#Captured Under Natural Light Sources

[divasae]

Reveniens

yandere tartaglia x reader

desc: yandere tartaglia, childhood best friends, forced marriage, etc.

word count: 2.4k

Gusts of wind splayed across the serpentine path, rendering it difficult for you to make your way home. Your hair billowed in the wind as you fought against the frigid weather, making use of the pointer arrow's to navigate your way back into the village. To the average person, such weather would be unimaginable to trek across, but to a Snezhnayan, this was all to be expected when making a journey.

As you dwindled down the narrow road with supplies in hand for supper, your ear suddenly caught wind of distant cheering, from what seemed to be from your own village. You looked ardently in the distance as you approached the noise, only to see a crowd of people surrounding what appeared to be something.

No. It was someone. There was a considerable amount of people encircling what appeared to be a young man, with tufts of ginger hair sticking out. You squinted your eyes from afar in an attempt to make out the stranger's features, only for his head to turn in your direction. You were immediately met with captivating azure blue eyes, staring right into your own, practically paralyzing you into place.

You knew those eyes. You knew him. For a fraction of a second, you stood there motionless, as your mind rewound back to the past, fervently trying to identify his place in your memories.

It's natural for a human to lose track of the many people that appear in their lives, destined to eventually become a distant, hazy memory. This man was not one you could forget so easily, however. You remembered him, although as a very different person.

You had known him from childhood. His childhood self to you, was the very embodiment of innocence. Despite being very distinct individuals, even from a young age, fate pulled the both of you together.

He was a fascinating boy, completely shrouded in mystery to your eyes. At times when you were outside all alone, he would appear suddenly, keeping you company. It was as if he were an imaginary friend, coming and going so frequently. He was like your little secret, one you took refuge in, as did he.

You held a feeling of admiration for him, despite never having voiced it aloud to him. He was incredibly bright for his age, even if he tended to be overshadowed by others. You saw what others couldn't see in him, and you two were bonded with an understanding of the other. Even at that tender age, it was as if the both of you were drawn towards each other.

And yet, you didn't have the slightest clue as to what his name was. On a snowy night, as you gazed upon a serene pond, admiring the shimmering ripples under the moonlight's glow, you suddenly felt a hand grip your shoulder ever so slightly.

You pivoted from your place to see the source of touch, only to be met with a familiar pair of azure eyes staring into your own. The rays of light from the moon bounced off his irises, capturing the beauty and tenderness of his expression.

Your face was etched with awe as you took his appearance in, before enwrapping him in a tight embrace. "Ajax!" you exclaimed, as you began to chat with him excitedly.

When the time for you to make a leave crept up so suddenly, you finally asked the question that had been at the back of your mind, ever since you had seen him for the first time.

"My name?" he asked you softly, as you nodded your head vigorously, a bright smile plastered across your face. He appeared to be taken aback at first but smiled as he looked at you, before answering.

"It's Ajax".

Unbeknownst to you, that would be very last encounter you would share with him, before he had disappeared from your life. You waited, and waited, but would come out more disappointed and hopeless as time went on.

Were you that unimpressionable, to the point where he had forgotten about you? As the months passed by, your mind was consumed by his thoughts, making you restless.

The day you would see him again was one you had least expected. As usual, families would send their young boys to fight for the Fatui, or they would willingly give themselves up. When word had gone around about a particular family sending their boy to straighten him up, you hadn't thought much of it, seeing how common it was at that time.

That was until you had seen who that boy was when the fatui rounded up the new potential members. You could have recognized those tufts of ginger hair from anywhere. It had to be him. Your heart swelled with happiness, as you saw him before your eyes again.

You had gone to call out his name, the name he had left you with before disappearing. However, your words had gotten caught in your throat, when you had taken a proper look at him. You stopped in your tracks, as you watched him intently from the distance.

He seemed to be unaware of your eyes on him, as he prepared to take off with the Fatui. He was the same Ajax you had known, you were sure of it. However, something about him changed, even if you were unable to put your finger on it at that time.

The former look of innocence had vanished from his eyes, replaced with what appeared to be a void of emptiness. Whatever was in front of you, it wasn't the Ajax you knew. He appeared to be a mere husk of his former self, broken and hollow on the inside.

You had always assumed he had simply forgotten about you. Something about that day, however, made you uneasy. You looked at the back of his head as he took off with the fatui, knowing this would really be the last time you would ever see him again. Tears filled the brim of your eyes, as it occurred to you that now, you had truly lost your friend for good.

The sudden transition from him being a sweet boy to a broken man unnerved you. The days of you both being free-spirited and unaffected by the outside world were long gone. Those days were but a shadow of your youth, which you both had gone past by.

Slowly but surely, you became immersed in your own duties as time went on, slowly forgetting about that little boy who you so deeply cherished. However, there was always a trace of him that lingered deep within the back of your mind.

To see those alluring eyes again, those same eyes that you thought you never see again in your lifetime, sent you into shock. You looked at him in astonishment, your eyes widening.

He too looked at you with an expression of surprise, although one of thrill, as he flashed you a dashing grin. Your heart lurched as you caught his smile at you. There were many ways you had imagined a reunion with him, but this? This was one you had never seen coming, even from a mile away.

You didn't have the slightest clue as to why you were running away, but all your mind was preoccupied with at that moment was to take you to a faraway place, anywhere he was not. Tears stung the corner of your eyes as you rushed out of the village, the harshness of the wind blowing into your face.

He was different. He had changed. He appeared to be the same, charming Ajax he once was, but you knew better then that. He could play a facade, put on the mask of the former person he once was, but only you saw through it. His eyes, they were absolutely chilling to look at. That look he had, was one you wished you would never have the inconvenience of looking at again

Echoes of the cheers for the 11th Fatui Harbinger rung in your ears as you set off, your dress flowing as you rushed in the opposite direction you had been walking in.

Past memories you had of him flashed in your head as you ran frantically, tormenting you with every step you took. You didn't bother taking in your surroundings, as if you had tunnel vision, and could only see what was in front of you.

Sobs wracked your body, as you had finally stopped to look where you had gone to, only to see the last place you had wished to see. The familiar body of water you had seen years ago was placed in front of you, as if to taunt you even further, for what you had landed yourself into.

It was nearly impossible for you to be unable to recognize it. When you were younger in both age and spirit, you would frequent the area, just to see if he would return for you, as if some kind of miracle would be bestowed upon you. Clearly, your wishes had never been answered, and so it had become a distant memory over time. To see it once again destroyed you from the inside.

Your eyes swelled as you cried your heart out, unable to face the boy you held so dear to your heart so long ago. To imagine what that boy did to become a harbinger, it haunted you.

After what had appeared to be hours, you looked down at the pond once again, still and motionless as it had been when you first arrived. You took in your blurry appearance, as you wiped the tears tracking down your face.

As you gazed into the pond, your reflection was suddenly disturbed with the reflection of another figure, that had approached you from behind. You pivoted around suddenly in surprise, but before you had the chance to look at the stranger's face, they had used their hand to push your head into their shoulder, as they pulled you into a tight embrace.

"I knew you would be here, [Name]" a deep voice whispered ever so slightly. Immediately, alarm bells swarmed your head, as you realized who it must have been. You pushed Ajax off with a sudden force, taking a step backward in hesitation.

"Ajax..." you said quietly, your chest heaving up and down in fright. All you could think about at the moment was how many lives he would've taken with those hands he touched you with, making your pupils dilate in fear.

"I'm here darling," he said in a soft voice, taking a step toward you. Your immediate reaction was to take another step backward, which he took notice of. He stopped suddenly, as he took in your fearful expression.

"You wound me, dear," he said, smiling. "And here I thought you would jump into my arms once you had taken sight of me".

You opened your mouth to speak, but could not utter anything out. All you could do was shake your head frantically. "You're scaring me, Ajax" you stuttered out, close to tears yet again.

"I'm scaring you?" he asked, in a whisper, suddenly taking your hand in his own. You yelped as he firmly pulled you towards him, placing a chaste kiss on your hand.

"Do you have any clue as to how badly I wanted to see you again, [Name]?' he asked, as he wiped your tears with his thumb. "Wherever I had gone, it was as if you had come along with me in my heart" he whispered.

"You're so beautiful, [Name]" he continued, bringing his gloved hand to caress your cheek. He was so tender with you, yet it sent chills down your spine. You couldn't read his expression at all, his empty eyes rendering it impossible.

"Won't you give me just as much as a glance, sweetheart?" he asked with a sigh, as you swatted his hand away, refusing to make eye contact. "You kill me, you know?"

He used a finger to tilt your face upward, looking at you with adoration. "I must say, I've come here with a purpose" he said suddenly, taking you by surprise.

You looked at him with a stricken face, your lips slightly parted. "What purpose?" you asked in a quivering voice, as you took in his ecstatic expression.

He smiled at you, before continuing. "I've already spoken with your parents, they've already blessed our union" he said, beaming. Your blood suddenly ran cold at his words, wondering if you had heard him right.

"What?" you asked hoarsely, your throat dry. All he did was smile further to confirm, as he took your hand once again, and enveloped it within his own.

"We're to be wed soon," he said, his elated expression radiant in the face of the moonlight.

He took notice of your thunderstruck face, and chuckled. "Oh come on, there's no need to look like that" he said heartily. "Do you remember when we promised ourselves to each other once we were all grown up?" he asked with reminiscent eyes.

You shook your head slowly, unable to believe any of the words coming out of his mouth. "That was years ago, you're insane Ajax" you cried out. You felt trapped all of a sudden, you felt as if you were going to suffocate.

With that, your dress twirled as you attempted to pull away from him. But he had grown so strong. He grinned at your weak attempts to get away from him, using his hand to pull you closer into him. As you fell into him with your back pressed against his chest, he wrapped you in an even tighter embrace, the side of his face pressed against yours.

"You're going to be such a good wife sweetheart" he whispered into your ear, as the hair on your neck stood on end. His gloved hands snaked down to your waist as he spoke, and he continued. "I can't wait to have you all to myself," he said hungrily, as you fought against his hold.

You had always wished to reunite with your dear friend, but if you had even the slightest inkling of what would happen if you did, would you have thought differently?

[spacedreamhead]

- art by chiyaya666 on Twitter (source: pinterest)

bakugou katsuki x fem. reader

tw: 18+, angst, possessive acting and thoughts, non-consensual pregnancy, love-making, sex

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦

Bakugou had a dilemma.

He never thought that something like that happened — that he eventually fell in love. He fell in love in a young and beautiful woman. He was glad that he met you though he was in two minds.

He met some miserable, horrible things in his life; especially the war against the league of villains reminded him of his bitter past — all the terrible pain formed his character that he was now. Even though he became calmer with age, his deterrent and wild nature was still deeply rooted in his character.

Nevertheless, you chose him; of all these people in this world, you chose the infamous Bakugou Katsuki.

At that time, he tried to get rid of this feeling by ignoring you or threatening you very often. But your ridiculous, optimistic, sugar-sweet nature wrapped him more and more around your finger; left a dizzying feeling in him.

Time passed; days became months; months became years. He did not remember exactly when he got to know you exactly.

However, he was very little interested at that moment.

His eyes wandered over your curves; in this sensual position you were in, you trembled under his feather-light touches. With each further touch, he warmed your body parts and you jingled up sweetly with your black, long eyelashes. Goosebumps spread on his body before he sank completely on your body; his chest pressed against your complete breasts and pressed his hardened cock to your center.

A sinful moan deviated from his lips; he rolled his hips again and again against your wet-streaking cunt and buried his face in the crook of your neck. Furrowed eyebrows, compressed eyelids - his sight was anything but captured and he bit himself on his lower lip to refrain from further desperate sounds.

"You feel sosososo good", he murmured hotter and his right hand wandered to your left chest; pinched firmly in your now hard nipple and thus elicited a pleasurable whimper from you. "Pleasepleaseplease .. more-!!", you screamed with pleasure; your eyes squinted with euphoria. You brazenly grabbed his hair and ask for more attention.

"More?"

A bittersweet warmth snealed along his spine, while now his much larger hands, in contrast to your much smaller hands, groped you. His nose ran along the crook of your neck; he kissed a way to your auricle and soaked in your honey-sweet smell for him. His stomach twisted seductively and his spit collected in his mouth with despair and desire.

Bakugou sucked and bit into your skin on your neck and it left a sweet taste in his mouth. He moaned with euphoria as he listened to your desperate whimper and your sounds directly drove into his painfully throbbing cock. His gaze turned to your sweet pussy; your sweet, little pearl that twitched with pleasure and at this sight he dipped his tip into your cunt before he buried himself completely into your depths.

A deep murmur buzzed from his chest; he felt his own cock twitch with desire when your sensual, narrow, wet-strimming walls nestled around him, so that his eyes rolled slightly into the back of his head; you also screamed with feelings of happiness and he tried, as well as possible for him, to fuck you through your orgasm; to fuck his white, thick sperm into your seductive pussy for him.

…

However, when he thought about it at that moment, he wanted to do just that.

Before his possessive thought processes devoured him, his muscular arms wrapped around your waist and lifted your upper body up; he groped along your curved spine and bit your lower lip promisingly.

"Ka—!! ~'tsuki!", you whimpered; threw your head back and he took the opportunity to sink his tongue into your usually so gobby mouth.

"There is something I want to talk to you about", he apparently released your feverish kiss; his suddenly strict tone shook your marrow and bones.

“Huh?”

He grinned devilish at this sweetly stupid look from you.

"D-During sex?"

You whined when he irritated your hard nipple with his index finger and thumb; your eyes squinted with desire and your toes curled.

Your stuttering triggered something shaky in him; you were hardly able to form a meaningful sentence - damn it was exactly how you were dear to him. He grabbed your jaw; pressed against your cheekbones and pulled his hot cock out of your sensually dripping pussy; but roughly forced his fat, thick cock back into your little cunt and when it penetrated you briefly saw light-clear starlets.

"You will end your career as a professional heroine", he said nonchalantly, while his ruby sapphires tied you up; he saw your forehead curling with confusion.

“What? W-Why?”

Meanwhile, you tried to wind yourself out of his firm grip, but he mercilessly grabbed your hips and searched for the sensitive point in you to keep you weakly. He pressed his pelvis forward; he slowly pushed into you to bring you to the deep abyss.

"You have to stop; it's far too dangerous for you."

"I a-am a h-hero li-ike y-you!"

Yes, he knew that you were razor-sharp on him; blew up the scale of professional hero ranks with your sweet, naive behavior. However, you had wrapped him, the almighty, oh holy Great Explosion Murder God Dynamite, around your little finger; he would not let go until he reached his own goal. He stared at you promisingly and his sudden silence scared you.

„Katsuki—!?“

Not another second passed; he pressed his pelvis more against your hips and hit your cervix with the tip of his tail. Your mouth opened in shock and your eyes rolled into the back of your head, while he painfully crushed your cheeks more and more with his hand; your attention was attracted to him.

A switch lay into him; the veins on his neck pounded with anger and desire while he gnashed his teeth. He did not ask you, but demanded.

"No, darling. The professional heroes do not need a woman impregnated by the second best professional hero in Japan."

An invile whimper deviated from your sinful lips; the tears collected in the corners of your eyes rolled down your cheeks in thick drops, which he wiped away directly with his fingers. He grinned naughty when he saw you drooling lightly; you tried to free yourself from his sweet, merciless ordeal.

"It is fine. You will be a good mommy; you will be able to protect our babies. You are sosososo strong —!!", this time your tight cunt, twitching with pleasure, elicited a loud moan from him, "damn it, I will come into your sweet, little pussy; make yourself round and full that you are always dependent on my help!" His hip lost in his own rhythm as he approached his own orgasm. He could hardly hold back himself when he reached his bittersweet end; thick, white, potent seeds splashed promisingly into your cunt and he made sure that his tip touched your seductive cervix; his hot dripping sperm reached your fertile womb. The saliva collected in his mouth when he thought about how he impregnated his honey-sweet little girlfriend with his children. He sat back slightly to look at his masterpiece; watched your dazed, broken, almost powerless state in which you were. At this sight, his cock twitched with desire and he moved again; stimulated you both tortuously and wiped away your tears; he lost himself once again in a sugar-sweet rhythm that made you whimper with fear and desire.

You could not see it, but the only way to dissuade you from your successful career was to let yourself be the sweet mommy of his children.

He hummed a melody to calm you down; to make sure that you were helplessly at the mercy of his desire that you will never disappeared a senseless thought of anything.

[syneilesis]

[fic] if only for a moment

if only for a moment

Love and Deepspace | Rafayel (Qi Yu) x Main-Character!Reader | T | 3.6k words | ao3 link (with correct formatting)

Rafayel waits. And waits. And waits.

A/N: Another LaD fic!! This time it's Rafayel. Several elements of this fic are inspired by and loosely based on his story anecdotes and bond story, plus that Deep Sea card line backdrop. So more spoilers in this one, I'm afraid. I think you need to be aware of them in order to follow the flow of the fic. But if not, here's what you need to know: basically Rafayel accepts a visiting professorship at the University of Linkon to reunite with the MC/you. And the prose poetry interspersed are loosely situated in the Deep Sea card lineup setting (you can search in YouTube for the scenes. This one is a brief glimpse of the scene). That princess/knight(??) dynamic is yum yum.

If possible, please read the version on AO3. I formatted the prose poems there as if they're really prose poetry, so I'd appreciate it if you check that out. (Though there isn't too much difference between the formatting here and there, I did make the effort of coding a little 🥺)

Anyhoo, hope you enjoy, and I am sO STOKED FOR THE OFFICIAL RELEASE. rip my wallet 💸😭

JUST LOOK AT THIS MAN AND BELIEVE

There’s a type of berry in a distant land that produces a rare shade of ink that matches the color of your eyes. It takes a hundred of them to create the right hue and volume for the art that he wants to make. It comes to him in a dream: endless desert, then fireworks of verdant sparks that coalesce into stem, leaf, and, finally, fruit. Rafayel remembers that land, so much different from the iridescent blue of ocean underwater, and the acrid gold of the barren desert. His mouth filled with the succulent sweetness of the dream, the lingering sandpaper roughness of the berries on his fingers. He already knows the name of the artwork even before he’s begun—Waiting, Missing. The ache in his bones gaining form, an intangible thing taking flesh.

+

Under the ocean surface, time is muted, a deafening thickness that surrounds you with its ambiguity. On land, however, it is linear, and fast, and in a matter of blinks, Rafayel’s visiting professorship nearly wraps up.

He’s only glimpsed you once or twice. Thrice at most. The university is big, but not big enough to warrant a dearth of fateful encounters. The first time he saw you it was at a coffee shop: walking along with your friends outside, your voice mellifluous and festive wafting through the trellis of the café entrance. You were talking about him—well, about Lemuria to be specific, but these days any talk of Lemuria inevitably draws in his name.

He’s committed your schedule to memory, and yet it just seems impossible to capture a moment with you. Even just a brush of shoulders, or of sleeves—an asymptote of contact. Just navigating around your orbit, but never truly meeting.

What would it be like—finally talking to you? You in front of him, face to face? Rafayel imagines the ache of waiting fading into the background until it’s completely gone. He yearns for that feeling, the release of it. A conclusion—or maybe even a beginning.

