#and it’s like. they both had big dreams but their circumstances just didn’t allow them to live them

[songtwo]

like leaving always made me so sad to just leave everyone and everything behind but also so much of what i do and one of the reasons i’ve always worked so hard for everything was to make my parents proud and to show them all their sacrifices and everything they did for me wasn’t for nothing so knowing they see that is everything to me

[weirdmageddon]

why i think aradia and john work so well

(with some stuff i’ve been wanting to yap about for ages)

have you guys ever given arajohn / johnradia (idk if its popular enough to even have a standardized ship name) any thought …? i know it seems kind of out of left field. i’ve considered it and i think its. really really good. i have a bunch of thoughts to unpack. come join me. and maybe grab a snack or something because i didn’t realize how much i'd actually have to say about this

(fantastic art by skeletood)

the other day i made a tweet that did rather well where i said, “john and aradia shouldve talked more. its so simple but i like how she actually earnestly answers his questions. so many characters in this comic are so mean to john for just wanting to know more give him a break”

putting it out there now im not big about shipping for the sake of shipping. there needs to be real chemistry. i need to sense that as a reason why two characters would potentially be a good influence on each other. i never knew why i was always so obstinate about this because it’s fictional and not materially hurting anyone, but i think it might be because i’m not sure how to justify it or explain it if not.

i strongly believe john and aradia would have had it made out for them if circumstances allowed it. (what i mean by “ship” or “johnradia” extends to any kind of interpersonal dynamic, even if just a good friendship. it doesnt even have to be romantic, just some sort of dynamic with them.)

unfortunately aradia originally committed herself to staying out of trolling the kids over their timelines, so john and aradia never talked until year 3 on the ship in the dream bubbles but they never had a truly proper one-on-one without outside meddling. i think if john knew aradia better and her story beforehand, she had more time to explain herself and her history, he wouldnt have been unsettled. and also of course if his experience with the trolls didn’t suck so bad because he already had expectations for how antagonizing most of them were.

i found people’s sentiments about johnradia elsewhere too. i remembered that they were both on the song art for ascend, and searched ao3 to see how many fics have been written to gauge how substaintial it’s been in the homestuck fandom. only 17 of them turned up. but the people who do talk about it are either curious about it or really do like it, and that interested me.

clearly it’s pretty niche character relationship to be depicted in any fanwork and i can understand why. despite being so small, from what ive seen it seems universally agreed upon to be nice. i haven’t seen a single person object to it. what ive seen falls into two categories: “wow i didnt think about this before but i actually dig it” or “(starving) finally some good fucking food”

the pattern im seeing is that people think it’s “random”, but i disagree. there is something there substantiating it even if they’re unable to articulate it.

the fanfic these comments are from is chronology of wind. that fic is really, really good, and sadly unfinished. i have more abstract reasons to believe why aradia and john would be good in theory, so actually seeing someone else actually make something with them helped me read it in action, to get a more tangible feel of the dynamic beyond what we have in canon.

i wouldn’t normally make claims about a relationship with regard to homestuck canon by looking at their relationship in a fanfic, because i think you all know by now i am very nitpicky about accurate characterization, and it does not go unnoticed by me when people get it right because for some reason it feels like a one in a million thing (even though it really shouldn’t be?). so this was a special case. the tone was completely consistent with canon. this fic is so in-character i’d basically consider it an extension of canon. to me it’s like they took the same characters and plopped them into this scenario to see how they’d interact. guys… i love that stuff so much. i love fanfiction or fanworks that depict realistic extensions of canon and stays true to the energy and tone of the source, but deepens it. there isn’t enough of it imo. i want to see more of it.

anyway, what i read of their conversations in that fic basically aligned with what i was thinking in my head about what i’d expect it to be like. i was able to compare how aradia and john talked to how aradia and the other characters interacted, their comparative attitudes towards each other—how they’re treated by others compared to how they treat each other.

have you noticed john and aradia’s communication values are both based on sincerity, being in the proper know, treating people fairly, and thanklessly taking on the necessary work that “must be done” in order to have what they really want — a good time that feels meaningful? and they accomplish this without any adjustment in how they talk to each other.

john is always subtly (or not-so-subtly) asking the people around him to answer him soberly and to the point so he knows whats going on and what that means for what his options are. he needs to know to what end he will be applying his absurd energetic drive into making shit happen. aradia honors his time before john can even become uncomfortable with the amount of time being eaten up by conversation. contrast this with rose, who seems to go on for a while with prose-like conversational adornments. in dire situations that need rapid explanation and definitive answers so he knows what to do, this is really the last thing he needs. aradia doesnt waste john’s time. she answers all his questions, and does it politely to boot. his time talking to her doesn't feel wasted.

john's impatience with this sort of nonsense is also why i can’t see something like dirkjohn working out, for example. to me it feels like @entropicbias also deeply understands this on some level because i literally couldn’t have demonstrated what i mean by it any better myself than that. i'm gonna have to to hit him up about how much i genuinely respect that like tbh hes one of the few i absolutely trust to handle writing and depicting these characters in situations and their interpersonal dynamics. and also care about doing their characterization justice as much as me.

of course people are still entitled to like whatever they like, ship whatever they want to. i dont care. but i just don’t think it would work from the perspective of the minds of the canon characters, how they generally think and approach situations. and i can already tell people might ask me how do i know this? what makes me an expert? i’m not more than anyone else is (although i have been called a "characterization expert" from my friends), but i do know that i can pick up on the energetic chemistry between people, including characters, honestly precognitively, without even thinking? like if it’s stiff or tense or awkward, if people aren’t free to express themselves uninhibitedly, if they feel unsafe or uncomfortable. i can sense this almost instantly. it’s something that’s a visceral feeling in my body i cant express and i have to rationalize it after the fact. like i’m doing now in fact writing this big analysis.

> listen to me talk about my special interest boy

for the next section to make sense, you probably want to read this post. i initially started writing it within this post to explain but there was so much brewing i had to explain the context that it turned into something i wanted to post on its own terms.

> okaaaaaayyyyy i read all that

thank you, really. my main point is using the conceptual tools provided by this system to expIain why aradia and john feel nice together and why i’ve seen people positively perceive the idea of a relationship between them even if it seems “random”.

framing them in this system, it wouldn’t be random! there’s a good reason they seem to fit nicely. this is because john and aradia have complementary forms of information metabolism. information metabolism is talked about in this section.

Jung’s psychic types are the types of cognition, or intelligence. But it would probably be easiest to call them types of IM [information metabolism], since the main difference between the types of people lies in their exchange of information with the external world.

Aushra Augusta, Commentary on Jung’s Typology and Introduction to Information Metabolism

aradia megido’s type of information metabolism (otherwise known as a TIM) is LII. john egbert’s TIM is ESE.

aradia and john’s types are duals. you can read more about what that entails here. in theory, their interactions would reflect the duality dynamic. reading chronology of wind, that one really in-character fic that explored their dynamic made me excited because they do!

michael pierce gave an overview of his impression of the characteristics of this intertype dynamic. despite only rough knowledge in socionics while he wrote this, his understanding of duality was spot on to me from my experience and others and i wanted to share it here. (fittingly, i believe he is also LII.)

Now we have the famous duality relationship: in a nutshell, this role is characterized by two traits: 1) a very close psychological distance or intimacy, and 2) a great ease of interacting with each other. It is sometimes described how meeting one's dual can be the event of a lifetime, because it inspires aspects in each party's character that they had never expressed before: the pair may even drop out of society for a time in order to focus on just each other, and to explore themselves through interaction with each other. The curious thing in this relationship is that these parties are rather different in outlook, and when they are not actually interacting as potential friends it's probably more likely for them to dislike or mistrust each other because of how different they are. […] However, when they are able to interact normally, it is a strange and wonderful discovery to realize that the interaction is unexpectedly smooth and invigorating. It's hard for people to describe, but as I understand it: while both parties recognize their differences on the surface, these differences are created by a root structure that coincides perfectly with each other, so that the differences on the surface are entirely complementary and cause no friction at all.

it’s also meaningful to consider that the structure of my own psyche is LII as well. so i’ve got a bit of a bias towards aradia and john.. not in the sense that what i actually say about them is personally biased, but that the bias is moreso my personal attention to people and characters of these two types in particular to see how my own experiences are reflected in them. i really do feel of a reflection of my own thought and work process in aradia and in the more abstract sense she is like an extension of myself. when people say they like aradia as a character i get secondhand joy from that because shares certain specific traits with me. of course i am still my own person though.

these are some of the most apt profiles i've found for these types at a glance. again, think about these characters as you read these descriptions. [from here (ESE / LII)]

ESE (Ethical-sensory extrovert) - john

The trademark quality of this type is a focus on socializing and guiding social situations and interactions so that the people involved can have fun and enjoy themselves. ESEs are typically in the middle of what is happening socially and know about the latest events and what people think and feel about them. They are skilled at bringing people together in fun and interesting ways and making everyone feel actively involved. Their friends know them as people who love life and feel most at home in social situations surrounded by other fun people. In their pursuit of fun-oriented and stimulating social interactions, ESEs typically neglect to structure their own thought processes and views in a way that would help them know exactly what they think and why. They are receptive to others’ attempts to help them introduce more structure and logical consistency in their life and thinking processes. They gravitate most to people who open up to fun and emotional interaction easily, yet are also skilled at systematizing thoughts and views and explaining ideological matters.

LII (Logical-intuitive introvert) - aradia

The trademark quality of this type is a focus on logical, structured thought and generating true assertions and views. LIIs are typically strict thinkers who are concerned that everything fits together in a logical way. They are skilled at understanding, generating, and criticizing logical arguments and instilling their views in the people around them. Their friends know them as people with well-organized thoughts and opinions who know what they think and can elucidate their ideas to others. In their pursuit of logical understanding, LIIs typically neglect their external social interactions and activities that would help them lighten up and experience a connection with other people. They are receptive to others’ attempts to create these fun and lighthearted situations for them. They gravitate most to people who are interested in their opinions and understanding of things, but are also skilled at organizing social interactions and creating a sense of emotional unity.

ive recently consciously experienced the feeling of duality for the first time since i've been communicating with my mom's high school classmate, and it is definitely a real thing. i even remember mom pointing out she noticed when we were all talking on the phone over a year ago that i perked up whenever he said stuff. here is how i explained it:

its bonkers how only once i experience something for myself i’m able to explain in detail what makes it so great based on what my impressions about it were because i tend to have a peculiar way of describing the qualities of an experience. my specialty is deep precision in my analogies for what it’s like. so now i can tell you how conversations with your dual feel… heres the status report. it’s weightless. its so strange. like the topic conversation stretches into infinity that you can pick right back up at any time. it’s hazy and unfocused but still pleasant (unless you’re particularly self-conscious and need to unlearn hiding your true self). but the best parts of it come when you have a specific issue or insecurity that comes with being your most natural self that the world seems to misunderstand about you, or just not give you what you don't even know you’ve been looking for. i think you might mutually intimidate each other at first because you're lowkey both expecting to be made fun of for your inadequacy with certain types of information that the other is nuanced with (and you’re not), but it never comes. you don't feel like what your dual wants in life is wrong. your dual seems so talented in all the ways you hope to shine but you’re always unsure of. for the introvert (me) wishing they felt their own active presence as an object (Se, Ne, Te, Fe) like the extravert does. for the extravert, wishing they felt their own relationships with other objects (Si, Ni, Ti, Fi) like the introvert does. any other intertype relationship (ITR) vs. duality is like the difference between 99% and 100% totality of a solar eclipse, except it’s the level of understanding with another person, like the eclipsing of your own information metabolism with theirs. of course there are other things that influence how well your relationship with this person goes, but i am talking strictly about when it comes to basic communication, the level of understanding you share. sometimes it might feel like you dont have much to talk about or the topic is unfocused, because you two ARE opposites in many ways after all, especially at a glance (domain of interests usually come with specific macroelements. theories about thought structures—like socionics, for instance—are in the domain of intuition, while physical interests and experiences are in the domain of sensorics.) i’m LII in the NT club (researchers) and my dual ESE in the SF club (social-communicative). so they’re constantly providing you with information from their own niche in life that you may be entirely unfamiliar with, but for some reason still interests and relaxes you to hear. you might not feel like you have a lot to say about the topic since but you are fully amazed by this person’s activity. it also makes you feel more sure of yourself and more confident that people truly appreciate and need your natural abilities.

> let’s break it down

here’s some lightly modified descriptions of the information blocks in LII and ESE's information metabolism models from pyatnitsky so you can get an overarching impression of how their type contributes to the informational sphere. i added some of my own adjustments and borrowed some sentences from stratiyevskaya's descriptions. additionally, you can click on the name of the block for an explanation of the role it plays.

i put about a week’s work into these collages but my goal with them was to actually show where i think these information blocks are most pertinent in these characters specifically and where they apply so it’s not just some abstract thing, just as supplementary examples as needed. (for the meaning of these information elements individually you can refer to cysia’s document.)

LII (Logical-intuitive introvert)

EGO (-Ti? -> -Ne!). Analytical thinking. They are well aware of the interrelationships of some objects or phenomena with others, and what laws are in effect or not in effect. On the basis of a comprehensive analysis, they put forward insights about the global essence of specific objects and phenomena, their possibilities. They acutely charge the situation with potential energy. For every situation, there is an archetype.

Super-EGO (-Fi? -> -Se!). Normative ideas about relationships between people and ways to get out of unpleasant ethical situations. Understands ethics as founded on the principles of fairness; to do to one side of the equation that you do to the other. Volitional manifestations in order to protect their living space are carried out only on the basis of personal experience. Because of the limited opportunities to fight back, they react painfully to attempts of any interference in his life. Does not respond to any arbitrary crudeness or volitional pressuring. Does not compromise goals, stubbornly clings to them. Avoids direct confrontation if possible, would rather talk civilly and earnestly. Uses their naturally strong sense of the conditioning of objects over time to avoid collisions with their material interests. Due to this, they may appear as someone with very little weaknesses.

