#And then went through hundreds of years of existence and just never questioned or got rid of any laws

[willowheartswarriors]

The sentiment that every cat/almost every cat in the clans has broken the code at some point comes up continually in The Silent Thaw, and while it's definitely true, it is kind of telling that this is just an accepted fact up until now. Like "Yeah we decided on this set of rules which (up until now, at least) just about everyone agrees on being morally good and a valuable way to live your life and serve your community. But also everyone has broken at least one of these rules and we all know this and it causes no dissonance in our worldview."

Obviously I'm not saying this is unrealistic - there are plenty of people who hold the same conflicting thoughts about real life laws - but it does really underline the idea that the Code is flawed on some fundamental level if breaking it is basically expected. It does, however, make it sort of wild that there haven't been more cats who wanted to change the Code in the past. Then again, given the values and behaviors the Code reinforces, maybe this isn't actually all that shocking.

[yoitsjay]

What If?

Warnings: fluff, a bit of childhood angst and trauma, mentions of abusive foster parents

Summary: You've been alone your whole life, so has the doctor, and when you met him you knew everything would change.

Pairings: Ninth Doctor x Male reader

Word count: 1,298

What if Rose Tyler was never born, in a parallel universe she's a dog- but what if Rose Tyler truly never existed… or maybe she did but she wasn't the one to meet the mysterious doctor that was everywhere but nowhere at the same time. What if?

Well if Rose Tyler never met The Doctor then here you are, in the TARDIS with the Doctor, adventuring and seeing places that you could never fathom before now. But what about before that? before you met the Doctor. You grew up bouncing around foster homes. you never ran but you always found yourselves in the homes that abused you or neglected you or used you for the money that they got to technically support you when in reality they never did.

You were fifteen and you already had three jobs, two during the weekday, from morning till noon and then noon till the evening, in the same company luckily enough, but then on the weekends you worked as a cleaning man for some pretty big businesses, working from five Am to 9 pm, quite a long work week. All the money you made you saved or used to buy your own food and appliances, as a kid you barely ate, only when the foster parents were gone at work or at night when they were sleeping. It was rough but this was your life and this is what you made out of it.

As soon as you were 18 you packed up all your food, your appliances and you took all the money you had saved ever since you were fifteen and you used it to rent an apartment, it was small and cheap and very run down but there was a bedroom, bathroom, kitchen and a very small living space. Now the next step was furniture as the apartment didn't come with it, you still worked your three jobs so there was limited time to actually decorate so for now you had a sleeping bag, a little lamp of your favorite animal and a pillow. A year went by and you quit the night job, now working from 5am to 9 pm which was a regulated job and it gave you more time in the afternoons now.

So for a few more years you worked and saved money and went to school on top of that, gradually collecting things for your home… Then your 24th birthday came around, July 2nd, 2005 and you were walking home from work, hands in your pockets as the rain dampened your hair and clothes. You stared down at your feet as you walked, having long memorized the path you took, but as you turned down a corner into an alleyway you walked right into a blue box, well- that wasn't there before and you knew it.

Before you could fall back however you felt hands grab under your arms, scooping you up and spinning you around where you came face to face with a man, short brown buzzed hair and dark eyes, beautiful dark eyes that looked like they have been through hundreds of years of death, living life to their fullest extent while seeing new things every day… A million stories locked in beautiful dark eyes.

"You alright love?" A voice flooded your ears, his voice. You quickly shook your head, clearing your throat as you took a step back, running a hand through your own hair as you nodded, looking back at the blue police box. "Yeah… I must be dreaming' cuz that box was never there before, and Police boxes aren't something you ever see in london…" You trailed off, looking back over at the man who stood there with a close lipped smile and a wondrous look in his eyes, and this made you curious.

"Who are you?" You asked, feeling just as curious as he seemed to be, you started to circle him while he stood in place, looking back into his eyes when you faced him again. "I am the Doctor, and you?" He answered before questioning who you were, causing you to furrow your eyebrows. "Y/n L/n… You said you're the Doctor? Doctor Who?" you asked, however he didn't answer that question and instead turned away from you and began walking towards the nearest shopping mall. You didn't want that interaction to just end, though it seemed like he expected it because he turned back to you with a bigger smile, extending his hand to you. "You coming or what?" He asked.

You approached him, nudging away his hand with a curious look, "Where are we going?" You asked him as he grabbed you arm and pulled you into the shopping mall, pulling out a thin leather wallet with a single piece of paper in it, flashing it to the nearest employee as he walked to the employee elevator, though they believed whatever was on the card because they let you in the elevator, and the Doctor pressed the button to the basement. "I'm going to kill some living plastic, care to help me? I could always use a second set of hands."

And that was the day you met the Doctor and left your life behind, after traveling with him, of course letting your landlord know you were off traveling for a while, not sure how long you would actually be gone, you fell in love with the idea of seeing other galaxies, meeting aliens of all kinds and saving the world. The doctor showed you so much and you never wanted it to end. After a year you came back home, and you and The Doctor stared into your decorated apartment. "So… are you staying home?" The doctor asked, staring at you as you looked right in front of you, at the place you fought hard for.

But this man was offering you something that could drive anyone mad, anyone but you. He was offering you worlds and galaxies and different times to travel too. You could go back in time and meet famous people. You thought back to your childhood, you recalled how you had nobody but yourself…

You turned to face the doctor, grabbing his hand tightly as you leaned into him. "Let me pack a bag and then we can go back to the TARDIS, alright?" You asked, watching as the doctor's smile bloomed. "of course, i'll meet you there." He started, squeezing your hand once before he leaned down and he kissed your temple. Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment but when they opened again he was gone, back to his ship. So you didn't waste a second and you got packing, choosing some clothes that could blend in with any universe really, a white button up with a black vest and black dress pants to match, picking some boots that looked quite good with the whole outfit as well.

You packed some other sets of more casual clothes as well, taking along whatever cash you had, leaving everything else behind. You called your landlord, and told him you were leaving again, having found "work" overseas and that you'd be moving out. You told him to sell anything left behind in the apartment. He wished you good luck on your adventures, and you left with the doctor, dropping your bag on the TARDIS floor as the doctor embraced you. "So, where should we go? I'll take you anywhere." He stated, cupping your face in his hands.

"You pick… impress me." You whispered, and he smiled brightly before letting you go and approaching the TARDIS controls, flipping some switches and pressing a bunch of buttons, and off you went, to a whole other universe…

But you were by his side and what could be better than that?

……..

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

28 - The Clash of Three Kings

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)

Length: 16.9k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, mentions of past character death, descriptions of gore and violence, smut, oral (m receiving), p in v, slight exhibitionism kink

Notes: No crazy revelations occured right at the end of the last chapter right? Nah, I'm sure everything is fine and dandy as always. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

The sun was shining so abnormally bright it verged on painful to look at, but through the harsh squinting you persisted through the brush. A strange overcoming of determination within your veins the closer you got washed over you, the memory of what came before having you go faster as you traversed the terrain towards the mouth of the mine. 

Hardly what would normally be called a mine, it was more a series of tunnels which as soon as were accessed deep enough, housed a shining variety of a kind of rock little spoken of by any except for you on this very island. Surrounded by life of the once Targaryean dynasty it was impossible to avoid their impacts left on Dragonstone. Their mark left on the castles with fire, dragons, and three hundred years of using this place as a second spot to rule over away from the capitol. 

You scarcely ever had a reason to use such aspects of that childhood home. To you, it was not a terrifying island that one homed the infamous dragon riders and conquerors. But an isolating home that left you with no real friends to speak of, a big and vast castle home that made hiding away too easy. The terrain of jagged cliffs and curtain hangs that lead from impenetrable shore rocks as a shield from the outside world leading deep into the woods that homed the volcano of Dragonmont. Yet to you, it wasn’t that which you spent time in. 

It was the curiosity of tunnels underground and in caves and mines which sparked your attention. You had no friends nor siblings, and little lived near the castle that were not other adults or children just too old to want to play with a five year old. So you explored, and that was how you found the tunnels, and in those tunnels, you learned the trickier the climb down, the more you found. One day, you had tossed a torch far down the middle of a shaft to see how far it went, and as it thudded against the bottom you saw shining rocks that looked like crystals that had you learn to climb all alone to find out what they were. 

You liked exploring the mines as a girl with no friends and nothing to do, but now as you approached one of those very tunnels, it was not the adventure you sought.

It was the very shining crystal like rocks that were spoken to be an answer to a freezing horror far beyond the North. 

The four of you were deep into the woods surrounding the outer borders of Dragonmont, coming close enough that looking high in the sky your neck would crane up with a squint to see the increasingly warm air was also thick and heavy in your lungs due to the smoke smoothly simmering from the very top. It had done so since you were born, you hardly noticed it despite Theon, Ryk and Tormund glancing at the other with questioning gazes at how little it winded you. 

Many of the entrances were not easily accessible. Dragonglass had never once been mentioned in the books of Westerosi history to be of any importance, so it all sat underground as a natural deposit the realm cared not to trade. The only times it was whispered such tunnels were used was in the very beginning of it’s existence which mattered. The Doom of Valyria had survived none but the family named Targaryean, and with them as they fled brought with them both dragons and dragon eggs. 

Deep underground found by none were rumoured to be hatcheries that sat so hot under the volcano that it was the only place they could be born, their dragons. The volcano ran deep under the depths of the water and so it couldn’t be as simply as that, but also no such thing had been found. Once they took over the lands by force and death, their dragons were instead bred from which they could use them the most, and the Dragonpit of King’s Landing was created. The space of the island and how little could be grown or harvested there, it made no sense to you to think raising such terrors of the sky could be sustainable. 

Most of Dragonstone’s biggest import were harvested crops, grain, vegetables and freshly kept livestock to feed with. It was a place built to terrify, but it seemed the Targaryeans had begun their dynasty of unsustainabiity so early that a lifeless rock of heat and brimstone was seen as a place to raise such creatures. If their eggs hatched under the grounds of Dragonmont, you could only think how foolish it was to do so. Whatever tunnels which existed once, were no more then crawling spaces that would terrify the untrained, and certainly not to drag eggs in to hatch and hope they survive. 

Coming up to a jagged formation of stones sat against a rolling cliff side, you had been the first to get off your horse. Tying it to a tree without a word to your three companions as you begun to walk around the area with narrowed, squinting eyes to seek out signs that this was one of the spots you left behind. 

“What are we looking for exactly?” 

Tormund had called out to you, but you scarcely heard. It had to be here somewhere, you thought. A set of feet all walked over to where you looked at the stones, as they looked with a raised eyebrow and confused expressions. Only it took not much longer for it to come to your vision, a small carving at the very edge of a stone had you crouch down by it, and without a second word begun to pull the heavy rock out. Tossing it with heave down to the side, and there one sat. 

All three men came to your side glancing into the darkness as you somewhat tried to see in, only to lean back out, gesturing to Theon to grab you the bag by your horse. Tossing some of it to he and Tormund from what was inside, “Should be something in there to make a torch of.” 

As you somewhat climbed partially into the smaller entrance, body half inside with one gloved hand braced at the top as you looked around the sight. It was too dark for any to see properly once deep enough, but you knew these tunnels so much it was like it had been lit up already. 

Turning back, you reached out as Theon handed you the lit torch and finally all watched you lean back under and half inside to see, and then the faintest of a grin fell over your lips. Moving the rest of the way in, you had not waited for the three to follow as you walked along the top surface, torch high as you continued along, lighting up small loose torches that had sat untouched the years between this visit and the last in here, having left them yourself when still exploring. 

“Not exactly what I imagined when you said there was a shit ton of it.” 

Looking back partially towards Theon with a raised eyebrow before your face fell flat. Picking up one of the torches you handed it to him while adding to its fire, as Tormund kept the area lit with another.

Walking up to the edge you leaned close and tossed the lit flame down, gesturing for them with a nod to peak themselves. As the flames landed down far at the bottom of the cavern, there was a twinkling glow around it that flashed up to your eyes in some spots. Tormund’s eyes were wide and a tinge of impressed as his voice muttered out, “Better start climbing then.” 

There were rings dug deep into the stone along the drop down, places as it to slide a torch within to see as multiple climbing digs were embedded along as well. “Some of these I put in when I was still a girl, be sure to check they are stable before stepping down onto any.” 

Tormund himself eyed Ryk climbing next to him with a condescending grin plastered, “Hear that, Longspear? We got no way of carrying you back up, means if you fall, best try and die when you do it.” 

Rolling your eyes with a tinge of playful, you and Theon flickered your glances with amusement as you all made your way down. This one, was far easier. The rocks more forgiving of any tools, there was light and no need to keep so quiet as your time could be taken all of your own choosing. Each descend far enough, you and Ryk at each end would stay back to move your only two sources of fire down to each new metal hold you both would stake into the cave wall, intending later that very day to fill them all with proper lighting along with the rest of your work.

You had intended to do this first part alone, simply getting here and making any sources of light to see a path but you had been seen awake far too early for any soul by Tormund. He had noticed the distance in your eyes that spoke of something he realized had no clues given to him over it, and your only admission that there was just much to think about that made you struggle to sleep was begged to be dropped. 

So he woke Ryk, or moreso, dragged him out of sleep with force and rumbled to him about not sitting around on his ass. Theon didn’t sleep well either, but he never did anymore. So when he had found you by where one of the guards guided him to the kitchens in the confusing halls, he had come across you gathering water. “You’re up way too early.” He had jested.

You rose an eyebrow at him, before nodding at his own person with a flat, “So what are you doing here then?” Unlike Tormund, you knew Theon could see something had not just woken you up, but something had kept you up and for how alert your eyes were, you were awake since before the sun dawned over the sea. You had mentioned getting an early start on the tunnels, and that sorted that out. 

Telling you to not leave before he could grab what he, himself needed. Not asking if he could help or join and you didn’t even think about it. A strange little trio of climbers was this group turning out to become. And luckily for you, two of them were dynamic enough to speak most of the silence, and Theon had found it easier over time to converse more like a normal person and spoke for you on the climb down the cave wall. 

But there was something in your eyes that Theon didn’t know, and it was odd to him at this point between the pair of you that he found something he had no clue how to read between your stoic expressions. 

He also, were he to be honest much later on, wished he knew before hand that when he would wake up some hours after you all took off, Jon would have not a single clue where you had gone all day. He would’ve at least requested a guard inform him rather then let the King in the North be blindsided by it, but once you were focused heavily on something, you tended to forget many details of the world around you. 

But as all four reached the bottom of the cavern, Theon and Tormund stood by the other and only when the torch light beside both of them from Ryk and yourself came to light up more of the sight, did the visions around come into view of the reality. The walls grew darker as the lower it had become and around the four of you was a shine. 

The walls were high and paths off shooting from high up and low down, but everywhere were darker spots of stone that weren’t quite fitting with the rest. In large chunks deeply framing the cave walls with twists and turns and edges that spiked out with jagged amounts it all sat around looking far more dark and otherworldly then even the black stone made of the castle above. Looking all around each of you walked the bottom, you handing up the torch in your hand and snatching up the one laying at the bottom still flaming away. Stabbing another metal loop into a chunk of normal rock you hung it up on another wall, each man around you with a quiet in their eyes.

Your head turned high, and the reflective glass like rock stared back as if hiding another world in it’s depths below the dark and heavy air of the lands. None heard your breathless whisper and none needed to, you could feel the necklace sitting against your chest and that was all you needed. “I told you I’d take you down here one day.” Her bright eyes were clear as day as you could almost smile imagining Shireen by your side with wonder as she looked around the ethereal cavern. 

“So, what now?” 

Your body turning back to the three men as Tormund glanced to you. Chest rising and falling heavy with a deep inhale and subsequent exhale, you pulled out a bag attached close to your side and tossed it to him while your other hand pulled out rope hiding along under the back of your cloak. “We start digging paths around the tunnels.” 

Ryk glanced up curiously, “How many tunnels lead into here?” 

Shrugging you knew of many but lost count of many others. “More then I’ve ever explored. This isn’t the only one either, there are caches all around the island that don’t even lead into the other. But this was the biggest one to start with that I know my way around well enough.” 

There was no more reason to stand around in awe, you all had a long day ahead of you. 

The fact that few seemed to even question where you were didn’t sit well with him. Those all working in the castle of Dragonstone seemed to find nothing out of the ordinary that you had not appeared anywhere within the walls or the grounds. 

It didn’t quite feel good, waking up that morning to find not only were you not still laying in bed with him, but then Jon couldn’t seem to find you anywhere and once more he was keeping down a panic of something he was trying very hard to keep to himself. It was in his eyes though, and as he finally came across Stannis he was fairly certain he did a poor job of hiding it. His rough, low tones did not make the matter any less subtle to the keen eyed Baratheon. 

Both stood near the other by the giant table, what seemed to be the room used most from the Baratheons as the meeting hall, the very top room of the main Stone Drum tower. Carved and painted to look just like Westeros from Dorne to the Wall, Jon had been there first. A guard escorting him to where he was told Stannis would like to meet with him having not a clue yet where things in this confusing mess of a castle were. Running his hand along the surface with narrowed eyes before coming to the end of the table. 

Some feet behind him was the splashes of the sea and morning sun shining onto the surface, lighting up where Dorne had been placed by the edge. Only moments before, his curiosity had him picking up a wooden figurine that had been dropped close to the Prince’s Pass. A wooden dragon figure had been cracked and split down the middle as the other lay alone whereas everything else on the board was placed with careful precision.

“I don’t need them to believe me, but as long as we’re here I’d rather give them the chance to help instead of sitting in the dungeons as prisoners.” 

He and Stannis disagreed on bringing Aegon and Jon Connington up from their cells to discuss any terms of peace. “You are optimistic, too much so. You asked of them for cooperation and they forced your men to the shores to fight, why would they change their attitudes now?” 

Jon however, felt not the grudge or anger many expected of his enemies but instead an understanding in his eyes were bright as he willed the man across from him to listen. “If Aegon wants to leave, fight other battles for the Iron Throne then he can leave. But they won’t stop at coming for us, they’ll come for them as well too. At least give me the chance to explain that.” Stannis looked doubtful, and Jon’s tone was a bit lighter if quieter as he leaned forward. “He could be a useful ally.” 

The rigidness that responded however was unconvinced. “If he’s his father’s son the only use he would be is rotting in a dungeon as far from any crown as possible.” Jon only challenging him on if he wasn’t, and Stannis looked almost through him for a moment to think. “I would very much doubt he is any different, but you are right. We can give he and Lord Connington that chance.” 

Nodding, in agreement, Stannis gestured to his own men to bring Lord Connington up. Seeing Jon’s questioning gaze he simply explained, “He will be the easier starting point. There is something of bad blood between Baratheons and Targaryeans, after all.” 

He hadn’t had as much of a look at Aegon as he had Connington, but Jon still couldn’t help but try and envision the man he came here in claimant of. How similar were father and son, and how much of those similarities would prove to be foreboding once more? His voice barley above a whisper as his fingers dug into the table where he kept himself braced against. “What was he like?” Stannis looked to him with a flat expression save for a raised eyebrow, “Rhaegar Targaryean? Everyone talks about what the Mad King was like, but..” 