+

i. take my hand, he told you under the glow of the lustrous moon, the only source of light that contoured the secretive valleys of his face. i want to show your highness something. there was a country, he said, beyond the undulating monochrome of the desert, blanketed by lush trees and shrubberies and flowers that buildings were made in betwixt and around them—a nation of trailing and winding architecture, a marriage of the natural and the manmade. you wanted to ask why he’d planned on taking you there, and the only answer you got was a curt turn of his head and the profile of a masked man layered by shadows and distance. it would have been nice, you thought, if the moon poured light upon his hooded gaze.

+

Eventually he begins to frequent the café. Twice a week at first—he doesn’t want to come off strong right away, of course—and then making his way up until he’s hanging out there more than his own studio. He schedules his visits around your classes, always during the ones when the probability of you dropping by the café is high and he can ‘coincidentally’ be around the same area. It’s gotten to a point that Thomas calls him out on it, and nags at him to focus more on his painting. The next exhibit is immediately after his visiting professorship after all.

“From where I’m standing,” Thomas says, “you’re not painting at all.”

Rafayel ignores him.

Five minutes later, he says, “Not painting is part of the painting process.”

Thomas rolls his eyes, but he leaves him to it.

At the café, Rafayel attracts curious looks. A few attempt to approach him, but he pretends not to see them. They linger around the periphery, like moths to flame.

And then something happens: the entrance door chimes, and you swan into the coffee shop, earphones and denim overall skirt, the kind of rosy-cheeked image Rafayel finds on teen magazines, wide-eyed and earnest. You fall in line and order when it’s your turn, and your eyes sweep across the packed café searching for a vacant seat until they finally land on him.

Rafayel’s heart stumbles.

Up close, the baby fat on your cheeks still gives you the appearance of being younger than you actually look. You turn a polite smile his way, and his heart stutters again—but this time it is taken as a warning.

“Hi,” you say, tentative. Any hint of recognition absent. “Do you mind if I sit here?”

+

ii. you're counting the steps of your inevitable parting. you're at the edge of the desert, far away from your home and its familiar scents, oriented towards a direction that promised a future sad memory, the gentle warmth of his hand, the downward denial of his gaze. this longing that grew out of your bones, aching during cold, aching during heat, aching when he looked at you with such tenderness he had to hide it through the sharp tug of your joined hands, the long strides that opened up a lonely distance. intimacy was dangerous, knowing was dangerous, the bowels of his heart like a solitary flower on a high peak. what would you do to such loneliness?

+

Memory isn't always an infallible thing. The human brain cannot hang on to every moment of your life, though Rafayel wishes it were so. But still—to think that you would forget him, and it hasn’t even been a century. You were like a phantom thief stealing his heart in the night—no recourse, no resolution.

To wait is to be in agony, the burn of yearning locked within the heart. Rafayel has been waiting for a long time, and the only memory scorched in his heart is fire, the blaze and its blinding, all-consuming want.

What would you do to such want?

+

You have a blurry childhood, Rafayel discovers. After the first Wanderer descended on Earth, the incident strummed your memories like a stringed instrument that tired of the same chord, over and over. It had bothered you at first—not being in control of your own memories—but eventually you had learned to live with it.

“Grandma and Caleb—my childhood friend—helped me through the process,” you tell him, stirring your iced mocha with its straw. “I owe them a lot.”

Eyes cast down, but still the melancholy shadows remain in your expression. Rafayel folds his arms on the table, and leans closer.

Around them only a few people occupy the coffee shop at this time. How fortunate for Rafayel to catch you during your break while every other student is trapped in class lectures.

“There’s no use in dwelling upon what's already happened. Even sharks have to give up when their prey escapes. When you remember, it will be all the more joyous, no?”

The smile you give him is crooked, disbelieving.

“If I remember.”

“You’ll remember.” Because there’s no other choice, for you and for him. Rafayel cannot bear being shelved in the history of your smile and happiness. Waiting can only be endurable if there’s an endpoint.

+

In his studio, Rafayel begins his next painting.

+

iii. the berries tasted sweet, with an edge of sourness that clung to the bottom of the tongue. it had the exact shade of your eyes, a detail that rafayel brought up the moment he plucked it from the shrub. raising it to align with your eyes, comparing them with his artist's meticulous gaze. maybe when this is all over, i'll go back here again to extract ink from these berries, and paint a portrait of your highness using these to color your eyes. he never showed you any of his paintings, merely mentioned them in passing, and you constructed a dream of him from the throwaway words that left his covered lips. i'm not used to sitting for so long, you reminded him, and he glanced at you, then at the berry between his fingers. my memory is enough, then handed you the fruit.

+

In the few weeks of meeting with you Rafayel forgets that his visiting professorship is ending soon and he has to give out his last lecture. Thomas had asked him what his topic would be. At that point Rafayel had no answer. But now he has.

“I’ve been hearing you talk about Lemuria every now and then with your friends.” He props his cheek on his hand, tilting his head slightly and giving you a charming smile. “Interested?”

You blink. “How did you know?”

“Oh, I’ve seen you a couple of times here, and I happened to hear your friends chat about my lecture. Your points were almost accurate, I’m in awe.”

“The visiting professor—that’s you?!”

Rafayel pauses, the slosh of his drink nearly spilling on his frozen hand.

“You didn’t know?”

Sheepish, you say, “Honestly, I didn’t make the connection. Is that why plenty of people have been glaring at me as of late?”

He releases a frustrated sigh, eyes rolling heavenward.

“In any case, my final lecture is on Friday next week. It’s titled “Memory and Meaning in Lemurian Art”. Why don’t you drop by and listen, and you can tell me what you think afterwards.”

You retrieve your bullet journal to check your schedule. It’s colorful, filled with stickers and doodles that Rafayel finds endearing. Then the excited moue on your face drops into a frown, and Rafayel can foresee the next words that will come out of your downturned lips.

“I’m sorry,” you say guiltily, “but I have a major test that day, and I need to get a high score in order to pass the course.”

Rafayel exhales, long and weary, but ultimately shrugs off the apology. “What a shame, but I forgive you. Just don’t fail your exam or else my magnanimity would be all for nothing.”

+

He calls Thomas that night.

“I’ll disappear for a while once the professorship is over.”

“Hey, wait, what do you me—”

“You’ll be happy to know that this is for my next painting.”

A beat. “Okay … but for how long?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?”

Then he hangs up.

+

He’s trying, he really does. The lecture ends to a resounding applause, and it’s mechanical how he answers the questions posed by the audience. But he’s trying, he’s trying. There’s no specter of you in the sea of faces in the auditorium. You’re at the other end of the university compound, sweating your way through your exam. He genuinely hopes you’d pass, for your sake.

Thomas had booked his flight to another country, where he’ll traverse to a land that he’d visited many times in his dreams and had woken up with a filmy, sweet-sour tang at the roof of his mouth. He’ll leave the morning after the closing dinner party the faculty has prepared for him. There isn’t time to pack much, and no time to tell you goodbye.

Rafayel guesses that it’s only fair: how would you feel waiting for him at that café, the chair across you empty, only the sunlight pooling from the window as your companion?

+

iv. parting, somebody once said, is such a sweet sorrow. much like those berries in that ever-green nation, a lingering sourness remained underneath, the sting of it reminding you every now and then. he was already mourned for even before he left. tell me what it's like—the ocean. he was elusive, untouchable in his grief. you'd heard through whispers, the story of his migration, the drowning before the drying, the unwanted journey. grief brought him to you and grief would steal him away from you, you knew, down to the cells of your body and the hopelessness in your blood. —and yet. and yet you wanted to have a taste of it, anyway.

+

The ever-green land is no longer green, or lush, or alive. Time corroded it into memory, sepia-faded, wizened. Past. The berries he’s searching for don’t grow here anymore. Everything here is empty, barren, helplessly so.

Rafayel hasn’t accounted for such development, but he should have known. Disappointment stings at his chest, and bitterly he turns away and stays at the next town over. At a family-run restaurant situated near the outskirts, he looks over the wide windows, across the highway road, beyond the jagged horizon. The painting won’t be finished, then. Another tragedy, pressed flat next to the forgetting, to the waiting, and his home.

The chef personally serves him his order and, after a shuffle of hesitation, brings up a question.

“Young man, you came from the direction of the old country, yeah?”

Rafayel meets his inquisitive gaze. “Yes, why?”

“It’s been a while since we had someone visiting that place. There’s nothing in there anymore, it’s been that way for years. Why did you go there?”

Rafayel is reluctant to say, but at the guileless set of the older man’s face, he concedes.

“I was looking for berries. The ones native there. They produce a shade that I need for my painting.”

At the mention of the fruit, the chef’s expression lights up. “Oh! I see, I see. You’re in luck, son. We grow them here at the farm. Plenty of those for everyone. How about I give you some? It’s rare meeting someone who still remembers the old country, it’s almost fate. How many did you say you need?”

Fate. Just like the time of your first meeting, as if the universe had gifted you to him. Just like the time of your parting, of your forgetting, of his waiting. Fate as a connection from you to him, red and burning brightly.

He doesn’t want to seem eager, but he knows he’s failed from the way the chef toothily grins at him.

“A hundred or so.”

The chef falters at that, jerking slightly back. But he accepts it with a nod, an avuncular smile making its way across his kind, powdery features.

“That sure is a huge number, but I think we can work something out.”

+

His painting takes a month to complete, inclusive of the time spent making the ink from the acquired berries. Sometimes, Thomas watches him paint, quiet in the background. His stays usually don’t last—a quick flash that Rafayel nearly misses, or deliberately ignores. But during the final stages of the painting process, Thomas hands him the exhibit details.

“I’m just thankful you’re on time for this one.” He sighs, relieved, then leaves.

Alone, Rafayel creates. Brushstroke after careful brushstroke, each varying by pressure and angle. He lets each layer of paint dry before moving onto the next. The berry ink—the color of your eyes—the solely different element of this painting. Center, central. The focal point. The beating heart. The years and years of waiting and longing. The form and the flesh. Alive.

This, too, is an endpoint.

+

v. can i see your face, just this once? your hands grazed his mask like a ghost wanting to touch. rafayel stayed still beneath your desirous fingers, observing, waiting, his own fingers twitching towards his dagger. even in the parting he could not let go of this distance. hopeless, hopeless. your highness would get nothing out of seeing my face. he's wrong, his eyes never left your face, and he's wrong. he didn't stop you from your grasping of his mask, and him—finally—bare and beautiful yet a little sad. you're wrong, you said, tracing his slightly parted lips with a trembling finger, you're wrong. it is everything to me.

+

The gallery is packed. No surprise there. It’s almost boring, in a way. Waiting, Missing hangs at the farthest hall in the floor, special and intimate as it should be. Thomas knows him well; otherwise, Rafayel would have whined at him to hell and back just so he could be granted this demand that is in reality a mandate.

He’s hiding from the throngs of journalists and art critics alike and sequesters himself in a corner that has a clear view of the painting. Loosening his collar and tie, Rafayel breathes and closes his eyes, leans tiredly against the wall. A few more minutes, and he’ll slink out of the building, reputation be damned.

He melts into the shadows whenever somebody passes by. He has neither time nor energy interacting with people today. Watching them through half-mast eyes, Rafayel stays in his secret place and studies with weightless detachment the people looking at the painting.

He’s made a bet with himself about the opinions of his followers and admirers. Who thinks what and why. It makes for great entertainment. The last time, a fresh-faced critic praised Rafayel’s technique as “innovative and a soul-rending reflection of the prodigy’s character.” He had laughed and laughed for hours until he couldn’t breathe any longer.

Another walks by, and before Rafayel retreats further into the corner, he glimpses a familiar gait and a familiar face.

His heartbeat races. He’s never told you that he’s holding an exhibit today. After the professorship Rafayel failed to maintain communication with you, convincing himself that it’s for the best that he protect you from afar that day onwards. It didn’t help that he had to leave as well. At the same time, you never made an effort of reaching out, and Rafayel thought that it was back to square one again, that waiting, that yearning.

But here you are right now, elegantly dressed, like someone gliding out of a dream. Rafayel swallows, his hands shake. You do not have someone else with you, and your eyes are brightly focused on Waiting, Missing, and for a fleeting moment your expression flickers into longing, strange and old and battered and sad, that it compels Rafayel to take a step forward—to you.

“Hey.”

The curious look vanishes; left no traces in your delighted face, as if it wasn’t there in the first place. “Rafayel!” you exclaim. “Long time no see! Congratulations on the exhibit; these are all beautiful.”

Outwardly he smirks, belying the torrential emotions he’s currently going through. He cants his head a little, works his charm on you. “Impressed? No need to hold back your compliments.”

Laughter, prismatic and crystalline. “Yes, yes. Especially this one—Waiting, Missing. What an interesting title. At the center, what paint did you use?”

Ah. Rafayel inhales before answering. “It’s actually ink. I had to make it from a hundred berries. It was a tedious process, but I wouldn’t use anything else. It has to be this, you see.”

“Whoa, no wonder you’d been radio silent all this time. You were creating this masterpiece.”

He hums, afraid that, if he speaks, he’d reveal too much.

“Well …” You throw a playful glance at him. “Shouldn’t we celebrate your success?”

His breath catches. “I—”

Before he manages to finish the sentence, a journalist calls out to him and that summons plenty more, swarming him with no chance of escape. It pushes you out of his peripheral vision, and Rafayel wants to shout your name, but you smile and gesture at him to entertain them first. You mouth, I’ll be back, and wander around other paintings some more.

When he finally succeeds in shaking the journalists off, he seeks you out and stumbles upon you near the exit, where there’s fewer people to pile on him.

“Excellent,” he says, sidling up beside you. You turn to him and smile, and there’s that lightning-flash of something again. For one unbelievably surreal instant, Rafayel thinks that despite your hazy memories, maybe you’d been waiting for him all this time, too.

And that thought emboldens him, moving closer and closer until your bodies almost touch. An asymptote of contact. But this time, he has mustered the courage to close that unbridgeable gap.

Rafayel offers you his hand. “Let’s get out of here?”

You stare at his hand then at his face, his eyes, and a meaningful moment stretches between you and him. But even before the idea of retracting enters his mind, you grab his hand joyfully, grinning ear to ear. His heart warms, full with everything.

You squeeze his hand, ready to go. “Lead the way, then!”

+

vi. a kiss is a greeting and a goodbye, and rafayel tasted of ferocious tides even if you'd seen them only in dreams. his eyes closed, as though savoring his last moments with you, guarded till the bitter end. would that i could ask you to stay—with me. but he shook his head—a final rejection. maybe in another life. there was nobody to watch you cry, in the after.

+

Rafayel is working on a new painting—a portrait this time. The model squirms on his couch, obvious about the discomfort of posing for too long. He huffs a laugh to himself, hidden by the canvas strategically placed between them.

“I heard that,” you grumble.

“Shush, you’re breaking my concentration.”

“If that already breaks your focus then I pity the rest of the art community.” A beat, then: “Is it done?”

“Patience, my dear muse. You need endure it a little more.”

“Hmph, fine. But after this you’re treating me to an all-you-can-eat buffet.”

“All right, all right.” He shakes his head, fond. “My muse, so demanding.”

Something sweet touches the edge of his tongue, succulent with a hint of tartness. Like longing. Except now, it’s layered with something new and exciting. Something like a new beginning.

In the far distance, the sea murmurs, lit fire by the setting sun.

[iloveacaibowls111]

Memories of You ☆

SYNOPSIS: Satoru and his two children, Tsumiki and Megumi, watching old videos of you after you passed away.

A/N: I don't go into depth about what happened to you, so feel free to imagine whatever you want. You guys adopted the two kids when they were around 3-5 years old and they are currently around 9-10 years old.

‘Oscar, you rat!’ Your voice, sharp and playful, echoed throughout the empty cinema room, words bouncing off the dark walls. ‘It’s my necklace. Stop being so annoying.’

Satoru, Tsumiki and Megumi all sat cross-legged, mesmerised by the scene unfolding in front of them. The large cinema screen played a video of you at 18, long before Tokyo and the family that you had built here. Back then, in New York, you were a familiar face. A celebrity, of sorts. Your parents were very well known - Dad owned several multi-million dollar companies while Mom was a socialite. Naturally, your siblings and your younger years were captured in a reality series, documenting your life for the whole world to see. 

‘I love my siblings, one thousand percent. No doubt about it,’ your younger self chimed in from the screen. Though the same face they knew now, your hair was bleached blonde—a style choice you’d insisted on back then, convinced it ‘complemented’ your skin tone. “But sometimes they’re the most infuriatingly stupid people on this planet.”

‘Don’t say that about your siblings.’ Your mom’s reprimanding tone piped up from behind the camera, only to be met by the rolling of your eyes. 

“Fine, sorry.” You groaned, then, after glancing at the camera, flashed a mischievous smile. “But it’s true, though.”

Satoru sat quietly, watching the screen as your familiar voice filled the room. In this fleeting moment, he felt as though everything was normal again - like he could finally breathe without his lungs threatening to collapse under the weight of grief. He felt as though he was currently navigating his life completely in the dark, lost and heartbroken. The only source of light was the fading memories of you. He could feel the familiar welling of tears forming in his eyes and in this very moment, he was grateful for the fact that he was wearing his blindfold. His gaze shifted to Tsumiki and Megumi, seated on either side of him, and his heart ached even more deeply. If that were possible.

Tsumiki sat in silence, tears streaming down her face as her eyes were fixated on the sight of you laughing on the big screen. Her hands instinctively reached for the necklace she was wearing around her neck. The one that you had left her, a delicate Tiffany heart necklace that you had gotten from your mother. Your mother gave it to you as a birthday gift but you wanted it to be more meaningful for your little girl. So you before you gave it to her, you sat down and somewhat tried to construct a heartfelt emotional letter to her. “No matter what,” you had written, “I will always be with you, my sweet girl. I am your mother, and I’ll always love you.”

At that moment, you had wished you’d paid more attention in those English Lit classes.

Megumi was also silently sitting on the other side of Satoru, his small body pressed against your husband’s wide chest, intently watching the screen. Megumi was roughly rubbing his face every so often, in an attempt to hide the tears that were threatening to pour down. He wouldn’t cry, he refused to cry. He promised you that he’d stay strong for his sister and dad. Expressing emotions had never been his strength, but with you, it had been different. Probably because you are his mother. And moms just have that effect.

Suddenly, Satoru’s large arms wrapped around both children, pulling them close. They looked up, startled to see their usually playful, ever-humorous father staring ahead, a small tear trickled from behind his blindfold.

‘Dad, are you crying?’ Megumi quietly spoke, as if afraid to say the words too loud. 

‘No. Just allergies.’ Satoru looked down and gave Megumi a shaky grin. ‘I’m the strongest, I don’t cry.’ 

‘It’s okay, Mommy would forgive you if you cried. Just this once’ Megumi responded, his voice barely heard over you talking in the background. His tiny hand reached out, grasping Satoru’s. Megumi’s small fingers were enveloped by his father’s larger, trembling ones.

‘Where do you see yourself in 10 years, Y/N?’ The interviewer’s voice drawing the attention of the siblings. 

Your younger self paused, contemplating the question. “Honestly? I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice sweet yet certain, like honey. “But there’s one thing I’m sure of.”

‘And what’s that?’ 

“I’ll be with my family. My husband. My children. No matter what I’m doing, no matter where I am, I’ll have my family—one that I’ll love with all my heart. Even if I’m not around in ten years, I hope they know that I love them. I’ll always love them.”

The room fell into a hushed silence as the screen flickered, your bright eyes locking with the camera for just a moment, as if you were looking directly at them—at your family. And before the screen faded to black, you gave a final, playful wink.

