A longing for what isn’t mine.

Blue, like oceans in her gaze,

Reflects the depths of untold days.

Her tears, like rivers, softly flow,

In quiet sorrow, no one knows.

The skies above her shift to grey,

A blue that clouds and fades away.

Yet in this hue, there’s peace that lingers,

A hope that slips through gentle fingers.

For blue, though sad, still whispers clear,

The calm that comes when storm clouds clear.

Red is the fire within her chest,

A flame that burns without a rest.

Her passion bright, her spirit bold,

A story in the heat she holds.

Like autumn leaves, she bursts with light,

A sunset bleeding into night.

Yet red is rage, a searing pain,

The anger surging in her veins.

It crackles, sparks, it sets ablaze,

The path she walks, the world she sways.

In gold, she shines, a sun at dawn,

A joy so pure, it leads you on.

Her smile’s a sunrise, warm and bright,

Chasing away the cold of night.

She laughs like sunshine on the skin,

A warmth that wraps you from within.

But gold is fleeting, like the day,

A burst of light that slips away.

It dazzles, blinds, then leaves you cold,

A dream of riches turned to gold.

Purple drapes her in mystery,

A world that others rarely see.

Like twilight skies before the stars,

She hides her soul in subtle scars.

The purple dusk of quiet thoughts,

Where battles in her mind are fought.

It’s pride and power, regal, tall,

Yet carries with it fear of fall.

For purple’s strength is tinged with fear,

A silent battle, always near.

In silver, she is sharp and true,

A blade of wit that cuts right through.

Her words like stars, they pierce the night,

A guiding hand in endless flight.

But silver’s cold, a distant glow,

A light that’s bright, but seldom shows.

It’s clarity, it’s truth, it’s steel,

But lacks the warmth of what is real.

In silver silence, she retreats,

A moon above that never meets.

Yellow is the joy she gives,

The light within, the life she lives.

Her laughter is a burst of sun,

A brightness that can’t be undone.

Yet yellow’s fragile, quick to fade,

A fleeting beam, a dance in shade.

Like petals wilting in the heat,

It’s joy that’s tender, bittersweet.

For happiness, though bright and strong,

Is fleeting like a summer song.

And finally, black, where all things end,

The colour where her shadows blend.

It’s depth and quiet, sorrow’s mark,

A heart that wanders through the dark.

But black is not just grief or pain—

It’s strength in silence, loss in gain.

It’s every fear she’ll never show,

The midnight places none will know.

Yet in the black, a spark can burn,

A flicker waits for her return.

Each colour paints her, line by line,

A masterpiece of the divine.

From green to blue, from red to black,

She carries every shade intact.

And though her colours shift and blend,

Her soul’s a canvas without end.

[theboxfort]

List of details I've noticed in TPOT 1

Because I miss Pie, Liy, and Stapy. Gonna start AFTER the Cake at Stake

A lot of the focus will be put on Death PACT Again because. That's my favorite team.

Also ran out of space, so all the Exitor stuff after the credits is in the reblog!

Details in the elevator scene (seen above):

The most obvious one is where Two opens the door and it hits Puffball's face

Pie gets pushed into the elevator by the crowd (she's just sitting there)

Alternatively, she might actually be sliding backwards by herself instead of being pushed by the crowd

Coiny is most likely the first object to get into the elevator, as seen here

Fanny started out quite far away from the elevator but then scampered into the elevator. Also her legs barely moved

Pen was just out of the shot and had to haul ass into the elevator

Lightning waited for everyone (aside from Two) to get into the elevator before getting in there himself

Alternatively, an observation by @sweeswawswussy on twitter (a REALLY good one)!

lightning kinda look like hes contemplating to either float down the building with black hole or getting into the lift the face he made when he looks at black hole tho hhh looks like he felt sorry for him

BH didn't get in, because he didn't want to accidentally suck anyone up (which will 100% happen in such a small space), so he went down on his own

The rest of these are set AFTER the team picking scene (under the cut, because it's LONG)

When Two announced the challenge, everyone's standing in teams :]

The painting in the lobby, next to the elevator

During the elevator gets stuck scene with Just Not, while everybody reacted to the alarm, Pillow didn't. When the elevator falls, she's the only one smiling

Remote added a face to her drawing after she finished explaining <:]

PIE HOPPED DOWN FROM THE STAIRS LOOK AT HER GOOOOOOOOOOOO

Are You Okay's scene, yeah, let's go

This is shown in order! TB does not scream at all. GB seems excited at first, but after she got flung back, she's now. Not screaming in excitement. Eraser has the classic BFDI mouth in the first two flings.