Super-ID (+Fe -> +Si?) Attracts information about a good mood, a specific positive state, or a feeling. They would like to think that they can eliminate serious inconveniences, make the environment around them more comfortable. This skill needs to be evaluated. They are unconsciously activated when there is a need to make the environment more comfortable, which should lead to a better state, raise the mood at least in the immediate environment. In friendly, comfortable, and informal company, their cool exterior thaws and they start lighting up with joviality.

ID (+Te! → +Ni?). Has developed guidelines and methods that relate to specific practical activities, technological effectiveness, and resource use. Spontaneously feels the correct allocation of resources over time, which allows them to effectively solve tasks at an unhurried pace. This pace is deeply rational in nature.

ESE (Ethical-sensory extrovert)

EGO (+Fe! -> +Si?). Perception of the world is fundamentally emotional. Feels the emotional atmosphere well in any situation, knows the relevance of the way of expression, the place and weight (importance) of the internal state in each situation. Flexible approach to solving problems of managing and expressing emotions. They show bright emotionality both negative and positive. Creatively produces around themself comfort, coziness, conveniently arranges space, surrounds others with beautiful things, changing thereby the general condition and mood. Usually opinionated about their tastes.

(wow i really went all out on that this one that tumblr wont even display it in full resolution, so here. john just has so many more lines to choose from, sorry!)

Super-EGO (+Te! -> +Ni?). Practical and technological thinking is tightly based on acquired knowledge and patterns of solving similar problems. Methods of business activity in both general and specific areas are selected based on the opinion of reputable sources, or adjusted to one of the mastered templates. Predicting specific changes in the sphere of their interests is carried out only on the basis of personal experience. He is not able to compare his own method of forecasting with others, so he is sensitive to criticism of poor timing or deadlines, does not like situations that feel like a waste of his time; he is lost in connection with negative events. Guided by purely personal experience, he chooses specific times and deadlines for various tasks with a normative understanding of business activity in general.

Super-ID (-Ti? -> -Ne!). Attracts information about the order, specific logical relationships in the field of activity or interests. Needs someone to suggest specific ways to make connections between phenomena, patterns, and rules. Tries to be reasonable himself, even though he knows that this is not characteristic of him. Sometimes he openly talks of his actions that were poorly reasoned through, as if inviting other people to laugh at his thoughtlessness. The ordering and systematization of thought opens up a new way of understanding of events that are happening around him, as well as new prospects, potential, and capabilities. He likes to think that he understands the essence of a situation and lights up with new ideas. This skill needs to be evaluated. It is unconsciously activated when it is necessary to create order, clear consistency and clarity on a particular issue, especially if their abilities are recognized.

ID (-Fi? -> -Se!). Involuntarily keeps track of communications in their social circle. Without hesitation, they use a variety of ways to establish and maintain relationships that have been developed in his personal practice. Good relationships are important for personal inner confidence in a situation. To prevent unfavorable relationships, they are inclined, often without even realizing it, to act with pressure, forcing a showdown, forcing the partner to change the relationship for the better. Frequently demonstrates his resoluteness, persistence, and purposefulness, as if proposing his behavior as a model for imitation. Usually tells in much detail what obstacles were created before him, and how he overcame them, what he was told in response, and what he replied with, and so on and in the like.

(full res)

you might be able to see already how they would complement each other's thought process nicely. here are some descriptions of what the communication between these types is like:

+Fe! : program function of ESE and dual-seeking function of LII

The ESE periodically tells emotionally charged "program" function stories, telling of how somebody has acted and what they have done. The main orientation of ESE's leading ethical program is: "No one should be offended." The LII carefully listens to these statements, and, demonstrating a full understanding of these issues, develops logical basis for them, e.g. in calm persuasive voice he explains how the ESE has acted justly and fairly. The effusion of turbulent emotions coming from the ESE is counterbalanced by their absorption by the LII, who breaks them down into fragments by asking clarifying questions of the ESE.

-Ti? : dual-seeking function of ESE and program function of LII

The ESE is tuned to accepting information when it's relayed in clear logical form. He issues requests for logical explanations delivered from a point of view of generalized rules underpinning specific life events, which he receives from the LII, who delivers clear unambiguous interpretations, places the dots over all "i's", and demonstrates good understanding of problems that are of concern to the ESE. Not receiving information of this kind, the ESE begins making demands of those around him to be "intelligent" and understand the reasons of his actions.

-Ne! : activating function of ESE and creative function of LII

The ESE feels uncomfortable if he doesn't extend his help to people who are in need of it. His subconscious orientation is: "care and guard the talented", be kind and attentive towards other people. The LII usually meets such criteria by proving in action his aptitude at uncovering hidden capabilities, winning trust, passing on the knowledge. The ESE creates supportive conditions for people who are capable but lacking in assertive "push-through" qualities, among whom the LII finds himself, and a special work regime that protects such individuals from overloads on sensing functions. Newly discovered possibilities inspire and promote the pragmatic and business-oriented activities of the ESE. He can support a new undertaking or initiative with an enormous amount of energy and enthusiasm, light up by new ideas. Only the LII is able to, even having a vague general notion about the subject, construct a developed theory or idea of any issue. This theory shows to be promising in the process of its concrete application within its field.

+Si? : creative function of ESE and activating function of LII

LII tries to take care of their well-being, but may gravitate towards demonstrative asceticism, exhaust himself with work, studies, or exercise. The ESE periodically takes care of creating an environment that "charges" the LII with pleasant sensations: a reception of guests, a good meal, a visit to a theater or a concert, an interesting trip, and so on. At the same time the ESE takes pleasure in this himself.

+Te! : role function of ESE and observing function of LII

The role function of the ESE manifests as business-oriented activity and initiative, supplying interesting information, provision with material assistance to those who are in need, general restlessness and fussy busyness. This function is normative, i.e. the ESE seeks to comply with the norms and accepted ways of doing things. The nuancing of the understanding of these norms, i.e. introduction of activities that go beyond them, is possible only by considering LII's advice and recommendations. The LII serves as a director of this function, adjusting its workings by advocating the necessity of practical application of some beneficial ideas, rejection of useless though spectacular ideas, and the need to ensure standards of life not below average by rejection of equalization.

+Ni? : vulnerable function of ESE and demonstrative function of LII

The ESE poorly feels the flow of time, both physical, which manifests as running late and poor distribution of his strengths over time, and historical, which manifests as poor ability to anticipate consequences of actions and tendency for traditional ways of solving problems. The ESE finds it difficult to make radical choices. The LII fully takes this aspect onto his shoulders. He has an unconscious ability to distribute activities in time, thereby avoiding work stress and overloads, and is capable of making a radical choice. The LII is able to calmly wait and in the necessary moment get to work when the wasteful fussiness of the ESE reaches its critical point.

-Fi? : ignoring function of ESE and role function of LII

On this function the ESE gives advice and makes demands concerning the creation of appropriate psychological distances in form of proper behavior, courtesy and politeness, denouncing rudeness and boorishness. In this manner, the ESE adjusts LII's role function, which in itself contains a set of large psychological distances: a sullen stubborn look, unsociability, etc. With such fine-tuning it becomes easier for the LII to come into contact with people, whereby he becomes more animated, resolves many of his ethical problems that previously frightened him, gains greater insight into human relationships and a more accurate understanding as to whose side to take in situations of conflict.

-Se! : demonstrative function of ESE and vulnerable function of LII

The LII finds it very difficult to exert pressure on other people from his own will and initiative, especially in cases when he needs to attain something for himself. He finds this difficult to do - to press ahead in certain situations, to gather all the required paperwork, to stand in lines and queues, to petition for his own interests, even the ones that are of vital importance to him. He finds it difficult to push a person away, to sharply refuse someone, to quarrel loudly and defend his rights, to put an end to relations that have exhausted themselves. The ESE doesn't directly affect this function, i.e. he doesn't verbally criticize and teach the LII on this aspect, but takes over its functioning completely. The ESE exerts a constant, sometimes intrusive and imposing pressure on other people if there is a need to achieve something, to defend justice and demand fair treatment, to protect interests of those who are close and dear to him. The ESE goes to the right jurisdictions, inspires people around him and directs them towards work and purposeful activity, keeps up a high pace of life himself, and breaks off relations with those who don't deserve trust.

and some miscellaneous excerpts from literature i liked a lot. (i can't remember the sources i used since i've been working on this on and off, for the past week and i was just spilling things onto the post. i think stratiyevskaya?):

Mood - that’s what matters in this dyad - emotions and feelings. Anything that suppresses and overshadows good mood is considered unethical in this dyad and is strongly condemned.

The ESE does not allow the LII to limit him in the possibilities of consuming the amount of pleasures and joys, which he considers to be necessary and sufficient. Fortunately, both partners in the dyad - LII and ESE - are obstinate and unyielding. Both are demanding, unwilling (and not allowing anyone else) to lower the bar of their requirements, unable to give in and make concessions (especially in anything that is of principle for themselves). Both know how to make their partner reckon with their interests and insist on the fulfillment of their demands.

LII is impressed by the emotional generosity of ESE and his spiritual responsiveness. All this finds the deepest understanding in LII, since he is tuned to the same priorities and values. For his part, ESE admires the ability of LII to speak clearly and definitely on every issue. ESE is struck by the harmony of the reasoning of LII, the amazing clarity, accuracy and laconicism of his statements. To ESE it seems that for LII, there is nothing incomprehensible in this world; he can give a comprehensive explanation on every issue. And everything that ESE thought about before is gradually being built into a definite and clear system of views, which he can now very freely and naturally present. Confusion and chaos in his worldview gradually gives way to a stable logical order, as if someone patient and careful was sorting all his thoughts into shelves. Such clarity inspires and activates ESE; he begins to see some prospects for himself, new opportunities. His energy and activity, in addition to emotional and ethical expression, also receives sensory realization: ESE begins to take care of LII and carefully looks after him. If LII is a colleague with whom ESE is especially pleasant to communicate with, he begins to treat him with something tasty, homemade; will make some small, but beautiful and necessary gift (for example: new cologne or a warm scarf).

> okay that's great and all but when are we talking about john and aradia specifically?

yes, that was the point of this post. i just had to build all that up first so i could walk you through my thoughts in a fully substantiated way.

considering chronology of wind again, john doesnt realize it but he needs aradias frankness and insight. even if she’s unable to explicate on vague things, she states the reason why instead of making him feel stupid (it would create a doomed timeline) but thats all john needs to hear. she is self-effacing and only tells him the truth, and we know other people can take advantage of john’s suggestibility in this way. aradia tells john who is or isnt trustworthy, what actions would be useful/necessary and which ones wont, without any selfish personal motive a la vriska or terezi.

^ (juuuust the record my nitpicky ass doesn’t agree with the truth of the classpect interpretation on behalf of the author in the last bit BUT that is beside the point here. the point is that she is answering john’s question in a way that is meaningful for him)

aradia doesnt realize it but she needs john’s friendy goofiness to brighten her up because she is surrounded by people who antagonize her when she’s literally not even trying to get under anyones skin. everybody gets frustrated at her “spooky nonsense” because theyre afraid of their own mortality, basically telling her to put a lid on it because thinking about hard truths makes THEM personally uncomfortable. but to her it’s always just been a fact of life. plugging your ears to reality is ignorance, but at the same time that doesn’t mean there’s no meaning in anything. she wants to help people see this and she dedicates herself to becoming a psychopomp for the deceased and earnestly trying to make people feel emotionally and physically comfortable in their situation through exploring their memories.

john isn’t hostile towards her. by being herself she is immediately able to earn john’s trust when they initially talk. this is also true in canon; the one time they talked when john initially comes up to her, saying “can i ask you something? seem reasonable, and pretty nice.” unfortunately he asked her the one question she didn’t have much to say about, and i can’t blame him for expecting all the troll girls to be basically insane at that point. but i don’t think aradia is insane. yes she is odd, but i think it’s evident that she has a good head on her shoulders with knowledge of the way the universe around her works, and in the end wants to simply bask in watching it play out. i think she deserves to get childishly excited about it, especially considering she was dead for most of her developmental years.

aside from getting his answers answered, john shows curiosity about her and her species and even care about her well-being and state. this naturally comes from their conversation’s ebb and flow. aradia tells this straightforwardly, without bells and whistles and without trying to trick him, unlike the other trolls who seem keen on well..trolling him.. and providing him with unclear answers to those sorts things. maybe aside from vriska, but she did have a little bit of an attitude about it wherein her and john’s dynamic felt uneven or off-rhythm, with a large psychological distance. it’s a different feeling with aradia, however. they exchange information on the same rhythm and so are able to achieve a closer psychological distance in communication.

there are no judgments coming from aradia about john being “stupid”. she doesn’t underestimate him. it’s not just that john wants to understand (although he does), but he needs to understand what he is doing. aradia compliments john about the traits he possesses that allow him to be effective. i guess in a way i’m doing the same thing with john right now.

john is so mobile and strung along by being the action hero going from place to place as a can-do deliveryboy that he never has time to reflect on his losses, think through them, and accept them.

literally who else is more qualified in all of homestuck than aradia for talking to john about these things?

on top of all of this, they have objectively significant connections beyond just mutual self-realization in a way i think could've been fleshed out. there is potential here.

for a story, i can think of a way that a conversation between them could plausibly happen using the systems established in homestuck's mythology. in canon, we see that john never met aradia until year 3 on the golden battleship in the dream bubbles when he goes to sleep.

but john still dreamt out in the furthest ring. that means during those 3 years it was possible for john to have had a dream with her in it, or at least aradiabot. i know john didn't know aradia's name beforehand but let's just explore the possibility that they could have had met before that. remember that all these aradiabots were once this person.

aradia had obtained john's crosbytop, his dads hat, and his wallet quite a while before their sgrub session. theres your entry

imagine john seeing that

memories of dear old dad get stirred up through the link of seeing those items

the dream bubble transforms

john is forced to stand in his memories and explore grief and the meaning of life with aradia

physically being in the space around him would definitely help john reflect easier i think because it will force him to actually exist within the space and talk to someone, taking some time out for this. he wanted to know if anything could've been done or if he was just too late to save them. i know aradia would be able help him slow down and introspect. don't forget the opportunities created by the properties of these spaces that are glubbed out in the furthest ring by the horrorterrors that meld the labyrinthine time and space of their surroundings to the memories of the people and finding others through common points in memory. i would imagine that objects known by multiple people would provide a common point in memory to bring them together.