[cosmicatta]

One Piece Novel: Law — a short analysis

So, after a long time trying to get my hands on the Law light novel, I was finally able to read it recently! And, because I'm an obnoxiously intense person who can't just be normal about things, I found myself taking notes about everything I judged interesting.

And I thought I could share! So here's a mostly improvised essay about the Law novel, how it portrays Law and what it reveals about him as a character.

Some notes before I start:

The edition I've read of this novel is the official Spanish translation by Planeta. When quoting and mentioning numbered pages, I'm referencing that edition.

I originally posted this on Twitter as a thread! If it sounds familiar, that might be why.

For those who haven't read the novel and might want to: be mindful of some trigger warnings, including gruesome medical descriptions, suicidal thoughts, mentions of abuse, and violence in general (I won't be touching on these subjects here though).

These are just my personal impressions, I'm not trying to tell anyone how they should interpret the novel or Law's character. I'm just doing this for fun!

The story takes place right after Cora dies, following young Law's journey as he makes it to Swallow Island and desperately tries to survive. There, he will meet Bepo, Penguin and Shachi, as well as Wolf, a novel-exclusive character that welcomes Law and the boys into his home as a family.

Overall, it's a very short read, agile and straightforward. The style is very juvenile, but that was to be expected, and I'd say it does a pretty good job at capturing the feeling of watching a One Piece episode. The novel does kinda feel like a mini arc.

I'm unsure if light novels can be considered 100% canon in general, but since the contents don't contradict anything from what we've already seen in the manga/anime, I'm going to assume we can at least take the events described in this one as canon.

But I'll leave the plot aside a little bit to focus more on Law's psyche, analyzing everything in the novel as material that helps us further understand him.

The entire book (save from a few specific passages) is written from Law's point of view and in first person, so it offers a more in-depth look at his way of thinking, motivations and ideals.

What I find most interesting in this sense is that the whole story is very centered around Law's kindness. Though he does admit several times that he had wanted to see the world burn when he was under Doflamingo's care (as we already know from the source material), the novel makes it very obvious that Law's true nature is compassionate. His inner voice even explicitly states that he enjoys helping and making others happy. (Quotes roughly translated from Spanish):

P. 27: "And I felt very comfortable collaborating with the task of helping others."

P. 92: "Knowing that I was going to free a person from their pain [...] gave me a joy I had never experienced before."

P. 136: "Just imagining the surprised faces of the Old Man, Bepo and the others brought a smile to my face" [when planning on getting fresh fish for dinner as a surprise].

And, despite living under Wolf's motto of "give to take," Law never expects anything in return for any of his good actions. In fact, he gets furious at Wolf himself when, after saving his life, the old man insists on giving Law anything he demands as compensation.

P. 120: "I didn't save you because I wanted a reward!" [...] They [Bepo, Shachi and Penguin] burst into tears of happiness when they realized that you had survived. That's more than enough for me! [...]" I won't let you belittle their tears!"

But even then, Law keeps arguing that he only saved Wolf "on a whim," much like he would say years later when asked why he chose to save Luffy's life. This is a common theme throughout the whole book (which is also pretty obvious in the manga)—Law doesn't recognize his own kindness.

It's not modesty or shyness, his inner monologue makes it very clear that he doesn't see himself as good-natured, and is often confused at his own motivations.

In their first meeting, when Bepo asks him why he is so nice to him, Law doesn't know what to answer; and after that, when Law finds himself wondering why he's trying so hard to save Shachi and Penguin despite their past history, he blames it all on "doctor's pride."

P. 48: "I wasn't even a good person."

Still, regardless of what Law might think of himself, living in Swallow Island seems to be making him progressively gentler. He was wary and hostile towards Wolf at first, but eventually lets himself trust people again, trying to honor Cora's memory and what he taught Law.

In Swallow Island he builds his new found family little by little, though never letting go of Cora and what he meant to Law.

P. 39: "Cora and I were family, that's what I felt at heart, I had no doubts. We had loved each other without saying it out loud [...] Would I feel the same for the Old Man and Bepo eventually?"

Slowly, he starts finding comfort and joy in community. He lets himself be carefree around his new friends, treating them with open affection, laughing and being surprisingly enthusiastic (although he quickly starts taking his role as a leader very seriously, and sometimes avoids showing weakness around them so as not to worry them.)

Law even gets to become an active part of life in Pleasure Town, where he and the other boys are cherished after 3 years living and working there. He's comfortable with his role in the community and appreciates the people in town. His sense of duty towards them shines especially when the pirates arrive to attack the town.

Again, this contrasts with how Law sees himself even in the manga/anime, where he insists that he acts mostly out of selfishness and only seeking his own benefit (or, in the best of cases "on a whim.")

But the truth is that Law's decisions are almost always related to other people's desires.

In this sense, the concept of guilt is also key to understand Law's motivations and his relationship with the world as a whole. This is especially obvious when it comes to Cora—Law even briefly wishes that they had never met, so that Cora would still be alive (p. 128-129.)

In a way, guilt is what moves Law forward, and what slowly starts transforming into a thirst for revenge, into rage and hatred towards Doflamingo and possibly towards himself too. It's a kind of tragic guilt born out of love.

His love for Cora still haunts him, his last wish for Law is the big enigma that he tries to solve during his 3 years in Swallow Island: be free. What is freedom to Law? How can he fulfill Cora's request? This is the question that gives meaning to the novel.

We know that Law wouldn't feel free until finally taking down Doflamingo and avenging Cora's death many years later, but he hasn't reached that point of determination in the novel yet. Maybe that's what gives the narration that hopeful and optimistic tone, with a young Law that's still finding himself, experiencing wonder in loving again, and learning what it means for him to be true to his values. It's the start of an adventure, and its core theme is love.

The ending illustrates this very well; I especially like the moment where Law names the crew as they're setting sail:

P. 243: "Cora's love that he showed me, Wolf's affection, the trust I had in my companions. One word embodied it all: Heart."

It is love that gives Law a reason to keep going. And I'm so glad that the novel doesn't shy away from this fact and isn't afraid of sounding "sappy" or "corny," because I do believe emotion is a very important part of Law's character.

The epilogue closes with a very interesting quote in the last page:

"You hear that, Cora? This is my... This is our pirate crew."

It is unclear if by "our" he is referring to himself and Cora, as if dedicating this new beginning to him, or if he means him and his crew. I'd personally like to think he means it both ways. But in any case, it's interesting that he openly shares the honor of "owning" his crew with someone else. He is the captain, but not the owner. It's another little way in which his generosity is evidenced.

Overall, it was a very enjoyable read, and it left me wanting more. Obviously, it's not a literature masterpiece, but it gives a lot of interesting material for character analysis, which is super fun.

Finally, here’s a few fun facts for those who can’t/don’t want to read the novel but enjoy the little trivia:

The Polar Tang was built and designed by Wolf.

Law’s first tattoo was "DEATH," and he got it at a local tattoo shop in Pleasure Town at around 15 years old.

Shachi and Penguin are childhood friends and likely met through their parents.

Shachi had always wanted to be a hair stylist.

Law is bad at cooking.

Both Shachi and Penguin are good at cooking, especially Penguin, who worked as a waiter in Pleasure Town.

The Hearts’ jolly roger was collectively designed by Law, Bepo, Shachi and Penguin days before leaving Swallow Island.

Law decided the name of their crew upon setting sail for the first time.

And I think that's all! ♥ I hope my rambling was enjoyable at least!

Edit: I've now posted an analysis of the Ace novels too!

[radiance1]

Hello people.

Using this from Herald of Seasons drabble, and this here reply from the wonderful @percyisawesome

So I'm gonna say that the Herald of Seasons title Vortex gave his little guy was split between Danny and Phantom, Danny getting Spring and Summer and Phantom getting Fall and Winter. Because of that I'm gonna say that both of them like the rain and snow as a little flavor thing :3

So Danny still gets dropped kicked out of the zone to DC by a ghost who didn't want a living person in the zone, who then gets beaten up by Vortex for putting his hands on his little guy, and Danny brings along the seasons and stuff.

Except that Danny can't easily guide Fall or Winter as he could Spring or Summer, because that wasn't his role, that one fell to Phantom. But he still does it because, well, Phantom is there to do those things, he's still in the DP dimension., even though it puts some strain on him to do these things.

So he meets Batman, gives him a snowflake (accessing the power of ice is easier than guiding Fall and Winter), and then leaves hoping to encounter him next Spring. Then Phantom manages to find his way to the DC verse and he kinda, well.

He kinda fucks shit up.

You get Winter, and you get fall, you get winter and on and on. Sending chaos to the balance that Danny tried to create and when he's made aware of it, he drops what he was doing to go and put it back into order and Phantom's already gone to spread more cold.

This, obviously, gets the attention of the Justice League due to sudden change in the weather all over the place. So, they get to investigating, find it to be someone deliberately changing the weather, and quite violently at that.

Batman instantly thinks back to that child he met, proclaiming himself to be the Herald of Seasons. The boy didn't seem to be the type to do this based on their conversation, nor how he waited for the rain to finish before calling forth snow.

Batman doesn't want to jump to any conclusions yet, but he'll keep note of the information, and also shares it with the rest of the Justice League just in case.

Danny is kinda running himself ragged trying to clean up the sudden changing of Seasons, for every Fall and Winter he reverts back to Spring and Summer, another takes its place. Eventually, the Justice League manages to crack down on Phantom's location, and pulls up to stop him from continuing this unnatural weather changing.

Phantom takes one look at Batman, and instantly guns for him because of that snowflake he has hiding in his suit. Unfortunately for Phantom, there's some heavy hitters in the Justice League, as well as Justice League dark who pulled up because this was an incident of magical capacity.

So Phantom gets hold in check, and the JL just sees a child meta that's the source of everything going on here, and, while fighting, try to talk him down from all of this but Phantom?

Phantom just does not care. He goddamn hates humans, because all they want to do is try to capture and tear him apart under a light, so he decided to destroy them first before they destroy him, hence the massive and violent change in weather.

Just as a massive Winter is over the city they were fighting with and the Justice League getting more and more convinced that they can't communicate with Phantom. It suddenly becomes lighter, the storm, I mean.

Danny appears.

He's finally caught up with Phantom, who was causing an imbalance in nature that he established and tried hard to keep. Checks on Batman because hey that's his friend, and also tries to talk Phantom down.

He gets farther than the Justice League, and the storm gets lighter and lighter, the area almost coming back to its natural season, until communications broke down because Phantom got shot at.

Who? Why none other than the GIW, of course! They followed him to the DC verse, and Phantom's recent actions only reinforced their views on ghosts.

Unfortunately, Danny becomes the focus of Phantom's rage and faces the brunt of the attack to do being so close, he thinks that Danny, a human is allied with the GIW, and even if he felt familiar he couldn't care anymore because the men in white lied, the girl who called him her brother lied, the one calling themselves his friends lied and the ones who called themselves his parents lied.

Danny lied. Phantom didn't know why he cared so much, but it just hit harder than any other time.

Humans always lie.

So Danny gets injured, and a fight breaks out with the GIW trying to get both Phantom and Danny. Because the boy was obviously also a ghost if he was able to talk with Phantom.

Unfortunately for them, the JL puts a stop to that.

Phantom is on the full offensive, while Danny is on the defensive. Mostly because Danny doesn't really, fight, magically at least. He knows martial arts, but Phantom does as well, and Phantom due to being a ghost is physically stronger than him, so he would have to resort to magical might, rather than physical.

Unfortunately, due to his usual use of guiding rather than forcing as Phantom did and also because Phantom used his powers to fight and fend off the GIW, he doesn't have as much experience with fighting with the elements.

So, he's mostly reacting here, rather than acting.

Even worse when he's injured as well. Eventually, Phantom escapes, and Danny gets taken to get medical attention in the League base by Batman.

[hana-no-seiiki]

HELLO??? WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THIS MASTERPIECE??? especially the last line holy shit im scared yet excited at the same time 😬😬

YANDERE! AQUAMARINE HOSHINO x REINCARNATED! READER x YANDERE! RUBY

Guess I gotta do a full fic about it huh. Here we go. Link to previous part in the ask!

tw/cw: yandere themes, gaslight tactics courtesy of aqua, girlkeep tactics courtesy of ruby, girlboss [y/n]. mentions of suicide. reader is gn but gets described as beautiful.

is this really a yandere fic when both the twins are canonically insane tho-

IT WAS SAID THAT DURING THE NIGHT OF YOUR BIRTH THE SUN WAS AT ITS HIGHEST POINT AND FULLEST BLOOM.

Its rays buried humanity under a blanket of heat and devastation. Fortunetellers would wax on and on of the disasters you would soon bring upon the world.

That was your experience in your first life.

Many could only wish of being born to a worldwide pop-star, but to you it was a reality. You resented those that vied for your place. How could they romanticize such a life when every single day was torture for you. Some predicted you to be world-class singer before your first cry. People knew you before you could even speak to them. Everyone already idolized you, expected you to do great things before you’d even learn the alphabet.

The pressure had already been insurmountable the moment you took your first breath.

Your second life was terrifying to say the least. It didn’t matter that way you died before, just the thought of experiencing the same motions again frightened you to your bones.

And so you pretended. A shining star to a dim moon that barely reflected any light. Ever so meticulously making sure none knew of your so called genius. The last thing you wanted was to be labeled a prodigy even with the more lax nature of your new family.

But art will always call to you, a sunflower drawn to its source of energy.

You kept everything as lowkey as you could, reconnected with contacts you knew would keep their mouth shut, and even kept your identity away from prying eyes.

To the world you were just this masked musician that was oddly reminiscent of their previous luminescence.

You were satisfied with that life. Fame wasn’t something you agonized about or wished for. But now that veil had been taken away, it’s as if everything was crashing down yet again. Emails, messages and articles about your success as a young star was beginning to show its true weight. Stress began accumulating further and further as you had distanced yourself from your family and threw yourself to work as a distraction.

On one such ‘productive’ night, you were met with a face you didn’t expect.

“Aqua-niisama! Nice seeing you here. Thought you would be staying at that director’s place for the night—“

“Why didn’t you tell me? Didn’t you promise to tell me everything? Don’t you trust me?”

Aquamarine had this knack of being utterly terrifying without meaning to. He had the talent to frighten at a glance. His beautiful sea-like eyes turn dull, murky. Capturing all the light, and drowning you in the same pressure your old family would throw you under repeatedly.

With his arms caging you between his form and the wall, you knew there was no escaping this. So in spite of the crippling anxiety, you gulp it do

“I wasn’t confident enough with my skills. Your mom is the Ai Hoshino and Ruby is so talented I—“

He lowered his face, nestled it right beside yours. You could swear he was breathing in your scent. “You looked anything but ‘not confident’ up on the stage.”

“Liar.” His hands then moved from the wall to encircle themselves around your body; his face to your the top of your head and nose between your hair. Yet even in this tight embrace you still felt chills down your spine. “I scare you don’t I? You were worried that I would stop you like I did with her.”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry. I’m a terrible brother.”

“No, I understand you. You just wanted to keep her safe and I—“

“Not for that.” He pushed himself away for a couple of moments, and for that short amount of time you were ashamed to say that you felt utterly relieved until— “This.”

— he kissed you.

You’ve seen Aqua kiss Akane before. Both on and out of camera. You respected their relationship despite knowing of how unhealthy it truly is. They’d eventually break up and things would go smoothly you thought.

Pfft, as if. You knew shit would hit the fan. You were just too much of a coward to get in his way. Akane could suffer for all you care, she chose to date your psychopath of an adoptive brother anyways.

But you didn’t expect him to fall for you.

He never seem interested. Despite your mother telling you time and time again that Aqua cared deeply about you, you just couldn’t see it.

He was the deep, dark ocean. You were at the highest point of the sky, sailing across the cosmic sea. There was no way you two could meet eye to eye much less love normally.

You did the only thing your body could muster at the moment and slapped him.

“You’re right. You are a horrid brother.”

As you ran away, sobbing, Aqua couldn’t help but feel aroused.

Oh, how charming you looked with tears streaking down your cheeks.

It felt like hours when you first started crying nonstop. You never cried in your original life. You had no time or energy to. You never expected that your second, mundane life would be the one that shattered you.

And shattered you it did. You felt sorry for the future you who had to wash off all the tears and snot on your pillows and bedsheets, but it had to be done. You knew if you didn’t let it all out that day it’d happen sooner or later at a more inconvenient time.

Aqua only entered once to leave a tissue box and water bottle before he left. The sounds of typing outside of your room never ceased however, indicating he never actually went too far.

Ruby arrived far earlier than you expected as well. Her schedule that day should have had her busy til midnight but you had the feeling Aqua told her what he’d done.

“Ruby-nee—“

“Ssshhh…” Ruby silenced you with a kiss to the forehead.

“Why would he do that— he - he has a girlfriend.” You stuttered and hiccuped throughout your speech, still crying as hard as you did back then.

“Do you really think he loves her?”

“No.”

“But that isn’t what you’re worried about isn’t it?”

Ruby brought you up to her shoulder, massaging your back in a circular motion. “Trust me, nothing will change. He loves you very much. We both love you. I’m just sorry we didn’t make you feel comfortable enough to share your passion with us. You’re amazing [Y/N] in every shape, way or form. You don’t have to be the brightest to the world, you have no obligation to.”

“To us you’re already perfect.”

You never knew she had the capability to be this comforting in a mature sort of way. She always radiated a loud vibration; refreshing most of the time, though it did get tiring.

Never have you been afforded this kind of consolation. It was always you against the world. Being reminded that there are other stars in the sky beside you gave you a strange sense of solace. An odd variety of relief borne out of being insignificant in the sky.

“This incident just means he loves you in a different way alright?”

“But what about Aka-neesama?”

“I’ll talk to him about it.”

“You should thank me. I left them all vulnerable for you.” Aqua spoke, his right hand quickly moved across his laptop’s keyboard and his left held a can of Monster.

“You felt it too didn’t you?” Ruby exhaled. It took a while to get you to lull you into sleep; a necessary step to have the conversation she was partaking in.

“Yeah. . . I did.” Aqua took a sip from his drink, his starry eyes laser focused on the recording of your performance. He had set up several fan accounts and gotten footage from all sorts of angles. He couldn’t wait for your next stage. May it be from sheer excitement or the caffeine in his blood, but the man was absolutely shaking all over over in anticipation. “We have a second chance, don’t mess things up.”

“I should be saying that to you. Break up with Akane by next week. And be careful with how forward you are with your feelings.”

“Already done.” Aqua held up his phone without breaking moving his head at all, in his phone were a few texts between him and a panicking Akane. “and no promises”

Ruby sighed one last time that night, leaning her head back to your bedroom door. “. . . You were right.”

“Hm?”

Both of her eye’s stars hard turn tar black, a blush covered her cheeks.

“[Y/N] does look enticing when they cry.”

[novlr]

how to describe? Houses, rooms, interiors, palaces, etc?

Creating immersive descriptions of indoor spaces is more than just scene setting—it’s an invitation to the reader to step into your world. Describing the interior of buildings with vivid detail can draw readers into your narrative. So let’s explore how to describe interiors using multiple sensory experiences and contexts.

Sights

Lighting: soft glow of lamps, harsh fluorescent lights, or natural light.

Colour and textures; peeling paint, plush velvet, or sleek marble.

Size and scale: is it claustrophobically small or impressively grand?