COMPUTER ENHANCE THE PILE

80% sure that this is Cloudy's pile, I think that's a painting/drawing of Cloudy? The shape seems to fit him. There's also Balloony and Woody in the background, and maaaaybe Roboty to the bottom right, I'm not too sure.

BACK TO DEATH PACT!!!

In this scene, Fanny's the only member who doesn't seem to be tired! She's not panting, she's up straight (can't really tell if she's sitting or standing), and she's >:C

Remote gets recharged later, that's why she's also up in the second pic

When Just Not made it to the top, Book has the scrunkly old BFDI arm asset (the arm that's waving)

FANNY, SHE'S SMILING EHEHEHEHEH IT'S NOT A DETAIL, I JUST LIKE HER!!! Also Pie opens up her eyes :]

Sorry for the Death PACT Again stuff, I really like them. Here's a shot of them getting thrown by Remote

Remote grabs Trees and tells him to get Black Hole

TINY DEATH PACTERS...

Okay, so I counted all the hits Two got in this scene, and here's a list of what happened:

2 punches from Snowball

1 kick from Eggy

Another smack (1) from Snowball

1 jump/stomp from Marker

2 face slams from Robot Flower

1 slam from Bell

2 zaps from Lightning

1 BODY SLAM from Basketball

1 tray slap from Pillow

1 vomit to the face from Rocky (with Tree holding him)

1 jump kick from Foldy

1 knee strike from Basketball (GO BASKETBALL GO)

At least 10 stomps from Grassy (since we don't know if he kept stomping after the cut)

So in total, Two received 25 hits from these guys. The team that did the most damage is...

The Strongest Team on Earth with 20 hits! 10 from Grassy (the MVP), 3 from Snowball, 2 from Robot Flower, 2 from Basketball, 1 from Bell, 1 from Eggy, and 1 from Foldy!

A tangent here, from this screenshot, we can see that there's 6 floors in the hotel! Each floor is color coded too, red = lobby, orange = 2nd floor, yellow = 3rd floor, green = 4th floor, teal/cyan/blue = 5th floor, and the roof. Is a roof.

Fun fact, Basketball's lab from TPOT 2 is on the 4th floor!

Exitor stuff in the reblogs!!

[preciouslandmermaid]

of songbirds, swords, and spice (4)

pairing: Opla!Zoro x Opla!Sanji x Fem! Reader (no use of Y/N or L/N)

tw/cw: violence, blood, spider-creatures, see master post for complete tags

🏴‍☠️ read on AO3 🏴‍☠️

(masterpost)

<- (previous chapter)

Zoro stretched his legs out and folded his hands behind his head. Finally, some peace and quiet. Or however much quiet he could get on the Going Merry anyway. He shut his eyes, preparing to get a few hours of sleep before they arrived in Raven’s Crag.

“Mrrow!” Four paws landed on his thigh.

“What the hell?”

The black cat?! Zoro picked the cat up by the scruff and it narrowed its large, yellow eyes at him. A stowaway.

“Aren’t these things bad luck?” He said to no one before moving the fluffy creature off his lap. The cat, who was undeterred and stupidly stubborn, jumped onto his lap again the second he closed his eyes. “Knock it off.”

Zoro scooped it up this time and carried it to the other end of the room, setting it down on a crate, before he returned to his napping spot. The cat swished its tail, watching him, but didn’t move from its new perch.

“Stay over there,” he said. The ocean waves crashed and lapped against the hull of the Going Merry in swelling, gentle surges. He found the sound of the ocean soothing. He could sleep anywhere, it’s true, but there was something about sleeping near water. The crash and surge, the pull and push, the saltwater tinge to the air, and rush of the wind snapping the sails. It created a natural lullaby.

He sighed, tilting his head back, and listening to the waves rather than the cacophony of voices above. Usually, he didn’t have trouble falling asleep, but your voice was new and unfamiliar. He wasn’t sure why the old lady requested that you come along. You were a performer—not a fighter. Just because you managed one battle without vomiting at the sight of a dismembered arm didn’t make you a warrior. Zoro’s eyebrow twitched. What’s her deal anyway? He rolled his shoulders, struggling to get comfortable.