He was once more envious of your families ability to remain so steady and unaffected by anything, when Jon could hear his fathers voice telling stories of his Uncle, his Grandfather. The ones he would never meet and how it was their deaths that started the war. Or how he struggled to ever bring up his sister, Jon’s Aunt, the one whose kidnapping was the catalyst for the war to have come. Those pains never really went away for his father, and truthfully, the entire family as well. 

Now the only remaining child of Eddard Stark and not even the one called Stark in name, and yet all that pain fell onto Jon’s shoulders. It felt odd to think. 

“It differs depending on who you ask. Most who served under him would think of him as charming and brave.” Somehow Jon thought to himself, he doubted that. “If you asked my brother Robert, he would have told you he was a monster. An abomination that some twenty four years later still made him just as angry as he did when he was alive.” 

Jon’s eyes were far away, a glazed over distance trying to reconcile such drastic ends. “And you?” A hum of question leaving Stannis’s throat. “What would you say about him?” 

It wasn’t however a casual feeling which sat in Stannis’s eyes even though he tried to portray it in his even tone. “It is as I said. There is bad blood between House Targaryean and Baratheon, and that bad blood did not end with Robert. You seem very willing to cooperate with the boy, and his father has wronged your family more then my own.” 

He could be angry, but he also knew that wasn’t where his anger lay. It wasn’t trapped within vessels of a past he would never know, it was in the present he needed to protect. “If he isn’t anything like Rhaegar, I want to give him a chance to prove it.” 

It was difficult to read, but it seemed as if a bit of pride sat behind Stannis’s eyes. “You are a more forgiving man then most.” 

Jon only felt his knuckles strain against the flexing pressure he leaned against them with. “No, I’m not. But I am patient enough to give him the benefit of the doubt first.” Not to which he would say it out loud, but he was glad he never saw the fight between Aegon and you. He wasn’t so sure he would have that same patience had he seen the dragon against you as such.

He had asked enough people in the castle, he didn’t need to come off as over protective in front of your own father by asking where you were, but it itched inside Jon’s chest not to do so anyways. He couldn’t let himself spiral, not to obsess over the fear that every single dark, and perverse thought which came pouring out of his mouth the night before had chased you away. You had responded more eager then what his heart could handle. He couldn’t stand there and let himself lose control over it, not now. 

Not in front of what was about to be a meeting full of no doubt awkward discussions of the North, as he knew he was the only firm source between he and Stannis to portray the extend to which this issue was not the North’s alone. 

But it still lingered in fear as the two of them waited. Had he said something in such raw honesty that in some way over stepped your marriage to Robb? Had he simply been too vulgar with you? Or worse, too rough? Not a single spec of the world existed that night other then the two of you entangled together in front of the fire, but perhaps in the light of morning it was too much for you to look back on.

Maybe Jon thought, he needed to ease up with you. That perhaps it was his intensity which scares you. 

It was a blessing which none here cared about keeping up proper appearances. Deep underground was boiling enough without the amount of movement you all were doing, coating you in sweat, grime, and occasionally blood if you weren’t careful enough. Most of the day was spent either climbing along the walls, or on your stomach or back pulling through tight tunnels to map out in detail. 

The open spaces only grew to be more vast. A dark glass like stone that shined black as if it were reflecting right off of the night sky, and sat all around in crystal like formations along the walls as if growing on there. You wondered how much it would shine and glow were the sun to open up inside of these walls. 

Not every rock was made of Dragonglass, but it was painted so heavily along the walls you felt utterly surrounded by it, despite the heat however every touch to your skin was cool. 

Currently, you were perched on a small tunnel space, trying to carve out the simple rock against the walls so it was easier for one to crawl though, knowing it opened up from what the flames hinted at was a vast cavern which you suspected led to much more. Not too far from you was Theon, digging supports into the walls making climbing much easier then the free kind you all had to do to get to this point. 

Somewhere off in nearby tunnels you could hear the muffled bickering of Tormund and Ryk as any chuckling or laughter boomed off the walls and echoed all up to the surface. 

“How do you know so much about all of this?” Turning your head down and to the side from where you had been reaching up, you almost coughed as you accidentally let some of the gravel fall too close to your face. Raising your eyebrow with a grimace, Theon gestured around him. “Dragonglass, how’d you know this was all here in the first place?” 

Hands dropping down to the stone below, you glanced up to where you could see the circling of torches finally having lit the cave up to see without issue, the licking flames all fading in brightness the closer to the surface and further the black dragonglass faded into merely dark stone. Dropping your gaze back to him only briefly as you returned to your task. Voice a bit far away even in there. “I used to explore these tunnels often as a girl. There wasn’t much else to do on Dragonstone and I didn’t have any friends, so I started working my way through these tunnels.” 

You had missed something a bit sad behind Theon’s eyes, but it was there in his softer tone. “So you spent your days crawling and climbing through mines hoping to what? Find something special?” 

Huffing a laugh, you winced trying to knock out a more difficult stone in the way which was attached to the edge of dragonglass, a very difficult kind of rock to cut through with the tools at hand. “Those in the villages say that the Targaryeans built rooms in here, places to hatch their dragon eggs near the heat of the volcano, lit by never ending fires and wooden pathways which long rotted to the ground. I only ever found more cave, no dragons, no magical rooms. Just rock and tight spaces.” 

“You believe that? That something special made their dragons hatch here?” 

You huffed another strained laugh, not even looking at him. “Not for a second. Most of them were born in Kings Landing during their dynasty. No great fire, no volcano, just a dragonpit to hatch their eggs in. If Dragonstone was so special, they would have been breeding them here far before Valyria fell.” 

You were beginning to regret keeping your skin of water so close to the ground, squinting down to decide if the path was worth it before ultimately deciding to just endure. Theon had begun working away at the stones and spikes once more, speaking through the hammering. “Would have loved to see one, though.” 

“No, you wouldn’t have.” His head whipped over to you, but you shrugged before turning away again as you elaborated. “Robert destroyed most of what the Targaryeans had left, but under the Red Keep in their own tunnels there is still a massive dragon skull. Must have thought it too big, or it was an artifact and so he hid it away. But it was huge, could stand up in it’s mouth and still not reach top to bottom.” Grimacing as you tore off finally a more difficult piece, you sighed out. Dropping your arms to look at Theon properly. “If you ask me, something that big flying around breathing fire? We’re better off them all being dead.” 

“You really think so?” 

Instead of the amusement he expected, there was nothing but a darker glint behind your eyes as you saw fire. Wildfire exploding before you in bright greens that had men screaming and clawing at their own burning skin, and that was nothing compared to what it was said dragonfire could do. “Dragons don’t plant trees. They don’t create, they don’t build. They destroy. Creatures like that, have no place in the kind of world people like us are trying to fight for.”

Your voice was rough, a gritting that grated against you throat like sand as you begged for water and a soothing honey to warm it down as you continued, finding Theon’s eyes properly. “Dragons only know death and destruction, and as soon as they were gone, Targaryeans had nothing left to trick us into thinking they were special. They aren’t special for being able to ride dragons. Nothing is special about controlling a creature whose only purpose is to destroy.”  

Your mind floating off to a thought you had come down here so early in the morning to avoid. A thud came from one of the higher tunnels, Tormund making his way out and calling your attention over. “How many places do you have shit stashed around this place?” A scattering of old tools now sitting in an ever growing pile.

You almost found it in you to laugh, “I was down here all alone most times. I wanted to make sure I always had tools and ropes in case I ran into issue with what I climbed down with.” 

Tormund shook his head in his own amusement. “If I wasn’t sure Snow would skewer me in my sleep for it, I’d have told these other two to piss off hours ago, pretty crow.” 

If Theon was posed to defend you, it was almost nice for him to see how easily you laughed and how relaxed you responded with no hesitation or fear of any real intent behind the words. “The day is young yet, Tormund.”

The manner in which Jon Connington was looking at him, continued to make him feel a slight bit on edge. Glancing up on multiple occasions with a squinting gaze that bordered on something like curiosity or leaning towards judgment. All three men at least were able to stay calm and steady during the course of their discussions, but it seemed that the Southerners continue to have no reason to believe in the things whispered beyond the wall. 

“I’m not the one who needs convincing. You’ve taken the island for yourselves, I can’t stop you from doing whatever you want here nor have you given me a reason to care. But if Aegon doesn’t agree to it, then that’s where this all ends.” 

Trying to be reasonable was more difficult then Jon initially imagined. Connington and Stannis seemed to be the pair at odds as long as it was the two of them in the room. One firm in his dedication to his King, the other a stubborn King himself motivated by harsh belief. They wanted to make this once more about the Iron Throne as if that was what mattered and Jon could feel the frustration in his veins rising. 

Glancing up at Ser Davos, both men shared a glance with the mutual understanding that they were all getting nowhere. Cutting into Stannis’s response, Jon raised his voice over to overpower the whole room instead. “Lord Connington, I was the one who wrote to him. I asked for peace, to stay here together beacuse what I’m fighting for has nothing to do with the Iron Throne. None of this had to happen this way, we could have all stood here and talked this out yesterday but it was Aegon who forced us to fight.” 

Connington’s eyes narrowed slightly, a strange wonder still behind them that was beginning to make Jon wish Ghost was with him. Commonly whatever intentions were behind someone’s eyes if Jon didn’t catch it, and you weren’t here to catch it, then Ghost would. But as he spoke, he peeled his eyes from Jon to look once more at Stannis. “Yet you failed to mention the ally at your side was also a King fighting for that same throne. Doesn’t sound like the peaceful course of action to me.” 

Not wavering once, Jon had no care for the insinuation. “I don’t speak for Stannis Baratheon. He joined this fight of his own choice, not mine. And this is his home your men invaded.” 

“And I suppose then it has nothing to do with it also being your wife’s girlhood home either.” His tone was doubtful and sharp but it clearly took both Jon, Davos, and Stannis back for a moment. 

Stannis glanced quickly towards him, but Jon had to keep whatever he thought that look meant internalized. “All that meant is that she and Stannis know this castle, this land. We knew whatever fight there was, would be short if we had two of them who knew this castle in more detail then you or I ever could.” If Jon simply didn’t address it then he didn’t have to fight off the echos in his head from coming to consume him in fear of it being a step too far.

“Marry me, let me take you home and marry me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Gods help him, Jon was so deep inside of you when that came clawing out of his mouth. He wasn’t supposed to pressure you into that, didn’t want you to assume he wished to replace Robb. But you had felt so good around him, and he had been pounding into you so roughly at that point he was barley in control of what he was saying. Nearly anything could’ve come out of his mouth.

Jon at least considered himself lucky that the worst, most lewd and unhinged parts of those thoughts still remained locked away in his head like a caged animal. If he scared you from his arms last night, he dared not think what giving into those desires entirely would terrify you of. 

Connington didn’t look convinced, but he also didn’t argue back on that point. Taking a moment to think before his eyes remained on the table at first. “This is not an agreement to work together,” eyes flickering back up between the two men. “But should Aegon decide he finds utility in this..cause of yours, then I would be willing to broker an arrangement with my men to be of some assistance. Only, if Aegon agrees though. Otherwise we are going to have a problem on our hands.” 

Nodding to Stannis very subtly, the man himself moved to speak to a pair of his guards as Jon and Connington looked at the other. Your name slipped from the laters mouth, “May I ask why she did not attend this meeting? Seems odd for a Queen not to be present for such a matter.” 

Luck found more on it’s way to Jon’s side as Stannis's tone was flat, smooth and without a hesitation. “She had other duties which needed attending too.” 

Whatever hints of an intensity reminding Conning so heavily of Rhaegar, were no longer shining clear in his eyes. And he felt uncomfortable with the fact that he felt relieved at such a sight. 

Jon Connington could see without any doubt however, that Aegon was in some of the worst of spirits as he accompanied guard to get him. Eyes narrowed and angry that struggled to let up even when one came into sight of the other. Standing up quickly, he approached the iron bars in an instant. “Are you alright?” 

He was taken back. Not the question he was expecting from Aegon, his head jolting back a little bit before shaking his head. “I’m fine, been through far worse then this. Are you alright?” Putting more emphasis towards his own fairing. 

Aegon swallowed harshly, shrugging one shoulder even though his voice was as rough as gravel. “Good as any humiliated prisoner can be. Suppose all the men out there had a good laugh at my loss.” 

Connington’s eyes felt a bit, tinted something washed over with a sorrow as he stepped forward. “Listen to me- Aegon.” His voice growing louder with no room for question. Not a way a man speaks to a King, but rather like a father to a son, and both parties didn’t speak of how they both felt it. “You’ve trained your whole life to be a leader, but you aren’t a soldier. You’ve never fought in a battle before last night, and you were up against an opponent who spent three years fighting in a war. No one, on their side or ours thinks that’s funny.”

For a moment he almost sounded like the child Young Griff used to be, muttering and not quite looking him in the eye as he crossed his arms over his chest. “How am I supposed to convince my people to see me as their King, if I was beaten by a girl the first battle I was in? Would my men follow me now knowing I couldn’t even lead one charge to victory?” 

Stepping towards the bars more, Connington rested one gloved hand on the it, wrapping around the iron and dropping his tone, hoping to catch Aegon’s eye. “And I was the one who surrendered to protect you. Yet they still are listening to me just fine. Every good leader fails before he succeeds, and you have only just started. This does not dictate your future, only right now.” 

Aegon nodded, and the quiet sat between them for a moment before quietly speaking up once more, “May I ask why you are walking free and I’m still locked away?” 

“I’ve spoken to our new hosts.” Aegon raised a half unamused eyebrow, catching back only a glimpse of a smirk on one side of Connington's face. “Jon Snow and Stannis Baratheon have something they would like to propose. A deal of sort, for peace. I want you to hear them out, what they have to say sounds extraordinary but the choice will be up to you.” 

As the guards opened the cell door, he spoke louder and this time there was no mistakening the playful but stern tone which most only heard from that of a parent “Aegon, this time when I tell you to follow your first instinct, make sure it’s actually yours. I’m asking you, I’m not asking Rhaegar.” 

Only seen by the guards down in those dungeons, as the door opened, both men found the other in a hug that felt far too much like father and son for whose actual son Aegon was supposed to go back being. 

If Jon were being entirely honest, this was the ugliest room he had seen by far on Dragonstone. To which judging by the look he shared with Ser Davos beside him, he was not the only one who thought so. The room was wide, tall ceilings above and much of nothing around. Only a large space of grey and black stone as it led up to a small set of stairs and what seemed to be the ruling seat of whoever was lording over the island. 

Many years ago, back when you had come to Winterfell after moving with your father to Kings Landing long term, he had asked you if the Iron Throne was as immense and threatening as the stories all spoke of it. He remembered so vividly the flat expression on your face and how utterly monotone you had said it. “It might be the ugliest chair I have ever seen in my life.” 

It was spoken to be high in the air and full of swords and spikes melted from those won in Aegon the Conquerors invasion. Many steps to reach just the seat as it loomed over all in the Red Keep. You hadn’t described much of what it truly looked like, but you ensured him it was as disappointing as it was ugly. 

The seat at the front of the Great Hall, was the ugly chair Jon always imagined. A window behind it shaped like the face of a dragon and the seat covering much of it was a jagged formation of black stone that had but one flat surface smoothed out into it to sit on. It was almost a bewildered amusement at how different this place was then Winterfell. 

There wasn’t even a singular, elaborate seat for lords like this. In Winterfell, the main hall was just a hall, every table, bench and chair looked all the same and there were seats enough where his father would sit that had many other beside him for council as well. This wasn’t suited for that, only for demand and control. Hard too, imagining either you or Stannis even sitting on that chair to do anything. 

Much of Dragonstone Jon found, felt like it was created by a people who saw themselves as gods and the more he looked the less he liked any of it. But the final judgment seemed to be lurking around the corner waiting to be brought up. 

Stannis coming to join, there was a lack of calm which was the last as they waited before. Ser Davos looked between both men, before glancing to his own attire. “I’m starting to think I’m not wearing nearly enough armour for this. Are we bracing for a fight or a meeting?” 

Jon’s voice almost echoed in the vast space of the room. “If he’s willing to listen to what we have to say, there’ll be no need for another fight.” 

“Not as if the boy would win.” Jon and Davos both turned to look at Stannis, who only held a glint which almost showed a hint of pride in his eyes.

At least someone was proud of you for that, Jon thought. He certainly wasn’t. Once more the thought crossing through his mind of how little he understood how it was Robb handled it. Every new mark or cut you got in combat only made Jon that much more on edge about having you anywhere near a fight. 

He should be proud, and deep inside of him was, how you had gotten yourself this far. But he couldn’t see passed a vision of you soaked in blood. Jon deliberately avoided putting any pressure on your ribs last night, and the sight of the blues and purples Aegon clearly had hammered into you. Aegon was lucky Jon had a far better handle on his temper then he once did. 

In a way, all three King’s seemed to stand as opposites. Aegon with a rich and ornate dark armour painted black with a bold red of a three headed dragon draped across the chest plate dramatically, his hair longer like Jon’s, but flat and dyed a stand out blue. He also reached much closer to Stannis’s taller stature. But he was hesitant, something light in his eyes that shined a bold blue matching his hair. He looked like a King but his eyes more like an unsure boy. 

Jon on the other hand, knew he looked not much like a King. His armour no more extravagant then any Northerner fighting by his side, only his own House shown just by the small sigil of two direwolves facing one another carved to blend into a small middle of his chest plate. In contrast Jons longer black curls were tied all the way back as matched the grey so dark in his eyes it would appear black in the right light. He stood shorter then Aegon, but with the weight of a leader on his shoulders that the others could see radiated something of authority. That, and Aegon had no sword of his own at this point, while the white wolf pommel of Longclaw sat proud at Jon’s side. 

Stannis however, blended into the room. Greys and Blacks in his wardrobe much like what you dressed in the times of war he know knew you in, and were he to stand still he might have disappeared into the walls, and Jon was fairly certain was intentional. If Jon stood as the opposite of what Aegon presented himself as, Stannis stood apart from the flash of what the Targaryeans showed off with. 

And Jon knew, Stannis was exactly where you got that habit from too. 

The men accompanying them introduced Aegon as he had approached almost as if meant to intimidate with it’s enormity. “I present his grace, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, Aegon of the House Targaryean, the sixth of his name.”

It felt like posturing, standing with men of the Golden Company at his back like guard dogs. The only one who stood on the other side of the parties, was Ser Davos. He and Jon shared a look almost speaking silently in a confused question of were they supposed to return the gesture?

Davos, without the decorum of what had just been presented, and if perhaps, just a bit of purposeful simplicity rather then any dramatics. “This is Jon Snow, King in the North. And-”

Aegon interrupted, his voice which sounded more sure and confident then which was spoken of in his eyes directing his attention first to Stannis. “Stannis Baratheon. The King who now stands in my way of the Iron Throne. I have heard much about you, some good, much bad. For someone claiming to be King it seems you are not much known as a popular man.” 

If that was a slight, Stannis budged not even part of an inch in care. His voice stern and cold as it was any time he was commanding the room. “Being well liked alone does not make you a King. It only makes you a fool enough to believe that is all it takes to succeed as one. My brother Renly was popular, stood against me and as soon as he passed, all of his bannerman came to my side and have been as loyal since. I do not need my men to like me, to trust me to lead them.” 