Architectural features: high ceilings, crown mouldings, or exposed beams.

Furnishings: are they modern, sparse, antique, or cluttered?

Style and decor: what style is represented, and how does it affect the atmosphere?

State of repair: is the space well-kept, neglected, or under renovation?

Perspective and layout: how do spaces flow into each other?

Unique design features: describe sculptural elements, or things that stand out.

Spatial relationships: describe how objects are arranged—what’s next to, across from, or underneath something else?

Sounds

Describe echoes in large spaces or the muffled quality of sound in carpeted or furnished rooms.

Note background noises; is there a persistent hum of an air conditioner, or the tick of a clock?

Describe the sound of footsteps; do they click, scuff, or are they inaudible?

Include voices; are they loud and echoing or soft and absorbed?

Is there music? Is it piped in, coming from a live source, or perhaps drifting in from outside?

Capture the sounds of activity; typing, machinery, kitchen noises, etc.

Describe natural sounds; birds outside the window, or the rustle of trees.

Consider sound dynamics; is the space acoustically lively or deadened?

Include unexpected noises that might be unique to the building.

Consider silence as a sound quality. What does the absence of noise convey?

Smells

Identify cleaning products or air fresheners. Do they create a sterile or inviting smell?

Describe cooking smells if near a kitchen; can you identify specific foods?

Mention natural scents; does the room smell of wood, plants, or stone?

Are there musty or stale smells in less ventilated spaces?

Note the smell of new materials; fresh paint, new carpet, or upholstery.

Point out if there’s an absence of smell, which can be as notable as a powerful scent.

Consider personal scents; perfume, sweat, or the hint of someone’s presence.

Include scents from outside that find their way in; ocean air, city smells, etc.

Use metaphors and similes to relate unfamiliar smells to common experiences.

Describe intensity and layering of scents; is there a primary scent supported by subtler ones?

Activities

Describe people’s actions; are they relaxing, working, hurried, or leisurely?

Does the space have a traditional use? What do people come there to do?

Note mechanical activity; elevators moving, printers printing, etc.

Include interactions; are people talking, arguing, or collaborating?

Mention solitary activities; someone reading, writing, or involved in a hobby.

Capture movements; are there servers bustling about, or a janitor sweeping?

Observe routines and rituals; opening blinds in the morning, locking doors at night.

Include energetic activities; perhaps children playing or a bustling trade floor.

Note restful moments; spaces where people come to unwind or reflect.

Describe cultural or community activities that might be unique to the space.

Decorative style

Describe the overall style; is it minimalist, baroque, industrial, or something else?

Note period influences; does the decor reflect a specific era or design movement?

Include colour schemes and how they play with or against each other.

Mention patterns; on wallpaper, upholstery, or tiles.

Describe textural contrasts; rough against smooth, shiny against matte.

Observe symmetry or asymmetry in design.

Note the presence of signature pieces; a chandelier, an antique desk, or a modern art installation.

Mention thematic elements; nautical, floral, astronomical, etc.

Describe homemade or bespoke items that add character.

Include repetitive elements; motifs that appear throughout the space.

History

Mention historical usage; was the building repurposed, and does it keep its original function?

Describe architectural time periods; identify features that pinpoint the era of construction.

Note changes over time; upgrades, downgrades, or restorations.

Include historical events that took place within or affected the building.

Mention local or regional history that influenced the building’s design or function.

Describe preservation efforts; are there plaques, restored areas, or visible signs of aging?

[ilreleonewikiart]

TDIOBCB challenge - day 22:

Aegon and Daenaera's wedding in 136 AC

"The highly anticipated union between Prince Aegon Targaryen and Lady Daenaera Velaryon was a grand spectacle, unparalleled and captivating the hearts of all fortunate enough to bear witness. The Dragonpit, the sole edifice in the entire capital city capable of accommodating the nearly seventy thousand guests, overflowed with exuberance and anticipation as the two young lovers made their entrance. (…) The clamour was momentarily silenced by the resounding roar of a dragon, signifying the arrival of the bridegroom. The world seemed to hold its breath as Crown Prince Aegon Targaryen, adorned in a simple yet regal ensemble of dark blue velvet and golden filigree, strode into the Dragonpit.(…) Innumerable songs and artworks would emerge in the years that followed, all striving to immortalize that precise instant when every soul, from the foremost to the rearmost, pivoted to behold the entrance of the youthful and graceful bride. Nevertheless, words alone proved feeble in capturing the awe-inspiring spectacle that unfolded within those grand walls on that spring morning. The bride, the only child of the late Lady Laena, with her flawless visage adorned with clear, brilliant blue eyes and a cascade of the purest silver hair, appeared as if plucked from the pages of a tome, her very presence an embodiment of beauty.  (…) But it was the magnificent gown she wore, concealed mostly beneath her house's sigil-adorned cloak, that attracted all the bulk of the attention, stirring deep envy and boundless admiration among many a lady and noblewoman. It was clear to all, even the most unrefined, that the gown was an exemplar of craftsmanship and quality; a far cry from the pedestrian attire donned by noblewomen in the countryside, woven from fabrics procured from merchants of dubious repute, in their delusion of appearing as capital ladies. This exquisite creation was hewn from genuine and precious white silk sourced from the distant isle of Leng, wich under the sun's gaze, gleamed with blue and silver hues, akin to summer sea waves. The fabric, inherently precious, was adorned throughout with intricate undulating silver embroideries, reminiscent of the tranquil ebb and flow of ocean tides, a testament to the artistry of Myrish weavers; even the jewellery was of an exceptional nature, forged from the most precious shells, the whitest mother-of-pearl, and the most delicate corals, all procured from the shores of Driftmark, specially presented by her cousin, the Lord, for this momentous occasion. (…) The prince and his princess looked ethereal, as if they were celestial beings brought down to grace the mortal realm. The splendor of the late morning light, filtered through the large oval opening in the center of the colossal stone dome above them, bathed them in a radiant glow, making them shine like stars in the night sky. The mere sight of the kiss they exchanged sent the whole arena into raptures."

 - from TDIOBCB chp 2

(warning: these illustrations are inspired by an AU Divergence and have nothing to do with canon (book or tv show) events and are not meant to be reposted outside of their contest)

[zethsdumpster]

au where Sora is a nature spirit that Judge tricked and shackled to himself

With her last breath she hid her children from Judge, sending them away but unintentionally locking them where they landed

Sanji ends up in a somewhat populated place

Yonji and Reiju end up close by populated places

And Ichiji and Niji ending up pretty isolated

(Ofc Judge is looking for them)

Sanji is on a beach, the area they can move around isn't small, but Sanji isn't able to reach any food source, fortunately, Zeff ends up there and ends up taking care of him. Sanji doesn't tell him but Zeff isn't stupid, he realizes that 1 - this kid isn't completely human, and 2 - he is locked in place, so he has their house and restaurant built there. Ofc it becomes popular and the nearest city slowly grows its way closer and closer to the area Sanji is sealed in. Zeff is also looking for a way to free Sanji from his curse.

Both Reiju and Yonji end up in borders, able to reach the outskirts of the nearest cities.

Reiju becomes a bit of a local deity, since she's the oldest (hence the one that was able to spend more time with Sora) she has better control/understanding of her powers and is able to make deals and help people (as well as defend herself)

Yonji becomes more of an urban legend, sometimes interacting with people (mostly those who seem to be his age, but sometimes others too, as long as they seem interesting) and using his long reach to steal stuff whenever he wants/needs.

Niji ended up high in a mountain while Ichiji ended up in the deepest parts of a forest, both almost completely isolated, the only reason they didn't go completely feral was because of their mother's blood in their veins. Niji is the one with the least amount of control over his powers so the mountain top is in an almost eternal electric storm, It ends up attracting some other spirits that end up settling in his general area, but Niji doesn't like them very much (they're Kaido and his gang). there’s a small village at the base of the mountain Niji is trapped on and they sincerely believe he controls the weather so they send offerings to him, Niji doesn't learn about them until later but the citizens are sure that the mountain is cursed (cuz of Niji)

Ichiji, when he first gets trapped, loses control and ends up torching a good chunk of the forest early on and has to live with the fact that his permanent new home is a charred wasteland unless he can get himself under control, And then overcompensated and the new grown plants barely let any light pass through But it's fine, Ichiji is his own source of light He's so deep in the forest he's only ever found by people who get lost, at first he tried to keep them there, but there's no way for mortals to survive the way he lives, so they ended up dying which only caused him distress, so he ended up deciding to completely avoid people or sth, he ended up learning how to use his ability to create firefly lights to guide people to their paths the anxiety that consumed him when Ace ends up there and decides to stay with him (he's in hiding, if he leaves he'll be captured and killed)

Ichiji, always shrouded in darkness, people are usually only able to see his bright eyes and whatever lil else his lights illuminate (he's terrifying, but he also guides the innocent back home) Sora's powers mainly had to do with the wind and all her kids also have some minor wind abilities which are also what have allowed them to at least keep each other somewhat updated (i picture it more like the wind telling them random stuff that them actually controlling that) so maybe the wind sometimes tells Ichiji about what the people who end up there have done (since he needs the wind to tell him where he should guide them to) so he decides whether he wants to help them or kill them uwu

Niji doesn't like Kaido and his men, they keep pestering him about joining (submitting to) Kaido. Kaido can't enter Niji's sealed area because the same magic that keeps him in place also keeps overly dangerous beings like Kaido out. But others like Yamato, Ulti and Page 1 can (yes, he does end up at least making out with each one of those three at least once)

In this au the Marines are kind of a "Fae hunting" organization, they "take care" of "dangerous and malicious" spirits, while MADs study them (and experiments on them)

While the revolutionaries rescue and protect all the spirits that actually aren't malicious & dangerous.

Which is how Sabo ends up looking for (and finding) the Long Arm Man, his "legend" has outgrown his small city by a lot and the Marines will arrive at any moment for it, so the Revolutionaries will beat them to it.

This is also the reason Ace ended up on the run and hiding in Ichiji's forest.

His father was an incredibly powerful fire spirit and the Marines found and caught Ace, he was fortunately rescued but it was a close call and he's still very much in danger.

Neither Luffy nor Sabo are spirits, but Luffy is the chosen vessel of the Sun God Nika (something only a few people know about him) and Sabo has a spirit deal with Ace which allows him to use his fire abilities (to no to the same extent or as powerful as Ace specially when they're far away from each other and also lets them be somewhat aware of each other's safety and location)

the town Reiju ended up near by being the one where Mihawk and/or Gecko Moria live so she and Perona can have a childhood sweethearts/friends to lovers and that part of the reason of Perona's obsession with the occult is 1 - the fact that she can see ghosts and 2 - find a way to free Reiju

when Sabo finally learns that this super weird guy is the Long Arm Man he's gonna be like: we have to leave Yonji: lmao, good luck with that

now we have 4 different people trying to free these morons (cuz ofc Kaido wants to drag Niji out of there) 3 of those 4 will definitely end up joining forces

meanwhile, Acechiji is chilling in the dark

there's a problem with freeing them tho

the only reason Judge was unable to find them was because of the same spell that kept them in place

Judge will probably find them rather easy once they're free

Luffy, unintentionally, frees Sanji (cuz being Nika's vessel grants him that kinda power) Sanji and Zeff are super confused but happy and ofc Luffy takes Sanji on his quest for adventure

Ichiji who hasn't seen sunlight in literal years so he needs to keep his eyes covered and Ace helps him move around

I'm thinking that freeing Sanji should also have an effect on the others' seals, like, maybe now Kaido can reach Niji and Judge can find them (even if he can't take them away)

[elyssialumengard]

Alastor x Reader : Fragile Link ( Part 2 )

______________________________________________

Link to the first part for those who haven't read it :

https://www.tumblr.com/elyssialumengard/741783404758073344/alastor-x-reader-fragile-link-part-1?source=share

Summary : In this chapter, Charlie presents his redemption hotel project to (y/n), an powerful overlord. Alastor, with his own motives, tries to persuade (y/n) to become involved in their confrontation against Adam.

______________________________________________

Taku knocked a second time, but the silence remained implacable.

Tangible anxiety flashed across his face as he prepared to strike a third time, softly saying :

- My Lady, may I come in ?

Getting no response, he made a face that the two people behind him did not see. Charlie frowned at Alastor, wondering what was going on. The radio demon tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowing, wondering why (y/n) was slow to respond, when usually, she was so responsive. He could sense her presence, so it wasn't due to a mistake in location.

The demon, under the overlord's orders, did not hesitate to not ask permission, instead deciding to carefully push open the door. He entered, Charlie and Alastor on his heels, where the blonde was amazed by the clean layout of the place.

The room was bathed in soft, calming light that filtered through the thin curtains, letting in the golden rays of the artificial sun. The walls were painted in light tones, accentuating the brightness of the room and creating a warm atmosphere. Delicately framed paintings adorned the walls, bringing an artistic touch to the whole.

At the back of the room, a solid wooden desk was placed, on which were placed a kettle, a selection of fine teas in pretty metal boxes, delicately decorated porcelain cups, as well as small biscuits arranged on a plate.

Two plush sofas were placed opposite each other in the center, separated by a glass coffee table on which were a few magazines and a vase filled with fresh flowers. The elegantly patterned cushions added a touch of color and comfort to the seating.

Shelves full of books stretched along one of the walls, offering a varied selection of reading material for all tastes. Potted plants were scattered here and there, bringing greenery and freshness to the room.

In this welcoming and peaceful environment, (y/n) stood near a window, her back, silently contemplating the landscape through the glass, absorbed in her thoughts.

Approaching with growing concern, Taku called out to him again. Hearing this time, (y/n) gracefully pivoted towards them, revealing her strangely angelic appearance, which always disconcerted those who saw her for the first time.

Her hair, as white as fresh snow, flowed in silky cascades around her face, framing delicate, celestial features. His gaze, both gentle and penetrating, could have probed the deepest souls. Slight wrinkles framed her eyes, testifying to the countless trials she had endured. Fine deer antlers stood on the top of his head, rather large, extending back, adorned with light beads that had been made for her decades ago.

She was wrapped in a long taupe gray t-shirt, loose and flowing, the long sleeves of which fell almost delicately over her slender hands. The hem of the garment caressed the bottom of her buttocks while she had taken care to slip the front into her straight black fabric pants, thus defining her silhouette. A navy blue belt, carefully adjusted, captured the whole in subtle harmony. On her feet, sandals matching the color of the belt, with black wedge heels, seemed to extend the slender line of her legs.

Despite the apparent casualness of her outfit, she emanated an aura of dignity and serenity, giving her presence a natural nobility and captivating maturity.

Yet, despite the brilliance of her beauty and the imposing aura that surrounded her, an enigmatic fragility seemed to emanate from her, as if the burden of the entire world rested on her proud shoulders. Silent tears beading from her white eyelashes, sliding slowly down her cheeks, leaving in their wake sparkling traces on the porcelain of her skin.

Faced with this heartbreaking vision, Charlie's heart ached with empathy. She could almost feel the pain and suffering emanating from (y/n), even though she didn't know her.

Ignoring Charlie and Alastor, (y/n) walked towards Taku who was walking towards her. Their gestures betrayed a deep and ancient familiarity. She held out a trembling hand, which Taku took tenderly, placing his other hand on her hip for support.

Tears continued to fall down (y/n)’s cheeks as she begged for comfort.

- Taku... I am gripped by doubt and torment... Did I make the right decision ? Was I right to act this way ? She whispered in a broken voice. My heart breaks thinking that another member of my family will suffer loneliness and fear because of the consequences of my actions.

Taku looked at her affectionately, his hand gently stroking hers to comfort her.

- You acted according to your duty. He replied in a soothing voice. Lynn broke established laws. It has threatened the balance that you have so ardently preserved. You had no choice but to punish him.

An encouraging smile appeared on Taku's lips, trying to ease his mistress' pain.

- Your wisdom and prudence have protected our family and our territory. Don't let the burden of your decisions torment you. We are all at your side, aware of the rules, ready to support your choices, however difficult they may be.

(y/n) closed her eyes, feeling the tears continue to fall down her cheeks despite her efforts to hold them back.

- I know, Taku... I realize that none of you hated me for that, that I did what had to be done, but... But that doesn't lessen the pain. She whispered, letting out a sigh of sorrow.

Taku, still close to her, dried her tears delicately, his fingers tenderly caressing her skin. He moved even closer, trying to offer her whatever comfort he could in this moment of torment and vulnerability, no longer caring at all about the guests.

Observing this touching scene, Charlie was overcome by an emotion mixed with surprise and fascination. She didn't expect such intimacy between Taku and (y/n), but she couldn't help but find it magnificent, given the evidence of the deep attachment between them.

While as far as Alastor was concerned, he felt a surge of rage wash over him, his fingers tightening around the top of his cane with increasing intensity. His sinister smile widened, tinged with a dark glow as he observed this lesser demon, acting as if he was entitled to such closeness.

A shadow passed through his eyes, mixing jealousy and desire for possession.

- Remember this, my Lady. Your wisdom has always brought us serenity and protection. Your decisions were dictated by necessity and prudence. He continued in a soothing voice, trying to ease her pain.

(y/n) listened carefully to her advisor's comforting words, her expression relaxing slightly under his influence. However, when she heard the crackles of the radio growing louder in the room, her eyes suddenly widened, recognizing the sound with a disturbing certainty.

- Alastor, I advise you to control your emotions. Taku intervened, diverting his attention to the demon. I did not grant you an audience here, with my Lady, for you to cause trouble.

Alastor bit back a growl, his stag horns growing slightly in response to his growing frustration.

- I'm not the one who starts the trouble, my dear Taku. He replied, his gaze burning with a dark glow. But no matter, I wouldn't want to spoil your little intimate moment with your precious overlord. He added acerbically, his pupils narrowing, leaving more room for the black of his eyes.

Before Taku could respond, a bitter cold suddenly filled the room, dropping the temperature several degrees and obscuring the surrounding light. (y/n)'s silver eyes glowed menacingly as she stared at Alastor with an icy intensity, filled with hatred and menace.

Detaching itself slightly from Taku, (y/n)'s aura transformed into a terrifying presence, imbuing the room with a heavy and sinister atmosphere. His antlers grew larger as did his shadow which expanded, morphing into a tight grip around Alastor's body, immobilizing him. All this happened in barely the blink of an eye. Alastor's mischievous smile froze, becoming more awkward as he tried to keep his composure.

Charlie, panicked, let out a little cry of fear when she saw Alastor in danger. (y/n) walked towards him with determined steps, her piercing gaze staring at him intensely. Once in front of him, the same size, she addressed him in a cold voice :

-What are you here for, radio demon ?

Aware of the palpable threat in the air, Alastor responded with feigned confidence :

- Just to chat, my dear overlord. I come as a friend, as always.

- As friends ? She replied, an icy glint in her eyes. You have no friends here. You only have enemies waiting for the right moment to destroy you.

A shiver ran down Alastor's spine, but he kept his composure, his sinister smile stretching slightly across his face.

- Oh, but my dear, it's a shame. I'm sure we could get along if you gave me a chance.

(y/n) stared at him with contempt.

- You don't belong here, Alastor. And if you even think for a moment about sowing chaos in my territory, know that I will make you regret every second of your existence.