A soft paw batted the side of his head near his earlobe. What the--! The cat’s paw remained aloft – ready to smack his earring again.

Zoro narrowed his eyes. “You again?”

The cat lowered its paw and yawned, showcasing its large canine teeth and angling its ears back. Zoro wasn’t intimidated if that’s what the creature was trying to do. He had a sword. That was more impressive than two big teeth and some claws.

“What do they call you?” He lifted the charm on the cat’s collar. “Mimi?”

The cat gave no indication that it recognized its name.

“You really are bad luck,” he grumbled, “I never have trouble sleeping.” He got to his feet and stretched his arms over his head. “Stay,” he told the cat before ascending the steps to the main deck.

The sunlight refracted across the rolling blue waves and Zoro lifted his arm to block the harsh light.

“Can you sing a sea shanty?” Luffy asked you.

“Can you write a song about me?” Usopp asked, looking hopeful. Zoro rolled his eyes...These kids.

Sanji said, “What about a love ballad?”

You crossed your arms and pressed your lips into a line. This silence didn’t deter them. The trio of Luffy, Sanji, and Usopp requested different songs simultaneously. 

“Would you guys cut it out!” Nami yelled over them, “She already said she doesn’t want to!”

Zoro rested his wrist on Wado Ichimonji and decided he might as well ask the question that’s been eating at him since the night you met.

“Why do the waiters at your grandmother’s bar wear earplugs?” he asked.

Everyone fell silent. Their attention left Zoro and moved toward you, expecting and awaiting your answer. You narrowed your eyes slightly at him. The sails overhead ballooned with a fresh gust of wind and the ropes swung in the breeze casting shadows like long, wiggling snakes on the main deck.

You said, “You noticed that, huh?”

“It was hard to miss.” Zoro deadpanned.

Your smile tugged at your mouth. “And yet I recall having your complete attention.”

Zoro stepped forward. “That’s what I’m still trying to figure out,” he said, “so what’s your deal?”

You shrugged, graceful and casual, like you two were discussing sword forms and not the mystery of your grandmother’s bar.

“The bar gets rowdy,” you replied.

“That’s what I said,” Luffy said, his tone was bright.

The bar gets rowdy? Yeah, right. Zoro stared down at you. The sunlight burned radiance across the planes and slopes of your face. She’s lying. You had to be. Your explanation was lukewarm and it didn’t account for the strange, solitary sensations that consumed him during your performance. Your performance and the earplugs had to be related somehow. He just couldn’t figure out how.

Usopp glanced between you and Zoro.

“Come on, guys,” Usopp said, “let’s stay focused. We’re finding a mysterious lost treasure for someone.”

“I’ll make lunch,” Sanji suggested, before saying your name and adding, “I’d love your help in the kitchen.”

“No thanks. I’m gonna stretch my legs,” you announced and offered Usopp and Sanji a smile. “I’ve gotta get used to being out on the sea again.”

Zoro watched you walk to the other end of the ship. She’s not getting off that easily. He waited about three seconds before following after you.

“Hey,” he began, narrowing his eyes at your back. You sighed, leaning against the railing, but didn’t turn around to face him. “If you double cross our crew…”

You looked over your shoulder. “You’re gonna slice me in half?”

Zoro scoffed. “I was thinking in quarters.”

You turned to face him, though your elbows remained on the railing, your pose was relaxed and wholly nonthreatening. Zoro’s pulse throbbed in his neck.

“You have nothing to worry about, Roronoa Zoro.” The salty air played with the collar of your shirt and Zoro looked away, clenching his jaw. “This crew saved the golden cupid...and if we manage to find Pandora’s puzzle box...then there will always be a warm meal and a cold drink for you at Estella’s.”

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye. Maybe he was being paranoid after their run-in with the Black Cat pirates or their altercation with Arlo’s gang after Nami’s abrupt betrayal. He didn’t want to get double-crossed, although he couldn’t see the benefit of you – or the old hag – trying to betray them.

“Fine,” he said flatly.

Maybe now I can get some shut-eye…The thought reminded him of the cat, Mimi, stalking around in his room.

“By the way,” he said, “that cat is onboard.”

You laughed. “Oh, of course she is.” You shook your head, “I’ll let Sanji know. Maybe he can make her some tuna.”