The bubbles allow the players of Sburb/Sgrub who have lost a life to continue dreaming. The reality constructed in the bubbles is a combination of the memories of everyone inside the bubble accessible to any who has learned the bubble's nature. According to Aradia, it would be quite difficult to exit a bubble to get into a new one, however someone inside a bubble can travel to another one through common points in memory, taking their own memories with them to be integrated into the new bubble. These memories mix and combine, but in general, no new memories are created. Additionally, the bubbles store the consciousness of a player who has lost their dream selves and their original selves, making them double as a form of afterlife; the player is then capable of accessing the memory of anyone else who has gained access to the bubbles. Living players, who have lost or become their dream selves, appear in the dream bubbles when they are asleep. It is in this fashion that the bubbles can be used as meeting places between the dead and the living; even those from alternate universes and doomed timelines can be found in a bubble. Furthermore, in addition to memories, the bubbles can to some extent reflect the thoughts of a player. Beyond that, the bubbles can also behave similarly to Skaia's clouds, showing things that are in some way relevant to the player - such as when coin-flip Dave saw alpha Dave grieving over Bro's corpse - something he was not aware of before being shown it by a bubble.

physically reflect the thoughts of the player…… rubs hands

john and aradia share points in memory related to those objects, and to top it all of they are directly related to john's dad on the same day he died, while aradia grew up with them as bizarre alien artifacts from an archeological dig. the memories are more emotionally charged for john, and i think that distinction would probably be relevant to them both.

to be honest i think after speaking with him for a bit she would readily tell john that she regrets not talking to the kids from the universe her team created sooner before she died, but is glad that she can in the afterlife. in canon, alpha aradia told a doomed dave, "i think its absurd i never introduced myself to you in all that time i spent moping around the lab. guess i wasnt in a very good mood".

now not all the aradiabots would know who john is, because the trolls only found out about the humans once they created the genesis frog and hid out in the lab in the veil from jack who infiltrated their session. the aradiabot in the lab was the last one that survived. so if any one of them would know who john is, it would be the aradiabot that exploded. aradia's dream self ascended to god tier in jack noir's rampage on trolls' derse and took those memories with her which we can assume is what made the last aradiabot explode. its known that any original copy that dies when another rises up becomes a ghost and lives on in the dream bubbles, which would include her. a doomed aradiabot we see in the comic, which was the one that originally landed to alternia in the past, becomes more lighthearted after she dies, a bit more like her alive counterpart.

oh yeah, and the more obvious surface-level connections to top it off? ghostbusters? john ain't afraid of no ghost girl. john would be genuinely interested in what aradia living as a ghost irl on her planet and not as a gaming abstraction in the furthest ring would be like. i imagine she would be able to explain the subjective experience and that she had to prototype herself into the kernelsprite order for her server player to see her. there's also no way john hasn't seen a movie as classic as indiana jones and judging from her poster i can imagine he probably thinks it's sweet that aradia's strife specibus whipkind is a reflection of her own personal tastes, interests and hobbies.

so yeah i've just been chewing on all of this and thinking about it but i know i needed to just get this out there somehow. obviously since i spent two weeks putting this post together i'd be happy to hear your thoughts

[absolutesilly]

Hello again!!! What do you think about Feng Xin and Jian Lan? They made me sad but rereading it, i get why home girl just wants to move on but still 🥲 alot of people have said that Feng xin is a coward because he could not choose between his prince and his lover. But i think thats such an unfair judgement though. He was trying his best but they said its his indecisiveness was what made him lose both of them. Also, alternatively would you have like if Jian Lan gave Feng Xin a second chance?

hello again!! :) this is a really good question!!

jian lan and feng xin make me soooooooo sad. the thought of feng xin paying to see her just to talk… ough. i have my head in my hands. :’( i think they’re a really good example of love lost due to circumstance and poor timing.

there’s a part of me that wants to call them a case of “right person, wrong time”—but i’m not sure that’s true! i think that how wrong the time was is a big factor that led to them connecting in the first place. would they have sought each other out otherwise, if jian lan remained a noble young woman and feng xin stayed the prince’s bodyguard? who knows! but they were a big comfort to each other in such a difficult part of both of their lives… a happy ending that couldn’t happen, with everything else going on :(

i agree that calling feng xin a coward or indecisive feels like an unfair judgement. especially bc feng xin’s relationship with jian lan feels like one of the first things he ever really wanted for himself! xianle era feng xin’s whole identity revolves around protecting and serving xie lian—he outright says to mq at one point that he doesn’t care about anyone except his highness! so for him to go and pursue his love for someone else, albeit in secret… idk, that doesn’t feel like cowardice to me! just human. and perhaps, a reflection of the sheer amount of stress he was under and some of his faith in xl wavering.

there are things about feng xin’s personality that helped lead to both his relationship with jian lan and his relationship with xie lian falling apart—but rather than cowardice or indecision, i’d say it’s some of feng xin’s best traits backfiring on him! namely: his loyalty and his idealism.

it’s clear that he desperately wants to do right by both of the people he loves, but he can’t, and he doesn’t want to accept that. he wants to buy jian lan’s freedom! he wants to stand by xie lian’s side and protect his dignity as the prince! but neither of these things are feasible. it’s especially difficult trying to do both, but honestly i think that even if he was just focusing on one or the other, they would have been nigh-impossible tasks. still, even though jian lan seems to understand that feng xin freeing her is a pipe dream and xie lian realizes that feng xin is chasing after a version of him that no longer exists (and maybe never did)—his loyalty would never allow him to leave either of their sides, if he had a choice. hence why they both sent him away :(

ultimately, i think it makes sense that jian lan doesn’t want to rekindle things with feng xin or give him a second chance. to be honest, i don’t think he wants her to! it’s another moment of loyalty and idealism for him—he wants to do right by her, but to me it really didn’t seem like he was still in love with her at the end. he barely recognized her as a ghost! and it’s been so long… perhaps some things are better left to rest.

(i will say that i like to imagine that maybe a couple decades post-canon, they reconnect just enough for feng xin to go and visit her and cuocuo every once and a while… baby steps.)

[olivias-hyperfixation-corner]

What is Hoshi-chan's "unique superpower"?

Hoshi eventually gets the power to help tired, insomniac or paranoid creatures fall asleep and have vivid, happy dreams! Sometimes, Hoshi may even be able to share a dream with their client if they accidentally fall asleep as well. Below is the story, explanation, pros and cons of Hoshi’s new superpower! (This was copied from my server explanation)

So everyone thought that because Hoshi is an angel that they can do cool stuff and they were rigjt. They have a weird sixth sense that makes them see sounds and taste colors and stuff. And of course their star bond allows them to have strong attachments with other stars and their creators in terms of being to briefly hear their thoughts or feelings if they’re strong enough. But that’s just them being a celestial being that was never supposed to be made

So they have trouble sleeping at night because they’re literally a star and so they’ve got some nocturnal shit going on. So often times they need to sleep with a parent or guardian at night to be able to go to sleep. Mainly Anpanman but sometimes Batako and jam and even the children will volunteer because it can be tedious trying to put them to sleep especially if they had a nightmare or they’re cranky.

So people started to notice that they started sleeping really good when Hoshi slept with them. To the point where Anpanman started to somewhat enjoy them desiring to sleep with him. He even got a little disappointed when they didn’t. The others eventually noticed this too and they would have very vivid very good dreams when Hoshi slept with them. They would wake up very happy. But then a problem started happening where being around Hoshi made everyone fall asleep. Something was weird. They were gaining a power that nobody knew how to handle

BUT. Obviously they have other sleep friends like nemunemu ojisan and Baobab ojisan. So that’s exactly who they went to for help. Both of them. One for the sleepy thing and the other for the vivid dreams. Turns out Hoshi was getting a superpower courtesy of Anpanman’s side of the genetics. When a star of life falls to earth, they’re supposed to bring good replenishment and life to the earth. Now that Hoshi is a person that good replenishment comes in the form of a power. They can basically ward off nightmares and put you into a deep sleep. If you’ve been having reoccurring nightmares or you can’t get any sleep, they can basically charm you to sleep and knock you out with good dreams. They don’t know how to control it… yet. But at least nemunemu ojisan was able to show them how to control putting people to sleep

Once they get a grasp on their power they will be trusted to go out in close distances alone a little more. It’s also a good power for big monsters like kazekonkon or the little wolf guy with a sleeping mask because if Hoshi puts them to sleep during battle they’ll be pacified and can be moved back to their home and wake up happy and refreshed after having good dreams.

There are a bunch of setbacks with their power though because they’re a baby.

So because they’re so little if they get distracted and can’t regain their focus it will not work. They have to be totally focused to put you to sleep

The bigger you are the more energy it takes to put you to sleep. Hoshi might become sick and weak by putting a big force to sleep

Sometimes if you are just downright powerful it will not work. It does not work on people like the ice queen, Blacknose (if she was still alive) or kurayamiman. it will work on the sand guy though… under some circumstances. The power would work on all of these creatures if they asked to be put to sleep but they most likely never would except for sand guy

You have to stay still for it to work. If you are moving around everywhere or you are pushing Hoshi away it won’t work. I have a feeling they need to cuddle you and sing for it to work

Once again if Hoshi pushes too hard trying to get it to work they can fall sick from fatigue and are prone to fevers and illness from weakened system

If you make hoshi fall asleep first… obviously not gonna work

If you don’t have a corporeal form that Hoshi can touch it won’t work. Obake people can go invisible and Hoshi can’t do it to beings they can’t see or feel.

If you drown out their singing or make them lose pitch it won’t work

It will knock Hoshi the fuck out trying to use this power. Especially in the beginning. They need to wait a few hours to get their stamina back or even take a nap themselves. It will make them insanely tired which is actually good because if they use it a lot they sleep better at night.

Unfortunately they cannot use the power on themself. So they are still prone to struggling to sleep, nightmares and crying.

In some ways it’s like melonpanna’s punch except it’s a lot more long lasting. Melonpanna’s punch only works for like half a minute but Hoshi’s can work all night or even just put you to sleep for a nap. They have to get better at controlling how long a person will sleep though because the limit is 9 hours and if they can’t control… let’s say a 2 hour nap they might accidentally make you sleep all day. In other ways it’s like Creampanda’s power because early Creampanda literally couldn’t control his power at all. Hoshi, when they get this power, will struggle like crazy.

HOWEVER. Because they’re not a hero they will often times stay out of battle and will not always need to use it every day. This is good and bad because they sleep better on the days that they do use it but also they’re prone to needing more daytime naps or light play when they do use it because it takes them a while to get their energy back after using it. But sometimes people don’t even need Hoshi’s power for battle. Sometimes little animals are tired and need sleep and Hoshi will put them to sleep. That doesn’t take up barely any power. Or little guys like Peter or the grasshopper cowboy. They take up barely any power because they’re so small. If you’re sick and restless but you need sleep to get better Hoshi’s power comes in handy. If you have a great adventure/journey/task ahead of you and need ensured sleep and energy in the morning/when you wake up Hoshi is a great option. I can see Omusubiman and komusubiman preparing to travel a long distance and staying the night at the bakery so that Hoshi can use their power on them.

If you have gotten greatly injured and are in a lot of pain or if you even need medical attention that would pain you too much, Hoshi, if they concentrate hard enough, will eventually be able to control their power to put you to sleep for a few hours as you’re cared for and as the pain goes down.

If you are a big thing that needs to be moved to not cause damages Hoshi can put you to sleep so that the heroes can carry you back to your normal habitat as well

If they have a star connection with you or fall asleep after they put you to sleep I can also see them vibing in your dreams

So they won’t always need to use this power but when they do it can be very helpful and is a good battle tactic to use so that you don’t have to hurt someone! Hoshi’s power would be amazing in rollpanna situations because Anpanman never physically hurts rollpanna because he doesn’t want to. So if Hoshi is able to put her to sleep they can move her to a contained area with flowers so that she will wake up regulated

Or that one time with black Omusubiman when Anpanman tried to punch him but couldn’t bring himself to and ended up getting hurt

This could also mean Hoshi theme real. I might make a theme for Hoshi that they sing when they put someone to sleep. It’s most likely a lullaby. But I could also see them humming everyone’s themes in a soft tone to put them to sleep

So YEAH basically it’s either a non painful battle tactic or a happiness/stamina inducer!

[ailithnight]

J'onn J'onzz was perplexed. A fact he was perfectly comfortable sharing with the small group of Justice Leaguers after establishing a telepathic link. He had been called in to the attempted interrogation of Phantom after the boy refused to cooperate. Now he was watching them through one way glass, the group not wanting to alert Phantom to the presence of a telepath, assuming he didn’t already know.

“You should add Empathic abilities to his file. The whole Watchtower is drenched in his projected emotions.”

Bruce mentally grunted. “And those emotions are…?”

“Perplexing. They do not match his thoughts.”

“What do you mean?” Clarked asked as Diana once again tried to get Phantom to tell them something, anything, about why he was bouncing around fighting overpowered metas in other heros’ cities.

“There is no point in continuing your interrogation. He does not hear you. He thinks only of the stars, dreaming in his mind of, as his thoughts describe, ��The infinite beauty of the cosmos’. His mind seems to be somewhere between meditating and dissociating. It is… a mental state I have not encountered before.

Moreover, there are… flashes. Moments where his thoughts drift to something else. But the thought is big and complicated and the flashes too short to get a proper read.”

“Could it be some tactic for overcoming telepathy?” Asks Diana.

“Under other circumstances, I would think yes. But with the boy projecting his emotions, and emotions being something none can truly falsify, I suspect not.”

Batman resists the urge to sigh. “Again, those emotions are?”