Aegon looked him in the eye, and there was something held back in his tone that did not speak of the same command. “And once the people have seen the rightful heir return to claim his throne, I am certain we will see which one of us holds the true loyalty of the people.” Stannis barley raised an eyebrow and as Aegon turned his attention to Jon, he knew it was possible the steadfast in how unaffected Stannis was had shifted the air in the dragon to something less confident. 

But that confidence did not leave Jon feeling the same. In fact, there was anger in what came out of the dragons mouth. “Now, forgive me, I have not been in Westeros for some years, but I could have sworn that the last King in the North was Torrhen Stark. Who bent the knee to my ancestor, Aegon, the first of his name.” Oh did Jon ever feel a rising heat in his veins begging to lash out. “In exchange for his life and the lives of the Northmen, Torrhen Stark swore fealty to House Targaryen in perpetuity. Which if I am not mistaken, means forever.” 

The last time he saw Robb was in the courtyards of Winterfell, a small smile on his face as they both stood younger and naive of the pain and blood to follow their separation. 

“The next time I see you, you’ll be all in black.” 

If he focused enough, Jon could still feel the last hug he ever shared with his brother, his closest companion his entire life. And he felt angry. He knew what Aegon was doing. 

Jon’s voice was a deep, angry rasp with eyes flashing to match. “I wasn’t there, I couldn’t tell you what my ancestor did. But you and I both know of the King in the North before me, the one the North chose first was my brother. Robb Stark was the King they declared after three hundred years of your families neglect of my people.” Robb died for the North, and not for a second was Jon going to stand there and let this stranger insult his memory.

Aegon was playing a game though, a game which he knew too many lords and ladies of this country thought was the way to gain power, but Jon only grew more visibly angry this time as he spoke. “An oath is still an oath. You mean to break faith with House Targaryean-”

Jon’s voice this time, did echo through the room. Stepping forward as his own face twisted in an anger as he shut down whatever this was supposed to be. He was not a Stark in name, but his father had four sons, not three. He still had Stark in his blood. “Break faith? Your grandfather burned my grandfather alive, he burned my uncle alive. Your own father-” Not many had heard Jon both yell or speak with anger before and clearly Aegon was not prepared for it. 

“Your family has been wronged by mine, I know this. But I am the last of my line.” Connington’s eyes narrowed, as he looked to Aegon but he ignored that look and pushed forward speaking to Jon. 

Stannis however, did catch the look given and when both men caught the others gaze, there was something unsettled as Connington realized it. There was one other Targaryean, and if Stannis knew about her, then likely you did too. And Jon Connington did not feel good realizing how little Lord Varys had shared about these people to him beforehand. 

Aegon continued, and Jon looked no less angry. If Aegon stood taller in height, Jon stood far taller in demeanour and was much more intimidating. “Our two houses were allies for centuries, and those were seen with peace and prosperity. A Targaryen sitting on the Iron Throne and a Stark serving as Warden of the North. I am The Last Dragon, Jon Snow. Honour the pledge your ancestor made to mine. Bend the knee and I will name you Warden of the North, like your father-” 

None noticed, but Ser Davos almost smirked. If purposely leaving Robb from his recounting of history was enough to make Jon this mad, then that final comment was the last of his patience. “I'm not standing here arguing about this. There’s no time for that, I don't time for any of this. I mean no offence, your grace, but I don’t know you.” 

This time, it was Stannis’s turn to find the amusement. Never once in their disagreements did Jon Snow ever use “your grace” in a drawn out, mocking tone. 

But he continued, stepping closer once more to Aegon as his eyes burned darker in black. “As far as I can see, your only claim to the throne rests entirely on your father and grandfather’s name, and my father fought to overthrow the Mad King. No amount of your empty apologies will make right what he did to my family. And certainly not what your father did to my aunt.” 

The room was quiet. No one spoke for a moment after that. If there was room for sorry in Aerys Targaryean burning Jon’s grandfather and uncle alive, there was not a single solitary room for forgiveness for what Rhaegar had done to his aunt Lyanna. 

Connington spoke after some quiet, Aegon and Jon not taking their eyes off the other the entire time as one brewed with a hesitant uncertainty and the other a deep, hardly contained anger. “King Stannis, I find it odd you are at this mans side. You hold to a claim to the Iron Throne through your brothers lineage, and yet how can you be the one true King of the Seven Kingdoms if you stand next to someone who has stolen the largest half of your Kingdom from you?” 

It wasn’t Jon who saw Robb that time, it was Stannis. And the mistake he spent a very long year and a half regretting. 

“I did not come here to fight, I came here to find any way to a truce...we have been dragged through the muck of your southern wars for far too long.”

He was calm though, and firm. “The North has been in open rebellion long before Jon Snow was King in the North. His brother Robb Stark claimed Northern independence first and I was ready to fight against him for it. Yet I am fighting at the side of his brother, the next King after him beacuse he has shown me that the true enemy lies far beyond that of King’s Landing.”

Aegon broke eye contact with Jon, and looked to Connington. So this was what he was to prepare himself to hear it seemed, but there was still enough spite from the past twenty four hours that something less then pleasant came rolling of his tongue instead of tucking it away, despite knowing he was better then petty insults. But it came out anyways. “And what does some bastard falsely calling himself King have any right to tell men like you or I what to do?” 

You had always called him Snow in playful teasing, and always with a true affection. Focus on that, Jon told himself. Focus on how that never mattered to you, and you made it easier to feel like it shouldn’t matter to him. Don’t stoop to Aegon’s level he warned himself. 

Ser Davos it seemed however, was the one who took up the mantle normally taken up by yourself in Jon’s honour. Defending him against leaving his image as nothing more then a bastard boy. 

“I know little of your life, your grace, but allow me to shed some light on his if you are so unfamiliar. Jon Snow is the first to make allies between wildlings and Northmen. He was named Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. He was named King in the North. Not because of some blood or birthright. He has no birthright, beacuse he is a damn bastard. But all those hard sons of bitches you fought against chose him as their leader because they believe in him. His brother didn’t name him his heir for any rights or honour, he did it beacuse he believed in him as his brother, as just a man who does the right thing.” 

It felt odd to Jon, hearing someone lay out their belief in him so blatantly, without prompt or question and he found little he could say to stop it. What would he say, he spent his entire life hearing people talk about him in the exact opposite manner, he had no idea how to take such praise. 

“All those things we’ve told you about, Lord Connington? He faced those things. He fought those things for the good of his people. He risked everything, took a knife to the heart, gave his own life-”

Wide eyed and almost panicked did Jon turn to Davos and he stopped in a second. The air along the room suddenly turned strange as it was Jon, Davos, and Stannis all in a silent heavy air of something that seemed more serious then a story or rumour. 

Jon Connington had told Lord Varys if this King really died then he could come to his shores like a man and show him his heart himself, but he didn’t ever actually expect this as a reaction to such a crazy story to come up. 

But Jon took charge and swung the topic as far from what scars lay deep over his heart as possible. “I have seen things you would never imagine, your grace. Winter isn’t coming, it’s already here and if we keep standing here debating whose king of what, everyone we know will die before winter's over, if we don't defeat the enemy to the north.” 

You had told him that day on Bear Island that leadership suited him, that his talk alone of the threats to the North were impressive and he hoped that was not just mere flattery. Aegon looked at him, a squint in his eye of curiosity instead of judgment. “And what is the enemy to the north exactly?” 

Jon was blunt and no one on his side gave any remote hint of joke or a lack of seriousness. “The Others. They’re here. I’ve seen them, I’ve fought them and even killed one. And they are coming for us with an army of the dead and if we let them get passed the wall and we have no way to protect our own, the only thing that’ll be left to sit on the Iron Throne will be a frozen corpse, and all you’ll be ruling over is a graveyard.” 

Aegon's voice was far away as it was breathless in nerves. “The Others have been dead for eight thousand years.”

Stannis was the one to respond, a tone just as heavy as Jon’s beside him. “They have been asleep for eight thousand years. Now they aren’t.” 

His tone even, not quite skeptical but something that wasn’t convinced yet not dismissive either as he looked to Jon. “If your raven is to go by, I presume you think such an answer lays beneath the mines here on Dragonstone? What exactly is hiding under the rocks that has you believing it can beat these things?” 

“We can destroy them by burning them, and we can destroy them with dragonglass. That’s what I came here for, not to challenge you on this claim or that claim.” The roughness in his tone was one which sent shivers down Aegon’s spine and a steadfast anger in Jon to force people to listen for once. “I’m not asking us to get along. I’m giving you the chance to help fight for the living, fight with us. The same thing is coming for every single person in this realm whether you believe me or not. This is an army that won’t leave the dead on the battlefield. They will just raise them back up to fight against us.” 

It was quiet, and one last challenge was left on Aegon’s lips. “And you come to me with this story, and expect me to believe it without a shred of proof. If you want my help, Snow, maybe you shouldn't have come here with an army, and their damned family.” Aegons eyes meeting the dark and unblinking harshness of Stannis's.

Jon’s eyes narrowed. If he was to be so stubborn, he could always drag Aegon beyond the wall and let him look into the eyes of the Others himself. He was tired of this, tired of this nonsense. Of people looking at him and his people like they were crazy, only believing in scary bed side stories. Jon and Tormund lost a lot of good men, women, and children that day in Hardhome, and it had him clenching his jaw painfully that it felt as if these Southerners would have to force such a nightmare to happen to them to finally listen to him. 

Only, just as the three men stared the other down did an echoing sound crackle through the hall. The great doors kept watch by guards on the outside slowly begun to crawl open as the sunlight peeked in properly across the darkness of the stones. But as all men in the room turned to realize who had walked in, only one found intention. After all, it was only the night before the fresh wounds on both their persons were placed there in that very same room.

The Great Hall stood as empty as it was tall save for a small group by the main steps of the Lord’s seat above. The easiest to spot was Aegon, the hair a bold blue as eyes to match looked over with a rough contempt as you begun to walk into the hall, as Aegon himself begun to descend the small set of steps to the same level as yourself. 

Whatever quiet words were shared between the men behind him, it seemed the conclusion they came to was to once more let you and Aegon face off with one another. An anger in his eyes towards you matched yours to him.

You had no real weapon on you and from what you could see neither did he, but the sharp flash over both your eyes were cutting enough. Only the echo of footsteps was heard in the hall as you both met in the middle. Floods of fury and fire brewed between you both as there was nothing else in sight but the eyes of a son trying to seek the same control that tore down the family before him. 

Breaking the silence first his voice was more quiet then you expected, keeping the echo away and fluttering only enough that you could be heard here and no more then whispers elsewhere. “The Queen in the North graces us with her presence. I am relieved you could take the time out of your busy day to discuss such important matters.” 

Your face however, much like Stannis before you, moved none. A cold look shining from your eyes as a stern expression set itself in stone just before a glare. You hardly raised your tone above a slight whisper, dripping in a frustration at his tone. “It is no business of yours what I do with my time, in my home, Targaryean. I do not answer to you.” 

“Who do you answer to, the King in the North? Or considering you were the one to attack me last night, perhaps he’s more merely your guard dog.” If he wanted to rile you up, someone should have informed Aegon that the only thing that could truly have you in such dire straits is the memory of a pale blue eyes attached to a slimy voice that coated your skin in more filth then you knew even now how to wash away. 

Your eyes drifted across his person with only a barley noticeable narrowed of eyes before meeting his, nodding to his chest plate. “Am I the first to carve a dent into that?” 

His jaw twitched in it’s clench, and a condescension rolled from his very aura. “Every great warrior has to start somewhere, doesn’t he?” You could feel the pulsing of the cut along your person he left, as you looked at him, and see once more the rage behind his eyes as he looked to you as nothing more then a monster to abolish from once you came. 

“And yet the only ones the Seven Kingdoms ever speak of are your own kin. Strange how only greatness comes from you and none else ever get the chance to prove their worth.” Robb had spent three years winning a war of so many sides falling all onto his shoulders to burden, and he emerged as a great King and yet all any will speak of him is the tragedy stolen from his life. Aegon’s ancestors were all remembered for their victories, and yet your husband lay scattered across the Riverlands and none will remember what led him there in the first place.

Aegon almost smiled though, and you found yourself hating it. Perhaps you were finally understanding Robert so long after his death. “My family is the blood of Old Valyria. We were the great dragonriders who conquered these lands. We are destined for such fates by birthright, by blood-” 

“Your dragons destroyed these lands.” 

He seethed visibly, and you did in your blood and poured from your eyes that he caught himself. All eyes were on you, but enough feet were apart between that no danger was to intervene from but you felt them all the same and could not quell that feeling rising within your chest. And yet, your voice softened to something that he didn’t expect. Something genuine. 

You knew the story too well, and were he true or not to such a claim, it was his family that were the forgotten ones of the rebellion. “I imagine it's difficult for you, being here. Being so close to Kings Landing. It was cruel, and vile what was done to your mother, and your sister too.” It was so well hidden to most not a soul would have caught a waver in his throat. “They didn’t deserve what happened to them, no one does.”

The breathless vitriol was not to blame, and you wouldn’t. “Yet your uncle did nothing to stop it.” 

Robert Baratheon wept no tears and sung no songs for Elia Martell and Rhaenys Targaryean. He saw Elia as a dead Dornish woman to be forgotten, and Rhaenys as nothing but the offspring of what so many years alter was his mortal enemy, but you knew when to defend him and when not too. “Tywin Lannister did all that. Aerys Targaryean opened the gates and he sacked the city, his men did that to your family. Robert cared not about their remains but it was not his order to brutalize and dishonour them like animals. I know too well, no one deserves such fate.” 

If Aegon saw anything in your eyes, he found no capability to bleed sympathy for it, nor did you expect any too. You wanted it to be not your life as well. “And yet you think my father deserved his. No one cared to provide justice for my mother and sister, but you demean me for wishing to find that very thing for my own father.” 

You stared right through him. The question in your mind finally answered. Had Jon Connington ever admitted to Aegon that his father kidnapped Lyanna Stark? Had he admitted he raped her? No. The answer was no. There was not a world you could imagine someone finding a softness over the long deaths of a mother and sister he never knew, but idolized a father who committed such atrocities had he thought they were truth. 

“That is what you think? That true justice is redeeming the image of Rhaegar Targaryean to the very people whose lives he ruined beyond repair?” He swallowed again, and you felt something choking your throat as your eyes refused to blink despite the sting. “That includes you, Aegon. He left you in that city too, under the control of a father he knew would not let your mother and you both leave.” 

Aegon flushed, something uncomfortable in his own lungs scratching away at his defences. “That boy was not me. That was some tanner’s son from Pisswater Bend whose mother died giving birth. His father sold him to Lord Varys for a jug of ale, and Lord Varys gave that boy to my mother, and took me to safety.” 

You didn’t blink, but you did feel for the sorrow to come. “And Rhaegar left you to die in that city with your mother and Rhaenys all the same. Tanner’s son or not, it was you he thought he was abandoning. And that’s the man you wish to be?” He swallowed and a redness almost poked through the colours behind his eyes as something bordering pity and empathy came into you and your voice. “I pray to the old gods and the new that you find it within yourself to become anyone but him. Dragons died for a reason, and it’s better we let it stay that way.”

Walking passed him, you brushed against his shoulder enough the material of your dark cloak ran across the overtly ornate design of his and Aegon didn’t turn to you in the slightest with any other word. You left early to think, and returned with that very thing shoved in your face to overwhelm the rest of it. All you could focus on to stay composed, was to wash off the grime of such a day, and start your work. 

Maybe the rest would leave you alone until you wouldn’t break the second you were faced with that same wonder that stunned you the night before. There were no similarities when you looked at Aegon, but you found fear asking you of looking over to double check in case it was too obvious to ignore upon looking his way, but resisted such an urge. Not here, not in front of all these people. 

You could feel Jon’s grey eyes following you the entire path as you left the Great Hall.

The path down to the level of the beaches was much faster this way. Many winding stairs were a steep but direct path down to the shores, the black stone leading into the dark rocks surrounding the landscape as only but small caverns and overhangs led to the sand surrounding out to the Narrow Sea. 

The climate was much more forgiving as your back current sat against such large rocks that blocked the path and sights around as your hair blew in the winds along with the flowing skirt of your dress as if asking to carry you up and whisk you across the waters to lands unknown. But instead you sat in the quiet as evening sun had begun to set behind you, leaving the skies ahead in a beautiful golden yellow turning almost light shades of a pink. 

Were you on the other side of the island, you would have held the object in your hand up to the setting sun, the books you had been scouring through spoke of dragonglass as being able to see the brightness in the sky without pain. Should you look up at it through what Maesters called obsidian. Instead it sat less shining or reflective in the shard twisted and turned in your hands. Your eyes narrowed slightly as you looked over it, trying to find any reason this was the thing which held answers to the realms foreboding danger. 

The ones being in your home once more brought to you felt nothing but like burdens at the rate this past day had brought. Fire, death, bloodshed, memories of painful pasts trying to force their way onto those not responsible in the present and an overlooking thought which threatened to consume you should you let it toxify in your mind too much. 

You only had a dream. You couldn't rely on that as truth. 

It wasn’t until the sounds of footsteps gently approaching hit your ears did you register that you had been cruel. How would it have felt were it you? He had every right to be angry at you for it, but as he chose to settle on the sands with his back against the rock beside you there wasn’t anger which waved off him. 

For a moment Jons eyes watched as yours did at the water, but not too long passed between until he gently opened his hand out to it. Silently you gave it to him, only then did the strength to look at him find you. Your eyes following as his brought up up to look closely at and yours continued that path to find his face. 

A few smaller scratches sat across his cheek from what you could see at this angle, but all else as you looked at Jon did you find was the same thing you’d always seen looking at him. Nothing hiding inside but the man you love. And you felt more cruel yet a sighing relief at such a fact. 

“Theon told me what you had been doing all day.” 

You nodded before realizing he wasn’t actually looking to see it. Only leaning a bit closer so that you could feel his arm brush against yours as you spoke quiet by his side. “I have some assembling a number of men now, and come morning they will start on the mine we worked on today. The longer it takes us to start, the longer it takes us to get home.” 

Jon ran his thumb over the flat end of the shard, eyes foggy as his voice was rasping at a distance trying to gently murmur your name, but you beat him to it with a heavier heart then you think he suspected. “I’m so sorry.” 

Finally his eyes met yours, the grey in them washing over with something confused but also upsetting in a way. “Sorry? What would you have to be sorry for?” 

Your own were already with a bit of a red sting, and your cracked throat wavered in speech. “Leaving you like that. After...after the night we had and then you wake up alone and I’m gone all day..it was a horrible thing to do. You would’ve never done it to me, I shouldn’t have done it to you.” 

Jon put the shard of Dragonglass down without a second thought, turning to look at you more and it made you feel so much worse at the ease in which the hurt sat in his bright eyes. One of his hands coming up to run along the side of your face until reaching your cheek. “I only want you to tell me what I said or did that you didn’t like next time instead of avoiding me.” Your brows furrowed in confusion as he ran this thumb back and forth over the gentle skin. “Last night, I clearly did something to scare you off. Was I too rough?” He hesitated before swallowing harsh but he looked back into your much more stinging red eyes. “Was it what I said about marrying you?” 