“Feeding your cat isn’t part of this deal,” he grumbled, annoyed. First, the cat took over his nap spot and ruined his afternoon and now she’d eat some of their supplies? What sort of bullshit was this?

“One,” you said holding up a finger, “she’s Estella’s cat. Two.” You held up a second finger. “It’s not really up to you, is it? I think I’ll take it up with the chef and see what he says.”

Zoro didn’t have a good argument against you, so he settled on rolling his eyes and returning to his bunk to get some well-deserved rest before the Merry reached Raven’s Crag.

The dingy swayed as it pushed through the shallow waves and your stomach followed the roiling, uncertain motions of the waters below. Something didn’t feel right. You would normally chalk it up to your baseline paranoia around strangers—but...your unease went deeper. Maybe all the stories about Raven’s Crag were getting to you. Everyone on the island said Raven’s Crag was dangerous, some even went so far as to call it cursed. ‘That’s why no one lives there’, they’d say before ordering another drink from the bar. What if something happened to Estella back home? Was paranoia or intuition that twisted your stomach into sailor’s knots? You shook your head and tried to clear your mind. One thing at a time...

“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” Sanji said, sitting beside you and looking pointedly at your bouncing knee. “We’ll find it.”

“If it exists,” you said.

“Madame Estella seemed certain it was here,” he said.

“Yes.” You sighed. “Yes, I know.”

Estella left a rather important detail from her story when she told the Straw Hats about Pandora’s treasure. Over the past five years, it had been you who helped her to find and collect the other boxes. The jade box had been the first and the easiest. You used your devil fruit powers, beguiling the previous owner, and tricking him into giving it to Estella. The onyx box, however, was kept on a marine base within the evidence room under lock and key. You and Estella spent nine months on that island, working your way into the upper echelon of society until General Samuel Bellamy invited several wealthy citizens for brunch. You and Estella had barely made it out after accidentally triggering the alarm when removing Pandora’s box. The last box in her collection, the one made of lapis lazuli, had been underwater in a shipwreck.

Truly, it was a miracle that Estella knew about any of their locations, but that one was especially surprising. You were useless since the ocean sapped all of your strength, but Estella had smiled at you before diving into the waters. Your hands curled into fists on your lap. The current had been strong that day...a storm was on the horizon and the ocean was restless, hungry.

Sanji muttered your name. His gaze burned into your cheek.

“We made it,” Nami announced, shaking you from your reverie.

The tepid saltwater and sand rushed into your shoes and clung to your shins as you leaped from the dingy and helped push the boat onto the shore as best as you could. The palm trees rustled loudly overhead. Your foot snagged against the dry, powdery white sand.

“What’s—” Zoro began one hand on his sword hilt.

“Wait,” you said, snapping your attention from the boat’s edge in your hands and toward the beautiful blue sky. “That’s not—”

Your words were cut off as a hundred screeching calls filled the air and their enormous black wings flapped, upset the palm leaves, and stirred the dry brush at the beachhead. Roughly a dozen, giant ravens descended upon the crew, their beaks open wide to reveal rows of tiny teeth, and their eyes glossy and bright and murderous.

You reached for your kusarigama—a sickle attached to a metal chain with an iron weight at the end — attached to your hip. You hadn’t used the weapon since settling on Nightingale, but you practiced the motions and your continued diligence paid off as you slid into a stance and spun the end of the chain.

A raven opened its’ beak and lunged for Nami, and you launched the weighted end toward the raven. The chain spun around the raven’s beak, closing it, and you tugged—the metal biting into the flesh of your fingers—forcing the beast to bow its head. Nami’s staff cracked the side of the bird’s head and you tugged the chain free, pulling up the slack, after the creature dropped. You could hardly keep track of everyone’s movements through the chaos of undulating black wings and sharp, curved black beaks and curled talons.

Zoro’s sword flashed beneath the sunlight, blood, and dark feathers followed.

Your body ached, familiar with the movements ingrained into the grooves of your muscles, but unfamiliar with fighting things that fought back (your usual enemies were coconut trees and bamboo). You jumped backward through the powdery sand, avoiding a strike of dangerous talons, and you crashed into the hard and warm muscled plane of Zoro’s back.

“Watch where you’re going,” he growled before pivoting on his heel and using his sword to deflect the beak strike coming toward you.