“He is at peace. Content. Happy even. There is no fear nor anticipation. I understand your concern that he is planning something, but I can assure you he is not. He is also sad.”

“Sad?” Clark frowns at the young man.

“Actually, sad does not quite articulate the feeling. It is a deep, permeating ache; a grief I do not think Phantom is aware he is experiencing. It is the emotion that now drowns this station. As I said, his emotions are perplexing. I have never known someone to be both so terribly sad and so softly content at the same time.”

“And you can’t tell why he is feeling this way?”

“Not unless his thoughts turn introspective. He would have to think the reasoning for me to know it.”

“Hnn. Continue to monitor. See if you can parse the meaning of those flashes.”

From there, Superman and Wonder Woman continue to tag team an attempted interrogation. Now that they know Phantom has not been listening, they begin repeating questions, trying to push through whatever meditative-dissociative haze he is in.

Batman watches Phantom with a critical eye, new information providing a new perspective. He thinks he understands now why the boy had been so enamored with the Watchtower windows.

But now he wonders why Phantom seems to have just accepted his capture. The boy (just a boy, late teens/early twenties, Tim’s age) had fought like a demon in the field. Matching several veteran Leaguers blow for blow despite the obvious lack of experience. The only reason Superman had even caught him is because he had been weakened from another, highly destructive fight with some robotic weapons arsenal.

He has shown himself to be tenacious and extremely powerful. He’d be a good ally if he’d cooperate. But he doesn’t cooperate. Yet doesn’t fight back. He has been so docile since being brought in. It is like he has simply accepted whatever fate he believes the Justice League has in store for him.

After another fruitless hour in the interrogation room, Phantom’s stomach grumbles loud enough for all four Leaguers to hear. “Hungry?” Clark asks gently. Batman briefly wonders if perhaps the prospect food might make Phantom more cooperative. But he still seems to not hear Superman.

Instead, he glances down at his own stomach with a displeased frown. Whatever he thinks next causes J'onn to transmit a garbled wave of incoherent thought through their link before he reigns it in. Batman allows his curiosity to course through the link, but waits patiently for the Martian to recover.

“I have identified the reasoning for his perplexing emotions.” J'onn’s thoughts feel strained with grief and anger. “I will relay his exact thoughts.” J'onn shares the memory.

“I’m getting hungry. These guys have been pretty nice so far. Maybe they’d indulge me… Mm, nah, probably not. Ghosts don’t eat. Ghosts don’t feel. Ghost boys do not get last meals.”

So! Giving my reblogs to this amazing art their own post so I can keep adding on to this fic at my own leisure.

Please don't ask to be tagged. I'm relegated to mobile and simply cannot keep up with a taglist. All additions will be going in the reblogs on this post, though. So feel free to come back here periodically to see if I've added more.

I'm currently up to 3 chunks with 1 more in planning.

So, without further ado:

Caught and Content

Daniel James Fenton had died at 14.

And every day since then he has counted as a blessing. Especially the good ones, but even the bad ones. The terrible ones. The days so horrid that Danny wouldn’t wish them on the worst beings in the universe. Danny treasured them still. Because every breath, every too slow heart beat, even the ones that pulsed with terror and exhaustion and agony, every one was a miracle. A moment of life that Daniel James Fenton wasn’t meant to have any more.

Borrowed time.

That’s what it was.

Danny had been living on borrowed time since he was 14. And he had long since made peace with the fact that his borrowed time would some day run out.

He’s 20 now. 6 whole years he wasn’t meant to live but did anyway.

A few more months and Danny would be 21, old enough to buy his first alcoholic drink. But even if he lived that long now, he wouldn’t get the chance. The GIW would ensure that. Tuck had celebrated his 21st a couple months ago, and Sam a few months before him. Danny would never get to celebrate his with them.

But that was okay. As said, Danny had long since made peace with the uncertain nature of his borrowed time. He didn’t need to go out to a bar with his friends and celebrate that he had survived 21 whole years. It would have been a lie anyway.

Daniel James Fenton had died when he was 14.

He was in the Watchtower now. Power suppression cuffs and collar making his already battered body feel even more weak and achy. Batman was staring at him. Superman and Wonder Woman seemed to be telling him things. Or asking. Interrogating. Danny paid them no mind. No answer he’d given them before seemed to satisfy. And he already knew what would come next.

These were government sanctioned heros. They were bound to the law. And the law said Danny must be turned over to the GIW. And since Danny had already escaped them and his parents once, he doubted they’d be keen to lock him up again. Research be damned, Phantom was too dangerous to be left alive. Or whatever facsimile of alive Danny existed in right now. Daniel James Fenton had died when he was 14.

So Danny ignored the government sanctioned superheros. He didn’t let his mind wander to tomorrows he’d never have. He had made peace with his death. So now he took every moment left of his breathing beating blessing to turn his gaze out the large Watchtower window.

Nothing else mattered as Danny beheld, breathed in, drowned in the last he’d ever see of the infinite beauty of the cosmos. He let himself relax, smile, and relish in the miracle of being here, of being allowed to see it one last time. And up so close, too.

And when the heros grew tired of Danny’s distraction. When they led him to a new room without any windows to peer out of. Danny stayed relaxed. Stayed smiling. He closed his eyes and waited for his borrowed time to run out. Even as Batman stared and Superman and Wonder Woman interrogated and the power suppression devices drained him of excess energy and he’s pretty sure the GIW were on their way to arrange his execution; he was contented.

Danny was not afraid. He was happy. At peace. Why would he be scared? After all, Daniel James Fenton had died at 14. Every moment since has been a blessing he has been grateful to have.

Because

Daniel James Fenton had died at 14.

[shadowstarion]

more thoughts about durgestarion. yknow how i said astarion would make One Baby Spawn for her? Wrong. I love the idea of astarion emulating cazador in some ways but genuinely being a better person at the same time, so the big parallel here is that instead of having a bunch of spawn to torture and lure in prey, astarion and seless become the world’s most insane foster parents.

seless goes out at night on long walks through baldur’s gate and looks for children who need homes, kids who are orphaned, abandoned, begging for money, sick, or being exploited in some way. depending on their age and circumstances, she’ll offer them a warm meal and a place to stay for the night, bring them back to the mansion for a talk with astarion.

they’re a bit more honest with the older kids about what they are, those who may already recognize astarion as a vampire lord. they’re allowed to stay as long as they want, so long as they’re kind to their siblings and help out around the house. seless tutors them, buys the girls nice dresses, takes them to social events to mingle as much as possible, helps them develop skills and find work as they grow up. astarion teaches them all about the world outside the city, takes the boys out to hunt animals for their supper, gets them rubbing elbows with important people and makes sure they’re set up well for the future. when they’re old enough to make their own way in life they’re free to go, but a few here and there will decide to become astarion’s spawn and stay close to home.

the little ones are a bit different. astarion is very hesitant to make a spawn so young that they can’t make the decision for themselves, so he’d only resort to that if seless brought home a child basically already on death’s door. seless just adores the little kids, loves on them with all her heart and would protect them viciously. she’d go from bunk to bunk giving goodnight kisses, spoil them with stuffed animals and all the toys they could ever dream of. astarion acts like he’s not a fan of young kids, but will sit up all night comforting a little one who’s had a nightmare, checks in on the nursery about a million times a day, and is so unimaginably proud at their every minor achievement.

the bunk rooms in which cazador’s tortured spawn were kept are turned into a paradise of warm blankets and fluffy pillows, each with a desk for the children’s studies and a chest for keep their things safe. seless is guilty of indulging in pillow fights and hair-braiding with the girls, astarion keeping the boys up far past bedtime to narrate while they act out epic tales of adventure. torture chambers and holding cells are turned into play rooms, study halls, a nursery for the very little ones, private quarters for their spawn-children who wished to stay close to home. the entire mansion overflowing with love, happiness, laughter, and the sense of family both astarion and seless have been deprived of.

there would be One Little Spawn, though. seless was going to town on an errand to pick up a new gown from the tailor when a little boy tried to swipe her change-purse and actually succeeded. she’d always be the first to give a poor urchin or young thief a warm smile and invitation to their makeshift foster home, but she positively cannot find the little scamp! she tracks him down by scent, finding him in a filthy alleyway, doubled over and coughing, her purse emptied in exchange for a small piece of bread and bottle of medicine that obviously wasn’t working. he can’t be older than 8 so painfully thin and frail, so sick she’s worried he won’t last the night. she’d rush him home immediately, demand that astarion make him a spawn at once and pray that the transformation didn’t outright kill him. once he’s back to full health and able to speak without hacking, they tell him what’s happened and he’s more than thankful. orphaned, sick, and taken advantage of too many times to count, he’s never experienced so much as a drop of kindness. astarion absolutely adores him, truly does view him as his own child, and they’re just alike in every way; he’s clever, talkative, talented, and extremely compassionate. they’d try to find some magic to help him grow to adulthood and become astarion’s heir, but even if that wasn’t possible he’s more than content to be a child with loving parents for an eternity.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Mature and responsible characters yet rook comes off as the opposite. If you can't tell I would like to know why you love rook so much as he deviates from your usual mature responsible body guard type, the only thing that fits is that ugly haircut

[Referencing this post and this post!]

L i s t e n

I will fight to the bitter death to defend the huntsman’s honor/j 😤

I don’t believe that Rook is “the opposite” of mature and responsible. Sure, he initially comes off as silly and as someone to not be taken seriously, but I think it’s false to say that he isn’t “mature and responsible”. When it comes down to it, he really is wise and dependable, and serves as a good mentor and a protector to others. Rook just so happens to express those qualities in unconventional ways and with a very different personality compared to what we typically think of as a “mature and responsible” character (ie the “big brother”, “dad” “butler”, “bodyguard”, “student council president”, “smart anime glasses man” types, etc).

In reality, Rook is every bit as wise and as dependable as any other upperclassman! He’s the first to support others and to bring up their positive traits even when they don’t see it for themselves; this is most notably seen in episode 5, in which Rook offers pep talks to his juniors (mostly Deuce and Epel) who are struggling to keep up with their VDC training and in Happy Beans Day, when Rook speaks highly of Trey’s skills and experience even when Trey downplays himself. Rook is keenly aware of others’ strengths and weaknesses, and he makes the active decision to support those strengths and how they develop. Recall that it was also Rook that coaxed Epel through the discovery of his unique magic in episode 6, which allowed Epel to take command of it and get them out of a tight pinch. Then, as we see in Glorious Masquerade, Rook takes great pride in seeing the people he has supported blossom and come into their own; he rejoices in Epel’s masterful use of his unique magic and says that he must share the story with their dorm leader upon their return.

Another thing that makes Rook responsible in an odd way is how he decides to take action; he tends to act in very roundabout ways or he plans that involve thinking ahead rather than solve problems head-on. For example, Rook doesn’t tell Vil outright that he needs to be less vain and to accept himself regardless of how the public perceives him; instead, Rook, knowing how headstrong Vil is, suggests that Vil selects Adeuce and Scarabia for the VDC team. Rook believes that exposure to this group is the most positive thing that can be done for Vil given the current circumstances; this is Rook’s way of trying to be responsible for looking after his dear friend and dorm leader without outright shutting down Vil’s hopes and dreams.

Something else I want to point out is that Vil, someone who has extremely high standards for both himself and for others, wouldn’t have picked Rook to serve as his vice dorm leader if he didn’t have faith in him and his abilities. And, indeed, we’ve seen many instances in which Rook fulfills his duties as Vil’s second-in-command to a T. He has had to oversee Pomefiore in Vil’s absence both in the main story and in events (when Vil was kidnapped in episode 6/Ghost Marriage/Endless Halloween Night), reassuring panicked students about Vil’s absence and even figuring out a plan of rescue. Rook was even planning to save Vil all by himself in the main story (until Yuu and Epel demanded he take them with him); he knows when to take bold action, and what lengths he must go to to save and to protect those he cares about. This is arguably much more “dependable” of Rook to do when compared to like... Trey (the TWST character we most likely think of as “dependable” due to the “big brother” tropes he is usually associated with), who stood by and let his dorm leader rampage and unjustly punish several students. While I don’t fault Trey for acting in the way he did (it makes total sense given his history), it just goes to show that just slapping a label on a character doesn’t define their entire existence, whether for Rook, for Trey, or for literally any other character. There will always be instances in which they contradict those labels, or, in cases like Rook, they demonstrate those labels in unorthodox or hard to pinpoint ways.

... Okay, now with that analytical defense out of the way 🤡 I just want to say that Rook 100% has the capability to be a decent butler/bodyguard (ugh, my favorites) between his uncanny attention to detail and his seemingly superhuman senses and strength. But even more appealing than that is just how he’s just so weird at the same time???? I really like characters that can keep me guessing and on my toes... basdfyoasdasbdaAND NOT TO MENTION 😔 I have a weak spot for characters that think first before acting or reacting with violence (which is a laaaarge part of the reason why I much prefer Jade to Floyd).

SIDE NOTE: I know that I joked before about how I like anime men with ugly haircuts, but that’s only technically HALF true, because I think Trey has an ugly haircut as well but he doesn’t appeal to me at all.

All that aside, I’m also allowed to like multiple different tropes!! I’m not beholden to enjoy only one type of character. (This is true for everyone else too; no one should be expected to just like one thing.) A lot of the other TWST characters that rank high on my tier list definitely don’t classify as mature and/or responsible 😂 and likewise, there are many characters that are mature and responsible that don’t rank highly.

Certain personality traits alone aren’t the sole determining factors; I know my own trends and tastes, but I try to consider characters as a whole before deciding how I feel about them.

[nnothingnesss]

Real Friends (Short Story)

Meredith and Tessa share a sobering reunion after both girls experience misfortunate events that uproot their previous lives.

"Are you for real?" Tessa asks closing the door behind her.

"Yeah, it was pretty bad."

"I'm sorry Mere. Come here." A warm hug for a short while before she drops her bag. It was the first time I’d seen her in so long. Even Mitsy missed her, purring while rubbing her tan coat on the side of her baggy jeans.

"You act like it's just me going through it right now or something." I tell her. Mitsy sits beside her attentively. We both missed her.