You hadn’t realized you were shaking your head until the motion was urgent, hand flying up to grasp at his and finding yourself pushing the fabric between his sleeve and glove to run your own thumb along his pulse. The other turning to face him more as you shifted more onto your calves, “No, it wasn’t you. You didn’t do or say anything wrong..I just..I couldn’t sleep and I didn’t want to wake you and later I just..”

“Got carried away?”

You nodded, letting go of his wrist as your own dropped into your lap. A shy glint hiding behind your eyes that caught Jons attention much more. The truth was not far off, but there was a medium you needed to pull him too. “I didn’t mean to worry you, I’m so sorry.” 

But Jon didn’t need anything else, he didn’t want an argument or a detailed answer or even for you to grovel. Instead choosing to pull you into his side, your head finding a home resting against his shoulder as you were leaned into him completely. One of your arms wrapping around his instead of letting him keep it across your back as the other rested along his forearm. Another quieter whisper from your lips passed the air against the wind and waves. “You were perfect, I’m sorry I made you worry you had done anything wrong. I promise it is the opposite.” 

For a good moment it was quiet between the two of you, the world never allowing you such quiet moments together it felt like. Not ones you could enjoy so freely. Never would you have imagined sitting on the shores of Dragonstone with Jon, being free to cuddle into his side with no scare of being caught. It was hard to get used too, being allowed to be seen as his. 

Jon was quiet when he finally spoke, “You don’t have too.” Your brows narrowed in question but didn’t move away from him. “Marry me, I mean. I shouldn’t have said it, I’m not trying to pressure you into it or..” His eyes closed for a moment and the weight was felt mutual between both of you. “I don’t want you thinking I’m trying to replace Robb.” 

If his voice had rasped out quietly, your own whisper was breathless and somehow even quieter after a good minute passed in the winds. “I don’t love one of you more then the other. Robb will always be part of me, and there wasn’t a second I was with him where what we shared wasn’t pure. He deserved to be loved and I wanted to be that for him. But you deserve to be loved as well.” 

Pulling his arm through the gentle hold you had, Jon properly wrapped an arm around you and tugged you right up into his side, your hands drifting across his front. One closer to his waist and the other drifting up and down where you both knew the scars sat. His voice a husk in your ear, “You can keep your name.” A hum left your throat as Jon turned to bury part of his face into your hair like a crutch of muffling support. “You took Robb’s name when you married him. You should keep that. There isn’t much honour in going from a Stark to a Snow.” 

This time you pulled from him with something frustrated in your eyes, and a wide insecurity in his that was softer then he had any right being. But as you sat there, your heart begged and pleaded. He did everything for everyone else, and for once you weren’t going to let him deny something that he never thought he’d have. “I became a Stark when I married Robb, but marrying you means I’m marrying you. You’re a Snow, which would make me one. That’s all there is too it-”

He swallowed harshly, a tear in his voice from years of something he tried to bury. “I can’t ask you to do that. Or make you force that onto our children.” Shaking his head slightly, he fought between pulling away from you and burying his face in your neck but chose to stay quite still, looking out to the waving tides rippling gold across the waters. “I used to be so scared of getting you pregnant. Always fighting how much I wanted to know what being with you would be like, and how much I knew any child we accidentally had, would be a Snow. How much everyone would look down on you for it, hate me for ruining your honour. How much everyone would judge whatever son or daughter we had for what I did to you. That’s why I wasn’t ready that day, why I hesitated. I couldn’t stop thinking about how I’d be ruining my own child’s life just beacuse I wanted to be with his mother.” 

That day was still vivid for both. You had found fear that was normal for woman, whatever gentle and innocent touches and pleasure you had explored together were nothing compared to the act itself of sex. You were too scared of it at the time, and you hated the idea of disappointing Jon beacuse of it.

“I had a lot other boys didn’t, but it didn’t change that being a bastard was lonely, and miserable. I thought, that's no life for a child. Would always think that whatever children you had deserved so much more.” 

You had never really spoken about it, not so directly, but the panic in your veins of that moment and what you begged of Robb in that anxiety and hurt never left you. It never left you how much your desperation had scared him, and how much you both looked to the other with such love and hope when he assured you. 

“Tell me we’ll love him, our son, tell me that we’ll both be here to love him.” 

The way Robb pulled you into his arms, resting your face soothingly in his neck as his hand ran gently across your then smooth, healthy stomach with a son named Ned. 

“We will love him, together. It’s not just you and me now. It’s us. All three of is, now and always. 

Your own voice cracked and it caught Jon’s attention, the sting in his eyes whipping over to yours as you now were the one looking to the sea. “When I finally told Robb I was pregnant-” 

“Finally?” You turned to him slightly and he pushed passed the water in your eyes to as, “You said when you finally told him. You kept it a secret?” 

Nodding, you wiped at the tears. Fruitlessly knowing more would fall in their place. “We were deep in the Westlands, marching onto Harrenhal, Theon had betrayed us..Catelyn had went behind our backs and released Jaime Lannister,” 

You continued on, but that was simply one more tidbit of a story Jon knew not a thing about. A memory that did come to him though, was the only time he’d ever spoken to him. At the time, he thought he was being mocked. Speaking to him like a boy who knew nothing of the world and that he was a fool for taking the black. But he also had mentioned you. 

Telling him he hoped Jon had gotten a “Nice, good pretty eyeful of her while you still have the chance. Beyond the reach of the law once you swear your vows, right? Do one last dishonourable thing with such a pretty girl before you never can again.” 

Turning to look intently at you, he did briefly feel shame thinking how beautiful you looked with tears running down your cheeks. Letting yourself express your heart so painfully when alone with him in ways you so rarely ever let yourself even feel. “I was so scared he was going to be mad. That I was adding one more thing onto his shoulders but then I told him..and for the first time in a very long time..I finally felt like home. I felt like I found something I truly wanted.”

But he knew, you didn’t just look shocked that day these visions collided at the same instance, you almost looked devastated. “All I could think of was, how much I didn’t want our child to ever grow up the way you were forced to. That no matter where we were or what our lives looked like, I wanted our son to have Robb and I there for him, to know he was always loved no matter what.” You inhaled shakily before finally coming to what was caught in your throat. “You never had to be called a Stark for me to love you, and me being a Snow, our children being a Snow doesn’t change that. We’ll love them together, and that’s what matters. Anyone else has a problem with their name, we could always throw them off the top of the wall.” 

Jon actually laughed, a bright charming smile as he laughed deeply. You had been spending too much time with Tormund.

Turning your face by your cheek to look at him, you found one of your hands reaching to run gently along his facial hair at his jaw in return. Running his thumb along your cheek before his voice came out low but full but in a tint of playfulness, “Don’t imagine Stannis and Selyse are going to be very happy having their grandchild be called Snow.” 

Leaning so your breathe would dance along his skin as you spoke, you moved the touch on his jaw to run light as a feather across his bottom lip with a breathy laugh. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I’ve never done anything that’s made them happy before, no reason to start trying now.” 

Jon shook his head, but was the one to pull you into a kiss first anyways. Cupping the back of your head as it almost instantly was more heated then the tears on your cheeks would ask for. Only pulling from your lips long enough to murmur against them with a chuckle, “We are a mess, aren’t we?” You breathily laughed into him back, letting him return right back to kissing you deep enough you had to settle your hands on his shoulders to keep from falling back. 

Wrapping an arm around you, Jon beckoned you to stand up with him. Only giving perhaps half a second for you to keep steady on two feet before that arm moved to your hip, and his other hand slid to hold you partially by your jaw and neck as he pushed you into the rocks behind.  

Crowding you in an instant his kiss deepened, already leaving you feeling breathless and lightheaded against him. His lips were always so utterly soft and yet they also were so rough with you, leaving a tingling against them as he bit at your bottom lip before kissing you deep once more. Your hands slid up his chest and wrapped gently behind his neck. His tongue gently running across your lips and yet as you went to grant him permission, Jon pulled back enough to bite your lip to pull a gasp. 

Only sliding his tongue into your mouth as you did so, the hand on your neck tilting you up to surrender to him. Tongue brushing with yours and hand pulling your hip more as he pressed his hips into you. He swallowed the whine with a growl as you felt him harden beneath the layers. Jon pulled more and more whines into his mouth from you, kissing you rougher and deeper every instance after he would grind his covered cock into you harsher. The hand on your neck moving down, reaching to your other hip and almost shifting you both to be at his mercy. 

Slightly now leaning over you against the rocks behind, your hips pressed into the front of his as he pulled back from your lips. Red and swollen as his eyes black scouring the bite marks he left against your own lips. Consuming you with his dark, unmoving eyes as he knew you were growing more wet under the simple layers of your dress. One hand pressed beside your head as he leaned in, his cock twitching against you as he grew harder and harder every rut. 

His voice rasped deep and sultry as his eyes looked sharp and narrowed down at you, “Always loose my mind with I’m with you..” Leaning more so his lips brushed against yours but still stared you down, his strength alone enough you couldn’t move away from him if you tried. If the twitch of his cock spoke anything, he enjoyed that you looked almost on the air of intimidated, only able to breathlessly gaze up at him in a needy awe as you burned the more he grinded his hard, covered cock against you. “I get anywhere near you,” The hand on your hip grasped the skirt of your dress as you whimpered at the force and yanked it up almost exposing you entirely were Jon not right against you, “All I can think of is how I shouldn’t have any duties that aren’t burying my cock deep inside you.” 

You knew Robb said things like that to be vulgar, to tease how weak it made you. But you shivered at the darkness in Jon’s eyes, and how he almost barely seemed to register he said anything. That all this only spilled out of his mouth not to rile you up, but beacuse it was so deep in his brain that it came out on instinct. It didn’t used to be this intense between you, but all your brain told you to do was submit. 

Submit like a good mate and let your White Wolf do whatever he wanted, but there was something else still hiding in your mind. Something that knew he’d never ask for it again. He never asked in the first place, but you desperately wanted to give back. Make Jon feel good beacuse he deserved to. 

So your hands at his chest gently pushed him back. Not enough to move him or to even give you much in the way of room. But enough to press a light kiss to his lips and a tender loving one on his neck as you whispered, letting your hands run down his chest. “I want to make you feel good first.” 

His face twisted slightly as if not realizing what you meant as he rasped, “You always make me feel good, darling.” But that wasn’t what you meant, and Jon only grasped it as he muttered a very light, almost inaudible, “..fuck..” as you so gently and almost with a pure and innocent softness bright in your eyes, let him keep you pressed tight against the rocks as you dropped to your knees.

Jon swallowed harshly, closing his eyes for a moment before looking up to the sky as if pleading for mercy as you ran your hands so gently along his thighs and hips like a massage. Not moving at all to pull him out until he looked back down at you, that same plead silently asking you to get up for him but you stayed kneeled. “Jon,” His hand ran along the sides of your hair, “Please, will you let me make you feel good? Can I suck your cock?” 

Inhaling deeply, Jon’s jaw clenching so tight he ran hand along your hair now cupping the back of your head, he seemed to not risk anything, saying nothing. Only nodding yes, as he raked along your hair as you so carefully moved. Only giving enough room to pull his cock out as it already sat hard, red and leaking cum. Gently, you licked almost like a kitten at the thickness along him, before running your tongue and lips down the length of his cock with as much gentle touch a you did everything else. 

Something burned in your chest, desperate to just show him a pleasure he always deserves but so rarely ever let himself have. Slowly letting your tongue brush the length of his cock before licking his tip once more. Eyes sliding shut as you slowly took him into your mouth, a deep grunt trapped in his chest trying not to lose it. Ever so slowly, you let the saliva build up in your mouth as you took him inch by inch, your hands flexing as you held by his hips. 

You almost had no choice but to take him deep, so little room was behind you including his hand in your hair. Jon was breathing heavily above you to keep collected and feeling like he wasn’t succeeding. A low hum in your throat vibrated against his cock, something that both overwhelmed your senses letting him slide deep into your mouth but truly didn’t want to stop. 

Almost two thirds of the way, you begun to bob your head along him, sucking him as with each slide inside your mouth deep did Jon’s hand on your hair tighten. Not controlling your movements, but almost keeping himself grounded as his muscles tensed. 

He was heavy on your tongue, and your jaw already aching from the stretch but you whined at the feeling of him deep enough that it once more tested your inner panic. Taking the rest of his cock until he reached the back of your throat, your nose pressed against the coarse hair around the base of him you slid almost all the way of his length before smoothly gliding back as deep. Each pull back on his cock you sucked him with your own need making your thighs ache to press together.

There was something about being with you that made Jon feel as if you continued to bring things out in him he never knew would rile him up this much. Being outside, one could come across the two of you, and see their fierce and headstrong Queen so willingly down on her knees before the King in the North. Something perverse in Jon almost found the idea of someone catching you two like this appealing. As if it made him feel ever more turned on, as if he dared anyone to catch you both, fighting the fantasy in his veins if someone did see. 

You wouldn’t even know if someone was watching, not while you were soaking his cock deep in your warm mouth, and he wondered if you two were caught, would Jon even try and pull you off him? 

Or would he let the possessive wolf inside him, force them to watch, knowing that seeing you so eagerly sucking Jon’s thick cock would be the closest any would or could ever get to having you for themselves. Jon knew if he were a worse man, he may have chained and gagged Ramsay and forced him to watch you give everything to Jon that the vile man tried taking violently from you.

Take you apart with every bit of sanity you had left until Jon’s touch was all which would keep you tethered to the earth. And only killing Ramsay once he finished watching Jon take for himself, everything that the man wrongly thought belonged to him. 

If it were possible, the image of getting caught as Jon was slid so deep in your mouth, or just as he came heavily down your sweet, sensitive throat, made him almost throb harder.

He still was trying to stay quiet, couldn’t bury his grunts or growls in your kiss and all he could do was try and not to shove your head right back down to take his entire length. Gritting his teeth as his knuckles turned white gripping your hair, he felt himself clawing closer and closer to the end. 

You felt his cock throbbing in your mouth, and you only felt both the desperate beg inside to give you a moment to breathe but also finding yourself more eager to help coax him to that end. Wanting him to feel good the way he always insisted doing for you instead. 

Murmuring your name, Jon was trying to pull you off his cock and through a rough husking tone he hissed out as your mouth soaked him, “You- gods you really want me like this, you want me to spill down your throat?” Like he couldn’t comprehend why you would actually want to swallow his cum, the thick, warm seed that you had no logical way of explaining in the moment, that you desperately needed. 

Only, just as Jon begun to call out your name, he throbbed inside your mouth and looked down at you with a clenched jaw breathing heavily. “You’re too good to me. So fucking good, my beautiful girl..you don’t have to do this..I just..fuck, I only need your cunt..” 

But as you took him deeply, you felt him pull your head close to his hips, once again pressed right up against the dark hair around the base of his cock, and this time it was your whimper that did him in. A gentle hold on his hips and a tender moan around him had Jon shake. Spilling deep down your throat with a rasping growl of your name, his hand kept you pressed as deep as he could sink in your mouth but he almost massaged your hair, raking through it more gentle then he had any right being as he fed you all of his thick cock’s seed. 

You moaned and the muffled gag of you trying to swallow all of him, feeling almost more worked up at how good it felt and how wet it made you, to feel him spill so deeply down your throat and into your stomach. 

But he wasn’t done once he pulled you off, no, this time Jon yanked you up to your feet. Shoving you against the wall as he hovered over you, pulling the skirt of your dress up only enough to grasp hold of the thin fabric covering you from him. 

In Jon’s mind he couldn’t hear or see the world around him, only you. And the feeling of your covering soaked did Jon hide his face in your neck. Biting and kissing roughly as he tore the fabric off of you, pressing you into the rocks more when you whined against him. 

One hand moved under the flowing fabric to run his cock along your soaking wet entrance while the other cupped your cheek, pulling you into an urgent kiss. Jon sparing not much time before he sunk his cock as deep as he could. Using his hold to shove you more against the rock, keeping one of your legs bent up and wide as he never pulled any more then a few inches out of you. 

Your insides twisted like a coiling metal ready to snap as Jon kissed you, your own hands unable to do anything but grasp at his shoulders. All but forcing your lips to part so he could slide his tongue in your mouth, Jon begun to thrust up into you, but this wasn’t the slow start he took his time with. 

He kept a hand behind your head keeping you against the mercy of his kiss as the other kept you stretched wide for him as Jon pounded into you. Were the tides and waves not mixing with the covers of wind, someone might have heard the desperate sound of Jon moving to kiss down your neck. Not even with bites, just presses of lips as he felt his heart desperate to just have you close.

Cock pounding into you fast, and somewhat rough especially keeping you on a gasping, pleading edge of his name as the sensitivity of your walls were dragged along once more. Every time his cock was deep you felt no more breathe in your lungs. Hands urgently pulling his hair loose, Jon shifted you up more so you could bury your face between his hair and in his neck and holding onto him tightly with little more then moans. 

He asked nothing of you, only holding you there as he fucked into your soaked cunt almost coating his cock even more with your own wetness that were he to have you alone in a room would have been a beautiful soaking sound each time his hips slapped into yours. 

It looked like nothing more but a desperate, fast and rough fuck but Jon held you and you held him back burying the other to hide close. Jon holding your head close hiding in your hair as he felt you clench around him and only then did he pull back enough. Making you look at him as you were dangled on his cock asking to let you cum, Jon’s eyes less black and more of a needing grey as he whispered roughly and raspily to you, “It’s alright, darling, you can let go. I want you to cum for me, I promise, please cum for me..I need to feel you, I need you so much..” 

Your head only nodded as something close to tears wanted to fall at how raw his voice mixed lust and a gentle need while his cock sped you towards an orgasm and as soon as you gasped, grasping his hair and pleading his name did he find his own end only seconds after your own orgasm snapped bright and flooding passionately within you. Clenching hard around him whimpering his name meekly.

Spilling deeply inside of you as you clenched and soaked his cock, he kept you on him the entire length sunk so deep inside you as he shook against you. Both burying your faces into the others neck and hair until you felt every last bit of his thick, warm cum spill deeply inside. 

Breathing heavily against one another, Jon kissed you gently when you whimpered as he pulled out of your cunt. Your skirt dropping back down to cover you while you gently pulled away from him enough to cover him back up properly as well. 

Still breathing heavily, your hands fell to his waist as Jon’s ran along your hair before tilting you up for a kiss. Not greedy or pushing, but an intimate kiss that spoke of love you had so long had to pretend never existed. Pulling away to press one against your forehead before resting against yours with his until he knew you were calming back down to earth. 

His voice was strained and rough as he spoke quietly through a gentle laugh. “Seven hells..I don’t know what came over me, I'm sorry..” You laughed back more freely, a charming brightness in his eyes as you both laughed against one another much more innocently for the desperate fuck just seconds earlier. 

You ran your hand through his hair, looking up to his bright grey eyes. “Why do I suspect you aren’t actually that sorry?” 

His grin grew brighter, kissing you once more as he whispered playfully against your lips. “Probably beacuse I’m not.” Leaving another kiss to your lips, and then to your forehead as he tilted you down to leave it there, your hands pressed along his chest before he pulled you into his arms.

If Jon had decided he was sure about one thing, it was what he said after everything was settled the night before. Brewing moontea for you as he had you lay under the sheets to relax, knowing no matter what you claimed of feeling fine, he had gone more rough then he intended. Telling you almost casually, that he wasn’t getting you pregnant for the first time anywhere but his own bed in Winterfell. 