“I was.”

“Didn’t look like it.”

“How” – your fingers tightened around the kusarigama’s grip– “do you manage to fight with that sword shoved so far up your—”

Luffy yelled, “Gum Gum Punch!” His fist launched through the air and landed squarely into the raven’s rib cage sending the bird sprawling into the sand.

“I had it!” You and Zoro shouted simultaneously at Luffy.

“Sorry,” Luffy said, smiling before he turned his attention to a different raven. “Hey, Sanji!” The captain called out to him, “Do you think we could eat these?”

“You’re seriously thinking about food at a time like this?” Nami asked.

You shook your head and were unable to ignore the smile tugging at your lips. This crew is so fucking weird, you thought with a foreign flutter of affection. You brought another raven to eye-level by trapping its beak with your chain and Sanji roundhouse kicked it, knocking your chain free, where it seemed to float in the air for a second before you yanked it back toward you.

The final two ravens squawked, and took flight in a blur of sand and wings, leaving their fallen on the beach scattered among the crew. You wrapped the chain, secured your kusarigama at your hip, and flexed your sore, unpracticed fingers. You scanned the beach and pointed at an outcropping of gray rocks.

“That’s the crag,” you said. You looked at their sweaty faces and bit your lip. “Estella could be wrong,” you warned, “the box might not be there.” She had never been wrong before, but they didn’t need to know that.

“We won’t know until we get there,” said Luffy, walking toward the crag. You wiped the sweat from your face and sighed. There is no swaying Luffy from his destined path, is there? You almost admired his bullheaded tenacity. Almost.

Your hands pulsed, your blood throbbing, your knuckles scraped raw, and nails blunted from climbing up onto the crag. You pulled yourself up the final ledge, each breath laborious, and laid yourself flat against the hot stone. Your salivating mouth tasted metallic and unpleasant. Sanji squatted next to you, and his shadow spilled across your face and blocked the sun.

“Here,” he said, offering you a small flask.

“Water or booze?” you asked.

His lips quirked. “Water.”

“Shame.”

You took a small sip of the water before holding it out to him.

Sanji lifted his hand. “Keep it.”

You raised an eyebrow and bit your tongue to stop yourself from questioning or quipping at him. You were starting to understand that Sanji enjoyed providing for others. He cooked because he believed no one should go hungry, but he also had a true and burning passion for it. He gave you water because you needed it. There was no ulterior motive. No secret to unravel. He was just providing for you as he would provide for anyone on the crew. Not that I’m part of this crew, but the sentiment still counts.

“Thanks,” you finally said, standing.

Luffy stood before the great, black maw of a cave’s entrance with his hands on his hips.

“This is the place, right?” he asked, looking over his shoulder toward you.

“I think so,” you said. In your experience, Pandora’s treasure box locations increased in difficulty over time: a marine base, a shipwreck, and now deep within a cavernous network. You looked at this crew of oddballs, at the scuffs, bruises, and blood they spilled fighting the ravens and climbing the cliffside. I can do it alone. The warm breeze kissed your skin and the bright blue ocean crested with tiny, white waves along the shore below. I’m the one who Estella trusts. They got me here, but they don’t need to see this through.

“We’ve made it this far together, but you can turn back now,” you said, “I don’t want anyone dying for this.”

Luffy frowned. “Only you?”

Your heart dropped. His stark, honest words had momentarily stunned you.

“What?” you breathed.

“Don’t be stupid,” Zoro muttered, “we just fought a bunch of demon birds. There’s no way we’re turning back now.”

“I think she’s got a point,” Usopp said, “one of us should really be waiting on the ship. I volunteer.”

“It’s dangerous,” Luffy continued as if the others hadn’t spoken, “so you’d rather go in there alone and die alone?”

“It’s a wild goose chase, Luffy.” You crossed your arms.

“It’s her dream!” he said, “don’t you have a dream you want to accomplish?”

“My dream is impossible.” You bristled. Your dream wasn’t a treasure hunt, nor was it to become the best of something or the queen of the pirates. Your dream was a fantasy you repeated to keep your nightmares quiet. Your dream would never see fruition. It just couldn’t.

“There’s no such thing,” Luffy said while approaching you. His hand lifted, palm dropping toward your shoulder, and you moved out of the way at the last second. Luffy stumbled at the sudden lack of counter-balance and you grimaced.