"I know it's not but you'd do the same thing won't you?"

"Well. No."

"See, there you go, lying and shit."

"No i'm not," my tone holds and rises "I'm", you know, when you lie and shit.

We sit on my bed and I lean onto her shoulder. It's nice to know Tessa hasn't changed at all. Just got a little older. Slightly thicker. More wise. Still the same long blonde hair though, same rough face, thin eyes. She looked good. Last time we’d seen eachother, we both had just went off to college. Or me, more specifically, because I transferred way out to Arizona for a year and a half. That's far from where we grew up together. Opposite side of the country far. Lonely far.

"How long are you staying in Virginia? You're just here for spring break aren't you?" she leans her head on top of mine.

"Well," I deliberate. "I'm actually moving back in with my mom."

"Wait, I'm sorry, what?" she pulls away.

"Yeah,"

"But Mere,"

"No, it's okay,"

"You sure?"

"Yeah, it was my decision."

"That must be why," she gazes up and observes each dreamcatcher. As she asked, she ran her fingers through them watching them swing from the frame of my bed. There was a lot of them. All different styles and colors. Some were blue triangles others were brown hexagons. Some had glittery feathers and others had plain beads. I liked them.

"Yeah."

"So, the dreams, is it because of?"

"Well," I look into the air with a wry smile.

"Oh no."

"Yeah. It’s okay, it was my fault."

"But didn’t you say Marcus was a good guy? How could he let that happen?"

"It wasn't his fault. It's not like he was my chaperone or anything,"

"Yeah but he's your friend. And they were his friends. He should've done something."

"It's okay Tessa, really, he feels like shit about it too."

"Oh Meredith. That is so fucked."

"I know," I lean onto her shoulder again and look up at her. Her blonde hair was all over the freckles of my face. "What about you? You doing okay?"

"Yeah, it's all good. We talked it out and just decided it wasn't going to work." she fiddles with her fingers for a second. “Oh well.” she exhales.

"I'm sorry Tess. I didn't know he was capable of something like that."

"Yeah, honestly, me fucking either." her body and posture deflate. “I thought he was one of the good ones.”

Despite it being our first time seeing each other in what feels like eons, all the catching up we had to do aligned with what I’d consider lucky misfortune. I came back home because I dropped out of college and she came back because she just got out of a long-term relationship with her now ex-boyfriend. Day 2.

It might not have been the perfect circumstances for a reunion but something about how we could let our guard down with each other felt really comforting. We both knew we needed the nostalgia. It was serene. At home, usually, was anything but that. For both of us.

See, we grew up around families who tell you, "oh, you'll be fine" and “it’s not a big deal, don’t worry.” Wish I could say that was it but it’d be more accurate to say that now we forget it’s okay to not be okay. That was not okay. Nice to finally remember, that hey, this really sucked but you’re emotions aren’t a burden. That is okay.

I stand up from the bed to grab my phone off my computer desk. We both were living with our parents in the same neighborhood again. So before we allow ourselves to get boggled down by the demands of adulthood, we decided we’d spend some time together and just vibe. The first thing we decided to do was go down to the river we splashed around in as kids. It had a beautiful color to it when the sun beamed on the ripples as it flows through the woods. Going back almost felt like a trip through time.

"This is going to feel so weird," Tessa says.

"Weird as in good or bad?"

"Weird as in good definitely. Maybe just the tiniest bit bad.”

"Bad why?"

"Because I just might cry," she makes fake sobbing noises and wipes her eyes.

"Crybaby," I joke.

After a while of just messing around we grab our stuff to go down to the river. It was just behind the neighborhood so it wasn't too far. We were there in almost half the time it felt like. Just walking the same gravel paths and seeing all the trees willowed in the same areas felt like an adventure. Some trees had fallen, some have gotten bigger, and all of the deepest greens flourished in the peak of spring.

We talked a lot about college life and how things kind of sucked at our campuses. She just went to college downtown where she lived with her boyfriend. Neither of us were necessarily huge extraverts but we were good enough to get by at it. We weren't the coolest girls or even the prettiest but we were happy with what we did have and we had each other. Even after all this time, that was always enough for us.

"So, you plan on getting a job now that we're back?" Tessa asks kicking a couple of rocks. We continue slowly walking down the gravel path towards the riverbank. Trees towered over us, insects buzzed in our ears.

I hadn't even considered a job. I had only been home for about a week and Tessa just got back from the city this morning she didn’t even go stop by her house yet. She parked in front of my house and her car was completely packed. It was one of those older models, 2005 I think, and stuffed to the brim with blankets, hampers full of miscellaneous possessions. Hangers, clothes, wires. Et cetera.

I had already gotten comfortable and currently trying my best to put my old life behind me. After the video went viral I deleted all social media and kind of just became a vegetable on my parents sofa. I re-watched SpongeBob SquarePants and other nostalgic shows over and over again just letting the days pass into a gray haze as I was finally able to find some semblance of comfort in my favorite things. I didn't even think to upset that balance by getting a job.

"Nah, I didn't plan on it. My mom told me I didn't have to get a job until I felt I was ready."

"Yeah I get that. I want to help my mom out since I’ll probably go crazy in the house all day. If I get a good one you should come work with me,"

"If I don't burn the hell out during the interview process then maybe I'll consider it,"

"Oh come on, you’d ace it like it was an elementary quiz,"

"It's just, it's the video, it got me real bad you know? I haven't really been the same."

"No, I get that. I don't want to make you do anything you're not comfortable with."

"Yes you do."

"Only a little bit. But I know it’s serious this time."

As we continue treading on you can begin to see the clearing. The sun shined a white light above the waving tree-line and onto the solid gray rocks surrounding the river.

"I'm guessing the dreams, they're more like nightmares aren't they?"

"No not nightmares. Well, a few sometimes. It’s always a similar dream though. Always the same people or places. It's always in Arizona."

I didn't like to admit it but ever since the party my trust for humanity had been obliterated overnight. It took a while before the changes really started settling in, before I realized it was legitimate trauma, but it was a rough process that humbled me and I had to learn to accept. That video led me into eight months of depression I’ll never get back. I dropped out of college and came running back to my home in Virginia. I had given up on all of my dreams and friends in the process.

"I hope you know you can always sleep at my place. I kind of snore though."

"That's sweet. Also would be kind of funny."

"Right?" Tessa smiles. “It’s been forever.”

She might not want to admit it but she hides her feelings pretty well. Obviously I can tell when she’s ready to open up or not. When I first started hanging out with her in middle school she seemed collected and put-together to my unassuming eyes. She always looked well groomed, nails cut, a planet away from me because I hadn't changed my underwear or washed my hair for days at a time back then.

But I knew she was hurting too. I’d met her boyfriend when they first started dating, before they got serious. I know she’s still in love with him but doesn’t want to say it. He did seem like a good guy but time always changes things. She wouldn’t say it not because she’s ashamed but because she’s ready for true change. All it took was time.

“The river still looks the exact same.” She blocks the sun from her eyes with her hand.

“It’s still so clear.” I look at the rushing water in awe, almost prismatic as it shined in the sun, crashing on the rocks.

We decided to lay out a quilt blanket to lounge on. The sky was clear and the weather was a nice breezy cool, the wind felt so good on my skin.

“I’m so glad I never brought him here.” she leans on her elbow looking down at her bag in between us.

“Yeah. Probably would’ve just given you more memories when you’re trying to forget.”

“Not forget necessarily. Just honor.”

“Yeah, I like that better.”

“Me too.” her eyes look up to me before she lays on her back.

We shared a genuine smile. One that felt like home. It’s nice to know after all this time we still feel the same way as back then. It felt like that was rare these days. Genuineness.

Even in this moment, we both knew our lives were upturned and rerouted. Neither of us knew where we were headed, both of us were calm people but worried tremendously about it. Here in this one moment we can forget all of it. The grip of the real world doesn’t feel as tight, like the breath is deep and heavy but clear. Air flows. It expands the lungs in a way that isn’t forced but relaxing, inviting really.

No more words were needed. We laid down and stared at the sky only exchanging the bare minimum of as we both slipped into the moment. Her presence comforted me. The ground was hard through the blanket but the rushing water and breezing leaves added to the sensation of peace. Tranquility.

I might not be the same ever again. She might never love another man the same either. But we both knew that it didn’t have to be the end. We might be on our own paths, on different directions sometimes, but even then we still meet up in the middle and can share life together. That’s something I wish I could do more of. I couldn’t find that feeling with anybody else. Truth be told, I didn’t even need to. Just this was enough.

"That's... a lot of dream catchers."

"I get bad dreams."

[write-ur-wrongs]

The Death of Me

Pairing: Geralt x reader

Word count: almost 4K - big whoops!

A/N: This was totally meant to be a drabble / blurb, but the story got away from me! A huge thanks to the sweet anon who submitted this prompt - I was beyond inspired and chuckled warmly throughout the entire writing process. This baby isn’t proofread so thread lightly!! I sincerely hope y’all enjoy this one :’) 

Prompt:  Heya! I saw your post about wanting to practice writing short stories so I have a small prompt for Geralt! What about: the reader and Geralt have always had a difficult relationship, always running into each other at the most inconvenient moments and hence disliking each other. However, while Geralt is passing through a village the reader comes barging into his room bloody and near death, only getting a chance to say “I didn’t know where else to go” before collapsing. I would be honoured if the idea inspired you :3

____________________________________________________

You’d never considered yourself unlucky but lately life had a funny way of throwing you for a loop, or rather, throwing you to the wolves. One wolf, actually. A damn, irritating, and arrogant white wolf.

At first, it was all business. You’d arrive in a village itching for a contract, only to find that a “legendary witcher” had already come through and taken care of every monster within a two-days ride. Furious, hungry, and broke, you set out determined to get as far as you could and as quickly as possible. Your determination got you far enough that you’d managed a full three months of contract work, but not far enough it seemed.

You’d been on your way to collect payment from your latest contractor when you’d heard the buzz on the street; a witcher had come through asking about work, and had been told to wait and see as someone else (a woman! A human woman!) had already committed to the case. Apparently, he was either incensed or bemused at the idea – the brute was very hard to read, so say the town gossips – but it didn’t matter to you. You beat him to it and now you get to eat. When you finally met with the contractor to collect your coin, you couldn’t help but swell with pride as they thanked you, eyes wide, for taking care of a monster no human ought to be able to handle. You could have sworn your pride had given you wings as you floated out of the inn.

That is, until you heard them mumble under their breath, “Thank Gods that lass was able to handle it! Had it been the witcher, I would have had to pay triple!”

“Thank heavens for cheap labour!” whispered their partner, raising their glass to cheers their big victory.

Suddenly whatever weightlessness you felt transferred onto your coin purse. Biting hard on your cheek you pushed up your chin, determined to remain dignified. But then you saw him.

Impossibly broad chested, rippling muscles evident beneath his leather armour, with golden eyes that reflected back to you with a cruel playful nature that made bile rise in the back of your throat. He held your gaze and raised his own tankard to you as you walked past him. His deep voice rumbled through you as you pushed the door open.

“Cheers to cheap labour,” you heard him say, and swore you could hear the smirk on his full lips.

Groaning furiously, you pushed the door so hard it swung back and slammed shut behind you with such force a flock of birds took off somewhere in town. Undeterred, you stomped off towards your horse and set off at a gallop.

I’m going to make sure I never cross his fucking path ever again, you thought searingly.

You were wrong it turned out, but how were you supposed to know that?

You’d gone years without actually seeing him again, but that didn’t mean you were free of him. You’d alternated winning and losing contracts to each other, and the pressure of beating him to the next one stressed you so fiercely you developed ulcers. That alone would have been enough to push you to murder had you not heard from another witcher that their brother, the great white wolf, was losing sleep trying to keep up with you. Knowledge of this fact spurred you on; after all, if you couldn’t beat him, it’s best to be even, no?

The next time fate brought you two together, though, you could not have been farther from on top. What made matters worse, is that you weren’t even in battle when your paths crossed. Your literal paths just simply… crossed.

You’d been riding east for many days and just as many nights. You were tired, sore, and somehow still soaked to the bone despite the fact that the rain had stopped at least a day ago. You were so tired, your muscles seemed heavy in your limbs, and you had to keep blinking hard to bring the spinning world around you back to its axis. As you rode through an intersection on the trail, the sun peaked out from behind the thick curtain of clouds just long enough to pull you fully into sleep, and right off your still-moving-horse’s saddle.  

You honestly didn’t remember falling asleep, or off the saddle. You also had no memory of the moment another traveler, who was riding towards the intersection on the other trail, leapt off his mare just as you started your descent and caught you before you could split your skull open on one of the many rocks sprinkled throughout the street. You had no memory of the way he’d pulled you off the path, leading both horses behind him as he’d carried you over his shoulder. Zero recollection of him laying you down on a bed grass, tying your horse to a nearby tree, lighting you a campfire, or filling your pack with some bread and meat.

What you did remember, was the arrogant look on his face when you finally woke up. The condescending tone he took as he reminded you that you were ‘only human’ and had to take care of yourself accordingly was also seared into the annals of your memory.

You hated that he’d saved you almost as much as you hated the fact that you’d been asleep around him. Completely vulnerable for God knows how long and he’d been there to witness it all. Whenever the memory of the look on his face or the way he’d crossed his arms and tilted his stupid head as he condescended your humanity came to you, you couldn’t help but cringe even months after the fact.

***

Your saving grace came a full six months after your damned damsel in distress moment on the trail.

Well fed, well worked, and well travelled, you were taking your time enjoying the market in your town of the week. The work you did wasn’t glamourous, but it did allow you the means to afford a few luxuries every now and then. This time, it just so happened that your coin could buy you the sweetest gift of all: revenge.

The market was busy as ever, you could barely hear yourself think over the cacophony of voices and animal bleats bouncing around the square. Had it been anyone else, the conversation would have been lost among the noise around you, but when that voice came rumbling through the mess of shrieks and shouts, you couldn’t help but seek out the source. You didn’t know why you cared or why you were so surprised to find that the voice’s owner was none other than the White Wolf himself.