When Alastor should have fought back or tried to defend himself, a subtle observation revealed to him an unsuspected truth, escaped everyone's attention. The shadow's hold on him, although similar to that of his memories, was not as stifling or threatening as he had thought. He felt within himself the possibility of freeing himself from it, if he really wanted to. Staring intently at the face of the woman he had come to meet, he noticed that the tears had stopped flowing, giving way to an expression valiantly fighting against fatigue.

Smiling even more, he decided to lighten the atmosphere with his usual sarcastic humor.

- Let's see, my dear, you take me for a more belligerent demon than I really am. He said, giving a mocking smile. I'm here on a much more interesting matter than causing chaos. Actually, I'm here to introduce you to someone !

(y/n) arched an eyebrow, her expression hardening even further.

-And who is this person you are talking about ? She asked in a biting voice.

Alastor let out a small laugh, turning to Charlie with a theatrical nod.

- Allow me to introduce you to Princess Charlie Morningstar, heir to the throne of Hell and the founder of the Hazbin Hotel !

Charlie, feeling a little uncomfortable under (y/n)'s unforgiving gaze, gave her a shy smile and bowed slightly.

- Hey… Nice to meet you, Lady (y/n). She said in a calm but respectful voice.

( y/n ) looked away from Alastor to stare at Charlie, his expression softening slightly. She observed the young princess with a mixture of curiosity and evaluation, taking the time to look her over from head to toe, making her slightly uncomfortable, feeling as if the one who was taller than her she probed the depths of his soul.

- Charlie Morningstar… She whispered, repeating the name as if to engrave it in her memory.

As (y/n) scrutinized Charlie with growing interest, a resolve seemed to arise within her. With a graceful gesture of her hand, she dispelled the shadow that still enveloped Alastor, thus freeing the demon from his yoke. The temperature of the room and its brightness returned to their natural balance, while (y/n)'s deer antlers returned to their initial size.

(y/n), now more relaxed, conformed to the rules of etiquette, respecting them. A gracious smile graced her lips as she gave Charlie a salutation of gracious solemnity, bowing her head slightly in respect.

- The pleasure is shared, Princess Charlie. She replied in a soft but confident voice, getting up. It is an honor to welcome you to my modest home. Please forgive me for the vulnerable and aggressive version of myself that you may have encountered. Under no circumstances should she be present in the presence of royalty such as yours.

Charlie was pleasantly surprised by the sudden change in (y/n)'s attitude, feeling more comfortable in her presence. She bowed respectfully in gratitude, acknowledging the courtesy of the Overlord of Hell, not being used to being shown so much respect.

(y/n) then turned towards the couches, inviting Charlie to sit down.

- Please sit down, Princess Charlie, you must be tired from all this walking. She declared in a friendly voice, gesturing elegantly to the sofa.

Charlie nodded politely and sat down, his gaze following Alastor who stood behind the back of the sofa, his teasing smile still hanging on his lips. Meanwhile, (y/n) sent a command to Taku.

- Taku, please prepare some tea for our guest. She ordered in a calm but authoritative voice, as she sat down her turn, opposite Charlie who was standing straight, playing with his fingers.

Taku nodded silently, bowing slightly before walking over to where the teapot and cups were set out. He prepared the tea with silent skill, discreetly observing his enemy out of the corner of his eye.

As for Alastor, he remained unfazed by the presence of the one he would like to see dead, his expression still teasing, his gaze sparkling with undisguised malice as he observed the scene with palpable amusement.

Once the tea was ready, Taku approached Charlie and handed him a cup with a respectful gesture.

- Your tea, Princess Charlie. He announced in a neutral voice, placing it in front of her on the table, before serving (y/n), who thanked him with a warm but moderate smile.

Charlie thanked him with a grateful smile and took the cup carefully, feeling the comforting warmth of the liquid against his fingers. She took a small sip, savoring the soothing taste of the tea. (y/n) observed him with a slight smile, then suddenly declared, breaking the silence that had fallen :

- If I may say so, you look exactly like your father, Lucifer.

Charlie, astonished, looked at her in surprise.

- Do you know my father ? She asked with a hint of disbelief, unsure of what to think.

(y/n) nodded slightly.

- We met on a few rare occasions. She replied in a calm voice, full of reflection. But I must admit that I don't particularly hold it in my heart. Although I understand that he is overwhelmed by the illness of depression, especially since the departure of Lilith, your mother, I firmly believe that a king, even if he did not choose this destiny, must above all think to his subjects and be ready to sacrifice himself for them. Unfortunately, your father doesn't always seem to understand this, letting innocent people perish every year and condemning all sinners indiscriminately.

A nervous laugh escaped Charlie's lips at this unexpected revelation, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, trying to hide his growing confusion. Another heavy silence settled in the room, (y/n) doing everything to ignore the presence of Alastor, who reveled in his reaction.

After taking a sip, the hostess asked in a friendly but curious voice :

-And if not, can you inform me of your coming here, princess ? I must admit that I never imagined such a thing happening.

Charlie felt a surge of intense excitement course through her body as she jumped to her feet, the surge in her voice ready to burst into song to introduce her hotel of redemption. Her eyes glowed with palpable determination as she prepared to share her vision with those in the room.

- Oh uh yes ! Let me introduce you to my hotel that rehabilitates fishermen ! She began in a vibrant, almost musical voice. A place where the most lost souls can find redemption and inner peace.

His momentum was abruptly interrupted by the authoritarian voice of (y/n), which ended his tirade :

- There is no room for songs here, princess. Please forgive me for interrupting you, but I believe that there is a time for everything, including songs. If this is serious, you can present things differently.

Charlie, disappointed by the abrupt interruption of her creative momentum, sat up slowly, stammering an excuse. Alastor raised an eyebrow and said in a voice tinged with sarcasm :

- Are you sure about that, (y/n) ?

Ignoring Alastor's remarks and the hostile glances exchanged between him and Taku, (y/n) focused on Charlie, noticing his growing state of stress. Telling herself that his condition was because of her, with natural grace, she offered him a soothing smile and said softly :

- There's no reason to stress, princess, I didn't want to upset you. However, I can't stand the music anymore.

Hearing this, Alastor's smile became colder and more sarcastic. Charlie, looking at the woman in front of her, sighed, her shoulders slumping. She still had a hard time realizing that she was here, sharing tea with the person she considered an example to follow. As a result, she could not hold back from sharing her adoration for the overlord.

- You know, I've always heard about you. Rumors say that you are almost as powerful as my father, but that you have chosen a different path. A path of compassion and helping others.You have made pacts with sinners, protecting them and guiding them through the troubled waters of life. It's incredible. Everyone talks about you, but we never see you. You might almost think you're a legend. And yet here I am, facing you, realizing that you are very real. I admire you so much. It's like meeting my idol. Your strength, your generosity... It's inspiring. I mean, who else could boast of having (y/n) as an ally ? That's... That would just be amazing.

As Charlie's excitement began to skyrocket again, (y/n) gave him a kind look and said gently, touched by his words :

- Calm down, princess. Thank you for your admiration. Breathe, I am fully listening to you.

Charlie, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, outlined his plan with frankness tinged with nervousness. She honestly admitted that it was her fault that the purge had been brought forward six months, explaining that in a month Adam and the exterminators would come to see them first. Unable to hide her anxiety, she admitted that she did not know what to do in the face of this critical situation.

-And so… Alastor brought me here to get your help, apparently. She added, casting an uncertain look at Alastor.

( y/n ), staring skeptically at Alastor for the first since this exchange, raised an eyebrow, expressing doubt about the demon's intentions. In a calm but direct voice, she asked him :

- Do you really think you'll help Charlie with his hotel ? Do you believe in this idea of redemption ?

Alastor replied with a hint of amusement in his voice :

- Ah, my dear (y/n), believe in redemption ? It’s like believing in Santa Claus ! However, I see Charlie's little project as an entertainment opportunity. And maybe, who knows, a few souls to collect for eternity. But don't get me wrong, I'm here to save his project, it shouldn't be broken too quickly. I was even the one who chose the name of the brand, the “Hazbin Hotel”!

Faced with Alastor's response, Charlie felt disappointed and blasé, her face betraying her displeasure. She had hoped to find a sincere ally in him, but his words had reminded her of the dark and detached nature of the one who accompanied her today.

(y/n), turning to Taku with a serious look, asked him if the information provided by Alastor was true. Taku nodded soberly, confirming that according to his informants, the stated facts were accurate. (y/n) bowed his head slightly in recognition towards Taku before turning back to Charlie.

- I see… And what do you want from me, princess ?

Alastor spoke up to propose a solution to the situation.

- You know, (y/n), with your power and your army of fishermen, you could put an end to all this. You could even come to the aid of other potential members of what you insist on calling your “family”. He said in a convinced tone, looking at his nails, keeping a straight posture, not wanting to slump against the backrest even if he wanted to, wanting to keep a good face in front of her.

In a gesture of controlled serenity, (y/n) gently raised her hand to interrupt him, before falling gracefully on his knee. Closing her eyes briefly, she gathered her thoughts before responding in a calm but resolute voice :

- I understand your point of view, but I refuse to put the members of my family in danger for a matter that does not directly concern them. Here we are safe.

(y/n)'s reply, although delivered with apparent confidence, does not quite succeed in convincing Alastor, accustomed to detecting chinks in the armor of his interlocutors. He had subtly noticed the change in expression on the overlord's face. A smirk tugged at his thin lips, his eyes sparkling with biting amusement as he prepared to further explore the cracks in (y/n)'s confidence.

- You sure about that ? He asked, his voice softly tinged with a veiled threat. Think about it my dear. Things change, alliances break, and even your fishermen could find themselves caught in the tumult of this impending war.

He remained silent for a moment, letting his words permeate the atmosphere, then he continued in a calm but incisive tone :

- Imagine for a moment that Adam's forces are getting closer. Do you really think they will stop indefinitely at the gates of your pocket dimension ? That your precious fishermen will be spared from their fury ? No, my dear (y/n), your security is only an illusion in this constantly moving world. And if you refuse to act now, you may bitterly regret it when the flames of war lick the walls of your refuge.

He paused, letting his words resonate in (y/n)'s mind, before concluding with a sardonic smile :

- Of course, I do not underestimate your ability to protect your domain. But it's always good to consider all possibilities, even the darkest ones. After all, prudence is the mother of safety, right ?

Alastor knew how to tug on the heartstrings of high-ranking demons like (y/n). He used his charisma and sharp rhetoric to sow doubt in the overlord's mind, giving her a different perspective on the situation and pushing her to consider more aggressive actions to protect her rule and honor.

Before Charlie could intervene with his own arguments, Taku, faithful servant, spoke in a respectful but determined tone.

- My Lady. He began in a voice full of devotion. I understand the arguments made by this nuisance, but I implore you, do not let fear and uncertainty dictate your actions. You are the force that unites us, the light that guides our steps in the darkness. Your prudence is our shield against the chaos that always threatens to engulf us. Yes, times are uncertain and threats are many, but it is precisely in these times that your leadership is most crucial. Acting in haste, under the influence of fear, would only hasten our downfall. Let us remain faithful to our strategy, to our vision of the future. With your wisdom and wise judgment, we will overcome whatever challenges come our way. Because if you choose to engage in this confrontation, you risk losing more than you could gain. Your place is here, alongside yours, to protect our home and guide our destiny. Don't let the words of a manipulative demon sow doubt in your mind. We trust you, my Lady. And as long as you stay strong, so will we.

His hand, resting confidently on (y/n)'s shoulder, testified to his unwavering support, while he awaited his suzerain's decision with respectful patience, trusting in her wisdom and in her ability to make the best decisions for them.

(y/n) turned her gaze towards Taku, letting her face rest on her hand which was placed next to her on the backrest, fighting against the wave of sadness which invaded her at the thought of Lynn, that she had punished for a recent transgression. Alastor, carefully scanning the scene, felt a pang of annoyance as he noticed the proximity between them, a proximity that bothered him more than he cared to admit.

However, her attention was diverted by something that seemed to escape the others, when she raised her arm slightly, to take Taku's hand which was on her shoulder. Another curious and interesting detail, which added to the confirmation of his suspicions. (y/n) raised his face towards Charlie, letting go of his advisor's hand, placing his arm back at his side. In a gentle voice, she expressed her regrets.

- I'm sorry, princess, but I can't help you in this matter. She declared with compassion. I can't afford to put any member of my family in danger, let alone drag them into this.

However, she offered Charlie a glimmer of hope by adding :

- However, if your hotel survives, I will be happy to support you by visiting your establishment. I could then assess whether it truly constitutes a safe haven for those who seek redemption under your protection.

This compromise seemed to assuage Charlie's disappointment, giving him an encouraging outlook for the future of his project. She couldn't hold back her joy and literally jumped with contentment, her eyes shining with excitement.

- You are serious ? Really ? She exclaimed, both surprised and delighted by the powerful overlord's proposal.

(y/n) nodded gently, a kind smile stretching her lips.

- Yes I am. If your hotel manages to offer a path to redemption, then some members of my family may feel drawn to that possibility. And as a worthy leader, it is my duty to help them as best I can. She declared with dignity, thus expressing her noble vision of responsibilities.

Charlie's eyes lit up even more, splashed with a mixture of admiration and gratitude.

- It's incredible ! Thank you so much, (y/n) ! You won't regret it, I promise ! She exclaimed, letting her gratitude and determination to make her project a success shine through.

Sensing Charlie's imminent departure, (y/n) smiled slightly, appreciating his enthusiasm and determination.

- I wish you good luck, princess. Do your best to save your hotel. She told him sincerely, recognizing the passion that animated the young woman.

Charlie, moved by these words, bowed respectfully to (y/n) like a fan to an idol.

- Thank you, thank you very much ! I will not disappoint you ! I will do everything to find a solution to save him, you will see ! She promised passionately before heading towards the exit, carrying with her a mixture of excitement and newfound enthusiasm, not caring if Alastor followed her or not.

Alastor remained still, staring at (y/n) with a mixture of interest and challenge in his glowing gaze. Taku, seeing that the conversation was coming to an end, turned to Alastor with a cold and bitter expression, suggesting in a scathing tone :

- It's time for you to go, demon. Your presence is no longer required.

But Alastor didn't seem to react to Taku's words, keeping his attention entirely focused on (y/n). He let out a little sarcastic laugh, before announcing in a quiet voice but full of innuendo :

- In fact, I intend to talk a little more with (y/n).

She turned her attention to him, with a neutral air, while he announced :

-And one-on-one this time.

______________________________________________

Author's note : Well, I guess there will be a part 3, right ? I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it, and that (y/n)'s character captivated you. Stay tuned for the next part !

[bestanimal]

Round 1 - Phylum Nemertea

(Sources - 1, 2, 3, 4)

Animals in the Phylum Nemertea, commonly known as “Ribbon Worms” or “Proboscis Worms,” are small and mostly slim with a venomous proboscis that everts just above to mouth to capture prey.

There are about 1,300 known species of nermertean. Most nemerteans are carnivores, feeding on annelids, clams, and crustaceans. Some species are scarvengers. Some species are filter feeders that utilize a sucker at the front and back ends of their bodies to attach to a host. Most nemerteans detect the world through the use of chemoreceptors, but some species have simple eyes that allow them to distinguish light from dark. They move slowly, using cilia to walk on a trail of slime. Some larger species can “slither.” Many are brightly colored and patterned. Most nemerteans are marine, living in either the open ocean or on the sea floor, but some species are freshwater, and some are even terrestrial.

Propaganda under the cut:

Previously, nemerteans were split into two groups by whether they had a “little dagger” on their proboscis or not. (This classification no longer applies as one of the “unarmed” orders was closer related to the “armed” group than the rest of the “unarmed” group. It’s still fun to imagine worms with little daggers tho.)

The Bootlace Worm (Lineus longissimus) (seen in the first image) is one of the longest known animals, with specimens up to 55 m (180 ft) long being reported. This is longer than the Lion’s Mane Jellyfish, the sauropod dinosaurs Argentinosaurus and Patagotitan, and the record-holding longest Blue Whale. Like other nemerteans, the Bootlace Worm can also stretch up to 10 times its resting length. They’re not considered the largest animals though, because they’re only 5 to 10 mm (0.20 to 0.39 in) wide!

As a defense against predators, the Bootlace Worm produces a toxic mucus which contains a strong neurotoxin and smells faintly of “iron or sewage.” The mucus has been shown to kill arthropods, and is being studied for its use as a natural pesticide.

Some larger species can regenerate, breaking into pieces when disturbed, after which the fragments can grow into full individuals!

Some nemerteans have a branched proboscis that comes out as a “mass of sticky spaghetti” that can then be used to pull prey into its mouth. If you love horror movies, this is the animal for you! I’m not easily grossed out, but I genuinely can’t stomach this video, so viewer discretion is advised! (Thankfully, this one didn’t have a “little dagger.”

[alegendoftomorrow]

My Heavenly Light

Summery: Commander Wolffe has been captured by Separatists and assumes he’s been left for dead. Slowly losing his mind, his one source of comfort is the prisoner in the next cell who sings every morning. Adding a bit of light to his current darkness, and giving him something to fight for again.

Characters: Wolffe x Fem!Reader (no use of y/n)

Words: 3,359 Words

Warning: Canon typical violence, mentions of torture but no actual torture, prisoners, being held in cells.

A/N: This is my entry for the incredible secret song exchange hosted by @cloneficgiftexchange . Thank you so much for always hosting such fun events that push me to get out of my comfort zone and write again. This piece is for the awesome @221bshrlocked . I really hope you like this fun little adventure I went on. It was my first time writing for Wolffe and I hope I captured his essence for you :)

“I was looking for a breath of life…. A little touch of heavenly light.”

Your voice had started singing earlier today than usual. Wolffe opened his eyes to peer up at the same cold stone wall he’d been staring at for weeks. Or maybe just a few days, he wasn’t really sure anymore. Time seemed to move differently down here. Without any natural light he couldn’t tell how many hours or days had passed very accurately. He’d tried to count in the beginning, but it had only driven him mad.

“A heavenly choir… A little bit of light.”

He didn’t know where your voice was coming from exactly. He’d heard other prisoners screaming in agony, the sound of clankers marching in rhythmic order, or voices whispering together as their wardens passed by the cells. Otherwise, it had been silent, well except for your voice that sang every morning since Wolffe had arrived here. He’d never seen your face, didn’t even know if you had a name or why you were in here. All he knew was your song was the only thing keeping his sanity in place.

“But all the choirs in my head say… No.”

Sitting up off the thin mat laid out on the floor Wolffe pressed his aching back against the wall and rubbed at his eyes. The cybernetic one burned under his touch, but he growled away the pain and pushed himself up to standing. Walking the ten steps it took to reach the cell door, bars of durasteel pressed close enough together he couldn’t slip through them. Wrapping his scarred hands around them he pressed his forehead against the bars and closed his eyes. Listening to the sound of your voice hauntingly fill the underground prison cells. He wondered if his men were looking for him. Part of him hoped they weren’t. He hoped they had left this maker-forsaken planet as fast as they could and never looked back. Knowing them they probably hadn’t though. How many more of them had died trying to find me? How many brothers lost their lives searching for me.

He shook his head in a poor attempt to clear the thoughts away. Thinking of what he had lost, or who, wouldn’t help him get out of here. It wouldn’t bring his brothers back; it wouldn’t stop more from dying.

“But I needed one more touch…. another taste of heavenly…. heavenly….”

The voice faded out into a quiet sob and Wolffe’s head shot back up to stare out into the dimly lit hallway trying to see some other face leaning against the bars. There wasn’t one though. Just the ringing quiet and sniffling sobs.