You said, “I don’t like being touched.”

Sanji tilted his head to the side.

“Oh, sorry.” Luffy’s tone was earnest. “Whatever your dream is, I think you should go after it.”

You squinted at him rather than answer his statement.

You said, “You’re coming, aren’t you?”

“Yup.” Luffy nodded.

“Me and Nami will guard the entrance in case any more of those birds come back,” Usopp held his slingshot aloft. “We’ll shout if anything happens.”

“Shout loud,” Zoro said as he passed Usopp and entered the cave.

The cave’s cool air was a blessing against your sweaty, sticky skin. You led the crew, even though you didn’t have a map or idea of where the box might be. Estella said ‘Trusting one’s self is the greatest gift’ and you didn’t know if that applied to treasure-hunting, but you decided there was no time like the present to try.

“These caves are odd,” Sanji said, gesturing to the glowing greenish crystals that were embedded into the dark rocks above. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“It’s something with the moon,” you said, watching your shadows play against the stone and crystal walls. “The full moon helps charge them...or so Estella says. She has a book about the caves on Nightingale Island.”

Zoro dug his fingers around one of the lower crystals, yanked it free and it continued to glow in his large hand. He swept his arm across the cavern floor, shining more light on the bits of rubble and dirt, but no treasure box lay waiting for you. His hair brightened beneath the crystals and gave it an almost illusory neon effect.

The cavern curved left, but remained a single, narrow pathway, without any divergences. As odd as that was, since caverns like these usually spilled like a network of threads, you were grateful. You didn’t want to add ‘getting lost in the crystal caves’ to your list of travesties.

“Where’d you learn to fight?” Luffy asked.

“Here and there,” you replied, “Estella needs me to protect her.”

“Did she teach you how to use that chain thing?” He mimed spinning it over his head, as you had done at one point during the battle like the chain was a lasso rope.

You laughed lightly.

“No,” you said, “we spent about nine months on this one island, seeking Pandora’s onyx box, and during that time I trained with a woman named Camilla.”

Luffy’s eyes lit up, emboldened by the viridescent glow of the crystals, and he said, “Cool!” His voice echoed strangely and you stopped suddenly.

“We’re close to something,” you said.

“How do you know?” asked Sanji.

“Our voices sound different here,” Zoro said, sounding bored.

“I wasn’t asking you,” Sanji said, rolling his eyes.

You peered through the muddled darkness tinted by a glowing light. Your heart skipped. Could Estella be right? Was the final box of Pandora’s treasure here? You quickened your pace and followed the path with one hand on your weapon. The crystals sparkled above and mirrored your reflections on their glossy, green surface.

The pathway opened into a cistern with tall glistening edges of slick cave walls, dripping and glowing crystal stalagmites, and shocks of white, thick spider webs running through gaps. Does something live here? You scanned the space.

“Holy shit,” you gasped. At the center of the room was a natural conglomeration of crystals and a bone-white puzzle box nestled at the center, glimmering like a beacon beneath the luminescent light.

You ran forward, kicking aside a bleached-white bone where it went clack-clack-clack into some rocks, and jostled loose golden berry lying around on the ground.

Something grumbled beneath you. No. That wasn’t right. The solid ground gave way, crumbling like a sandcastle devoured by the incoming tide, and your arms windmilled—your scream caught in your throat. The rocks beneath your feet fell to a nest of large, white ropes, and your body tensed—awaiting the inevitable crash and broken bones.

Luffy grabbed your wrist. He pitched into you, the ground unstable, and this time—your scream released—and gravity twisted your body so your spine was to the painful ground below.

“Luffy!” Zoro shouted.

Luffy stretched like saltwater taffy, he clung to your wrists, and both of you dangled above death trap of sharp rocks and rubble. Above, at the very ledge, Zoro’s muscles bulged as he held onto Luffy’s ankles. How is he holding both of us?!

“Climb up,” Luffy said, “climb over me like I’m a rope.” He smiled like this was an ordinary occurrence and you both weren’t a few hundred feet away from certain death.

“I’ll drop,” you said, “I’m closer to the ground. I’ll survive it.”

You glanced at your feet swinging through the empty, dark air. You actually couldn’t tell how close the ground was. The strange, white ropes glowed eerily beneath the muted crystal light, and pockets of it were disturbed and quivering from the fallen rocks. Is that--? Your brow furrowed.