“You good?” you asked, making sure to tilt your head, hands on your hips, the same way he’d done the last time you’d met.

“Fine.” He practically barked, not even turning his head fully to address you directly.

The merchant, none-too-concerned with your arrival on the scene, continued as if uninterrupted. “I’m sorry Mr. Witcher, sir, but I can’t go any lower. This is the best I can offer.”

“I can’t pay that much,” he grumbled, hands closed into tight fists.

“I’m sorry-”

“Is this enough?” you interjected, knowingly offering forward far too many ducats.

“Y-yes!” breathed the merchant, looking quizzically at Geralt before picking three coins from your open palm, “thank you, madam...”

“Y/N,” you introduced yourself with a warm smile and a nod.

“Y/N!” Geralt hissed, at the same time, reaching out to push away your hand a fraction too late; the vendor was paid, and you’d won this round.

“What is it, Witcher?” you teased, as the vendor took his sword back for repairs, “been on vacation? Why so skint?”

“Been low on work lately,” he replied coolly, cat-like eyes boring into yours, “not as many contracts as there use to be.”

“Well, I’ll be,” you said, cocking your head to the side and pursing your lips in mock contemplation, “I can’t imagine why that’d be the case! Seems I keep running into monsters to kill.”

“Mmhm.” He hummed, narrowing his eyes at you.

Refusing to let him have the last word, you quickly turned on your heels and high-tailed it out of the market, shouting over your shoulder to the blacksmith to give any change back to Geralt before disappearing back into the crowd.

***

Being even should have brought peace between the two of you but it seemed to have the opposite effect. Your last interaction only fanned the flames of your rivalry. As the months turned to years without coming upon each other again, you still found yourself filled with unreasonable anger whenever you saw a mop of white hair cross you on your travels.

And not that you’d know it, but it turned out that Geralt wasn’t faring any better; finding himself frustrated and acting recklessly whenever he’d come upon anything that reminded him of you.

You were both completely obsessed with one another. Thoughts of the other constantly on the mind. Whether in waking or in dreams, you were both equally afflicted by an intense need to outperform, out run, and also, inexplicably, to impress the other.  

*

It was that need to impress each other that led you to accept a contract you should have never even considered taking. You honestly wouldn’t have even considered it had the circumstances been any different but you’d been hearing about this monster for weeks on your travels. Tales of the mighty griffin tearing people to shreds had been circulating far and wide on this side of the Yaruga, and honestly, with every retelling you’d expected to hear that a witcher had handled it, but that never happened. You’d somehow managed to arrive at the village at the source of these stories before him and had an opportunity to literally rob him of this victory.

Granted, you were the only one who’d been attributing him with this win, but that didn’t matter, not to you. The only thing you cared about when accepting this particular contract was the knowledge that by taking it, you were preventing him from having it, and that was more than enough.

The shock on the villagers faces when they saw you accept the contract only added to your already inflated confidence. The sheer size of the griffin’s wingspan humbled you a little, though, and whatever grand illusions of an easy victory you’d carried into the forest were squashed along with a couple rib bones only moments after engaging the beast. In short, you were fucked.

Some might say that coming out of it alive was enough of a win. Those people would be morons, you thought as you stumbled clumsily back towards the lights of the village, clutching your split abdomen with both hands and blinking back blood dripping from your forehead. Every step you took came with the stabbing pain of additional tearing around your wound. You could barely think, your ears were blocked and caked with dried blood and dirt, your tears stung as they fell across the gashes on your cheeks, and every breath in felt like it could be your last. You’d never admit this out loud, but a part of you wished the creature had finished the job.

Perhaps the only saving grace here was that in your condition, you couldn’t hear the villagers as they pointed and gossiped. You didn’t hear the “told you so’s” or the lewd shouts coming from the drunk men as you stumbled into the tavern. You could barely hear the disappointment in the inn owner’s voice as they reprimanded you for accepting a contract, they knew you couldn’t complete. Rolling your eyes, you pushed your way towards the stairs as quickly as possible – which, as it turned out, was not so quick, praying that someone would call you a healer.

“… and to think a witcher arrived only hours after she went off to kill herself! Tsk-tsk!”

You stopped dead in your tracks, drops of blood falling across your brow as you interrupted the momentum you’d been building. “W-what?” you croaked, turning towards them as much as possible to make sure you’d hear them correctly.

“Yeah! And not just any witcher, lass, the Butcher of Blaviken no less! Checked in with us just as you head out. Had you waited half a day you could have saved yourself a world of – ‘ey! Now where’s she off to?”

As you registered this news, something inside you snapped. Before you knew what was happening, you’d made your way upstairs and started pushing your full weight onto every door you passed. The great White Wolf, the Butcher of Blaviken, was certainly arrogant enough to leave his door unlocked. You might have been wrong about the griffin, but you’d be damned if you were wrong about this.

Fortunate or not, you weren’t wrong about this. As you pushed your shoulder against the last door with whatever strength you had left, the door swung open with very little resistance. The heavy wooden door slammed loudly against the wall at the exact moment that your limp body crashed onto the floor.

“WHAT the fuck!” Geralt howled, leaping off the bed and onto his feet. His wild eyes assessed the situation in an instant, and he bound to you in barely two strides. “What the fuck did you do? What happened?” he asked as he flipped you over, so gently you were sure you’d already passed out and were now dreaming. Or maybe the blood loss was finally catching up to you and you were full-on hallucinating.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” you breathed, barely above a whisper, before losing consciousness in his arms.

*

Regaining consciousness was a slow, painful process. You’d come in and out of it a handful of times throughout the night, and flashes of what you’d seen before you lost it were coming to you in an almost dreamlike haze; terrifying images of the furious griffin, its blood-soaked talon shining in the setting sun as it reared back to strike you again, and warmer visions of Geralt, shirtless, running towards you with – could it be? – genuine concern in his eyes.

Now as the rising sun cast its glow across the room, you squinted painfully against the light. Your head felt as though it was full of cotton; heavy, and scratchy, and unnatural on top of your shoulders. Hesitantly, you ran your tongue over your teeth and were equal parts relieved to find them all there and disgusted at the acrid, mineral taste the blood left behind. Blinking slowly, you tried to bring up your hand to rub at your eyes, but stopped short as you felt the large bandage draped across your forehead.

Slowly, you started to register the other bandages, on your arms, your cheek, across your abdomen. Your eyes grew wide as you finally registered the man facing away from you in the far corner of the room. Geralt’s broad strong back was hunched away from you as he rifled through herbs and small glass vials looking for something. Inexplicably, you found yourself disappointed to see he’d put his thick black tunic back on. Horrified by that realization, you literally gagged, startling Geralt and pulling his attention squarely onto you.

His big dumb beautiful face was all hard lines as he looked you over, stern eyes flashing to meet yours before dropping back down to the vial in his hands. You couldn’t help be notice the way the muscles in in jaw rippled and tensed as he sighed. He was oozing disappointment and anger, and that infuriated you.

“Am I dead?” you ask, squinting at him a little theatrically as you squirmed and winced in your bed.

“No.” he practically growled, his body tense as he made his way towards you slowly.

“Oh,” you breathed, bringing your eyes up to his before adding, “this isn’t hell?”

To your immense satisfaction, his stern eyes widened into shock, but then something unrecognizable flashed across his features – wait, was he hurt?

“Why, because I’m here?” he shouted, as if in confirmation of your hunch, and slammed the damp cloth he’d been holding back into the basin.

“No, jackass,” you retorted, pleased that despite the position you were in, you still had some semblance of an upper-hand, “because a griffin fucking fileted me like a fish and some poor drunk is probably downstairs slipping in a pool of my blood right now.”

You’d kind of hoped that he’d laugh, or at least have a comeback geared up for you, but Geralt just stood there staring at you, his mouth in a tight line, nostrils flaring.

Uncomfortable by the intensity of his stare and the silence accompanying it, you decide to continue to poke the bear.

“Come on, what’s with the face, Geralt? Pissed I’m still alive? You know you could have just closed the door over my body, let nature finish the bloody job.”

“Fuck, no! Y/n!” he screamed, startling you out of the attitude you’d put on, “I’m pissed because you’re an impossibly difficult woman hellbent on killing herself! I’m pissed because you don’t seem to fucking care about what happens to you! You can’t keep doing this Y/N! Because one of these days you’re going to get hurt and you’ll be too far away from me and I won’t be able to fucking save you, again! I am pissed because I am losing my mind spending every god-awful day wondering if you’ve gone and gotten yourself killed! Fucking hell, woman! If you didn’t find me – I-if I wasn’t here, with these herbs – Damnit Y/N!”

You just sat there, mouth opening and closing like a fish. You couldn’t believe it. You didn’t know what to say. This man, your nemesis, was in front of you pacing back and forth, breathing heavily, looking like a maniac. His nostrils were flaring more than the monster that almost killed you just yesterday. Part of you wanted to correct him and demand he never address you as ‘woman’ again, but his wild earnest eyes kept you quiet. My god… was he crying?

Before you could say anything, Geralt sighed gruffly, ran his large hand over his face and stormed out, mumbling something about needing to get you more water.

Left alone with your thoughts, you couldn’t stop yourself from spiralling. You’d expected him to be angry – hell, you wanted him to be angry! You’d humiliated yourself twice over, enraging him would ease the blow – but this was… different. He seemed genuinely concerned about you. And what was with his whole speech? He spent every day thinking about you? Worrying about you? There’s no way.

Sure, you thought about him daily, but that was out of spite! You hated the man! Why else would your heart race whenever you thought you spotted him in a crowd? Why else would you actively seek out the most dangerous contracts? What, like you were hoping these contracts would draw him out, and therefore, closer to you? As if!

Your ridiculous inner monologue was interrupted by Geralt’s return. The horrible brute knocked gently on the door before stepping inside, and your heart had the audacity to skip a beat.

Oh, you thought, fuck.

“I need to change the dressing on your wounds,” he grumbled, not meeting your eyes. You nodded wordlessly as he settled onto the chair next to you. You watched him work in silence, praying he would attribute your insane heartrate and flushed skin to a pain response from his work.

“Geralt?” you tried, chewing nervously on your cheek, as was just finished up with the last of your dressing.

“Hm?” he hummed, keeping his eyes cast down as he fussed with the bandage on the gash across your abdomen.

“Thank you… for saving me.”

He finally brought his gaze up to meet yours, but said nothing in return. He merely grunted in acknowledgment. You didn’t know why, but his silence in combination with his inscrutable gaze encouraged you to keep talking.

“I honestly only took this contract because I didn’t want you to have it,” you admitted bashfully.

“What the fuck? No one was taking it because they weren’t paying nearly enough! Hell, and you’re just a human,” he fumed, throwing up air-quotes as he said it, “so what – they offered you a third of nothing?”

Laughing lightly, you shoved him with your elbow, “they offered me three whole ducats!”

“Oh, wow,” he laughed, low and rumbling, “so a big pay day for you, eh?”

“Shut up,” you gasped as pain rippled through you with each peal of laughter, “knowing I could screw you over was payment enough!”

“Well congratulations are in order, you did manage to screw someone over,” he chided.

“Me,” you stated dryly, gesturing widely at your busted up body.

“You,” he echoed with a sigh that seemed to deflate him.

He suddenly looked so small, sitting there next to you. You watched him as clenched and unclenched his jaw, rubbing his large hands up and down his thighs – was he anxious? You mind raced as you felt his eyes travel slowly up your body. You held your breath as he worked up the nerve to finally bring his eyes up to yours.

The moment his eyes landed on yours, something shifted. Whatever had been lodged uncomfortably between the two of you all these years had finally clicked into place. This change, albeit small, was palpable. His eyes dropped to your lips and lingered there. He was looking at you like he’d never seen you before. Like he was afraid he might never see you again.

Without speaking, Geralt inched himself closer to you and reached a tender hand to tuck your hair behind your ears before cradling your face.

“You’re not allowed to die, do you hear me?” he whispered, gently stroking your cheek with his thumb.

You gave him a quick nod and brought your hand up to his, nuzzling into the warmth of his palm before giving his hand a quick kiss.

“I need to hear you say it,” he begged, bringing himself even closer to you.

“I do,” you breathed, trying to sit up to bring your face closer to his. “I’m not going to die, not on your watch, but I’m also not quitting.”

“Y/N –”

“No! If I quit, you’d get lazy. Who’d push you? What would be your driving force?”

“Wow,” he scoffed, looking at you incredulously but fondly, “you’re so fucking arrogant.”

“And yet…” you said, quirking a brow flirtatiously as you pulled him closer by the collar.

“… and yet?” he murmured, letting himself be pulled closer to you. His eyes half-closed and his lips slightly parted.

“You love me.”

“I love you.”

And then he kissed you. His mouth claimed yours urgently but his hands were ever gentle, ghosting over your bandages and caressing your skin with a feather-light tenderness that would have brought you to your knees had you not already been bedridden. Any hesitation or doubt melted away under the heat of his touch as all those years of tension sprung apart catastrophically. The knot you had carried in your stomach unfurled into flittering fireflies, their heat traveling up your stomach to your chest as his hands worked their way into your hair.

You didn’t know when they’d fallen, but you let out a shaky laugh as Geralt kissed away the tears on your cheeks, his thumb swiping at the tears his soft lips failed to catch. Breathing heavily, he rested his forehead against yours; his hands cupping your face as yours captured his.

Gods – this man was going to be the death of you.  

[tobitofunction]

Dragon of Dreams Part 4

Destruction didn’t abandon his realm yet. One spoiler from the Books. Don’t want to get into much from the books. Lots of Morpheus but not of Aemond

“You have called for me brother?” Morpheus asked, Destiny had his back towards his younger brother,” Yes Dream, I actually called all of us” he said turning towards Morpheus, his long black cloak covered his milky eyes, the book of destiny was clammed under his arm,” But I wanted to speak to you before our sibling arrived” he said,”It’s about your wife” Morpheus heart speed up at the mention of you,” What about her?”,”A war is coming, a bloody one but we will be discussing it in more detail with our siblings,I wanted to warn you a familiar tragedy is coming your way, not even our sister knows about this tragedy yet” he said making Morpheus stare at him, the thread began filling his body,” Is there a way to avoid it, brother?” he said, Destiny sighed,” I am sorry Little Brother but this event will play a big role in events to come” he said walking alongside Morpheus in his garden,”I..I understand Brother” he said softly.