He was however, as the two of you made your way back up to the castle, considering to what degree of uncomfortable a conversation would it be to go back to Maester Pylos so soon. There was no getting around that he was going to know that perhaps Jon had an appetite for you a bit more high and demanding then what the man was expecting on the first request for it.

Jon knew he felt eyes, but had no idea that there had been more then one pair, watching the entire time you had been passionately wrapped up in each other along the isolated shores of Dragonstone. 

One pair of eyes that almost crawled like a spider, but the other was one that none could guess. 

[melonminnie]

Becoming the villains family x reader but what if Tristan never managed to find you? ( version 2)

-I don’t know if this is considered part five tbh I’m just really bored and need to pump out fics before I start school I forgot what age Lloyd was when he killed the count but they 18 n 14 here!

Even after searching through the entire empire, Tristan still couldn’t find the 10 year olds sister, he had promised her that he would find her, hell he even went to count Cortez’s house but he denied that she was there.

The male didn’t have the guts to tell aria he wasn’t able to find her, when he finally did say it, the look of disappointment quickly washed over her face.

Fourteen year old aria tried convincing Lloyd to find her sister, she believed strongly that nothing had happened to her, everyone was able to tell how hopefully she was that you’d end up fine, she wanted you to end up fine.

Of course aria never gave up the little hope she had for you, she even decorated an entire room for you, each year she’d change it to fit your age, Lloyd was maybe going crazy that his wife was so hopeful over a possibly dead family member.

“Aria shouldn’t you-”, “no I’m never ever giving up on her” she interrupted him, “she’s my only family member” she added Starring at the newly decorated room, this was the millionth time.

Aria was now four years older, which means she was eight teen, she held onto Lloyd sleeve, “Can you please just once.. can you try finding her” she whispered her eyes darting to the floor.

The black haired boy sighed, “fine”he lifted her chin, “but this is the last time I’m taking her for dead if I don’t find her this time”

And so he travelled to the counts house, Lloyd had agreed for one reason, that was to kill the count while he was at it.

When arriving to said destination, Lloyd quickly got rid of any person he had found troublesome or annoying, to quickly get things done with.

He quickly did a quick search of the house, did once, then twice, then thrice.

he didn’t find a single person who fitted the description given to him,Not in the kitchen nor the maids room, surely he couldn’t have sold you off?.

Lloyd wasn’t able to find traces of children clothes nor food, even teenage ones, nor was he able to find birth certificates, or any sightings of you.

it was like you simply didn’t exist.

As much as Lloyd wanted to give up, he couldn’t, he couldn’t go back and explain to aria what she had heard of a hundred of times threw out the years.

And as he was lost in his thoughts, he’d heard a sound of something falling, it couldn’t be mistaken, he’d surely killed anyone in this place.

did a maid manage to escape?, perhaps a knight?.

Lloyd slowly drew out his sword and starting walking in the direction of the sound, inching closely towards it.

The boy sighed in relief when he came across a pink haired girl, maybe around 13years old?,Nonetheless she looked young.

The room was filled with silence, clearly from her expression, she didn’t expect him to still be here.

She’d thought he’d long been gone.

The two somehow came to a mutual agreement in the silence that she is arias young sister.

He quickly helped her from her crawling position, her arms were very thin, he though to himself.

“Do you even eat?” He mumbled to himself.

The abrupt question slightly made name freak out, sense well, she doesn’t even know who he is.

“Does soup count?”she clearly had a bad thing with eye contact sense she looked terrified.

Lloyd somehow felt familiar with this situation, as if he’d faced this before.

“No that’s liquid” he sighed as he held onto her arm, walking her out.

The silence between the two was uncomfortable.

Once they both settled inside the carriage, it became even more awkward.

Any question Lloyd would ask, was met with silence.

He soon got the hint that she was somewhat terrified of the older boy.

Truthfully, Lloyd didn’t expect to find her.

But luck was on Arias side today.

“Sorry I’m bad with conversations” the girl voiced out, “I can tell” The black haired man replied.

“Yeah..”

“Yeah”

Soon after the pair arrived at the valentine mansion, getting passed the barrier.

Aria was waiting patiently for at least Lloyd, of course with you!.

She soon saw the familiar carriage driving to the entrance, she took it as Lloyd arriving so she quickly ran down to greet him.

Lloyd had gotten out of the carriage by the time aria had arrived.

Arias heart was beating fast, so fast, because of the hope he’d found her younger sister.

When the two saw each other, Aria smiled slightly before mouthing to him.

‘Did you find her?’ That’s what Lloyd was able to make out.

To tell the truth, the black haired boys heart was beating fast for a different reason.

“Aria..”

“?”

“The only thing I was able to find was your sisters corpse” he said, The conversation he had shared with what he thought was her sister, was just an illusion.

She’d been dead for a while, considering that he found her bones and not her flesh.

The pinkette began tearing up. ‘Did you at least find her corpse?”

“It’s in the carriage” he replied.

It was probably tearing aria apart, to find her younger sisters corpse, which looked like she’d been dead for a very long time, Aria felt guilty.

And she probably would for the rest of her life, knowing that if someone had at least given them a hint.

You wouldn’t have died, you body wouldn’t have been found in this scenario.

The universe was against her younger sisters happiness in this life.

So the girl could hope.

That if other lives or versions of her do exist, you would live with her, and that they would’ve been able to find you earlier , Tristan would bring you back with only scratch’s, and then she’d make the entire world know of your name.

Only then would she ask you one question, “are you happy?”

If so stay happy, because in this life you weren’t able to have that

This is shit I’m sorry🫶🫶🫶

[mcalhenwrites]

I'm sincerely trying to find answers to these questions. I'm seeking advice.

I'm going to start this off by stating that I'm still writing. I haven't quit. I'm not going to quit. This is about sharing. I've had so many people assume I quit writing or only will write for the sake of being a published author. I'll always be writing as long as I'm alive.

And as someone who firmly believes that people can choose whether or not to share their art with the world and no one else gets to decide that, I also believe that it's not wrong to want to have readers. Libraries and bookstores and art galleries and art sites and everything else - we connect to each other through art. It wouldn't exist if everyone just went, "Welp, I made the thing, good for me. Done!" And if someone is going to tell me that I should feel that way, I hope you keep all your writing and art to yourself. If not, I'd consider it a kindness to us both if you don't respond to this post through comments, DMs, or asks. Thank you. ;)

So onto the questions I'm seeking advice on.

How can I overcome the shame of posting writing for about 14 years and still barely getting readers? (But often getting a lot of critique?)

I've been in writing circles, reading and cheering on others, and they read one anothers' writing, but I'm frequently passed over/ignored - and that's the kinder response. I've been told that I'm there for my support only, that I'm not a good enough writer myself, that my characters are all the same.

How does one keep posting links to their published work or AO3 chapters/works, when they never get any likes or reblogs across several websites?

When friends have done nothing but scold them for not being good at PR, when I'm just... I'm a writer, not a businessman. And I am trying, but even popular authors on social media have mentioned that word-of-mouth and boosting of their work on social media has impacted their success? That M*sk taking over one of those sites has negatively impacted their interactions and therefore their sales? (Wouldn't this mean they also suck ass at PR? xD)

Am I supposed to believe I have a chance, when even established authors are struggling?

I don't like myself very much, and I'm ashamed of level of skill, even though I enjoy writing so much I can't help but always want to do it. I can't help but create stories and get excited about writing them down. There are even times I feel like I've made progress. Gotten better as a writer.

But it's so hard not to end up letting other people make me feel ashamed.

It's true I shouldn't listen to those people, but why have they been so many, and why is the positivity always so few and far in-between? Maybe if it was one voice in one-hundred, but what if it's twenty voices out of thirty? What am I to believe then? When even friends clearly have no faith in my works and don't want to be seen associating with it?

I wanted to be a published writer. I wanted to make a little bit of an income on writing, so I'd have reason to do what I love even more.

But I've spent most of my life feeling like a fool who keeps humiliating himself. Who wonders if the truth is that I'm worse at writing than even I'm willing to admit.

I had one story that "took off" on AO3, but even that lost readers by the end, and no one is interesting in anything I have created before or since then.

And that story... I've been editing it heavily and even added chapters, and I'm like, "I should post the new version sometime" but I'm convinced no one even wants it. (And I'd have to do it for free, and I can't afford to do things for free. I just got on medicaid finally and went to a food pantry last week and keep applying for help, and I have to wait until April to see a doctor to get critical help for my multiple health issues that might make my ability to work even harder. I broke down and crocheted stock for a table this month, and the pain in my wrist is excruciating, and the pain my heart that I can't spend half that time making personal passion projects with something I only want to do as a hobby is even more excruciating. So no, not every story of mine can just be churned out for free.)

Anyway, thank you for reading and your time, and if you have legitimate advice/answers/support... I could use it. I could use it more than ever. 

[sourstroll]

Summer Of Cum 2023

Day 13 - Moneyshot

Pairing: Daniel/Oscar

WC: 1284

❀❀❀❀

“Are you sure?”

Daniel feels like he’s asked Oscar that question about a hundred times now, but he had to be sure. The last thing he wanted was to cross a boundary Oscar didn’t even know he had.

Oscar found it funny, how concerned Daniel was. Oscar laughed softly, going to take a sip from the rapidly cooling cappuccino he’d gotten earlier, before the topic of filming each other during sex popped into their conversation. “You know I’ve done that before, right?” Oscar said instead of assuring Daniel that it was completely fine.

Daniel’s eyes widened a bit cartoonishly, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. He can’t, really, because Oscar was only 22 and had apparently already filmed himself during sex, something Daniel hadn’t done even once. “Please tell me you still have that video,” Daniel said, voice pleading. Nothing could stop him from imagining what exactly Oscar filmed himself doing, imagining trembling hands and weird angles, unskilled flicks of his wrist and shotty camera work. They were in the most unsexiest of places, a restaurant near Daniel’s that he swore tasted just like his mom’s cooking, fit with tacky wallpaper and booths that had to be older than Oscar, and yet, Daniel could still feel the very beginnings of his arousal pooling in his stomach.

“I might be able to dig it up,” Oscar said playfully, eyeing the potatoes on Daniel’s plate before stealing some with his fork. “I think I was 18, about to be 19. It’s an old one,” he hummed, said through his mouthful of food.

“Jesus Christ,” Daniel sighed, having to rest his face in his hands for a moment, not sure what to do with the knowledge that a video of Oscar like that existed already. “Are you, like, purposely trying to jailbait me, or?” Daniel huffed out, his shoulders relaxing slightly when he heard Oscar laugh again.

“I mean, I’m not the one dating someone 10 years younger than me,” Oscar quipped, affectionate with his delivery. He never minded their difference in age, though he knew sometimes Daniel worried he was moving too fast or somehow forcing Oscar to do things, which wasn’t the case. “Does that turn you on? Thinking about me when I was 18?” Oscar asked softly, out of pure curiosity and just to bust Daniel’s balls.

Daniel looked up from his hands and gave him a look, brows furrowed and lips thinned into a tight line, like he was trying to hold something back. “I’m not going to answer that,” he finally spoke, thinking it might incriminate him much less if he didn’t express any of his thoughts about a teenage Oscar.

“It does. I knew it would,” Oscar hummed contentedly. Daniel was so easy to read sometimes.

Daniel rolled his eyes and went back to staring down at his plate of breakfast food, poking his fork into his eggs, planning on eating them at some point. “What if someone hacks into my iCloud?” It’s ridiculous, and he knows that, but he had to cover all his bases, or else he’d be left with more anxiety than he started with.

“Daniel. Stop it,” Oscar chuckled, reaching to place his hand on top of Daniel’s, gently sliding his fingers up his arm, slow and gentle. “Live a little, will you?”

———

Daniel can’t remember why he was so worried about this in the first place. It’s much different, he realized, when he’s got Oscar on his hands and knees, pounding into the younger man from behind, his phone set up so you could see the length of Oscar’s body, including his face. That part was non-negotiable, being able to see exactly how Oscar reacted to him. Daniel’s body was cut off from the waist up, but he didn’t mind; all he wanted was to see Oscar fall apart beneath him.

Daniel’s breaths were harsh and shaky, staring down at where he was repeatedly splitting Oscar open. It’s almost too much, the thought that they were immortalizing this moment forever, for Daniel to watch whenever he wanted and get himself off to.

Oscar was pliant as usual, face pushed into the pillows, trying not to come too fast before they got a good video. He pushed his hips back against Daniel with every forward thrust, sweet whimpers escaping his lips. “Harder, Danny,” he whined and gripped the pillow a little tighter, turning his head to look at the phone, face scrunched up in pleasure.

Daniel let out a strained moan and also glanced at his phone, hands itching to grab it, to get even closer. “Such a fuckin’ slut,” he groaned, reaching down to grab a fistful of Oscar’s hair, pushing him harder into the pillows. “Only good for taking my cock, huh?” Daniel growled. The older man was quick to grab the phone from its perch on the nightstand, still pistoning into him as he pointed it at Oscar’s face. It was the perfect view, Oscar practically drooling all over himself over how good he felt.

Oscar couldn’t say anything for a moment, his body wound up and ready to release. The feeling of Daniel’s hand tangled in his hair made his toes curl, in love with how strong he was, how he could easily manhandle him and take what he wanted. “Yeah, that’s all I wanna do,” Oscar squeaked out between moans. “Just wanna be good for you.”

Daniel never let up, even as he pointed the phone down between them, getting the perfect shot of himself ruining Oscar. “You’re fuckin’ perfect, so good for me, baby,” he sighed.

Daniel’s words of encouragement always did it for him, always filled him with a sweetness and adoration that Oscar only ever felt with him. It was only moments later that Oscar came, hard, all over the bed below them. He let out something close to a scream, the full force of his orgasm surprising him with its intensity.

“That’s it,” Daniel praised, using his last bit of stamina to get himself over the edge, too. Daniel pulled out seconds before he came, his cock resting over the curve of Oscar’s ass and shooting thick ropes of come up his back. He nearly didn’t catch it on camera with the way his orgasm swirled around him, wrapping around his limbs and making him feel hot all over.

Oscar collapsed underneath him, nothing but whiny breaths coming out of him, his skin flushed and his limbs useless.

Daniel hadn’t stopped the video just yet, feeling greedy as he reached down to spread Oscar’s cheeks apart with one hand, filming the way his entrance gaped slightly, how it fluttered around nothing, silently begging to be filled again.

“I can feel you staring,” Oscar muttered, looking over his shoulder with a breathless laugh, catching the lens of the phone one last time before he saw Daniel press a button and throw it aside.

Daniel gave him a tired little smile and leaned down to kiss up his spine, a silent apology for being so indulgent. “I like looking at you, baby,” Daniel offered as an excuse, speaking against his skin.

———

1:38 AM

Oscar: its ur lucky day

Oscar: [Video Attachment]

Oscar: enjoy my love

Daniel stared in surprise at the text he’d just received, bleary-eyed and groggy still. He was halfway across the world from Oscar, back in Australia while Oscar’s season started up again. Daniel couldn’t help but laugh, thinking it was ridiculous that Oscar had managed to find the alleged video he’d taken of himself.

1:42 AM

Daniel: How much of your camera roll did you have to dig through to find that??

Daniel: I’ll watch it later :P

Daniel: Good luck today ❤️

❀❀❀ Previous Days ❀❀❀

[svnbrn]

tonight, KANG JIEUN of clan SALUBRI hunts for their next meal. the 11TH GENERATION + ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTEEN year-old cainite, embraced when they were TWENTY-FOUR, will use their disciplines of AUPEX and FORTITUDE to make quick work of their prey. JIEUN has pledged their loyalty to NONE, and in the wake of the prince’s announcement, they’ve chosen to HONOR the fragile peace he cemented so long ago. 

hey yo, everyone! this is sky (sh/th, 21+) and i'm here to present you kang jieun, salubri clan whip! she was born and raised through the japan colonization of korea and ended up losing her parents pretty young. thankfully she got adopted by a salubri vampire (that later on became her sire), probably because of the combination of a promise they made probably out of their compulsion + pity for the poor orphan girl that seemed to have too much of a kind heart for the world she was born in; tl;dr basically a soft girl raised in a country in war (little do they know that people pleasing and caring for others is how she copes with ✨trauma✨). discord is available by request and pls drop a little ♡ if you'd like me to pop up in your dms for some plotting 💕

past. (tw: death, terminal illness)

born a little before japan (and the camarilla) imposed their control over korea, but her first memory is when their power was cemented so she feels like a daughter of those times anyway, (TW STARTS) even more so when her parents were revolutionaries and ended up losing their lives when she was around twelve. (TW ENDS)

got adopted by a salubri vampire who knew her parents and ended up promising that they'd look after their daughter if something happened to them.

had a lot of questions about their lifestyle, but never really asked them out loud and instead just went with the flow not only because the only person that she had after her parents were gone, but also because her parents were always telling her about being understanding/accepting of the way people are different from her so she just rolled with it.

surprisingly was kept away from the conflict filled part of her (soon to be) sire's life (thankfully because she hates conflict) because they did promise to her parents they'd protect/look after jieun and throwing her in the middle of the storm wasn't exactly doing that, but then there's a limit to how much she could be sheltered and even though she couldn't fully understand the complex social (and political) scenario around her, she didn't need to be super smart to see how some most people were miserable.

even before turning into a vampire, she felt a little compulsion to help people or at least cheer them up/not add to their already existing misery.

(besides her parents always told her that she was the warmest ray of sunshine in their lives and maybe she wanted to hear those words again even if it they weren't from the people that she wanted to hear them the most.)

ends up being offered immortality when (TW STARTS) she's diagnosed with terminal cancer (TW ENDS), says half joking half serious that she said yes because her sire looked very upset about the idea of her dying, but it was also because she wasn't quite ready to leave them either.

led a very lowkey life as a vampire until she's eventually invited by the camarilla to join their court; ends up accepting it, because even though she was raised mostly in an anti-camarilla environment considering her background, it's exactly because of said background that she joins them. she already lost her parents by trying to oppose them + she likes the sense of peace that has under the camarilla control.

doesn't mean she's necessarily loyal to them; in the end she'll always choose the side that seems to be killing less/that she feels the safest and if that changes from the camarilla to the anarchs or even if it's neither of them, so be it.

personality.

a little honda tohru from fruits basket coded, iykyk.

was stupidly naive when younger, but then with now centuries on her back, jieun did grow up to a little more distrustful with people and not to let her guard down that easily, even more because of her clan ban, but it's still not very hard to gain her trust or to have her believe in whatever bullshit someone is spilling.

there are even times that she can sort of tell when the other person is trying to take advantage of her, but then just lets them anyway because she believes that they might have their reasons for it + the bullet point below.

has a very kindhearted nature that comes from mostly overly attaching herself to people because she's scared of being left alone/feeling lonely + the little cliche of it being easier for her to not focus on her own problems when she's focusing on someone else's + her clan's compulsion as the very red cherry on top of the cake.

besides her parents always told her to be kind (and then her sire really doubled down on that), because someday the universe would have that kindness returned to her and holding onto those words also feels like a way to also holding onto her parents/to feel close to them.

holding grudges? being petty? don't know her.

not a very good leader, but a very good follower, very hardworking and diligent. also great listener and gives some decent advice even if not always.

always finishes what she starts kind of person, regardless if at any point it stops being worth of all of her effort and time.

is very much into crochet + an absolute plants mom (yes, she makes little sweaters for her plants 🥹); always carry some crocheted animal keychain around to give people if she senses they're sad/need some help and if that doesn't really at least cheer them up, then well, now she'll have to go through hell and back to help them, i guess 😔

might look like an airhead, but is very much attuned to the people around her and what is happening; the type to remember a comment someone made even if they thought that no one was paying attention to them at that time.