“Don’t stop,” he said quietly. The gruffness of his voice seeming to have softened some as he nearly begged. “Please.”

The sniffling stopped for a moment as tiny footsteps echoed further own the way. “Is…is someone there?” The voice that answered him was small and a little trembly still, but it was just as sweet as when you sang.

“I’m here,” he said. Sticking his hand between the bars and waving it back and forth a little. Feeling ridicules as soon as he did it. Whoever you were you wouldn’t likely be able to see him even if you could clearly hear him. “Name’s Comm—…. Wolffe. My name’s Wolffe.”

There was some shuffling to his right and then a hand waved out from the cell three down from him. The angle and the dark made it impossible to see your face, but he could just barely make out your hand. Your fingers covered in a filthy bandage that wrapped around your palm and up to your wrist. He shuddered to think why you needed it.

“Wolffe,” you repeated. “What a handsome name.”

Wolffe felt a shiver run up his spine when you said his name. It sounded sweeter than he’d ever heard it said before, like the honey cakes his general had bought for him on one of their first assignments together. He’d never heard it said with such care. Even his brother’s often spoke it with to tease or poke at him with humor, or to agree to his orders with a soldier’s blankness they’d all learned to master. An odd mix of respect and determination with a hint of acceptance that this might be their last mission. Wolffe had used that same tone only with gruffness and a growl flashed at anyone who dared to step too close. Anger kept him alive; detachment kept him sane, there was no room for the warmth that filled the bottom of his heart when your voice echoing softly from your cell said his name again. Getting his attention as he’d drifted off.

“What?” he asked. Shaking his pounding head and forcing himself to concentrate again.

“I just asked why you were here?” the woman’s voice asked again.

“Mission went bad,” Wolffe replied. Closing his eyes against the screams of his brother’s and the taste of blood in his mouth. “We had bad intel. Led us into a trap. My men were….” He trailed off and swallowed back the tightness in his throat. Squeezing the bars until his knuckles were white and his wrists ached.

“I’m sorry,” you said again. Tears Wolffe couldn’t see likely rolling down your cheeks as you sniffled again. “About your men. They say the Maker gives and takes away with equal measure but, recently it feels like all he does is take.”

Wolffe gave a short hum of agreement. “Why are you here?”

There was silence for a long moment and Wolffe felt his gut start to twist in it. A feeling of dread making him grit his teeth and regret asking the question at all. It wasn’t his place to know. It wasn’t like he was in any position to help you; you might not even want his help anyway if you knew what he was. Clones weren’t exactly well liked by all the nat-borns.

“There was a rebellion here before the Separatist’s took over. We were defeated everyone is….” There was a pause and Wolffe hated the way he knew what waited on your next breath. “I’m the last one. They keep me here to control the masses, I guess. Parade me out like a puppet to remind everyone what happens to those who stand against them.”

Your voice was bitter but tinged with a fire he hadn’t heard from you before. He found himself leaning closer to the bars as if that might help him see you better. The angle was still too sharp and the lights too dim. All he could see was your hands. Fingers woven together as you leaned them out between the bars.

“I’m sorry,” Wolffe said grimly. Hanging his own head against the bars as his dark hair fell forward across his forehead. It had grown longer and more unruly while he’d been stuck here.

“Thank you Wolffe,” you said. “You know I’ve been stuck down here for years and not one time has anyone ever spoken to me. Let alone asked me to keep singing.”

“Yeah well…” Wolffe sputtered out for an anser. Not really sure he knew how to put what he felt into words without making himself sound soft. “I’m a soldier. I hear blaster fire, and screams, and orders shouted across fields I will never set feet in again. My brother’s voices can be the only ones I hear for days, and they sound enough like me to make me question my sanity most days. Your singing is…. It’s the only pretty sound I’ve heard in months.”

It’s my heavenly light, he thought but didn’t say. On the off chance he found a way out of here he didn’t want you to think he was some kind of sap. His brothers would never let him live it down if they found out.

His head snapped up when we heard the sound of a door being yanked open and voices rising up between the sound of clankers stepping in time. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“I don’t have a name here,” you said.

“Well I have to call you something,” Wolffe said back.

There was another pause as he watched your hands retreat from the cell door. “They gave me a number. Prisoner 3636. That’s the only name I go by now.”

Wolffe’s heart stopped in his chest and then the warden’s ugly face appeared at his cell door with a snarl.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It had been weeks since Wolffe had asked you to keep singing from his cell. Every day you watched the sun rise through the tiny crack in your cell wall, up high in the corner where no one else would be able to see it. It’s how you kept track of the days as you scrapped another line down your third cell wall. The other two had already been filled. Slipping the ring you used as a make shift writing tool back onto your finger, you limped to the door and cleared your throat. Singing a new song, one your mother had taught you as a little girl.

“This desert flower…. No sweet perfume ever tortured me more than this.”

Wolffe never sang along, in fact he never did anything at all that showed he was listening, but you just knew he was. Somehow you knew. The two of you had spoken a little more in the past few weeks. You’d learned he was a Commander in the clone army and that he had lost an eye to a Sith apprentice, though you only sort of understood what that meant. He’d learned you liked flowers and before the war you’d wanted to be a diplomat like your mother. You learned that you both had brothers, those that were alive and those that no longer were. You’d learned he loved his Jedi General like a father—whether he said those exact words or not was irrelevant—and he’d learned that you’d been betrayed right before your capture by someone you trusted.

“Sarad?” Wolffe asked when your song came to an end. You weren’t sure what that meant but he’d been calling you that for weeks, so you let it slide without asking. You’d also learned why he hated calling you by your number designation.

“Yes Wolffe?” you called back. Standing on your tip toes and leaning your head hard against the bars to try and see something other than his hands down the hall.

“We’re getting out of here.”

He said it so easily, so matter of factly, like there was truly no doubt in his mind that he was going to get them out of here. “Wolffe I can’t aband—”

“You’re not,” he said quickly.

They’d had this talk before. You couldn’t leave your people, anymore then Wolffe could stay here without his men. You both had a responsibility to your people, one you each could not sacrifice for whatever feelings swirled around inside you that you were far too terrified to name.

“Sarad listen to me. The Separatists are using you to keep your people oppressed, if you escape with me then I swear to you we will come back with an army and take back your home. Together. Your people need to see that you are fighting for them, that you are free. A bird locked in a cage is no good to anyone.”

You bit down on your lip hard and worried it back and forth. Staring into the darkness and willing yourself to find the answer there. Willing Wolffe’s face to appear so you could look into his eyes and hear him speak those words to you. Imagining him holding your hand when he asked you to fight with him, or him cupping your cheek when he called you that nickname, Sarad. Part of you knew these were just fantasies in your head. Things you’d made up when his handsome voice had first reached your ears. Daydreams of a man who would sweep you away fro here and help fight beside you as you liberated your people with his blaster and your rallying speeches. The pen and the blade. Here he was now offering you something though. Not a fantasy but a chance, a chance to get out of here and make a difference.

“Please,” Wolffe’s voice spoke up again. His tone softer than you’d ever heard it before. “I just need a little bit of light.”

“Okay,” you breathed out. Nervousness making your voice shake as you tried to pull yourself up taller, forcing your hands into fists outside the bars. “What do you need me to do?”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It had all been a blur. One second Wolffe had been crouching in his cell pretending to be asleep when the wardens came by to drag him to his daily torture sessions. The next moment, he was holding a blaster and fishing the keys from the dead man’s pockets. Releasing his little songbird and only giving you the briefest once over before he was dragging you up the stairs and down the maze of hallways above them. He didn’t have time for anything more than that brief look. No matter how badly he might have wanted to look at you properly, to thank you for keeping him sane, for talking to him even if he didn’t talk back all the time, there wasn’t time for any of that.

You pointed the way forward, having been here longer. Your bandaged hand pointing left or right or straight every time they came to an intersection. Wolffe kept those they ran into from talking but he was running out of blaster bolts and chances before one of his shots triggered the alarm system.

“The door on the left and then—”

“Hey, you two, freeze,” the devoid voice of a battle droid called behind them. Wolffe spun on his heels without breaking his stride. Pulling you against his back and firing two shots that sent the droid to the ground. Evidently that was when your luck ran out.

Screaming alarms sounded and flashing red lights appeared above your heads as Wolffe cursed loudly. Grabbing your hand and tugging you towards the door you motioned too. He’d been hoping to make it out a little further before they noticed. His heart raced in his chest as sweat dripped down his neck, staining his threadbare blacks worse.

“Step back Sarad,” he said gruffly. Pushing her back a little as he kicked the door in. Shattering it off the hinges and slamming it into the floor. “Come on!”

He grabbed her hand and raced into the desert around them, just before it all exploded into heavenly light.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Your lungs burned as you barely kept up with Wolffe’s much longer strides. Your hair whipping around your shoulders and falling out of the frayed black ribbon that’s tying most of it back. A gasp leaves your chapped lips watching the way Wolffe’s muscles flex to easily dismantle the door. Even with all the torture and pain written across his bare skin, the wounds half stitched or left open completely, the blood smeared across his cheek and stained into his shirt, he looks like a soldier. Like one of the heroes your father used to read to you about. He has to say that nickname of yours three times to get you to focus again. The world having gone muffled and quiet while you stared at him.

Racing out the door the dessert air burns worse, and you cough against the oppressive heat that blinds your eyes and makes you whimper out a curse. That’s not what has you tripping over your feet and pulling Wolffe to a stop though. No, that would be because the base that had once been your home was under attack. The walls, the ships, the droids, all of it was burning.

“What is—”

“Commander!” A loud voice called as Wolffe pulled you against his solid chest, smashing your face against his racing heart so you couldn’t see who the voice belonged to. You could feel him tense as he raised his blaster and then…

“General,” Wolffe’s voice was filled with relief as his blaster dropped and he loosened his grip on you though he didn’t let you go. “What the Kriff are you doing here?”

You turned in Wolffe’s arms, your hands clawing into his blacks and trying not to hurt either one of you as you caught sight of the man he was talking to. A Jedi.

“We came back as soon as we could to rescue you,” the Jedi said. Turning his head to face you his wide balck eyes took you in and though you couldn’t see his smile through his mask, you heard it in his voice.

“I see the two of you didn’t need rescuing though. I’m Master Plo Kloon,” he said. “And who might you be?”

You started to tell him your number before you stopped and looked up at Wolffe. The commander nodded and squeezed you tight. “It’s okay,” he said.

So, you gave Master Plo your real name, the one you hadn’t spoken out loud in so many years you were sure you’d forgotten it. The jedi master nodded his head and squeezed your hand with so much care your heart actually ached. No one had touched you with so much care in a very long time not since Wolffe had grabbed you from your cell.

“General I’d like—“ Wolffe started.

“Commander I am not letting you go into battle like this. I’ve radioed Boost and Sinker to bring a transport here to take you both back to the ship and be seen the medics immediately,” Master Plo said with the gentle sternness of a father.

“That wasn’t what I was gonna say,” Wolffe shot back. “This woman saved my life; I want to ensure she has the Republic’s full protection and until then I’m telling you that she’s not leaving my side. I don’t care what the rules or regulations state. Am I clear?... Sir,” he adds almost as an afterthought

Your breath hitches at his words, feeling your heart squeeze as he holds you tighter against him. Your eyes drift up to his face and watch the way he glares defiantly. His cybernetic eye catching the light and fire until it looks like a drop of molten light. As if he were a sun god reborn in human flesh.

“Very well,” Master Plo says just as one of the smaller transport ships begins to descend behind them. Kicking up sand and dirt that Wolffe shields you from without thought. “Until she is safe enough for your standards, she is yours to protect.”

“Thank you, sir,” Wolffe replies. Pulling you along and picking you up as two grey helmeted troopers take your hands to pull you into the transport. Your stomach lurches when they take off. Wolffe barking orders at them before affectionately knocking both their helmets with his fists. He’s back to you in a second. Arms around you as he holds you close like you are something precious, or sacred. You want to ask a thousand things, you want to sing, or scream, or dance, but you do none of it in favor of trying not to throw up as you turn your face into Wolffe’s chest and start to cry.

“Thank you for saving my life,” you mumble so quiet you’re not sure he heard you.

“Thank you for breathing me back to life Sarad.”

[ssalballoon]

Wait but how do you draw faces???? ): Do you have more suggestions for that sort of thing?

oh faces! i'm going to assume you're drawing in a semi(?) realistic/ anime-ish style? that's kinda the style i'm familiar with, if you're going for a super 2D graphical style then a lot of my advice won't really apply! i'll put it under the cut

1) I think the most important thing for faces is to always keep in mind the 3D form and planes of the face. Looking at a lot of simplified art (like anime) is a little detrimental for this because it's easy to think the features of the face are just kinda pasted on

Here's a tool from William Nguyen that lets you play around with any angle and light source you desire for heads! It really emphasizes the 3D form and especially the planes of the face. It's helped me out a ton!

Sinix has a video on drawing faces from any angle from imagination (no reference), again focusing on the 3D nature of faces. For individual features of the face (eyes, nose, mouth, etc) he has a playlist of anatomy tutorials!

- I advise against turning to memory and iconography for features of the face (like 👁️ and 👄) Icons like these are useful when the 2D shape is more important for communicating information quickly like in standardized hazard signs. But for more realistic drawing, you want to rely on the 3D form so these simplistic drawings can be jarring in certain styles when in the context of a full human face. This Proko video mentions that you should treat the features of the face like the eye as just another abstract form and not think of it specifically as an "eye" (Proko's channel is also a good general art resource)

2) basic proportions

This is about where specific features of the face are located. I never really studied this on its own, but I think drawing a lot just got me familiar with it. I'm hesitant to link a specific resource here because I didn't really use any myself;; while this isn't as exhaustive as I'd like, I like how Marc Brunet explains it! (Although I'm not a big fan of how he delineates male/female faces and facial features so black and white...? like don't feel obligated to stick to that specific face shape for female characters TTOTT i think it can get pretty redundant compared to the diversity of the male faces he draws)

- Facial proportions change with age! So you should be mindful of it depending on how old the character that you're drawing is

3) expressions

Drawing faces means you're gonna have to draw expressions, even if that expression is a neutral face. I'm admittedly not the best at this, but try pushing the expressions to their extremes to make them more interesting (of course depends on context). 2D disney expressions/concept art accomplish this perfectly and are a good reference to study from (I personally enjoy Shiyoon Kim's concept art!)

- Note how when you cry, the entire face (+body) moves to create that expression. It's not just a tear falling down the cheek, it's the eyebrows furrowing, the muscles around the eyes scrunching in(?), mucus running down the nose, mouth and lips tightening, eyes and nose becoming red, shoulders hunching up, etc.

- as a small aside I want to emphasize the importance of eyebrows because I avoided drawing them/ moving them around more when I started learning to draw, don't do that!! they're crucial for drawing expressions!

4) diversity

Try depicting facial diversity to make a character unique and more interesting!

- semirealism helped me turn away from the hyperstylization of certain anime styles where a lot of these unique features are smoothed away. Things like wrinkles around the brows/eyes/mouth, eye/nose/mouth shape and size, facial bone structure, facial hair, etc really help to individualize a character/ capture their likeness

- also people of different races have different facial features that you should be mindful of. I don't feel knowledgeable enough to give specific advice on this, but if you're unfamiliar with something please use references!!

This can be challenging especially in stylized drawing, since you tend to have to pick and choose what you choose to depict. For example, I find that trying to draw out all the wrinkles of a character, while it may be accurate, it just doesn't fit my style. I therefore have to balance the amount of details to include to achieve a character's likeness. However, stylization also allows you to emphasize those unique features which makes a character more memorable to me!

as another example this is a personal trick i use but i've found drawing the bottom lip helps make a more masculine face, and drawing the top lip as well for a more feminine face...??? idk why this works for me (and it may not work for you!) but yeah try playing around with what details you include/exclude and see what you end up liking!

okie I think that's all I have for faces..? hopefully i'm not missing anything... again I prefer to let actual teachers give specific advice on how to draw, I feel more comfortable talking about general ideas and referring you to better sources that you can learn from first-hand!

also I think in my efforts to explain the key aspects of drawing faces I've kind of made it seem like I follow strict delineated steps... no I truly just wing it every time I draw TTOTT I just think these points are important to keep in mind so that when you amass more knowledge about them you can internalize it to become a habit!

enough yapping from me thank you for your ask! i hope this can be of help to you 🫡💞

[thevampiremarie]

treehouse chapter 34 (tumblr version)

🔞 Dream of the Endless I Lord Morpheus x reader 🔞

Unplanned pregnancy, SMUT

In the Waking World, Morpheus finds the cure to your recent ailment. Read on AO3 here.

MERRY CHRISTMAS, MALIGAYANG PASKO, HAPPY HOLIDAYS, AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR TO YOU ALL! THANKS FOR READING I LOVE YALL SO MUCH! One of my fav things about fanfiction is that oftentimes it can be a more ethical way to consume certain media, especially when the original creator is exposed for doing fuck shit. So consider this guilt free, cruelty free, organic Sandman! This chapter takes place canonically at a made up lake in the Philippines, which I modeled after Lake Sebu. Lake Sebu is notable for its significance to the local indigenous T'boli tribe, who are known as the Dreamweavers. Traditionally T'boli women weave t'nalak, a sacred textile made up of patterns that come to the T'boli weavers at night in their dreams. Thus Lake Sebu is known as the cradle of the Dreamweavers. Additional note: I had to change my usernames everywhere because I was being cyberstalked. As a result I accidentally broke all of my masterlist links, I fixed them

Reader POV:

Shortly after you lose yourself in the pale ivory maze of halls and doorways that capture you the second you step beyond the confines of your chamber, Morpheus finds you.

These halls are a labyrinth without a single splash of color to relieve the oppressive, endless uniformity. White tiles and black tiles forming a checkerboard pattern, then you turn down a path constructed of ivory and ivory alone, another of deep black granite without a shade of light or a window to relieve the deep shadows drowning you.

You hold your hand to your temple to stop the pressure building in your skull, pain churning through your nerves like white-capped waves. Your fingers come back damp with sweat.

It feels as though you’ve been swept away. Carried around the Dreaming by forces you can hardly comprehend, much less control.

Are you still asleep in your feather bed?

“Wake up,” You whisper to yourself. “Wake up.”

“You’re awake,” A deep voice says. The sound distorts between the skewed, unnaturally-placed walls.

You turn on your heel and find yourself face to face with the source of that displeased, rather put out voice.

Morpheus crosses his arms over his chest as he leans against a pillar with pursed lips. “I’ve been looking for you, darling. I had an interesting conversation with Johanna Constantine.” The blush drains out of your face.

Before you can respond, your stomach contracts and twists into itself. Before you even realize it you’re bent over in two, watching the apple cider splatter out of your mouth and onto the floor.

His cool hands pull your loose hair away from your face and back behind your head. “Hardly my best look,” You mumble as you bat away his helping hands and try to stand on your own. You should know better at this point. Morpheus isn’t easily deterred, especially when it comes to you.

He helps you stand anyway, shrugging off your rejection like water rolling off a duck’s back. “Unfortunately, no. But I’ve seen worse.” In your head, you translate that from Endless to English to mean ‘yeah, you do look like shit.’

Tactful as always. “It’s all your fault,” You mutter. When he offers an arm for you to slide under, you do so gladly, clinging to him like a lifeline. It even feels like one, like a lifesaver for two idiots stuck in deep water of their own making.