“Isn’t it a bit early to our family dinner and where is that new wife of yours Dream? Already sick of you and rotting in hell alongside Nada?” Desire teased making their twin laugh,” I was hoping to see that Dragon of her’s” Delirium said sadly,” Maybe another time little sister” Morpheus said before sitting down beside Death and Destruction,” I have called you here as a war is being brewed and our family will be part of it” he said making everyone quite,” But we aren’t allowed to dwindle in mortal affairs?” Death said,” If the family is involved then we are,” he said simply,” Y/N?”,” I knew I liked her for a reason,” Desire said sipping from their wine,” A Dance of Dragons is standing before her, and whatever fate needs us to be done so shall it be,” he said placing a hand on his book while he spoke,” Dance of Dragon’s sound pretty,” Delirium said,” It might sound pretty but the consequence of the war won’t be sister,” Destiny said in a slight scolding tone,” What exactly should we do?” Death asked,” You will be doing your normal job but Dream and Destruction will play key parts in the war” Destiny continued,” I understand brother,” Destruction said looking at Destiny and then Dream” I will stand by my wife no matter the circumstances”, Desire chuckled,”If only Calliope nor Nada would see that side of you, the dear Orpheus might-” but before Desire could finish Morpheus slammed their head into the table,” DREAM” Death yelled trying to pry her brother’s hand over her other sibling,” Don’t you dare say his name in vain,” he said dangerously low,” Do you think of yourself as more powerful than me?”,”No” Desire said,” Than don’t you dare speak of my family like that again or I will forget our blood “ Morpheus felt Destruction's firm hand on his shoulder,” Let them go brother” Morpheus did remove his hand from their golden blonde hair and stalked off,” Brother, wait” it was Death with Destruction following close behind,” Be careful, we Endless don’t get involved in these things mostly not you. Just don’t do anything to hasty” she said squeezing his arm,” I will do anything to protect my growing family sister” he making her sigh,” I know, good luck to the both of you” she patted Destruction’s shoulder,” Well Big Brother where are we going?” he asked as Jessaym appeared a scroll tied to her leg, Morpheus scanned through the letter, it read exactly what Destiny thought, you want to prepare the Dreaming for war,” We go to Dragonstone”. 

“Princess, your Lord husband has arrived,” a knight said stepping aside so Morpheus can enter the room,” Morpheus,” you said walking towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck,” My love, I am sorry for your loss,” he said caressing your cheek gently,” This my younger brother Destruction,” he said the second you noticed the giant man behind him,” Good day love” he smiled giving you a wave,” Lucienne long time no see” he waved to her as well,” Nice to see you to my Lord” she smiled,” I have received your letter and I am here to show you my full support, the dreaming stands with you, no matter what,” he said his thumb gently stroking your cheekbone,” That’s why I am here little sister” Destruction said,” My name might be destruction but I am also the personification of creation. I have  power over the action and process of destroying as well as the act of making, inventing, or producing” he said with a proud smile,”Impressive, that be useful against the Greens” you said just as another piercing scream erupted,”It’s my mother, she is birthing my new sibling but the Maester’s don’t have much hope for the survival” you said rubbing your own belly again making Morpheus eyes soften,” I protect the two you no matter what” he said placing his hand over yours,” I am aware my love” you smiled pecking his jaw when the door opened,” Princess, Prince Daemon requested the presence of your husband” the same knight as before said, the same knight which saved you from the hands of the greens,”What’s your name Ser?”,”Erryk, Princess” he said bowing his head,”I never thanked you, putting your life and honour at risk”,” My honour would have only been at risk if I sided with the Green’s Princess, your mother is the true heir and that’s where my loyalty lies as member of the Queen’s Guard” he said making you smile slightly,” I still own you a thanks for getting me out of red keep, for that I am in your depth” you bowed your head to him,”It’s an honour Princess but how I said I just did what is right”,”My brother will be joining me” Morpheus said moving past Erryk,”Nice hair bro” Destruction said making Erryk smile shyly,”Thank you, my lord” he said walking after them,”Y/N, don’t leave the room without Lucienne at your side” Morpheus said before Erryk closed the door behind him.

“Morpheus are your men ready and who's that?” Daemon said nodding towards Destruction,” Olethros my brother” Morpheus said,” You could say I am his knight commander” he smiled,” Very well”,” Shouldn’t you be at the side of your wife?” Morpheus asked,” I am where I suppose to be Lord Morpheus, my wife’s crown has been stolen right under her, I will be giving it back to her,” he said getting into Morpheus's face,” I only take command from my wife and she is waiting for her mother’s approval until that is given I won’t be giving you my men,” he said calmly, Daemon looked at Destruction,” I will be waiting for the new Queen’s answer as well, my Prince,” he said,  Destruction was towering over Daemon, over everyone in the room currently, he is also double if not triple the size muscle wise of some of these men. Daemon huffed but went back to talking stragedy to the others. 

“Princess, your mother is calling for you,” a maid said making you nod,” Lucienne, there is no need to follow me. I will just be visiting my mother,” you said as the Librarian began following you,” Lord Morpheus made orders your majesty” you sighed,” You won’t take no for an answer right?” she shook her head.

“As you know your Grandsire has passed and my crown was stolen from under me. Don’t do anything hasty, my sweet children, everything you will do now will be a reflection on me. This mostly counts for ..ahh” she cut herself off cradling her belly, she was paler than usual, and her normal straight silver hair was now frizzy and sticking to her skin,” Mother” you said worriedly,” I will be fine, what I was about to say, Jace, this mostly counts for you, you're my heir” she said clutching the wall beside her, Jace nodded with a worried look on his face,” Yes mother” he whispered before you were guided outside. Luc reached for your hand,” Mom will be alright won’t she?” he looked up at you,” Of course, my sweet, don’t worry that cute head of yours” he smiled and you pressed a kiss onto his hairline.

A couple hours later your mother bore a deformed child, just like her mother did. You watched as the flames spread over your sister's small, wrapped body,” Are you okay, my love?” Morpheus asked his hand was on your belly, he sighed in relief when he felt the baby move inside of you, “ I hate the Greens, Morpheus and I want them to suffer” you said looking at Morpheus with sad eyes,” I promised you to fulfil all your dreams and desires, my dream” he said.

Erryk somehow managed to get his hands on Visery’s crown, and with that Daemon crowned your mother as Queen. “There was never a Stark who forgot his oath, and with House Stark, the north will follow,” a councilman said,” Any news from drift mark?”,”Lord Coryls sails for Dragonstone” Rhaenys said simply,” To declare for his Queen?”,” The Velayron fleet is my husband's yoke, he decides where they sail” she replied to Daemon,” What about enemies?” you asked rubbing your stomach,” We have no friend’s amongst the Lannister’s” Daemon answered,” Tyland has severed the hand for too long to turn against him?”,” What if we offered a marriage packet?”,” What do you mean my child?”,”Lord Tyland's older brother, Jason was wedded and they will have children sooner or later, if I promise my firstborn to his, it could be reason enough to side with us. Jason Lannister wanted to be wedded to your mother. It’s a fair deal, they will be able to join their lion’s blood with our dragon’s” you said, feeling Morpheus tense behind you,” Are you really willing-”,”We are war mother, we need the support and it’s always worth the try, they can't harm me if I come as a messenger” you reasoned,” And if we managed to the Lannister we’re able to get allies at the Golden tooth” Daemon argued for your case as Rhaenyra seemed to hesitate. “Forgive to be blunt, but you all have a power which wasn’t seen in the times Old Valeyria. Dragons.” a councilman said making you sigh,” The Greens have Dragons,” Rhaenyra said,” They have 3 adults by count. We have Syrax, Caraxes and Meleys. Your children have Vermax, Arrax and Tyraxes and of course Lilith, a dragon believed to be extinct and even be fathered by non-other than Aegon the Conquerers Dragon Balerion. Baela has Moondancer” Daemon continued,” Daemon, non of our Dragons have been to war” Rhaenyra tried to reason,” There also a couple unclaimed dragons, Seasmoke still lives in Driftmark, Vermithor and Silverwing on the Dragonmont, still riderless” you looked at Rhaena, since Aemond stole Vaghar from her she didn’t bother claiming a different dragon, but you knew she longs for one,” Then there all the wild dragons will all nest here”,” And who will ride them?”,”Our best fighter, See Erryk could easily ride one alongside Morpheus's brother” you said looking at Destruction go gave a big wave and Erryk who seemed surprised he was even brought up,” Dragonstone has 13 to their 3 and I still have a couple of eggs incubating”,” And don't forget the 3 eggs Morpheus gifted y/n as a wedding gift”,” Your grace a ship has been sighed offshore, a lone galleon, flying a banner of a three-headed green dragon” Erryk said suddenly.

“Are you out of your mind offering our child as a bargaining tool?” Morpheus said calmly as the meeting ended and you entered your chambers,” They will be married off sooner or later Morpheus, we need the Lannister support when we want the Golden tooth to follow” you said sitting down with the help of Lucienne,” There must be a different way”,” There isn’t one, Tyland was helping Otto Hightower for too long to switch sides, we need something bigger to turn them against the Greens, and with the blood a dragon we might be able to” you argued,” I prefer the Dragon ideas” he said making you sigh,” Of course you do, get the 3 eggs from the Dreaming to Dragonstone-”,” I have more control over them in the dreaming, I can hatch them there and age them up before they set foot on Dragonstone” he said kneeling down in front of you,” That would be perfect, I don’t want us to fight my love, I don’t use our child as a bargaining tool either but what choice do we have?” Morpheus didn't say anything, he just squeezed your hand,” I be going back to The Dreaming, Destruction and Lucienne will stay with you” he said pressing his lips against your forehead gently.

Soon after Morpheus left Lucery’s entered the room,”Luc, is everything okay?” you asked, seeing his worried expression,” We are going to war, aren’t we?” he said, you ran your hands through his locks with a soft smile,” So far nothing is set in stone, we need confirmation on our allies first before we even thinking about starting a war, also Mother’s doesn't rule over a kingdom of ash and bone, we need a good reason to start a war” you said making your younger brother nod, he placed his head on your shoulder taking in a deep breath, “Don’t worry Luc, I won’t let anything bad happen to you. I promise” you said squeezing his hand.”There you are Luc” Jace said,” The council will continue” he informed making you nod,” Come on big boy” you patted his knee and followed Jace out of the room.

“With these letters, you will be going as messengers, not warriors,” Rhaenyra said handing your brothers letters. You looked at Luc who didn’t let go of Rhaenyra's hand when he was handed the scroll, clear nervousness evident on his young face. “Luc, if you want I can join you in Stormsend” you offered as they were preparing their dragons,”I see who the favourite is now” Jace joked,” You are older, you be fine and I don’t think you want to be joined by your pregnant younger sister” you joked,” I would love you to join you, but I don’t want my nephew to freeze in there” he joked, gliding his index finger over your belly,” Nephew, huh?”,” Well dear sister, you are the only girl born to Mother, well alive,” he said sadly making you smile drop slightly,” I believe it’s a girl,” Luc said trying to lift the mood,” Well we see who wins than, the winner get to choose the egg for them” Jace smiled,” Deal,” Luc said smiling,” So, want me to join?” Luc was quiet for a while,” I don’t want you to get sick” he said sweetly,” Be careful then, both of you” you squeezed your brother's hands tightly as they mouthed their dragons. You felt a nudge at your side and saw Lilith looking at you,” No flying for us, sweet girl” you said rubbing her neck as she gives a small growl,” Otto Hightower, gave the option to marry you off to Aemond” Rhaenyra voice said from behind you,” I refused” she added,” I refused Aemond already, he doesn’t seem to understand that I am happy with Morpheus” you sighed tugging at the necklace Aemond gave you gently,” You both reminded me of Daemon and me before but now I see you are completely different. You found your heart in Lord Morpheus, who didn’t even think twice about pulling his Kingdom into War for you” you smiled softly,” Meanwhile Aemond still holds a grudge against our family, I understand him being upset about losing an eye but he gained a dragon for it, shouldn’t that be enough” you sighed wincing slightly as you felt a pain in your stomach,” It’s more to appease his mother” she said removing a stray hair from your face,” Let’s go inside my sweet”.     

“Y/N, how are you doing?” Lord Coryls said walking towards you slowly with Rhaenys behind him,” Doing okay, for the circumstances” you said with a tight-lipped smile,” Rhaenys told me about Aemond's proposal towards you” he said while moving a piece of stray hair from your face,” He was worried that the Greens while taking out any obstacles to Aegon’s claim”,” He is right and you still choose to put you and your child’s life in danger” Rhaenys said,” My Lord husband will protect me, I know he will and my family is here right at time moment, I won’t betray them” you smiled at your grandparents,” Your father would be proud” he said,” I wonder at times if I was born first instead of Jace would the outcome be different?” you said,” No like I told your mother ages ago, they would rather set fire to Iron Throne than see a woman sitting on top of it” Rhaenys said simply,” Well it’s time to change that then” you shrugged holding your head up high,” You got the Velaryion pride truly” Coryls smiled.

Your eyes opened and a gasp left your mouth,” My Queen, is everything okay?” Lucienne asked concerned,” I just had a dream, about my brother Luc... Aemond killed him, Vaghar bit Arrax in half,” you said, your heart beating rapidly,” Why did Morpheus show me this?” you asked wiping a stray tear from your face,” Lord Morpheus wouldn’t show you something so grotesque” Lucienne tried to reason,” Maybe it’s the babe inside of you,” Destruction said,” You are carrying a child of the dreaming inside of you,” he said,” Dragon Dreamers” you whispered,” But why can I see those dreams?”,”Maybe the babe wants to tell you something” Destruction said which made you jump out of bed and run out of the room, Lucienne called after you,” Princess is everything alright?” a maid asked you,” Any word from my brothers?” you asked, she shook her head,” Where is my Mother?”,” Talking to the council Princess” she said.