[inkabelledesigns]

Hey so have I ever told you guys about the most ridiculous thing to happen to me online as a teenager? Yeah I got trolled and harassed by the same guy for so many years that I lost count. And it was all because I told him you shouldn't steal people's Sonic fan character sprite sheets. Here's the story.

So as a teenager, I was really into those SSS Sprite Show videos. It was a genre of Sonic content on YouTube that consisted of Sonic and Shadow with Sonic Advance style sprites, and Silver with a Genesis styled sprite, over realistic photo backgrounds, using Speakonia voices to talk. The humor was often pretty terribly written. The three would often live together, Shadow would beat the crap out of Silver, Sonic was obsessed with the Sex and the City Franchise, Amy was constantly written to be a horrible, obsessive antagonist which sucked, and so many people would recolor Sonic Advance sprites to be their fan characters, which would slowly take over the show and lead to more wacky adventures, becoming more about them than the canon cast. Some were pretty basic recolors, others put a lot of effort in. And as I said, this was a genre, as in, multiple people made sprite series with this setup, all using the same voices and formula, and they all lived in the mansion with the SSS. They were baaaaaaad, but y'know, the kids were having fun, and I used to know a lot of people in this community. I even tried my hand at spriting and got actively told to quit by one of my former boyfriends so I couldn't be better at it than him. Yeah he was a peach. This is sarcasm, he was a dick and incredibly sexist towards me. Hell the amount of sexism I faced from guys in this community was kind of ridiculous. The stuff I went through just for being a girl on the internet in the 2010s was something else. If this part of the sprite community somehow still exists, I hope people have gotten better about that.

Anyway, it was incredibly common for fan character sprite sheets to cross over into each other's series, but not everyone consented to people using your sheets. So often, you'd email people your sheet, and only people who had permission would use it. That is, until some assholes leaked them. One of my friends had their sheet leaked and given to someone else who abused the use of it so much, and then there was all this stuff with emailing where some confident lil shit decided to flaunt that he had all these sheets he wasn't supposed to have. We never found definitive evidence as to who leaked them, but I feel confident that I know who it was. But the person flaunting it, I and this other person called him out. He was not only flaunting the sheets under a false name and using them in hisain account videos (often turning my friend's character into a bitch to make them look bad), but he was also making fake accounts to troll himself to generate sympathy and get people's attention off of it. And when we called him on this, he proceeded to harass us for the better part of a decade. Impersonating me on YouTube to say things I would never say in grammar I would never use, hell, he did that to a lot of people that would go on to call him out. He'd make entire videos on his main account telling us we were awful and to stop harassing him when we weren't, he was the one actively harassing us. The drama was real, and this continued to happen for YEARS after all of us stopped interacting with him, on YouTube, DeviantArt, it was bad, and it bugged me. I would be on vacation with my family, completely unplugged, and then come back to hundreds of messages gumming up my DA inbox from him under fake accounts.

But like, at a certain point you learn to block it out. Like as a teenager, I was worried people would think his impersonation was actually me, and some people did! But anyone who like, actually knew me wasn't fooled, and if you're willing to believe that sort of thing on sight without questioning it in the slightest, maybe you're not someone I need in my life or should care about the opinions of. It was a valuable lesson that not everyone is someone you need to hold in high regard. Be respectful, but also know that not everyone respects you, and their opinions don't need to hold as much weight for you emotionally as someone who does.

The last time I logged into my old DeviantArt, I had like ten messages from deactivated accounts telling me to go fuck myself, from this guy, still impersonating someone else, the same way he had for all that time. It'd gotten a little less frequent while I was still active, but my account has been dead for years. I couldn't believe it, I haven't used my DA since I was what, finishing college? And the messages were recent, it was kind of pathetic.

Like, we just wanted him to stop stealing shit, and there he was, having learned nothing. Consent matters, if you have not been given permission to use someone's character in your creative work, you ask first, and if they say no, you respect that no. You don't get someone to send you their materials, abuse those materials, and then harass people for telling you to knock it off. Yeah, I probably could have been nicer in the way I handled things, I regret that, but knowing what I know now? Regardless of how I behaved, this guy had some unacceptable behavior. And I hope wherever he is now, he's grown up a little. Like, if I really lived rent free in your head for that long, all because I told you not to be a butt to my friend, to respect their boundaries, maybe I'm not the villain in this scenario. Trying to control my actions and obsessing over the fact that I thought you were doing something ugly, when I was an absolute nobody that no one took seriously anyway, isn't nearly as productive as working on bettering yourself. Like genuinely, I hope he's doing better. I felt no sympathy in the moment these things happened, but I do feel a little bad for him now. I've been there, in a place where I cared too much about people's views of me, and it left me wrecked and trying to people please far more than was reasonable. I changed all of who I was in an effort to be liked, and it didn't do me any favors, just made me miserable. It took me so long to learn that hey, you're likable and loveable just by being you, you're not a bad person or failing at being human, you just hadn't found the right people yet. And now you've found people who are in fact great people, and you're gonna be okay. (Yes I went through a character arc and changed as a person for the better, I am far from exactly the same person that I was as a teenager, I've grown. But I'd like to think that some of why people want me around and value me as a friend is because of things I've had inside me all along, things that are core parts of my character. As I often say, maybe being Kat isn't such a bad thing to be after all. Self love and self improvement is a process folks.)

Anyway another community's struggles came up on my feed today, and it reminded me of this story, that's why I'm telling it. To anyone out there that's had to deal with a troll, well, I can't say all experiences are equal, and the internet has changed quite a bit since this happened to me. There are some troll experiences that you can't ignore that will turn into something serious and bad, but there are others that you can brush off, because those trolls don't matter. And there are some that are a complex mix of it all. It's often not worth it to interact with someone that attacks you in bad faith. What I can say is that if someone makes it their life mission to take you down, without really knowing you? Think long and hard about how much time you really want to dedicate to that. Not everyone is going to like you, some people are going to hate you with no real basis or reason for it sometimes. Some people are going to believe things about you that aren't true. The best thing you can do is put your best foot forward, be kind, be courteous, be a thoughtful person, and surround yourself with people who are also kind and thoughtful. Of course, have some self reflection. If someone says your behavior is hurtful, really think about it and analyze yourself, work on yourself, we can always improve. But know that you're not gonna please everyone, and that in and of itself is not a moral failing. It's what you choose to do about it that matters.

The bottom line is this: You can't control how anyone feels about you or behaves, all you can do is control your own actions and make smart choices.

[thejournallo]

hello, so glad to have found your acc🤍 i have some questions and some problems i want to talk about so i'm hoping you can help me! basically ive known about shifting for over 2 years, tried a few times, got symptoms but never really shifted(either lost interest in where i was going to ot got bored) but recently i have been so much more serious and i also have friends that are into shifting, and one of my friend is so knowledgeable about it, she is so close to shifting(maybe even did) and helps me out with my concerns, taught me sm but i don't wanna ask her all the time. so i know that im not just creating a fantasy world and that i'm going to a reality where the things i want already exist and so do i but i'm wondering if i can stay there till i die? i wanna go to somewhere where living for hundreds of years is possible and i can live for hundreds of years right? also i'm not planning on writing a script but rather being in my mind(i haven't decided yet) but things will go how i want right? like if i want to change smth later on can i or no harm will come to me or the people around me right? or if i script smth that will happen later but i forget about it or decide i don't want it anymore will it still happen or will i be able to change it? i keep getting negative thoughts and it makes me really anxious :( i hope you can help me out with my questions and validate me a little🙏 have a nice day! 🤍🤍 sorry if i talked too much :(

My dear, you don't have to apologize for talking too much! All your questions are legit and actually smart questions to ask!

I want to reassure you by saying that negative talk and toughts are really common when we first start shifting, and you can fight them off. When I had them, I often stopped myself and said, "Those are not my true thoughts; those are the thoughts of dought, and I don't dought myself or the universe." It really helps.

Now about the questions! (here is the link from when i talked about shifting, in case it can help)

I can stay there till I die? / i can live for hundreds of years right?

I already talked about how time works and how we can make it work. To answer directly your question, you can do that, but you have to be aware that you will come back to your-age once you die there, and that could be a shock to you because you already lived a life. Imagine five from the umbrella academy that went back to his younger self. It can be like this, but with more shock because you didn't predict it. So living for hundreds of years could be fun to do. I suggest you script (or make sure to remember) how times will work for you. for example:  2 years in your dr are 2 hours of sleep here, and I will come back every 2 years. It would be less of a shock and more of a routine that settles itself like this.

things will go how i want right? / if i want to change smth later on can i or no harm will come to me or the people around me right? / will i still be able to change something that i don't want it to happen anymore?

You have to think of it as another life and world. The only difference is that we can decide if we want the power to control it or not. For me, I always liked the fact that I can't control what happens, but if I want something to happen, I just write it or say it to my doctor. So yes, if you want, everything can and will go the right way for you! No one will be hurt by your decision, not you or the people around you! Yes, everything you script can be easily changed here and in your DR. I usualy script that I have a diary where I can change my script right away in my DR, so I'm always updated, and I always remember what I script, so if I don't like it anymore, I simply write an x on it so I know that the scene won't happen. easy, fun, and helpful!

if you have other questions i will be more than happy to listen and be here for you through out your journey!

[roselightfairy]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ❤️

Aww, I love this! Okay, thank you so much and thank you for the chance to do some navel gazing!

Also... my AO3 has 144 stories on it. When did that happen? For a question like this, I want to pick for quality of writing, but I'm finding myself going back mostly to the stories that either really stretched or defined me as a writer, or simply the ones that were a really memorable experience to write . . . which unfortunately means mostly my longer fics, as so many of the shorter ones were written in a single flurry that I barely remember after the fact! Even though there are some shorter fics that I think are better than the longer ones. So let's get started.

Finding a Voice - I mean, how can I not say this one? This fic, like a lot of my older work, has some passages and scenes that I think are so good I can't believe I wrote them, and some that make me cringe to look back on - but how can I not pick it, when it's the story that probably defines me most as a writer? It's the story that allowed me to stake out my own headcanons and gave rise to hundreds of thousands more in the same world. And, like all my LOTR stuff, I do want to return to it someday soon. <3

Ever Changing, Ever Climbing - still the longest thing I've ever written, and the thing I worked on for the longest time. I lived in the world of this story and these characters for almost a year, and probably came the closest I ever have to what non-fanfic authors experience when coming up with their own characters, because I got to make so much of it up! It similarly has bits that make me cringe, especially when I realize how much more deeply other people have thought about Mirkwood worldbuilding and how much lore I straight-up got wrong, but I think it also has some of my best prose and my best romance writing. And siblings. I got to write baby Legolas in this! And also I just love Laerwen so much and love that I got the chance to write her an origin story, so that it doesn't all exist only in the background of my head.

Only Through Surrender - come on, this is my current obsession; I was never not going to put it on the list! But in some ways, this is exactly the inverse of the previous story. I wrote this faster than I've ever written anything this long, and it's the most daring thing I've ever written in terms of plot. The romance is almost a subplot, which I don't know that I've ever done satisfactorily, and it's an AU, which is not something I'm great at sustaining, and even though I don't know that the writing style overall is my best work, I think that the structure and pacing of the story - and the things I did with characters - are pretty good, all things considered! The only non-LOTR fic on this list.

Velle - in terms of "fun to write," this story might be the very top of all of them. This was @deheerkonijn's and my early-covid project (we actually started it a couple months before, but I think working on it saved us in those early telework days of stress and angst); it's a form of storytelling neither of us had tried before, combining both of our skills, and it's probably the most rigorously edited and densely-packed thing I've ever written. We went over and over and over this story with a fine-toothed comb, making sure the writing and the art worked perfectly together, and we liked it so much we printed it as a physical book! *smooches my copy gently*

Having moved out of the most iconic ones, I wasn't sure what to pick for the last! This became a bit of a toss-up, but I wanted to have a shorter fic represented, so: the hunter's heart, the hunter's mouth. This is my only fic with a Richard Siken title, so I figured it was fitting given that he's everywhere right now. ;) Inspired by the title, this is one of my more deliberately poetic fics, and I had a lot of fun with the writing. It's also some of my more daringly explicit work! (still does not include any words for certain aspects of anatomy)

Thanks so much again for sending me this ask! So sorry for how much I ramble when talking about myself! ;) Off to go pass it on!

[barthel]

Where Do You Get Your Ideas b/w What Are Your Songs About

By the time I'd been in bands for a few years, I could play the songs more or less automatically. I'd pick up the guitar and stand in front of the mic, and start the song, largely without thinking about it—like I was giving in to a potentiality that was already there, like following your normal walking path to school or the subway—and then, a few minutes later, I'd have played the song. I could think about other things when playing the song; I could be high or drunk and still play the song well.

There's something mechanical about this, like riding a bike: you give your body a broad request ("make this bike go forward", "play this song") and it accomplishes the task without attending to the thousands of micro-tasks like remembering the lyrics or the chord changes, or shifting position on the guitar, or where to breathe.

But there's something undeniably magic about it, too, because you're not riding a bike, are you? You're not even performing some other muscle-memory task like hitting a ball or sewing a stitch. I could feel the potential of the song there before it existed, and so could my bandmates, but no one else could. That potential was purely in our minds. When you play music, you are bringing something new into existence and then letting it vanish, note by note. And if you've got a band, you're creating this sound together, reaching back into your shared memories to bring them back into the world, all without making any conscious plan.

That experience isn't there in writing, at least not for me. As much as I enjoy the act of putting words on a page, and can get into a flow, at the end of the day, I'm taking sentences that appear in my consciousness and typing them into a computer. Sure, there's something ineffable about where the ideas—and even words—come from, but that's largely invisible in the finished product. (Though not so much that "Where do you get your ideas from?" isn't a perpetual question of authors. From the unknowable confluence of my accumulated life experiences and the random chance of the day’s shape, my dude!) When we experience writing, as readers, it's not like a concert. We're not watching someone tell an extemporaneous story, even one they've told a hundred times before. We're reading a heavily-edited record of such a performance, many drafts ago.

That's one of the things that makes writing about music so hard: the absolute need to honor that magic of a musical performance, coupled with the absolute inability of writing to convey it in any direct way. I think—and this drives musicians absolutely nuts, I know—the only way to convey that magic is by talking about meaning, even the personal aspects of meaning. By saying what the song makes you, as a listener, think about. This song is about the way country music radio treats women or This song reminds me of riding in a car with my mother or just This song sounds like a cricket stuck in an air vent you can never find. It’s like you’re reverse-engineering those scores that are just instructions, like "Play these sequences in any order, but stop every once and a while and listen"—but instead of taking a text prompt and making music from it, you’re taking a musical prompt and trying to follow its instructions to create a text. It’s an act of translation.

That’s frustrating, because we want texts to be definitive, want them to be the truth. We want to know what the song is about. But all translations are inexact, are based on what the translator brings to it. Sure, it’s constrained by what’s there in the source. But then the rest is all you. What is the song about? Every song is about the same thing: the experience of being inside the song, for as long as it lasts - and what it’s like to be the person who went through that experience. Who heard the notes come into being and then vanish.

[thebeeshaveknees]

Shigeo stared at the test. The math test he took two days ago. His test he got 100% on.

Mob could count on one hand the amount of math tests he'd scored perfectly on - and ironically enough, they were all back when every problem could be solved with counting on one hand.

The success made him nauseous, he felt his powers writhe a little harder under his skin.

He watched his math teacher walk back up to the front of the room, his eyes alight and with a proud smile on his face. "This past test had a class average of 84%, eight percent more than the average of last test!" He cheered, and his eyes met Mob's for a split second before darting away. He felt his stomach churn. "You all did so well, Congratulations!" He clapped his hands as he said it, and Mob flinched at the sound.

The teacher kept talking, moving on with the lesson while everyone tucked their tests in their bags. Mob stared at the 100% in bright red marker for another few moments before moving to do the same.

When class let out, Shigeo went straight to Spirits and Such. The building was like a lifeline for the past half week, not that he'd admit that because of the stupid reason.

He went up the stairs two at a time and then opened the door without knocking. Reigen was sitting at his desk, and his eyes met Mob's when he entered. "Right on time!" He said, the same as he had yesterday, and the day before, and almost every other day. "There aren't any appointments today, but since sixty percent of our business comes from walk-ins, there's still hope!" He declared, before going back to what was probably a photo exorcism from the consistent dragging and clicking of his mouse.

Shigeo dropped his backpack on the floor beside his desk before he sat down and pulled out his test.

"Shishou?"

"Yes?" Reigen immediately turned his full attention to Mob, and he swallowed.

"I got a math test back today…"

Reigen's smile shrunk, his eyebrows scrunching in pity. "Oh." His expression picked back up. "Well, bad marks aren't the end of the world - math can be tough, but not understanding it doesn't mean you can't still--"

"It's not that." Mob interrupted, because he knew Reigen was never upset by it. "I got a hundred on it."

Reigen nearly fell out of his chair, the old plastic making a concerning creak as he righted himself. "A hundred?!" He was out of his desk and looking over the paper on Mob's with all the disbelief and wonder of someone who was just told that God existed and he worked at the local MobDonalds. "As in One Hundred percent?!" Flipping through the three stapled pages of the test, a smile growing wider and wider on his face.

Mob wanted to smile too - he didn't, but he wanted to. He looked up at his master, waiting for his final comments.

"A hundred percent - even if you cheated, this is amazing, Mob." Reigen said, and he looked so happy for him. "Whatever you did, keep doing it." His posture straightened, and with a firm hand on his shoulder. "The trick about school is, it isn't to teach you how to read fast or multiply and divide negative and theoretical numbers or all that nonsense - it's to teach you to learn. Nowadays with the internet, you can get information anywhere, but once you learn how to understand and retain that information, the world is yours." He said wisely, ruffling his hair at the end. "It seems like you've figured out how you learn, Mob."

How Mob learns. How he learns.

His math teacher slapping him across the face every time he got a question wrong, telling him he was a waste of effort.

He got 100% on his math test, for the first time in years.

Making him apologize on his knees to the tree out the window for providing him oxygen.

He finally got a good mark on a test.

"It seems like you've figured out how you learn, Mob."

Oh.

Everyone laughing as he shakily did long division on the chalkboard.

So he needed them to be…

"In this world, you are worth less than trash."

So he deserved it.

Milk on his head, blood on his hands, creek water in his shoes.

So he's worth more there.

"Mob?"

He looked up at his teacher, who still had a warm hand on his shoulder.

Red blood on his white shirt, red ink on his white paper.

"You're right, master."