Your head hurts so much less when your eyes are closed to the Lovecraftian chaos in your surroundings. It’s second nature to bury your face into his shirt and let the soothing rhythm of Morpheus’s heartbeat distract you. “Come along,” He urges you, taking a few steps to some unknown destination without deigning to inform you where.

Despite the kindness in his voice and the softness of his shirt against your cheek, more comforting than any blanket on your great bed, you push back. “No.” Your feet stay where they are. Morpheus would not drag you somewhere. It would be undignified.

After a few seconds pass, Morpheus seems to come to the conclusion you had already decided; that you will not go. “Wait- stop-“ His arms sweep you up off your feet as if you’re nothing more than a flower to be plucked out of the ground.

You open your eyes to see his stupid smirk oozing with victory. “It’s for your own good, little darling. Or would you prefer I put you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes?” It would be even less dignified for you to be treated so and Dream knows you’d refuse it.

He continues on with no further resistance. You haven’t lost all your pride just yet. His lengthy stride carries the two of you farther in a minute than your legs could in an hour and your surroundings fade into a blur, like paint dripped into a bowl of water.

Morpheus doesn’t have to say anything for you to feel the stymied laughter moving his chest. “Stop gloating.” You poke him once, twice, three times. No reaction.

“I’m not doing anything.” 

“Yes, you are.” Your legs kick gently in the air to make your point.

Morpheus sighs under his breath and mumbles something that sounds like he’s calling you ‘impossible’. And as you’re very mature, perhaps the most mature person here, you decline to respond. It feels like you’ve won after all.

He pauses for a moment to glance at your surroundings. For all you know, you could be anywhere in the world. But you’re with him and that’s enough to keep you calm. For now. “What you have is called sleepy sickness,” Dream says. When he notices you staring, doe eyed and blushing from being carried in his arms like the queen he calls you, his mouth places the faintest kiss upon your forehead.

A humid breeze brushes your cheeks, warm as a hug and carrying the scent of dew-covered grass and clear running water. “It’s not that bad,” You mutter. You’re lying of course, just to be contrarian. It’s only fair to cause him half the headache he’s caused you.

Morpheus sets you down on a fallen tree trunk covered in soft, jade green moss. His hand lingers on your wrist, as smooth as polished marble, and then he takes a gentle, yet firm hold of your jaw. His fingertips barely skim your cheeks, close enough that you could kiss his hand if you wanted. 

Morpheus kneels in the dirt without a care, peering into your eyes for a long moment.

“I do expect an explanation on why it took that… exorcist for me to know you were suffering,” He tells you in a low timbre. “I cannot take care of my love, my queen, my heart itself, and the beloved child you carry without you… talking to me.” Silver moonlight highlights the deep, shadowed worry lines on his face. 

Morpheus has called you his heart. He’s wrong. You can see his heart still in him, cracked open for you to observe, not quite on his sleeves but beating through his chest.

Even you have to admit his admonishment is more than fair. No complaints. You duck your head. Anything to get away from his gaze. “…I’m sorry.” You are, truly. He stops your chin from dipping with the same soft touch used between lovers, between those who share knowledge of each other’s souls.

Morpheus hums softly. “Don’t apologize, and don’t do it again.” He calls you out as if he’s approaching a frightened deer, coaxing you towards him with sweet words, the hand cradling your face like petting the raised spine of that startled animal. “Now come - we will remedy your illness now. I’ll not have you spend another second in such a state.” His outstretched hand helps you to your feet.

A canopy of branches stretches above both your heads. The long, friendly finger-like branches of old growth trees dance and wave hello in the wind you felt earlier. Between the gaps in the large leaves, stars wink at you. Some of them even move, and you realize those unique flecks of light aren’t stars. They’re planes flying in the night and satellites spinning through space, chattering back and forth with each other and the rest of humanity.

You recognize the faint red glow of Mars and the pale yellow fleck of Venus in the dark firmament. “Where are we?”

It feels… real. It feels right. What binds your feet to the grassy earth, covered in scattered fallen leaves and the new buds of wildflowers is gravity, not magic mimicking it.

Morpheus leads you through the old growth trees without hesitation. “Ordinary mortals cannot spend unnaturally long periods of time in the Dreaming. It happens but rarely, most recently when I was imprisoned and unable to uphold the laws of the universe that separate the Waking World and the Dreaming,” He says without looking at you. His skin gleams like mother-of-pearl under the silvery moonlight. “The soul wants to stay as much as the body yearns to go. They grow sicker and sicker as the connection that keeps their dreaming souls attached to their waking bodies weakens. Eventually that connection snaps, leaving behind a comatose body and a wandering spirit in my kingdom with no name or face.” Such respectful words for a nightmarish fate.

Through the trees, the moonlight finds something else to reflect off of. The shine beckons you closer and closer, until you see a large, tranquil lake. The water is the clearest you’ve ever seen, tinged a naturally bright turquoise. Through the glass pane surface, you see the sandy surface of the lake bed dotted with small, smooth pebbles, at most a few feet deep. Vibrant pink water lilies spread open their great green pads at the lake’s edge and birds sing songs to each other in the trees. A white heron picks its way through the lake with meticulous, stilted elegance. It stops to consider the pair Morpheus and you make, then magnanimously decides to give you your privacy and fly away

Something stirs at your side, breaking the spell. You turn to watch, still dazed from the sweet, clean air, as Dream gathers your fingers and kisses them. “The only cure is to take you back to the Waking and allow your soul and body to rest as one, as they were meant to,” He apologizes. His lips are so pink, and his eyes are so wide.

“I can breathe again,” You murmur as your lungs fill with the scent of fragrant banana leaves and papaya trees brought out by the humidity.

It’s all real. You tell yourself that over and over. You sink to the ground and bury your fingers into the earth. When you rub your fingers together, you can feel the grains of dust separate and stick to the grooves of your fingerprints.

You want to touch everything. The rough bark on the trees, the ribbed surface of the lily pads. You want to smell the blossoms and feel the cool water of the lake wash away the clinging, disorienting remnants of the Dreaming from your mind.

Dream joins you on the banks of the lake. “I know,” He coos, dabbing away the sweat shining on your cheeks. “That’s it, darling. Feel better?”

Your dirt-marked hands meet his, seeking reassurance that he’s just as real as you. That he won’t slip out of your grasp and flee into the night like a stranger, now that he has delivered you home.

His palms only have a few lines compared to the meandering map of creases on yours and Morpheus patiently lets you explore them until you’re satisfied with what you find. You leave smudges on the backs of his hands. You go to wipe them off, about to mumble an apology, but Dream stops you. He wraps his fingers around yours even tighter, even as you protest that you’ll get him dirty.

“Now listen carefully,” He begins. His grip trembles, a single, uncontrolled movement in the edifice of composure. Chaos, barely leashed. “I want you well. I want you to smile and forget any time you were unhappy because of the Dreaming. But if you run, I’ll come after you. You know I will. Decide for yourself if you’ll take the relief and pleasure I’m offering, or if you want another chase and the tears that come with it.”

A dream is nothing without a dreamer. Morpheus has long since decided that you are his dreamer, so like all dreams, he fears your eventual abandonment. He fears you might decide that he adds nothing to your life and discard him, leaving him purposeless, a book abandoned on the shelf unread watching as you move on and never look back. Pick me up, his eyes beg. Read me, need me, keep me by your side. Find me a home in your home.

Later, you’ll blame it on the sweltering tropical heat. You’ll blame it on the silver tongue of the god of dreams, slithering its way into your head.

“Is the water swimmable?” You ask instead of answering. In the periphery of your vision, he nods.

So you rise.

What need is there for running? You’re home. The wind has danced through your hair before. The trees have whispered secrets to you since you were old enough to look up at their leaves and make up fairytales. You can empathize with how Morpheus and the Dreaming are bound together. You’re bound to here, birthed and raised here.

The sand grows damper the closer you walk to the edge of the water. It sticks to your toes in clumps. You shed your clothes as a snake sheds its skin. You leave them behind you, a trail of breadcrumbs followed by the sight of your back, bared to him.

You hear a sharp inhale. “Are you sure you want-“ Morpheus’s voice is strangled as if he’s fighting his own dark urges, extinguishing them so that the flames won’t singe you.

The water is much warmer than you thought it would be. It ripples gently across your skin and you walk further into the lake’s embrace.

Once the water envelopes your hips, barely brushing where your belly naturally folds over your hips, you turn to look at the god watching you on his knees from the shore.

You’re aware of everything- your nipples hardening, his narrowed dragon-like eyes feasting on your breasts, your soft arms and plush thighs, and a warmth stirring in your core that only Dream can awaken.

But there in your thoughts is the cold reminder of Johanna’s warning. There is no doubt that Morpheus has been cruel and capricious, carelessly tearing apart anything in his path like a tornado ripping trees and telephone poles from the ground.

But he’s yours. He’s pursued you, chosen you, fought for you. He loves you enough that he’s risking letting you go, where before he locked you in his realm like a songbird in a cage.

You hold out your hand. “Join me.”

Morpheus doesn’t make you wait a second longer. “As you wish, Basileia.” He practically rips his shirt off, losing a button or two in the sand in his haste to reach you.

The hard, muscled planes of his chest beckon to you. You could never get tired of Dream, of looking at him, of wanting him. He’s already half hard against his thigh and he walks into the lake with the smooth, prowling gait of a leopard stalking some helpless prey.

His arms catch your waist and pull you closer. You melt into Morpheus’s familiar touch, impossibly strong yet cradling you as if you were as fragile as spun glass. It’s not until you’ve tucked your head into the crook of his neck, his salty skin so close to your lips that you can almost taste him in the air, that Dream finally relaxes. The water wraps the both of you in a warm cocoon, heightening your senses. Every move he makes ripples against your skin and you’re so painfully, acutely aware of his hips, his legs, how close they are to your own…

Droplets of water trickle between your breasts. Dream follows their path with reverent, covetous eyes. Those beads of water are more precious than diamonds to him because they have the privilege of touching you.

Your skin is painfully sensitive. His grip tightens, shifts, he palms your ass and his other hand cradles the back of your neck, warm and possessive. The pregnancy hormones are no joke; you’re starved, desperate to take him apart with your teeth and hands, and to be taken apart in return until all you know is his taste.

You trace his arched cheekbones with damp fingertips and run your thumb over his plump, flushed lower lip. Dream’s white teeth glint as they sink into your thumb. Not deep enough to cut, but just enough to sting .

Your fingers slide through his dark hair. You graze his scalp with your nails, you pause to take a fist full and tighten your grip. You tug. Morpheus gasps, then curves his mouth into a lazy, listless smirk.

When he kisses you, you kiss him back furiously, your mouth dancing with his and one arm slung around his neck to draw him into you. You moan into the kiss and he hums at the back of his throat in response. Dream’s lips leave yours, much to your displeasure, only to settle on the top of your nose, then your eyelids, the corner of your mouth…

Water streams around your thighs as Morpheus practically drags you up, easily holding most of your weight with one of his arms. The heat in this place is such that sweating does nothing to cool your body, and the muggy air makes stitching yourself as close as possible to his body even sweeter. You bare your neck to Dream’s kiss-swollen lips and the hickies he sucks into your skin.

Your thighs quiver, each sensation so much stronger and brighter than they were the last time he knew you like this. A sweet, drawn out sigh tears itself from your chest as he bites down like a wolf marking his mate. Morpheus groans in return, mouthing against your skin like he’s starved. He mutters and growls as he makes his way past your collarbones and his hands shake where they cling on to you.

And when his nimble, clever fingers drift from your back to find your nipples, thumbing them firmly, you shriek and pull on his hair so hard his head snaps back. He stares back at you with eyes of inhuman obsidian and a furious snarl on his face at being denied your body. “Gentle, please, Morpheus. Please,” You whimper, trembling in his arms from the too-intense pain and pleasure echoing through your sensitive tits.

Your chest heaves. The air is so heavy that it feels like you can’t get enough of it into your lungs. Dream makes a wordless noise of an apology before lavishing you with kisses, his lips moving with the most careful pressure across your flushed breasts. “The shore,” You plead with him. “Take me to the shore, my love.” The endearment steals out of your mouth like a thief. It’s the only thing that cuts through Dream’s lust-filled haze.

His beautiful eyes lighten from black to deep sapphire and the silvery fangs you felt earlier at your vulnerable throat retract ever so slightly.

Before you can blink, Morpheus deposits you on the shore with your back to the sand. The stars above bear witness as he kneels between your legs spread open to invite him, joy and love practically fucking radiating off of him. What he told you in the aftermath of his forced unmasking was true. He loves you. No matter what you do or say, if you cry or flee, his love only grows.

His luminous beauty is so overwhelming that it eclipses the world around you. All you see is him. You reach up to make his perfect hair messier, to bring his perfect mouth close enough for you to kiss until he’s ruined.

You push on his shoulders until he rolls over. His strong arms take you with him and help you drape yourself in his lap, grinding your dripping folds into the thick, heavy weight of his cock.

Morpheus tries to reach for your hips first but you bat his straying hands away. “My tigress,” He moans as you show him what your teeth and nails feel like digging into his alabaster skin, running over his abs, returning in abundance the bite marks and hickies he left on you. Your tongue lathes over the red and blue bruises scattered down his chest, warm and wet, and Morpheus’s heart beats so furiously that you can taste his pulse.

“Stay,” You pant as you plant one hand into his sweat-covered chest. Your lips move lower and lower, leaving kisses along the deliciously-firm ridges of muscle that jump whenever you touch them.

You give into every possible intrusive desire. Your fingers trace his hip bones, the long, elongated lines of his thighs tensing as you wander closer to his flushed, veiny dick, and up again to that muscled v at the bottom of his stomach…

“It’s yours,” Dream says hoarsely, his eyes glowing in the night. “I’m yours.”

This is your world. Your home. And your Endless. Saliva gathers under your tongue and Morpheus beckons. He’s somehow even more desperate for you to carve yourself into his body and soul than you are to wield the knife.

You hover over him, about to take him in your hand. You’ve done horrible things for Morpheus with your hands. You ended a person’s life and you’d do it again if you had to.

The tenderness in his voice makes you weep. “I love you.” He knows. You don’t have to say anything in response. You just have to be here with him and be loved.

His cock is warm in your palm, so long and thick that you have trouble understanding how Dream makes it all fit inside of you. Your tongue darts out to lick the salty precum dotted on his shaft and your cunt flexes with need. Soon, soon, you promise yourself, you’ll let him fuck you into the ground until you’ve forgotten your name.

You watch him as you start at the base, kissing your way up his cock until you reach the fat, rounded tip. Morpheus inhales sharply and a brilliant red flush colors his cheeks. You slowly envelope the head of his cock between your lips and his fingers dig into the ground, trying anything to keep him anchored.

His eyes roll back in his skull like you’re quite literally sucking the soul out of him. You briefly flirt with the idea of pulling away, of depriving Morpheus of the sweet torture that has rendered him speechless.

But since you’re his queen, you can be benevolent if you wish. You’ll make him come so hard that no other woman or goddess will ever compare. You’ve never wanted to do this with a partner as badly as you want to do it for him.

Your hand works the part of his shaft you can’t shove into your throat. You build a strong rhythm, alternating between sucking his dick and running your tongue along the underside where the taut skin is most sensitive. His cock jumps in your mouth when you flick your tongue over one particular spot. “Fuck,” He hisses. “You’re so good to me, beloved…” His needle-thin fangs erupt again, only to dig into his bottom lip. Dream grinds his hips up, forcing another inch of his cock into your sloppy mouth dripping with saliva.

Your surprised moan is completely stifled by his thick, painfully erect flesh. He laughs wickedly and finally reaches for your hair. “I know your game,” Morpheus taunts. A faint tingle of pain flashes through your scalp when he wraps your tangled tresses in his fist and takes control. Saliva runs from the corners of your stretched, bruised lips with each thrust.

His salty, musky taste is addictive and you want more, more than what he’s giving you right now. You won’t be satisfied until he’s spilling his seed down your throat.

Your nails run down his thighs, leaving angry red furrows, and you bob your head, relaxing your throat so you can take him even deeper. This god, this great and powerful creature, full of magic and fury, groans and shakes underneath you.

“Wicked creature,” Morpheus accuses between gasps for breath. You smile up at him with your mouth full before returning to your feast.

You turn your spare hand to another task. You’ve never done this before, but Morpheus inspires a boldness in you, a mindless lust for moremoremore. He grits his teeth, holding back guttural moans. You reach out to cradle his heavy balls in your palm and carefully massage them while you redouble your mouth’s efforts on his cock. Your jaw aches something fierce and you gag once, and then again.

He cries out. You can read the thoughts painted across his face. You’re his confessor and his executioner. Only you have this power over him - to bring him to the highest ecstasy or to brutally cast him out of Heaven.

Your reward is so sudden that it surprises you. All it takes to send Morpheus over the edge, into the most beautiful orgasm you’ve dragged out of him yet, is that gentle caress. His eyes widen, glistening with tears, his pupils dilate. His silver tongue has fallen silent. His face contorts in exquisite agony.

He drags you forward until your lips touch the base of his cock and comes with a low, pained groan. Salty cum floods your tongue and you pull back in surprise. His cum drips down the column of your throat and between your tits. You cough, smearing more of the mess on your cheeks.

Morpheus doesn’t give you even a moment to recover. It must be unbearable for him to be separated from you, like breathing with only one lung instead of both. You carry half his soul. His heart beats in your chest. He kisses you and clutches your shoulders, your face. He licks his cum off your cheeks and drags his fingers through the remnants on your breasts. He brings his fingers to your swollen lips. You open your mouth even as your jaw protests and let him feed you his cum. Not a single drop is wasted.

You suck his fingers one last time before he withdraws them. Your doe eyes stare into his lidded, pleasure-drunk gaze. Finally, you answer him. “Perhaps I’ll keep you… if you make yourself useful.” A smile blooms on his angular face, more heavenly than an archangel.

Or perhaps he’s an incubus here to enslave you. “I’ll be gentle,” He promises. Moonlight flashes off his sharp teeth. Your nerves prickle at the contrast of his sweet words against the sheer primordial force that emanates off of him. Your animal hind brain wants to flee, but the rest of you wants to give in, to reach for the bright flame of his love and let it burn you.

His palm caresses your cheek, sliding over your skin as if you’re made of the most precious silk. But you’re not silk and this is not a dream. You’re real. Flesh and bone.

You look at him through your lashes as you sink your teeth into his wrist.

Dream responds as you want him to. His pale hand, white as a sword, around your throat, squeezing just enough to restrict blood flow into your brain. Your dark angel looming over you, the Endless simply taking your submission, not just demanding it.

When he guides you to lay on your back once more, you go gladly.

The stars in his irises glow as he takes in the sight of your breasts moving everytime you take a breath and your thighs slowly, slowly parting. “My poor darling, have you been this needy the whole time?” Morpheus asks in that low, raspy voice that makes your stomach twist with desire. His finger trails from your bent knee and down, down towards your inner thighs.

It feels like everything is too hot, too much. You’ve been wet since you took your clothes off, and after making him come so furiously, your pussy is practically crying for him to touch your folds, to fuck you, to remind you who you belong to.

He traces the arousal coating your cunt, playing with the slick but carefully avoiding your pussy. “Morpheus…” You moan, your nipples so hard that every gust of wind feels like the press of his mouth. Playing is a good word for it. Morpheus plays you and your body, teasing you with his hand as he wanders away from your hips and over your chubby belly, always touching, feeling. 