“I can pull you both up,” Zoro announced, his face pinched tight with effort. “Just – just hold on.”

“I already am.” Luffy tightened his grip around your wrists and a wave of nausea coursed through you. Your skin prickled with a clammy, uncomfortable sensation. Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth, you reminded yourself, using every ounce of self-control not to vomit.

Zoro pulled, grunting as he did, and Luffy’s legs disappeared over the ledge.

Although you couldn’t see Zoro, you heard him shout; “I don’t need your help, stupid cook!”

“I’m not trusting an idiot swordsman with her life,” Sanji yelled, “or with Luffy’s.”

You clenched your eyes shut, squeezing Luffy’s thin wrists, feeling his rapid pulse beneath your fingertips as your heartbeat rushed in your ears and your mouth filled with saliva.

Luffy said your name and your eyes re-opened, “I’m not going to drop you,” he said softly.

He said these words like a stalwart, unwavering promise. He said them in the same way he said ‘I’m going to be king of the pirates’ and despite your past, your ingrained paranoia, and your reasons to distrust him—you believed him, and something sharp prickled behind your eyes.

Luffy’s midsection was yanked over the ledge and Zoro finished pulling the both of you onto the overhanging ledge. As you brushed the cave dirt from your legs, Sanji hunched his shoulders and met your gaze.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Fine.” You looked toward the chasm that separated Pandora’s box from you. You hadn’t brought rope or grappling hooks and you were ill-prepared to vault or climb onto the other side. “How are we going to get over there?”

Zoro pointed and said, “Hug the wall and maneuver around the chasm.”

Your mouth opened to tell him about the risk, but a sudden scuttling noise drew everyone’s attention to the ceiling.

“My web caught a tasty treat,” it said before lowering itself, a web attached to the crystals hung from its spinnerets. The creature was a human from the waist up, her breasts pale and nippleless, and her straight, long, black hair framed her pale face and six, red slit eyes.

Sanji blanched.

“This is your cavern?” You said. You knew grabbing the box wouldn’t be easy, but a giant spider-woman was extreme.

“My cavern,” she said, tilting her head, “and my food.” She clicked the mandibles on the sides of her jaw.

“Luffy, can you reach the box?” You unclasped your kusarigama and extended the chain between your hands.

Luffy cracked his knuckles. “I want to fight this thing.”

“I’ll get the box,” Sanji said, “I don’t fight women.”

He inched closer to the walls which had narrow ledges to precariously climb across. Your heart fell into your shoes. Sanji...You recalled the smiling, overjoyed faces of the children from the orphanage after Sanji made them breakfast, his fond and thoughtful expression when he talked about Zeff, his kindness in the kitchen, and his concerned gaze when Zoro pulled you and Luffy from the ledge. You couldn’t let him risk his life for Estella’s dream. You couldn’t. He’s going to fall if he tries to get it.

Zoro scoffed. “She’s not a woman.”

“I am Arachne,” the creature said.

“Sanji, wait—” you said.

The Arachne swung from her webbing towards the group. A warm, large muscled body collided with yours, sending you sideways into rubble and rock. Your skin smarted and burned where it hit the stones and jagged crystals. You blinked, stunned, as your mind lagged to piece together the details.

Zoro rolled off of you, blade drawn, and jumped to his feet. He saved me? You understood his earlier rescue because Luffy had been involved. He wouldn’t let his captain die—he was protective of him, cared about him even. But saving you didn’t add up. It didn’t make sense. Pirates weren’t loyal to people who weren’t their crew. You shook your head. Roronoa Zoro had saved your life twice. You adjusted your grip on the hilt of your kusarigama.

Time to repay the favor, you thought before charging the Arachne. You slid on your knees, ignoring the pain as the tiny rocks dug into your skin, and ducked beneath the creature’s large, hairy legs. Your chain whipped out, wrapping one leg at the joint before you rolled out from beneath her and jerked the chain over your shoulder for leverage.

The Arachne screeched in indignation, wobbling, although she remained steady on her other legs.

“Hold it steady,” Zoro shouted as his sword flashed in a quick, upward arc as he ran beneath the tied-up leg.

You stumbled forward as the leg was dismembered from its body and flung off in another direction.

The Arachne hissed, scrambling up the wall, and toward the ceiling. You spun your kusarigama, feeling safer with the weight in your hands, and the glowing steel beneath the crystalline fragments.