[khthepowerofmemories]

Sometimes I just need pure, painful angst to process existence. So, here's this:

Title: Just a Dream/Lovely (Companion pieces)(Lovely previously published)

Long after Akio's disappearance and Haru's diving through time to try to find him, both reach their inevitable ends.

Ship: Akio/Haru

Word count: 1263

(Just a Dream (Caleb Hyles and Annapantsu, originally by Nelly)

(Akio)

Akio looked out over Daybreak Town from the clock tower, watching the people go by and seeing the reflection of the clock’s pendulum. One of the rare, quiet times that Akio had beaten Superbia back. He knew it was only a matter of time before Superbia would take back over, but he’d gladly take a few moments to exist in his own body for once. He wouldn’t question it at all. Rather, use the time how he could.

A clock tower. A connection to time. Time that had been snatched out from Akio’s fingers–that much wasn’t anyone’s fault. Superbia made a mess of things as he left, but he hadn’t been the one to pull them back in time. That was fate itself. Sometimes, Akio wondered if he could manage to snatch those strings back and follow them home.

The strings were still there. Just torn and faded…

It wasn’t long before this world was to end–before this ‘Keyblade War’ would occur. Funny, really, that Superbia couldn’t bear to say goodbye to this world that they had made their home under Superbia’s hand. Ironic. That’s why Akio was here, in front. Because it was time to say goodbye to what Superbia loved.

And of course, Superbia had done what Akio had wanted. Left quietly. Left little mess behind.

Akio caught sight of his face in the reflection, one that he didn’t see often anymore. And for once, it belonged to him. Superbia couldn’t bear to see it, and so he never did. Akio, on the other hand…liked visiting the people he knew in his features.

But either way…he wondered how Haru and Tori ended up being? Were they…were they waiting for him? He hoped not.

He realized recently that he wasn’t going to make it home, no matter how hard he fought, how hard he tried. Superbia was right. From the position they were in, it was better to do what they could to make sure that their future came into being. Any thoughts of going home? Nothing more than a dream.

Yet still, wherever they went, Akio saw Haru’s face–would try to chase him down when he was in control, only to find nothing there. Hallucinations got worse and worse as time went on.

Akio had managed to mourn everyone else, everything else, but he couldn’t…he couldn’t let go of Haru. He knew that it was just a dream, but…he wanted to see him again. He still loved Haru with all his heart, wanted nothing more than to see him again, and knowing that he would have to start fresh because he would never meet him as he was now.

He wanted to see Haru again. Tell him about what had happened, why it did. Maybe, given a chance, Haru could help him fight Superbia back into control…but there wasn’t a chance.

Akio put his hand to his heart. If only he could head home…that would be worth everything to him.

“You had your chance to say goodbye?” Superbia’s voice took over.

It’s your world you’re saying goodbye to.

Superbia. “I’m afraid you misunderstand.”

Huh?

Akio felt their body shift and summon a Keyblade. They lifted it, pointed toward themself. 

What are you–

A familiar, searing pain shot through his heart, and Akio felt himself torn away. He watched in shock as his heart left that body. 

Wait!

“I’m sorry, Akio. You can’t handle it. Now you’re free.”

No, wait!

Wait–

He knew he wasn’t heard as he slowly felt himself losing consciousness, weak. 

“I can’t survive this,” he said to himself. “Not again…”

Seeing them again…really was only just a dream, huh?

Maybe someday, somehow, he would make things right. When, or how, he didn’t know. But he hoped…

He hoped that somehow, as his heart fell to an endless sleep…

He would dream of home.

"Well, I hope someday I'll make it out of here, even if it takes all night or a hundred years." -Lovely, Lauren Babic and Seraphim

(Haru)

Haru looked up at the strange city around him. Huge. Sprawling. Very different than his own world, but still rather quaint. There was a quietness to this place, the buildings built in a very unique style. He'd been here for a while now.

Now that he was here...the method of time travel that Yen Sid told him of no longer functioned. Laughable, really—he had been warned not to use it in a certain way, and yet he had. But how could he not. He’d gotten so close he could almost reach Akio, if he could just reach out to his heart and grab his hand—

But he’d jumped through his own memories to reach him one time too many, it seemed—and an eternity here in Quadratum seemed to be what awaited him. He had seen others from the other worlds, but it seemed they could never continue forward. Perhaps, even, they might not be able to die.

But, Haru wasn’t going to give up that easily. No. He had come so close to finding him, so close—entering his own memories to try to reach his heart, if only it would stay still for long enough—

He had to find Akio and bring him home. There was…that was the only choice. He…

He couldn’t bear to keep living without him. It had been so long now. His heart ached at even the thought of his name, but…

He had gone through time, looking for traced of “The Master of Masters”, to no avail. It seemed that even with that moniker rather than a name, Akio was still cautious, still good at hiding.

But now that Haru was here in Quadratum, he could not move through the flow of time, or to other worlds. None of his powers worked. The only thing he had going for him was his Keyblade, but there was nothing that needed fought. It was…

He felt so useless. He put a hand to his heart. He hoped that one day, he’d make it out of here. Even if it took a hundred years—no, a thousand, even, if he lived that long. But…

He shook his head. Such a silly thought to have. He knew he wouldn’t leave this place. It was over.

He had not found Akio. It was too late. He had done too much, reached too far. Made one mistake too many. And so, here he was.

There was no way out of here. Death was the only way. Because maybe…

Maybe if he were someone else, there would be another chance. Right? Maybe, if he was someone else…

That person could find him. Somehow. Even if they didn’t know—

No. But…his death was coming regardless. It seemed he did not have the same immortality of the other people here, and he had been wounded on the way here. His heart had not recovered from the broken Keyblade, and physically…he was failing.

He hadn’t found Akio. The end…

It hurt to know that he had failed. Failed himself, failed Tori, failed Akio.

But…they didn’t have the technology here to properly find all the damage to his body, let alone repair it. They told him he would die. Told him they could make him comfortable. He told them he’d rather die on the streets alone to in a hospital. So…that’s what he would do. That’s where he had gone.

Quadratum. Perhaps it would have been a nice place to live, but…it was a terrible place to die.

[forgottenluck]

Hello, very curious! Did your blog start as a canon yuri and overtime become this massive au or had it always been an au? If the former, why still say they are yuri? if they doesn’t go by the name yuri or have any resemblance to his canon? I would love to have the courage to do something like this but I also do not wholelly understand it? I apologize if asking this upset you at all!

Lore question?

LORE QUESTION

I LOVE LORE QUESTIONS!!!!!

*cough*

This is absolutely not upsetting at all! I don't get to talk about Koun's beginnings very often, so I'd love to explain a bit!

So consider this a lore dump for Koun's history as a character! Also this got very long so i'm sorry friend.

A little history on Kie and Vesperia

First thing to note, I've been a Yuri Lowell fan for years. And I really mean years. He's been an absolutely fascinating character for me, and I adore how layered he is even in his official canon. It's rare that you get a morally grey main character in a video game, and Yuri was my first introduction to that kind of character in media that wasn't portrayed as a throw-away character. The struggle of good and evil in video games (and media in general) is not a new concept....but at the time, the struggle of a morally grey MC was something I hadn't experienced before.

Good and evil aren't black and white. It's always grey, because it's always based on introspection, environments, and personal experiences. A society can see someone as a good person, but in reality that person is corrupt. Or a person can do something for the greater good but end up scorned by society due to their actions. It's all about perspective....and Vesperia in general handles this topic extremely well. Both in how it handles Yuri's actions, as well as how it handles government corruption and planetary crisis.

This really got me to love not just Yuri, but the game in general, as it was a very real story that...without the fantasy elements, could happen. It wasn't like Graces, in which Government corruption and planetary crisis was solved by friendship....but through war and death that Yuri had to do with his own hands most of the time.

But enough of my gushing over Vesperia and Yuri! I just wanted to explain why I chose Yuri of all characters.

RP History Before Koun

So we've established that I've been a Yuri fan for years. Lets talk about RP. I've been rping on tumblr in general for about....10 years. My first blog was a blog known as @novelisticartist which i had converted from a personal blog to a rp blog thanks to a couple of friends I'd made. My first ever rp post was made on May 14, 2014 (I just went and looked) and it was with a Yuri rper (AU Yuri). The character on that blog was originally a character I'd made up on the fly, an OC that grew along side the blog and the characters I interacted with.

I've been a writer for a lot longer than 10 years. I have massive stories in my head, hundreds of characters, etc....but until that moment, I'd never really set them out on the internet proper. I had rped a little on Deviantart, but nothing to the scale of tumblr. And I wouldn't be here today if not for that one AU Yuri lowell rper giving me the push I needed in order to try.

I used that blog for 2 years, before I moved over to a new blog. This blog was at that time a multimuse blog called musesofadenvale. Originally I worked with both blogs, but thanks to my ADHD I had a hard time focusing on both. Plus, interest had waned for my original character on novelisticartist. So eventually I moved over completely to the new blog.

Origin of Koun

For years, I had been playing a game called Aura Kingdom off and on. It's only been recently that I've completely quit playing, due to them moving servers and not giving enough warning to players to move their stuff over. I lost years worth of work due to this, and it completely turned me off the game. But I still have very fond memories of it, and it's existence has cemented a lot of lore for Koun in general.

Around September or October of 2015, I met some new friends on there. We'll call them M and A for privacy. They were avid rpers and we just....started rping together. I had styled my character in Yuri Lowell style, long black hair, used a sword, etc.....and we all just kind of ran with it.

This was what he looked like in game, and it was really fun to just kind of shove him in the situations that were in the game. I was doing my best to keep him as canon in personality as possible and We had a lot of interesting rps. one of which was where we were all demi-humans, and were trying to escape and it was just silly fun.

Unfortunately, me and A did not last as friends. She was a minor at the time and was not in a good household, and often times used me and M as venting stations. I was handling a lot, taking care of my mother at the time, who was recovering from a transplant, and we ended up growing apart after I put my foot down and requested that I not be vented too at the time.

But me and M continued to be friends for years. It was to her that I initially suggested the basic idea I had at the time for Koun. We were playing the game together and an idea hit my ADHD brain like lightning. She was aware of my love for Vesperia, and Yuri Lowell. I'd introduced her to the game and we had fun talking about it. And as we were playing, I just....had the thought of "what if Yuri Lowell was a god of luck?"

M absolutely lost it at the question, and started talking about how ironic it would be, hilarious even. Since in Vesperia, Yuri often talks about he's cursed with misfortune. The irony of him being a literal being of Luck was hilarious.

And yet...the idea stayed with me. Dug itself in my brain.

At the time, I was already rping on tumblr, and had already divided my attention between the two blogs. I was also playing Okami at the time too, and I have a weakness for japanese folklore in general. I played around with him on Aura Kingdom for a while, did a lot of research into some aspects of folklore, and fleshed out a lot of things on pen and paper (most of which were destroyed in an event at my old apartment which sucks but it is what it is.)

Finally, in January of 2016 I posed a question to my main blog Novelisticartist. I'd spent 2 years building up lore and fleshing out the character on that blog, and I had quite a few people who praised me on the sheer amount of work i'd put into her....so I posed the question of "would you all be willing to rp with an extremely AU version of Yuri Lowell?"

I wouldn't have even suggested it if the first person I'd interacted with had not been an AU Yuri themselves. Unfortunately, that blog is no longer on tumblr, and I hope wherever they are, that they're doing well.

Past Koun and Current Koun

When I first started rping Koun, I really focused hard on keeping what I believed to be the main elements that made Yuri...well Yuri present.

Sassy, Sarcastic, a being with a authority issue. A self-sacrificing idiot sometimes who travels around due to wanderlust.....willing to do something dark for the greater good. I worked hard to integrate similar lore into his AU as his canon...similar things happening. He has a Flynn, he has a Estelle (though their names are slightly different)

Everyone's interpretation of canon characters is different, after all. This was what I believed to be what the main elements that made Yuri up. Kind, but sarcastic. Blunt, but willing to help.

But he's had roughly 6ish...7 years (math not my strong suit) to develop. I'm quite aware that what I intended to do with him is not exactly what happened. he's evolved, changed as a person, with each interaction he's had over the years.

He is not the person he started as. But does he still count as an AU?

In some ways, yes. In others, no.

The basics of him are still the same. He's still sassy. He's still a self-sacrificing idiot. He definitely still has problems with authority figures. He has a thirst for adventure, he works easily with others despite whoever they are.

But there is a rather large divide now between Yuri Lowell, and Koun no Yuuri. Yuri rushes into danger, has a thirst for battle along side of adventure.....but Koun has become cautious. He has legitimate fears, he's cautious about who he interacts with, he has learned from mistakes and events.

The reason I still call Koun a "Yuri Lowell AU" is because I still see Yuri in him. Yuri was a core part of who he was for so long, it's not something I can just get rid of. I've debated with myself numerous times on whether or not to just call Koun an OC at this point....and I think he does qualify as one by now....but i talk myself out of it every time, because of what I see in the character.

As for the name thing, it's more....Koun's full name is Koun no Yuuri. This means "Luck of the Lily" very loosely. One of the things that I liked about Yuri was he gave nicknames to everyone...silly ones, but still nicknames. Koun is merely a shortened version of his own name, and he will often introduce himself (if he gives his full name) as either Koun or Yuri, giving the person the choice as to what to call him.

End Stuffs

I'd like to note, I'm dyslexic and neurodivergent, so explaining things isn't exactly my forte, so some of my reasoning may not make sense. It's hard to get the right words out to explain what's in my head.

In my years on tumblr, I've seen many things. Many different variants on how to rp different characters. I've seen sort of AUs, massive AUs, characters based off canon but not canon nor AU. Heck, the first person to get me rping on tumblr was a "Hipster" Yuri Lowell. The most important piece of advice I can give to a person...

Is do what you like.

Sure, there's lots of discourse over how things need to be "completely accurate to canon" if you wanna call yourself canon.....but I really honestly think that's bullshit. Because as I said earlier, Canon is subjective. Everyone will interpret differently. In the end, what everyone else thinks doesn't really matter, because you should write how you want to write.

Write what you want too. Write what makes you feel good. Find yourself some people who will write with you to have fun. Because that's important. It's important to have fun in what you do. What you write.

If you want to write a mostly canon character, do so. If you wanna write an OC, go for it. If you wanna write an AU canon character so AU that it passes an OC, jooin uuuuus. We welcome you with open arms.

I am always open to questions, or if you need advice! And I absolutely love lore questions! I'm sorry if this long ass reply was intimidating, but I love talking about Koun's backstory, his conception, and meta posts in general!

[itsarandomblog]

Minutes to Midnight

Prompt:

You are a centuries-old ghost who inhibits the center of a big city since it was just a village, the existence of a ghost is difficult, but when Halloween comes you can walk among the living again. What can you do when the only time you have is one day a year?

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

—Midnight—

Hermione watched as the clock hit twelve. Every year, for more than a thousand years, she waited for this day, the day before All Hallow’s Day. It was the only time she could touch the house she… inhabited. To be able to talk to other people. People who were unaware of her existence, even though they basically lived in the same house.

To be able to feel the sun on her skin. To touch, and be touched. To be seen.

She recalled when the city was barely a village. A village where she grew up and where her bones laid to rest. To die at such a young age was tragic. So many things she never got a chance to do.

But on her first Hallow’s Eve, it shocked her to find her hitting a tree as she tried to walk through it, her butt landing on a soft rock. With trembling hands, she picked it up. She ran as she panicked.

She died. She knew she was dead. She saw her family bury her.

She was just a soul.

So, she hid from her family, she avoided their village, finding solace at the cave some kilometers from where she was born with the rock in her hand. But around midnight, the stone slipped through her, falling quietly by her feet.

A hundred questions were raised in her head, but one thing was for sure: She became a mortal the day before Hallow’s Day.

The next year, she went back to the cave and her rock and lingered, looking over the village she used to know. She watched as one by one her family met the same fate. She had hoped to see them, but there was none. She was alone.

She saw generations come and go. And how the memory of her faded. To be erased, to be forgotten.

After years of watching from her now-flattened cave, on October 31st, the day she became human again, she went to the village posed as a traveler, asking for a night to stay. The family welcomed her and offered their roof to her.

Hermione smiled at them. They were the descendants of her family, after all.

She made arrangements for the day like she did more than a thousand times before. She knew the current owners of the house were on vacation like they did every year, and the moment the clock chimed twelve, her hands curled on the fabric she had chosen to wear for the day. She smiled as her fingers trailed over the walls, memories of the cave it used to be lingered in her mind. And of course, her precious rock that she had long since made a necklace would hang on her neck.

It had to be perfect.

She was going to live for a day, and she was going to make the best of it.

—Dawn—

Hermione went out from the back door wearing a loose brown sweatshirt pair tucked in a plaid skirt and over it was a long dark brown trenchcoat. She made sure no one would spot her coming in and out of the apartment, and if someone did, she’d be gone the next day. But it’s better not to get in trouble for this day.

The sun was starting to rise and she had to close her eyes as its first ray of light hit her skin. She took a deep breath as she basked in it for a while. It’s been a year since she felt its warmth.

Feeling energized already, she decided to grab breakfast.

She entered a diner and the scent of brewed coffee and eggs and bacon filled her nose. She could still smell, weirdly, but this would be the only day she could ever taste them again. And a year had been a long time not to taste or feel anything.

“I’ll have bacon and eggs, a three-piece pancake, a serving of that sausage and cheese sandwich, and a cup of black coffee,” she immediately said as soon as the waitress asked for her order. The woman gave her a shocked look. Hermione looked rather small and slim. It was her figure when she died, and she never changed.

“Quite got the appetite there, darling?”

She chuckled. “Yeah, I’m trying to make the best of the day, it’s Halloween. Gotta make a full tank.” She patted her stomach.

The woman with her brown hair and warm and curious blue eyes smiled at her. “Well, I hope you enjoy your day, then.” She left with the list of Hermione’s orders, but she didn’t miss the smirk on the woman’s face.

Minutes passed and the woman returned with her food. “Here you go, darling. Eat up.”

Hermione smiled widely at the woman. “Thank you.” She started with the coffee, inhaling the bitter aroma. She was about to sip when she noticed that the woman was still standing beside her. She looked up and saw the woman looking at her with a curious stare.

“Haven’t seen you around here. New in town?” She asked.

Her answer was a practiced speech. She knew people wouldn’t remember her after a year, and she rarely ate at the same place. “Just visiting.”

“What’s your name?”

It was the first time someone asked for her name. Every year, she would eat, go to the park, and crash some party, but no one paid this much attention.

“I… uh, Hermione.”

“From HP?,” she tilted her head, “Nice to meet you. Name’s Caitlyn.”

She smiled and nodded at her name tag that said ‘Cait’. “I kinda guessed from that. Also, no, it was from Greek mythology..”

She chuckled and noticed how her blue eyes gleamed as sunlight hit her eyes. “Do you have plans later tonight?”

“No immediate plans. I tend to just let things happen on this day. Like, ‘Come on, Halloween, surprise me.” But the truth was, nothing ever surprised her anymore. She just wanted to enjoy the single day she could feel alive again.

Nothing interesting had happened since the day she figured out she couldn’t leave the place. Ghost or not, she was tied to the little village she was born in.

“Could you be my plus one then?”

What?

“What?”