Your back arches in the sand. He’s the only one who can do this to you, you think. The only one you’d let have you in such an open, vulnerable way.

Just when Morpheus reaches the curve of your breast, he leans over you and holds your face with both hands. “You come first.” One of his thumbs hook into your mouth and pull your jaw open. You can feel the pad of the thumb wedged against your teeth.

You feel so delicate and fragile underneath him. So helpless, like a flower he plucked from the ground. Your cunt pulses in time with your rapid heartbeats. “Heed my words. You always come first. For next time,” Morpheus commands softly. He’s dead fucking serious.

Rushing sounds fill your ears. “But-“ You murmur around his fingers. You’re dizzy, drunk on the love painted so boldly on his expression. It’s like a solar eclipse. You can’t look away. You come first. That is what would please Dream more than coming himself. You find yourself nodding along.

When he bends down to kiss your forehead, it feels like a brand. You lean into the warmth and let it soothe you. “Obey me, beloved, and you will be rewarded with anything and everything you desire.” You surge forward to kiss him square on the mouth. His spit-covered thumb rests in the hollow of your throat.

Morpheus’s fangs prick your bottom lip and you whimper. It’s so easy to surrender to him and it feels so good. “Do you… enjoy that? Obeying?” He pulls away to ask with an uncharacteristic frown marring his smooth forehead.

You murmur something wordless and begging, then loop your hands around his neck, urging him to return to you. He raises a single eyebrow until finally, you turn your attention to the question instead of pouting over his reluctance to kiss you. “I do. I really- I think I do,” You whisper.

It’s the truth. It feels right. And for the most part- if you’re honest with yourself, for the most part, Dream has never failed you.

How do you reconcile these puzzle pieces together that just don’t fit? With each day, your rage and feelings of betrayal fade. Something new has been growing inside to replace it. A strange longing to throw your principles away and give in.

Morpheus nods soberly. “If you decide to keep me, Basileia, we should discuss this later, at length. I know that the relationship you expect might be different from what I can give you.”

It’s far too easy to read between the lines. “What can you give me?” You are critically, keenly aware of the implications of you asking. Why else would you want to know the conditions of a long term, most likely life-long relationship if Dream has his way, if not to seriously consider them?

Well. You’re seriously considering it.

He spreads his fingers out slightly off-center from your sternum, right over your heart. “What I’ve always given you.” He kisses the tip of your nose. Can you trust him with your heart?

Dream is trying to tell you with his actions that you can. That he wants to cradle your heart so gently and hide away where no one else can hurt it. He’d breathe fire on anyone who tried, even himself.

“Care, above all else,” He murmurs in your ear. His breath tickles your hair and you gasp. He kisses your soft, delicate skin covered in goosebumps as an apology.

There are spikes of white in his irises like the points of a star. A single black eyelash rests on his cheekbone. You wipe it away with your fingers, utterly fascinated by this strange new intimacy.

It’s so lovely to feel his radiant smile with your fingertips at the same time as seeing it.

You’ve missed it.

“Tending to.” Another kiss, this one on the edge of your jaw. You blush from your scalp all the way down to your toes.

“Possession. Belonging.” His voice drops to a growl and the fingers over your heart curl into claws. Morpheus buries his face into your throat. Some of his hair gets in your mouth and you giggle as you try to pluck it out. He growls again, this time properly, when you try to dislodge him.

His torso presses yours into the sand. He’s like a tall weighted blanket hiding you from the sight of the celestial bodies above.

One of his claws moves to your waist. They open and close rhythmically. Morpheus is kneading you like a cat. “Let me be your compass so you’ll never feel lost again, let me tend to your every scraped knee and anxiety. Trust me to give you commands for your well-being and to fix things when you make mistakes.”

How long have you waited for someone to say these exact words to you? How many years have you spent dreaming about this very moment, where someone grants you your truest wish; to never have to face the world alone? Not just at your side. In front of you, leading you into the future so you have someone to follow.

Finally, he kisses your lips. A chaste, almost innocent kiss, like between a husband and wife on their wedding day. “All I need is your submission to my authority. It’s too much to ask of you at this moment, but you should know these things about me so you can make your decision in the future,” Morpheus says softly.

All he ever had to do was ask.

“We can talk about it later.” You kiss him back firmly, dragging a low moan out of him.

“You’re not opposed?” He says between kisses, between your fingers threading through his hair and his knee nudging between your legs, giving you something to grind against.

Morpheus freezes when you smile at him, as if he’s been hit by lightning. “I’m not,” You promise, your eyes shining more than they ever have before.

He exhales an amused huff. He’s laughing at himself, you realize. “Later then, my queen.” He’s been so silly and wasted so much time. You laugh too, until the two of you are just giggling helplessly in the sand.

He strokes your belly for a moment, then bends and places his cheek over the curve where your baby is growing. Crickets sing and fireflies chase each other through the night sky. Something moist touches your belly. When he lifts his head, he tries to wipe away tears before you notice. You reach for him and dab them away yourself.

“I hope the baby has your eyes,” You whisper.

Morpheus’s hands are as warm as his smile, like a little candle flame in the dark flickering on its own. “I hope the baby looks like you, so the world can see how much I love its mother.”

Maybe his smile will light your way back to each other.

His face is the first thing to shift. His gaze narrows, his mouth flattens into a severe, imperious expression. “Now, where were we?” His muscles coil and tense as he rears up on his knees. His marble skin stretches taught over his prominent bones.

You suddenly remember watching him disintegrate the nightmare that haunted you so, how Morpheus took pleasure when it screamed in pain. This is the god-king, the careless devil, the eater of worlds.

He kisses your knee while massaging the strained muscles in your calf. “You- you were… ah… Morpheus, I can’t focus when you do that.” Your voice is hushed in prayer to the only god you care for. He kisses your thigh again, slightly above your kneecap.

You spread your legs wider, wordlessly begging for more of his attention. “I was instructing you on the importance of obedience, I believe.” He blows a soft puff of air across your heated cunt, and you squirm in the sand. The cold only heightens how sensitive you are.

Morpheus leans in to lick the trail of arousal that has been steadily dripping down your thigh all evening. He laps at your skin over and over in tiny kitten licks.

He waits until you’re looking at him to moan into your skin, his eyes wild with hunger. Another, longer lap of his tongue, still holding eye contact. He can’t get enough of your juices. He wants you to know how much he wants you. Morpheus wants you to witness his devotion. Not want- he commands it.

And still, he won’t touch your pussy. “That feels so good,” You whimper. You draw your legs towards you to try and urge him towards your core. Morpheus teases his fangs along your flesh. You can feel how sharp they are, how easy it would be for him to bite and puncture your skin. He would never, but the suggestion is enough to get your blood running hot.

Morpheus rises up between your legs to grab the long column of your throat. “As much as I love your voice, right now I’d like to hear it only when you’re screaming my name. Understood? Nod for me.” Your mouth waters as you nod. “Good girl.”

You almost feel like crying. This evening has been such a fucking rollercoaster and here you are, getting dicked down for the whole world to see. And Morpheus adores you so much that he wants to possess every part of you, to make you completely beholden to his will.

He releases your throat before grasping one of your heavy tits, palming it greedily. “Your body was made to be adored by me, to be loved and worshiped,” Dream hisses. He swats at your breast, catching your painfully sensitive nipple with the tips of his fingers.

You jerk upright and moan in surprise, making an embarrassing, slutty, needy sound. Pain and pleasure radiate from your swollen nipple and as much as you want to cower away, you want Dream to do it again…

He slaps your neglected other breast and you gasp, tears finally beading in the corner of your eyes. Your cunt drips all the way down to the sand under your ass. You pant, your tits bouncing with the moment. The motion draws an equal groan out of Morpheus and the desire burning in his blue eyes frightens you.

Morpheus leans forward to capture one of your nipples between his lips. He sucks gently, flicking his tongue over the hard, pebbled bud, and you arch your back. He switches to your untouched nipple, sucking and kissing over and over as you shiver and whine beneath him. Maybe he wants to make you come like this, untouched except for the sweet torture he’s subjecting your tits to. You try to grind your hips against his leg, to give your pulsing clit some relief, but he hisses and pushes your hips down with more force than you expect. Message received, though it turns you on even more.

You’re pinned down and there’s nothing you can do but submit. “I am utterly enamored by your breasts, your rich and luscious thighs, and the feel of your soft belly under my fingertips,” Morpheus tells you when he lifts his head. His hand makes good upon his word. His fingers caress your stomach, not just the roundness of your growing baby, but the folds of skin and fat that come with a body like yours, that the rest of the world often finds unattractive.

But he is Endless. The god of dreams himself. Humanity’s mirror cut out of black glass. And your body is so desirable to him that he knocked you up the first time and fucks you like he can somehow get you more pregnant each time. Morpheus kisses the skin below your belly button and you have a feeling that tonight, the whole universe is dreaming of you.

He raises his head and reaches out his fingers to tap against your kiss-swollen lips. “Dampen these for me,” Dream orders. They’re glistening with your saliva by the time he pulls them out of your mouth.

You prop your torso up on your elbows and watch Morpheus inhale quietly as he brushes the pad of his thumb over your clit. You bite back a combined moan of relief and surprise. He does it again, waiting for your hips to jolt and your eyes to flutter. His fingers caress your slick folds, luxuriating in the volume of shiny, sticky arousal that has dripped out of you. He kneels there for a long moment, just playing with you, and your lungs seize when he lingers too long rubbing your clit.

Then Morpheus very unceremoniously shoves one of his palms under your ass, tilting your pelvis up so he can eat you out better. His tongue wanders over your clit and between the folds he was so fascinated by earlier.

You cry out into the night, looking up at the stars while Dream makes you see stars. You moan again and desperately clutch for his hair so you can grind your clit into his mouth. He mutters something to himself, completely lost under your whimpers, before slipping two long fingers into your tight cunt. He sets a fast though gentle rhythm immediately, carefully curling his fingers inside you to stroke your walls as he fucks you with them. Each one of your cries is rewarded with the hot, wet pressure of his tongue or his fingers brushing the sensitive spot deep inside you. It’s almost like Morpheus is trying to make you come faster than you ever have before-

For a single, blindingly bright moment, your lungs stop. You can’t breathe. Your stomach wrenches violently and your walls squeeze his fingers so tight they start to slip out. “Come,” Morpheus demands, his gaze furious and fixated on your slack, pleasure-drunk face. Your pussy opens for his fingers and this time his grip on your thighs is too firm to wriggle out of, forcing you headfirst into the riptide of your orgasm.

Your high-pitched scream rings in your ears and you slump into the ground, boneless and exhausted. Morpheus withdraws his fingers and licks your folds clean, shushing you when you whine from the jolts of overstimulation moving through you. You’re so tired, but it feels so good.

He leans in for one more taste. This time, you tense and push his head away. Your clit is still humming with faint, delicious aftershocks, and even his breath puffing across your swollen folds is painful. Morpheus apologetically kisses your hip. “I could spend eons buried between your legs. Tasting you, touching you, inside of you. Perhaps I should relinquish the Dreaming to some other god so I can spend the rest of eternity serving you, hm? Would my queen enjoy that?”

Pebbles and sand dig into your back but you barely notice. You’re too busy blushing the darkest shade of red possible at the vivid imagery and his unrepentant lust. His smile is wicked. You’re both thinking the exact same thing - you perched on the throne next time, and Morpheus making you come on his fingers and tongue as many times as you can. Knowing him, probably until you black out.

You open your mouth to say something, but his command from earlier holds fast. You want to obey.

Then he nods, releasing you from it.

“Holy shit, I’ve never come that quickly before,” You sigh.

Morpheus straightens up and squares his shoulders. “I know,” He fires back with a lewd smirk, his lips still damp with your juices. Morpheus moans softly as you kiss him. You sweep the rest of your arousal off of his lips with your tongue, your own salty taste filling your senses.

You understand all those little offhand quips now, all the various odd remarks under Dream’s breath about your life and dreams. He knows. Literally. He has stood there in the back of your dreams and watched.

His cock is angrily hard against his pale thigh, flushed red with blood. Morpheus likes to watch. A shiver runs through you. Not a bad one. An eager one. “Fuck you,” You bite back. He’s never looked more beautiful to you, all messy dark hair and your crimson love bites dotting his pale skin.

After too many drawn-out whines and your hands eagerly tugging at his hips, much too far away from yours, Morpheus holds your thighs down. If you were more flexible, you’d have your knees pushed up to your tits.

Starlight shines between strands of his hair, surrounding his face like a dark halo.

Your lips part, wordlessly begging for a kiss. His broad shoulders press you further into the soft sand and he kisses you with fervor. “Be good,” Dream murmurs into your ear.

He eases his cock inside of you slowly. You gasp, your eyelids flutter. He rests his head against your temple, panting as your muscles flutter around his length. His hips cant forward again, nudging your clit. You clutch his shoulders to drag him deeper into your embrace. Your whole world narrows to just Morpheus; the weight of him against your ribs, the whole night sky contained in his eyes, the scent of his skin, his thick cock sinking as deep into your cunt as it can go.

You make a choked, keening noise when he shifts and inadvertently brushes against your g-spot. Maybe not so inadvertently. Morpheus does it again, languidly rolling his hips in a drawn out rhythm. Your stretched cunt milks him, trying to keep him with you, inside of you.

He buries his face in your hair spread out under your head. You feel his moans rumble in the crook of your neck, deep and desperate. It’s too much, too good, like blue flame burning in your veins, and you can practically feel him in your belly.

“Morpheus,” you sob, raking your fingernails down his back, anything to ground you, to keep you from losing your mind as he fucks you, forcing you to feel every inch sliding in and out.

Dream growls, gripping your hips so tightly he’ll leave faint bruises. He rests his forehead on your own and his eyes are screwed shut with pleasure. They shoot open when you scream, your whole body trembling. “Tight, fuck, so tight, feels good- that’s it, darling…” You hear him murmur, voice so low that he’s talking more to himself than to you. It’s like he’s praying to you, worshiping you at the altar of your body.

You spread your legs wider and meet each thrust, moaning in unison with him. The words “Love you-“ steal from your mouth like a thief, fleeing before you register they’re gone.

One of his hands slips between your hips to play with your needy clit. He circles the pads of his fingers over and over across your bundle of nerves, sending shockwaves through your whole body. The full length of his dick thrusts into you at the same exact time and you forget how to breathe; you can feel how tight the fit is, almost painful but not quite, riding that razor-thin edge of pleasure. A rush of slick gushes from your core and smears onto his skin.

Your head lolls back as your vision starts to go hazy around the edges. “Look at me,” Morpheus’s voice orders. You blink once, twice, too overstimulated to focus.

“Morpheus-“ You sigh breathily. “Ah-“ He switches how he plays with your clit, now teasing you with light, gentle touches so you can listen to him instead of being too cockdrunk to think.

Your lips parts, your tongue tastes the hot, tropical air filled with moans and lust. “Look at me.” You do. His eyes are so blue and bright that they almost blind you. His thrusts grow rougher, faster, and you shake in his embrace and wrap one of your legs around his hips to get closer.

The great, deep blue of the night sky, scattered with stars, is pinning you down and kissing your mouth. The wine-dark ocean lies between your thighs and fucks you mindless, pushing and pulling inside you like the tide.

High, keening noises fall from your open mouth. Your cunt sucks him in, pulsing around his length. Pleasure wracks your body, rushing through your nerves like white lightning. And still you stare up at him and the love for you that he wears so raw and undisguised on his godlike, unfathomably beautiful face.

You’re so close that you can almost taste it, you feel your stomach wrench and your thighs tighten around his hips. “Fuck, that’s it, make yourself feel good. Take what you need.” The sound of his low, raspy voice in your ear guiding you, talking you through it, tips you over the delicious, overwhelming edge.

Every muscle in your body holds itself taut as your orgasm shakes you like an earthquake. You bite into his shoulder hard enough to fill your mouth with golden blood. Your lungs fucking ache from screaming into his skin. He holds your hips down, never pausing the furious pace of his thrusts, and your cunt convulses once, twice. Your mind goes foggy and finally, finally, you can breathe again.

Morpheus comes as your body unlocks, the feeling of your pleasure around his cock too much for his self-control. He clutches onto you desperately, even tilts his head to the side to welcome your bite. Sticky warmth floods your body, once more marking you as his. Hardly a single drop of cum trickles from where he’s buried deep inside of you.

You whine as he suddenly pulls away from you, only to arrange himself on the beach next to you so he doesn’t squish your bump further. You rest your head on Morpheus’s arm and the two of you lie there for a while with intertwined hands as his index finger traces the veins on the back of your hand. The breeze feels cool on your skin - the feverish tropical heat has broken its grasp on your mind and your thoughts are no longer clouded and instinct-driven.

Dream speaks softly, almost fearfully quiet. “You said you loved me.” His fingertip stills where it is on your hand, and you keenly feel the loss of that simple affectionate gesture.

“I…” You begin before stopping just as suddenly. White noise echoes in your ears, a strange buzzing that grows and grows and keeps you from turning to see his face. You’re afraid, you realize.

“If you do not truly feel that way, don’t say it. Ever again. Please. I can’t-“ His voice breaks, breaking the static holding your tongue prisoner with it.

What are you afraid of? The truth?

No, you are not.

You pull your hand away from his. “Morpheus.” When you meet his eyes, he looks away.

He’s rambling now, panicked, rushing to get the words out before it’s too late. “I couldn’t bear it. Anything else. Tell me anything else.”

It’s not too late.

Your hand cradles his angular cheek. Pale blue veins stretch under his skin from his eye to his temple. You are the only person he will let close enough to see them, you realize. “I love you,” You say, waiting long enough to see Morpheus actually register it before leaning in to kiss him. You mean it, cross your heart.

YAAAY WE'RE IN THE KISS AND MAKE UP ERA NOW!!! Thanks everyone so much for reading, we're finally making progress. I'm really excited for what's coming next. See y'all next year!

[twinsoftriumph]

okay so i do have a lot of links regarding things that have happened mostly since oct 7th and while i do think the information itself is important, i want to actually bring up ways to to support and learn about palestine so. here are some things ive seen around!

light in gaza (free ebook) - this is an anthology of palestinian works that aims to spark discussion through the reflections of palestinian authors on their lives. they discuss culture, power, suffering, history, family, nature, violence, and much more that i can't capture through just a short summary

e-sims for gaza - a website with a guide on how to provide an esim for palestinians! esims help people in gaza stay in touch, which is especially helpful when dealing with blackouts and poor internet.

palestine children's relief fund - a website accepting donations for humanitarian relief and medical aid in gaza

hirbawi - "the original kufiya, made by the last and only factory in palestine" and a way to both financially and visibly support the palestinian cause. semi-related, to those in college, consider looking into student groups on campus in support of palestine; it is very likely they have ways for you to visibly show support and organize

+ a tumblr post with a list of many other palestinian businesses

@helpgazachildren is a blog dedicated to humanitarian relief in gaza as well

i also recommend doing at least some general reading on things like the nakba, plan dalet, palestinian citizenship under israel, the march of return, attacks on palestinians during ramadan, and basically anything you hear of that you want to hear more about. let's be curious! there are lots of videos and articles from many years before 2023! the plan dalet document itself is free to read from various sources online, if having a direct source is an easier starting point for reading.

as always, stand with palestine!