“Hey!” Luffy yelled, “where are you going?”

You spared a glance to Sanji. He was about halfway, his arms spread akimbo, his back to the wall and his feet crossing carefully over the ridge.

Luffy’s hands shot toward the Arachne and grabbed its rear legs, pulling her back, and the Arachne fired several sticky ropes of webbing at Luffy. He jumped, dodging the first splatter of webbing with impressive speed, and used his momentum to launch himself toward the Arachne.

Luffy landed on her back. They were halfway up the wall, closer to the ceiling than the floor, and your palms dampened as your adrenaline transmuted to fear. What if he falls? You weren’t sure if his Gum-Gum powers made him invincible to gravity and you didn’t want to find out.

You shouted, “Luffy, be careful!”

It’s part human, you worried your lip between your teeth, by that logic, my devil fruit powers should work on it. However, Sanji, Luffy, and Zoro weren’t safe. They didn’t have earplugs or headphones. You couldn’t risk using your voice on the Arachne and hurting them and you didn’t want to distract Sanji from his treacherous and focused climb to Pandora’s box.

Luffy wrestled with the creature, his legs were wrapped around the Arachne’s torso, and his fists moved too fast for your eyes to follow.

Zoro snapped your name and followed with, “Give me a boost.” His eyes were above, focused on Luffy, his green hair hidden by a black bandanna.

“You can’t reach him,” you said, interlacing your fingers, lowering yourself into a crouch, and bracing your back against the cavern’s wall.

Zoro said nothing and smirked. He ran toward you, planting his foot in your cupped hands, before launching himself up towards Arachne and Luffy. His boot scuffed against the wall and he grabbed the hanging webbing that swung from the Arachne. The creature slid downward but remained on the vertical wall. Her balance was affected by Luffy’s attacks and the weight of Zoro on her ‘tail’.

His muscles strained as he climbed the web, shedding pieces of webbing that fell like strange, spindly fluffs of white.

Sanji called your name and you looked. He held the box above his head, victorious and smiling, and your heart swelled. All this trouble for such a small thing, you thought.

“That’s mine!” The Arachne hissed, her face gushed blood, and half of her eyes were swollen shut from Luffy’s onslaught.

She reared back, bucking Luffy from her, and scuttled downward carrying Zoro with her. Luffy landed as a heap of limbs next to you, but his head popped back up, a little dazed but otherwise okay.

The Arachne’s intention was clear. She meant to attack Sanji—to punish him for stealing. Well, you weren’t going to let that happen. You planted your feet, your eyes narrowed and focused on the angles, the speed of her long, spider-legs, and the shape of her long, pale neck.

Kusarigama flew from your hand, its’ sickle-side cut through the air, and the cold chain unraveled through your fingers. The sickle zipped past her head and you tugged the chain, quick and forced, and the blade reversed direction and its’ curved edge sliced clean through her neck. A second passed. The Arachne’s head seemed to float through the air as it was rendered from her body with an arching spray of crimson that appeared black in the verdant pale light of the cave.

Her head hit the ground with a soft and rolling ‘thump’.

“That went well,” you said, breaking the silence, and a hysteric smile threatened to take hold of your lips. None of the children are going to believe this.

“Do you think anyone will believe that we fought a giant spider-lady?” asked Luffy.

Sanji said, “It’s no less believable than defeating Arlong’s crew.”

Your eyebrows raised. “You beat Arlong?” You thought Usopp had been lying when he shared that story.

Zoro sheathed his sword. “It was easy.”

“We make a pretty good team, don’t we?” Luffy said before smiling, though you assumed the question was rhetorical and didn’t answer him. You nudged the Arachne’s head with your foot and it rolled off the ledge and into the darkness below. It was eerie how easily you slipped into this crew’s dynamic. You didn’t fit in with them—you didn’t, but you could. And that was the scary part. However, you wouldn’t entertain ideas or dreams of leaving Nightingale Island. Your place was next to Estella and your future and fate were tied to hers.

You owed her after everything she did for you, after everything you’ve gone through together. No matter how easy it was to fight alongside the Straw Hats—you had your place in this world and it wasn’t with these pirates.

(author's note:

I'm sorry this took a while to post. I hope the length makes up for it <3 also happy belated birthday to Sanji !! xoxo )