Caitlyn raised a brow at her and something stirred inside her. “You said you have no plans, and I have this thing I need to go to and desperately need to bring someone because it was my sister’s party and she was best friends with an ex so…”

She chuckled a little. Now, this is interesting. “You don’t want to go alone. You want to save face.”

“Well, you don’t have to say it that w—”

“I’ll go with you.”

Shock was written all over Caitlyn’s face. “Really?”

“Sounds interesting enough for my visit. Help a stranger, have fun,” she answered as she shrugged.

The woman then took off her apron and sat across her. She raised a brow questioningly.

“Don’t you have a shift to finish?”

Caitlyn smirked. “It ended minutes after you came in. But I know I just got to take your order.”

“Ah, sorry for making you work overtime.”

The woman smiled at her. “It was worth it.”

—Noon—

“Aren’t you a bit energetic given you worked the graveyard shift?” Hermione asked the woman who was currently pulling her from one stall to another from the carnival fair they visited, trying on things but not buying anything.

She was currently holding a stick of cotton candy courtesy of Caitlyn. The woman insisted she buy her one. She was so lost in savoring the sweetness of the fluffy food in her hand that she almost missed the hand at her lower back.

The word being almost.

She tensed a bit as she felt the warmth from the woman’s hand.

“Here, let’s sit for a while.” She guided Hermione to an empty bench and they silently sat side by side, but she could feel the woman’s gaze at the side of her head.

She faced her. “What?”

“You’re pretty.”

Hermione could feel her body heat up at the comment, spreading from her chest to her neck and face. She doesn’t know how to take a compliment from the woman, or from anyone. Because no one ever did that. “Thank you. You’re beautiful as well.”

Caitlyn grinned at her. “I know.” She rolled her eyes at the woman and stared as she turned her head and watched as the carnival went into full swing.

Her long, wavy red-dyed hair, parted in the middle, fell on her shoulder. Her white shirt peeked out from her black coat that wasn’t fastened to the waist. Her muscles fit on the black jeans she was wearing that were paired with high-cut laced boots.

“Like what you see?” The woman said without turning her head and suddenly Hermione wanted to be a ghost again.

“Shut up,” she muttered as she sipped from her soda, its frizzing taste invaded her tastebuds as she relished at it. She closed her eyes, grateful she could taste again, even just for a day.

Caitlyn laughed. “You blush quite easily and lovely for a ghost.”

She snapped her eyes open as she choked at that. “What?”

The woman turned her head at her and smiled, her eyes bored in her soul, in her. “You’re a ghost.”

She laughed nervously as she peered at the brunette. For hundreds and hundreds of years since her death, no one had laid eyes on her the way Caitlyn looked at her. She felt seen. She bowed her head as she avoided Caitlyn’s gaze.

“What makes you say that?”

“I was born in an exorcist family. I know a ghost when I see one,” she paused, a sad smile appearing on her lips before she continued, “What I can’t understand is how you’re very… human-like. You eat, drink, and warm to touch.”

“I’m warm?” She couldn’t hide the surprise in her voice.

“Has no one ever told you that?”

“No one ever paid attention to me, let alone touch me and tell me I’m warm,” she whispered as she stared at her own hands. Hands that longed to touch and be touched. To feel.

Then a hand hovered at her own. She looked and tried to meet Caitlyn’s eyes but she had her gaze cast down on their hands, her lips slightly parted, her fingers barely touching her palm. She gasped at the contact, her breathing hitched as Caitlyn traced the lines in her hand, her fingertips soft in her palm. She couldn’t stop herself from sighing in contentment at the action as she closed her eyes. It was a tingling sensation, excitement coursing on her body.

“You like it.” It wasn’t a question. She opened her eyes when Caitlyn laced their fingers together, holding her. Hermione’s heart skipped a beat as she stared at her eyes.

“I… I just… I missed the feeling… of… touching and… being touched.”

“Hmm.” The woman didn’t remove her hand from her, her eyes on their intertwined fingers. She simply held her, her thumb circling at the back of her hand and she almost whimpered.

“Are you going… to send me away?”

The woman snapped her head at her, her brows furrowed. “And why would I do that?”

“You’re an exorcist… and I—”

“I said I was born in the family, doesn’t mean I am. But, no, even if I am, why would I send you away?”

“Well— I—”

“You’re a very pretty ghost, I wouldn’t want you gone,” she smirked. “Would want to get to know you more.”

“I… don’t want to go yet, but I only have a day,” she murmured as she stared at their locked fingers.

“What?”

“I… I’m only like this before Hallow’s Day. Later, when the clock strikes midnight, I’d go back to being… nothing.”

She felt herself being pulled from the bench.

“Come on, then,” she said smiling but her eyes showed sadness.

“Where are we going?”

“We are gonna make this day count.”

—Afternoon—

And so they did. Caitlyn took her to every ride they could get, bought her food she knew Hermione would enjoy, all the while making sure that she was holding her. Her hand, the low of her back, her arm. She noticed how the woman would smile when she managed to make Hermione laugh. And it tugged something in her heart as she heard the woman laughing with her as they rode some of the carnival’s attractions.

One particular attraction they went to was a photo booth.

Caitlyn made various poses, making faces, and Hermione simply couldn’t take her eyes off of her. She was staring at her, smiling, when Caitlyn turned her head towards her and gave her a wide and adoring smile.

Then the camera flashed.

She was currently in line with the ice cream cart when she felt a soft tap on her shoulder and a grinning Caitlyn welcomed her, one of her hands hidden at her back.

“I thought you decided to ditch me,” she joked.

“Oh, how you think lowly of me,” she said in a posh accent and made a dramatic act of putting a hand over her chest, feigning pain, making Hermione giggle. Then she smiled from ear to ear as she revealed a brown stuffed bear with a bowtie. “Look at what I won for you! We should call her Bowie.”

She smiled sadly at her. “Oh, Cait, you shouldn’t have.”

“I want to.”

“I really can’t take this to the place where… I’m staying.”

Caitlyn pursed her lips, thinking. “I can keep it in my place, and you can visit.” There was another tug on her chest.

“Why are you doing this?” She couldn’t help but ask the woman.

“I want to make your visit worthwhile.”

“Why?”

“You deserve it.”

She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know how to react, because for years, after the death of the last descendant of her family, she didn’t dare make a connection with anyone, afraid to get close, only to see them pass away with her watching from a distance.

She learned to celebrate her one day as a human alone.

“Are you trying to make me do things that would make me finally cross over?”

Caitlyn’s laughter echoed as they stood at the line, and she believed she would never get tired, or forget that sound. People stared but the woman didn’t mind.

“I told you, not an exorcist.”

“So, why?”

She looked at Hermione with her bright blue eyes. “So you’d come back and visit me next year.”

—Evening—

Hermione did agree to attend the party, but as she stood outside the house at the address given to her, she had half a mind to run to the other side and never show her face to the woman. But she couldn’t do it.

Caitlyn was the first one to have… seen her. To have noticed her. And she relished the attention she got from the woman. Sure, she was born some thousand years ago, but she never got stuck on that kind of thinking. She watched the world change, and even if she stayed the same, she adapted, and learned, all on her own.

She shook her head as she started to hear her name being called.

“Hermione! There—” The woman paused when she turned to face Caitlyn. She noticed how she caught her breathing. “—you are.” She noticed what the woman was wearing and she felt her face heat up.

“Hi,” she said meekly, tugging on the sleeve of the overcoat she was wearing.

“You came as Kafka?” She seemed to vibrate with excitement as her blue eyes gleamed.

She tilted her head at her woman. “And you came as Himeko.”

Caitlyn laughed. “A rare pair that turned out to be one of the favorites.”

She squinted her eyes at the woman. “Did you do a divination so you could guess my costume?”

“Wha—I never learned that. Seriously, this is purely, yet a perfect coincidence.” She smiled and then creased her forehead. “How did you know about that game?”

She crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes. “I’m a ghost, Caitlyn, taste and touch-starved but not blind. I see people play that game.”

The woman’s eyes softened. And very carefully put a hand over her arm and her breathing hitched at the contact. “Let’s go?”

“Okay, let’s do this,” she grinned. “Let’s save your face.” It was Caitlyn’s turn to roll her eyes. Hermione then hooked her arm on the woman, and the woman looked at her as she moved closer to her.

“You know, I think this is the first time I ever enjoyed Halloween.”

“You hate Halloween?”

“Before, yes. I think it was stupid. Dressing up, being silly. But now? It may be my favorite day of the year for the rest of my life.”

She looked up and was met by warm, blue eyes. “Why?”

“Because I get to meet you on Halloween”

They went inside the house, arms linked together. A lot of people in costume danced around with red cups in their hands. Suddenly, Hermione felt lost. She had been in crowds before, but somehow she felt their eyes on her. Her hand instinctively held tighter on Caitlyn, who in return, squeezed her hand before unhooking their arms. But before she could think of anything, the woman snaked her arms around her waist.

“Caitlyn!” A woman called. She was wearing a blonde wig with a big ‘S’ embroidered on her blue tights. Her eyes were blue like Caitlyn's.

“Seriously? Supergirl? Again?”

The woman scoffed. “I was hoping to find a Lena Luthor in the crowd.”

“If you’re looking for a Lena Luthor in this party, you’re in the wrong party.”

“Oh shut up, just because you found your Kafka, you don’t have to gloat,” the woman scoffed and turned to her with those big smiles like Caitlyn. “Hi, I’m Victoria, the better sister.”

Caitlyn lightly shoved her sister’s shoulder as she snickered. “I’m Hermione.”

The woman stared at her longer than she was comfortable with, making her shift on her feet. The other woman beside her cleared her throat.

“She’s—”

“Yes, she is, now shut up.”

Victoria threw her hand in defeat with a smile on her face. “I get it, the heart wants what the heart wants.”

“I said shut up.”

“Pssh. Fine,” she rolled her eyes before turning her attention back to Hermione. “Enjoy the party, babe.” Then she was gone.

“So, that’s my sister.”

“She found out.”

“Sorry, it’s in the blood.”

“It’s okay,” she whispered. Her breath stopped when she noticed how close they were to each other. People seemed to crowd them yet it felt like they were the only person in the room.

Caitlyn raised her hand and tucked the strayed strands of her hair behind her ear, her hot breath fanning gently on her face. She had to swallow hard. She watched as the woman’s eyes slowly darkened.

“You are beautiful.”

“So are you.”

“I wish I could get to know you more.”

“I’d be leaving in about,” she peered over the clock, “three hours.”

The woman stepped a bit closer into her personal space, their bodies almost touching. Caitlyn leaned forward, their noses touching.

“Let’s make it count.” Her lips brushed against Hermione and she was quick to catch it. And her lips were the sweetest things she ever tasted since she died. Everything around her slowed down as her skin tingled at the sensation she was feeling. She became hyperaware of Caitlyn’s one hand over her waist and the other cupping her face, just under her jaw, her thumb stroking her cheekbones. She wrapped her arms around the woman’s neck, her fingers playing on the soft hair at the back of her nape. She felt Caitlyn’s hold on her tighten as goosebumps formed over her skin under Hermione’s touch.

She didn’t mind it. She didn’t mind kissing anyone on the day she could walk among the living. She had done it before. And it had become a routine. But with Caitlyn, she didn’t want it to end. Hermione knew it was impossible but she wanted to stay. To be held and seen, not just by anyone, but by Caitlyn and Caitlyn only. She didn’t know she was crying until the woman pulled away from her and cupped her face with both hands as she wiped her tears with her thumb.

“That bad, huh?” Caitlyn joked, but she could see the worry in her eyes.

She shook her head, sniffling, and gave the woman a sad smile. “I don’t want the night to end.”

Hermione was then pulled into a warm embrace, her head resting where the woman’s neck and shoulder connected, swaying slightly to a rather lively music.

“I don’t want it to end, either,” she whispered against her hair. She pushed her a little and held her gaze. “Come on, I know a place we could… be alone.”

Hermione let the woman pull her up the stairs. No one paid attention to them as they went inside the farthest room in the hallway. Her heart quickened its pace. She made out with people, but not…

Her thoughts were cut when soft lips crashed against hers as soon as the door’s lock clicked. Hands roamed her body, heat radiating from the other woman’s palm and when the kisses went down her neck, she couldn’t help a moan escape her lips.

“Is this okay?” Caitlyn asked as her fingers hovered at the lapel of her coat.

“Yes,” she answered breathlessly, almost immediately, and the woman’s lips were on hers again.

Caitlyn guided her to the bed, their clothing coming off one by one. She was laid carefully on it, surrounded with pillows. She climbed over Hermione as she continued to kiss her, their naked bodies flushed against each other. She arched her body as Caitlyn’s wet kisses went from her neck to her chest going further down, biting gently on her skin. A fire at the pit of her stomach began to form, the anticipation of what was happening clouding her mind.

All she could think was Caitlyn.

Her breathing ragged as the woman kissed her inner thigh, her hot breath against her skin.

The room was filled with Caitlyn’s labored breathing and her moans that grew louder and louder at every prod from the brunette’s tongue, and when she inserted two fingers, she gasped in pain and pleasure.

“Fuck,” she heard the woman curse as she paused so she could get used to her fingers. But instead, she jerked her hips against her hand.

“Please.”

They fell into a slow rhythm, a different kind of music from the one blasting from the party happening just a floor below them. Her heart hammered against her chest. She looked down and their eyes locked, and none of them dared remove each other’s gaze on one another. She bit her lip, almost coming undone at the intensity of Caitlyn’s dark blue orbs.

Her senses heightened as the woman slowly brought her to her peak. The way Caitlyn slowly thrust in and out of her, she could feel her knuckles, her tongue, and her mouth lapping against her center, sucking. She could taste the blood on her lips as she bit on it.

To be touched like this, to be tasted by Caitlyn would be something imprinted on her soul.

One of her hands found its way towards the woman’s hair, grasping a handful, pulling her impossibly closer as the other hand gripped tightly on the covers.

Hermione quivered as she felt herself tighten around Caitlyn’s fingers. She knew the woman knew she was close as her thrust became faster and her tongue unrelenting.

A low growl reverberated on the woman’s chest, vibrating against her core.

She came, exploding on Caitlyn’s mouth and hand, screaming her name.

—Minutes before Midnight—

Hermione cuddled against Caitlyn’s naked chest, her eyes glued to the wall clock. Only half an hour left. She pressed her body closer to the woman as the latter played with her hair, fingernails scratching lightly at her scalp. She listened to the rhythmic beat of the woman’s heart, she savored the warmth of the woman’s skin under her palm that was splayed on Caitlyn’s sternum, her index finger making circles. She felt a soft kiss on her forehead and she almost cried.

Caitlyn was nothing but soft and gentle with her. Her touches warm and inviting, her taste enticing.

Why should she meet someone who made her feel like this, only to leave her at the strike of midnight?

“You’re tickling me,” the woman said, her eyes still closed.

“I’m… You’re so soft.”

“So are you,” she breathed against her hair. “Can’t you stay for a little longer?”

She propped on her elbow, her top half over Caitlyn’s. She smiled sadly. “Sorry, it doesn’t come with being dead and ghost and all.”

The red hair chuckled dryly. “I… may know a ritual—”

“No, no, absolutely not,” she cut her off whatever she was about to say, her forehead creased, her head shaking. “You will not do any ritual.”

A pained look washed over Caitlyn’s face. “Don’t you want to spend your time with me?”

“I do!” Her own eyes widened at her abrupt confession. “But I can’t stay, Cait, I don’t… I am dead. You know of all rituals, necromancy is kind of… the foulest.”

“I was thinking of me going to the… spirit world, with you.”

“No,” she answered softly as she cupped her face. “I can’t let you stop your life here just for me. It could get lonely.”

“I wouldn’t be lonely if I was with you.”

“Cait, promise me you won’t do anything… rash and stupid,” she stressed.

The woman’s hand went to the stone necklace she had on her neck. Her first possession after she died.

“It’s not stupid,” she whispered as she stared into her eyes.

She then sat and reached for her necklace. She took it off and gestured for Caitlyn to sit as well. She crawled and placed herself behind the woman, moving her hair to the side, necklace in hand as she put it on her. She kissed her nape as soon as she locked it.

“I’ll always be here,” she whispered as she hugged the woman from behind, her front pressed closely at the woman’s back, her hand circling her waist. She rested her chin on her shoulder and Caitlyn leaned her head against her as her breathing shook.

“Will you visit me again?”

“I will, I promise,” she answered truthfully. “But, I want you to live your life, don’t put it on hold, okay?”

“I just… I wished I could get a chance to get to know you and be with you.”

“I wished that, too.”

Her eyes flicked on the clock.

Two more minutes.

“Will you hold me like this until midnight?”

“Of course.”

They stayed like that, her embracing Caitlyn. Whispers escaped from the woman’s lips, but it was incoherent. She glanced at the clock again and counted the seconds as she embraced the woman tighter.

Five.

“Ex anima mea, ex anima tua.”

“Caitlyn?” She called as a soft breeze entered the room.

Four.

The hair on her nape stood up at the… eerie energy around them.

Three.

“Corpora et animas, una fiant nunc.”

Two.

A circling light surrounded them. She turned and looked at the woman in her arms. Her eyes were closed but her lips were moving.

One.

“In aeternum nobiscum, amor vincit omnia!”

“Caitlyn!” She screamed and closed her eyes as the light exploded around them.

Sadness enveloped her as she knew she was back to being unseen. But as she moved her arms, she felt something soft.

The light glow started to dissipate.

In her arms was Caitlyn, solid and soft and warm to the touch, grinning at her from ear to ear, her necklace gleaming lowly in the darkness.

“It worked.”

—All Hallow’s Day—

“You are crazy,” Hermione murmured before turning to Victoria. “Your sister is crazy.”

“I second that,” the older woman glared at the woman sitting beside her, still grinning.

“Hey, it worked!” Caitlyn laughed.

“You bound her soul to yours! And probably into mine, too.”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes. “I bound her soul to mine, not yours, and the reason you could see her is because you are born with the ability.”

“You got lucky! You never got any training! What if you bound her to someone else?”

“Then I’ll have you undo it. Can’t let anyone be seeing and touching her, right?”

Victoria scrunched her face in disgust. “Please, don’t be too graphic.”

“You started it.”

“You two were loud, by the way.”

She raised her hand, to stop them from bickering and save her from embarrassment. “Stop, please, both of you. I… so, what now?”

Caitlyn smiled at her. “I get to see you and touch you and you can touch me, too. But others won’t, you’re still a ghost.”

“And Victoria?”

“She got the sight, but I don’t think she could touch you.” She reached out, expecting her hand to pass through, but it didn’t. She turned to Caitlyn. The woman shrugged. “Or she could.”

“You could touch me because she bound her soul to yours, and we are sisters with a strong bond, that’s probably the reason why.”

“Probably?!” She glared at the older woman.

“Hey,” she glared back. “You were the first to be bound to an exorcist—

“—not an exorcist—”

“So, we couldn’t be sure.”

“So, what now?” She asked the sisters.

“You continue to be a ghost, but you won’t be alone anymore.” There was a gleam of happiness in Caitlyn’s eyes. The woman smiled at her so sweetly she couldn’t help but return it. They held each other’s gaze.

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. Until someone cleared their throat.

“Great, and next time do your thing on your apartment.”