“Mother” you called out gaining her attention including the attention of the others who quickly look away once they saw you were only in a nightgown,” My child is everything alright?” she asked concerned,” I had a dream, Lucery’s he got into trouble” you began to ramble,” Calm down my feet girl,” she said rubbing your cheek,” Take a walk, your brother won’t be harmed, he’s going as a messenger, not a warrior,” she said comforting you,” Ser Erryk, companion my daughter. The long-haired knight nodded and appeared at your side.

You changed your outfit back to the black dress with silver accents you wore before,” Thank you for walking with me Ser Erryk” you smiled as the two of you walked the beach,” It’s my pleasure Princess” he smiled,” Do you believe we stand a chance against the greens?”,” I do, loyalty is important. 1 is stronger than 5, one army a real army united behind one purpose” he said,” Say more”,” The Greens purpose is to make sure no woman sets foot on the iron throne, which seems like one purpose but once you look closer the one purpose multiples. Aegon is only king because his Queen mother probably sweet-talked him into it, he doesn’t care if a woman sits on the throne but does care for his family's validation. We want the rightful heir on the throne, that’s it” he said. The two of you continued to walk until you saw something in the distance, it was glittering in the sunlight, it was white of medium size, and your heart began to beat faster the second you made eye contact with it,” Princess, stay close” Erryk said as he pulled out his sword. “Please, no” you whispered as you came closer and saw what it was Arrax, the small dragon was mutilated,” Where is Lucery’s” you said looking around,” Look for Lucery’s” you ordered,” Princess, the corpse is wet, there is a large chance of the body of the young Prince..” he stopped mid-sentence when the sound of wings flapping cut through the air,” Y/N?” Aemond called, his voice was shaky,” What did you do to my brother?” you said slowly turning around facing the one-eyed prince, tears began pooling in your eyes,” Did he pay his depth to you Uncle?”, Aemond looked at you regret painted on his face,” He was just a boy and you KILLED HIM IN COLD BLOOD” you said not being able to hold the anger in, Aemond landed with Vagahr,” I just wanted to scare him, I didn’t mean-”,” YOU’RE RIDING A WAR DRAGON, WHAT DID YOU EXPECT TO HAPPEN” you yelled you felt Erryk’s hand on your shoulder,” Princess-” he began but you ignored him,” You pride yourself of being smart but here you are not knowing that a war dragon will kill someone who is rider is chasing” you felt a sharp being in your stomach which made you wince but you ignored it. Aemond noticed, his eyes softening,”Y/N-” he said softly reaching out for you but you slapped his hand away,’Ȳdra daor gūrogon naejot nyke, henujagon sir, nyke dōrī jaelagon naejot ūndegon ao arlī.  Kesīr emagon bisa arlī, nyke ȳdra daor mirros related naejot iā kinslayer.  Geros ilas uncle (Don't talk to me, leave now, I never want to see you again. Here have this back, I don't anything related to a kinslayer. Goodbye Uncle)” you ripped the necklace he gifted to from your neck and threw it at his feet,”Skoros kostagon gaoman naejot mazverdagon ao shijetra nyke? (What can I do to make you forgive me?)”,”Die” you said simply making Aemond swallow,” You can never be forgiven Uncle, you have my sweet brother’s blood on your hands. I will never be able to see you the same again” you said turning away when suddenly another sharp pain cut through this time bringing you to your knees,” Princess” Erryk called out,” Y/N-”,” Aemond leave now before I have Erryk bring me your other eyes” you spat.

“Bring the Maester’s” Erryk said to a maid as the two of you walked back into the Castle,” I want my mother” you said tears flowing down your cheeks,” I will call for her” Erryk said handing you over to the Maester who appeared.

Rhaenyra composed herself after hearing the news of Lucerys death from Daemon when Erryk walked in,”My Queen, Princess Y/N is having her babe”,”It’s to soon for that” she said,” Yes but she came across…. She across the corpse of Prince Lucerys dragon my Queen” he said making Rhaenyra wince,” The Greens will pay for this, join the Princess” Daemon said patting her hair.

“Lucienne send a raven to Morpheus” you said as maids pulled you on the bed. Lucienne nodded, you groan as you felt a ripping situation,” This isn’t natural, the Princess is far from giving birth” a Maester whispered to another,” Yeah no shit, just get it out of me already” you shouted at the Maester’s who gave you an apologetic bow,” Where is my daughter?” Rhaenyra asked busting through the door,” Mother” you gasp making Rhaenyra rush to your side,” It hurts so bad” you whimpered,” I know my sweet” she said caressing your face,” Aemond killed Lucerys-“,” He will pay for that, just focus on you right now” Rhaenyra cut you off, he voice was shaky,” Was a raven send out to your husband?” she asked looking at Lucienne,” Yes, your majesty. Knowing my Lord he will be here as quick as possible” she smiled.

Morpheus was able to hatch one egg, the small dragon was twirling around his finger,” You still need to grow” he said placing the dragon on the ground when Jessaym came flying in,” What do you have my friend” he said removing the scroll from her leg, the babe is coming was all it said Morpheus breath caught in his throat, Jesseym landed on his shoulder meanwhile staring at the dragon who screeched at her,” We need to go” he said holding out his hand for the dragon to jump on.

“Princess, please sit back down,” a maid said as you were pacing around the room like your mother did before,” Why? It’s not moving,” you said, clutching the wall.” My love, please lay back down. The babe will come-“,” How do you know? It won’t be developed enough to survive” you cried making your mother send you a sad look, suddenly the door bust open revealing Morpheus,” My dream” he gasps walking towards you,” What are you doing on your feet?” he said cupping your chin,” Lay back down he said grabbing you by the waist and moving you to bed” when you suddenly felt more pressure in your lower region,” Ahh, what’s happening?” you said grabbing Morpheus hand, Rhaenyra looked at Maester who lifted your nightgown to check you out,” I see the head?” the Maester’s said surprised,” How is that possible? She wasn’t even close a few minutes ago?” Rhaenyra asked, the Maester’s shrugged. You looked at Morpheus looked concerned, soon the crying of a newborn filled the room,” a healthy girl Princess” you smiled,” But how’s that possible? She wasn’t close to being developed” a maid said,” The gods must have given you a gift for all the grief lately” a different maid said. You looked at Morpheus who was staring at the baby who was in your arms currently. Was his brother wrong? His child survived, she was healthy.” Morpheus she is fine, our little Aemma” you said taking his hand, snapping him out of his daze,” Yeah, she is. I couldn’t be happier my dream” he kissed the top of your head,” Mother” you look at Rhaenyra who had tears streaking down her cheek,” How wonderful, a real miracle ” she whispered touching her grandchild hand gently, a small screech made everyone eyes tear from the newborn Prince towards the father of the child, Morpheus looked at his daughter and quickly reached inside his gown pulling out a small greyish-brown dragon,” One of the eggs hatched, good timing” he smiled, the small dragon jumped from his hand and waddled towards the sleeping Princess,” A true Targaryen” your mother smiled as the dragon curled up next to Aemma,,” Rest my child” your mother said as Morpheus took Aemma from you.

As soon as everyone left Morpheus opened his mouth,” My brother said death will coming our way, something which has a big part in the war coming. I thought it be our child, my dream I already lost a child once and I don’t know if I could bare losing one again” Morpheus began,” I will protect you and our daughter, I will do anything-”,” Aemond killed Lucery’s, I don’t know what I want from him but I want him to feel the pain Morpheus” your husband looked at you for a while before nodding,” You are speaking to King our Nightmares my love, I could do anything you want to him” he said softly, a small smile playing on his lips,” Wait for a while and then give him the worst you could think off” you said gently caressing Morpheus cheek,” You feel no love for him?”,” The love I had for him died when he killed my brother”.

Daemon meanwhile took the revenger for Lucery’s into his own hands, two men only known as blood and cheese were handed coins to kill one of Aegon’s children, as Aemond doesn’t have any of his own. You overheard the plan and hoped onto Lilith after sending a raven to Heleana, you asked her for a meeting between the two of you. “Helaena, how are you?” you asked hugging her after getting off Lilith, you met at a remote area,” You lost the bump.. you didn't?” she asked concerned,” My child was born healthy and now is bearing the same of my grandmother but that’s not why I am here,” you said,” Join us Helaena, the greens will only bring you pain, take your children to Dragonstone,” you said,” I can’t, even if I want to, I'm married to the King, Aegon won’t hesitate to kill me if I switched sides and I don’t want my children to be left alone in his care,” Helaena said making you sigh,” Did you know Aemond killed my brother? Aemond killed Lucery’s with Vaghar so far only the body of Arrax is found, who was torn into pieces,” you said hoping that will make her switch sides,” Daemon wants blood, a son for a son and since Aemond doesn’t have one.... he will take one of yours,” you said making Helaena shake her head,”They have nothing to do with this”,”I know but you know Daemon, he already thinks Alicent is the reason Visery’s is dead. The only way to save yourself and your children is to join us with Dreamfire” you grabbed her hand and looked into her purple eyes,”Please think about it my dear Aunt. Aemond and Aegon are dead to me but you, you always have a place at our... at my side” you said before walking towards Lilith again and flying off. You were met with Daemon once you landed at Dragonstone,” You told her” he accused,” I made a deal, her and her children's safety in exchange for coming to our side with her dragon” you said walking past him,” Her boy is dead one way or another. Blood and Cheese are already paid” Daemon said,” But your good Princess, if only you were born first, a good Queen you would have been” Daemon continued as you walked further away from him.

“You look beautiful my love” Morpheus said, marvelling at the dress you wore, it was a black dress with golden details which included embroidered dragons,” Thank you my Prince” you smiled,” Where is Aemma?”,”With Lucienne, I want to bring her into the Dreaming, she is safe there” Morpheus said making you nod,” I agree, tell Lucienne to take her back to the Dreaming immediately” Morpheus nodded but he didn’t move,”I have something else made for you” he smiled as a maid approached the two of you, it wasn’t a maid from Dragonstone but one from the Dreaming, her pointed ears was a dead give away but if you didn't look closely it could be easily missed,” My Queen” she smiled and bowed her head as she held up a wooden box with Morpheus symbol carved into it. Morpheus opened it and pulled out a dark silver crown with red rubies,” I made this for you, it was made from Valyrian steel” he said making your eyes widen,” How is that possible? Valyrian is a rarity” you said gently tracing the form of the crown,” My Dream, I have lived for aeons. I have everything someone could imagine and I am willing to give all them to you if wish” he said placing the crown on your head, the steel contrasted against the silver of your hair,” It was crafted by gods themselves. I have commissioned it since our wedding and it’s finally ready” he smiled, you looked stunning, like a true Queen,” My Queen you look stunning” the dream maid smiled,” Thank you”,” My Queen, such a fitting sound in my ears” Morpheus hummed,” I hope for aeons with you” he said gently kissing your lips,” I know we will have that, I promise you that”

[enigmaticexplorer]

My heart broke for Daria and for Cody. They both wanted more but didn’t push for more because of the situation but In another life he says it would have been different.

It's the pain of the right person, wrong time trope 😭 As terrible as it is, I love knowing that you liked Daria and Cody. I was so afraid people wouldn't like them together but there is so much potential there and one day, maybe, I'll explore their own story, too.

Was his telling Kazi that Daria didn’t love him to remind her how important she was to Daria but was it also for himself? to help cope with the loss a little?

Somewhat--that line was to remind Kazi that Daria loved her immensely, but it was also to tell Kazi that Daria loved her more than anyone, including their parents, and including Cody. For Daria, Kazi would always take priority. Cody always knew that Kazi came first. And his line is to show that he knew that and he was okay with it. In a different lifetime, he and Daria would have loved each other and made each other their priorities. But in this lifetime, they couldn't. And rather than being upset or hurt, he accepts it as it was. It's also a way for him to move on, too. I don't think he'll ever truly get over Daria; but knowing that their circumstances prevented them from fully committing to one another and taking that last step into irrevocable love allows him to move on.

The tear jerking intimate moment between Wolffe and Kazi . That was such a perfect scene. Wolffe crying . That just killled me . Loved, LOVED this scene.

Thank you! It's the first time we see Wolffe cry, and it felt like such a vulnerable scene, for me, so I'm glad you loved it! Seeing Wolffe in such a vulnerable state, after everything he's gone through, it makes me happy knowing that he finally got to have his dream.

Also, you had a question about Neyti's heritage and her parents, specifically about her dad. It's intentional that Neyti's father isn't mentioned. Much of her past isn't know; however, I characterized much of her past to understand her character. None of it will see the light of day, but there are a few things I can mention. Neyti's mother had the Star Wars equivalent of IVF; she didn't have a partner but she wanted a child, so she went through that procedure with an unknown sperm donor. Hence, why Neyti doesn't ever refer to her father. Also, Neyti's grandparents were big roles in her life. Her family was close-knit, and while she didn't see her grandparents much because of their political duties, they were still important to her childrearing. Neyti's mother didn't go the political route like her parents; instead, she owned a flower shop. It's why Neyti loves nature so much. I like to think that Neyti's mother wanted to live in the mountains but her parents' political duties required her remaining in the Ceaian capital. She was gentle, kind, patient - it's where Neyti gets her quiet, curious personality.

I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter XXXI

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General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers. 

Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC

General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

Chapter Word Count. 7.3K

19 Kelona

A wave crashed against the rocks, a fracas of white froth leaping for the cliff before collapsing back into the ocean below. 

From where Kazi sat—her feet dangling over the rocky outcrop, the sheer cliff a ten-meter drop—the ocean pressed against the horizon, an inimitable expanse of power. Foam and water droplets soddened her boots; the thundering waves dampened her socks. But she didn’t feel the cold water. She didn’t feel the mushiness of her socks and the chill settling in her toes.

Running a finger along the dragon carving’s wings, Kazi stared at the sea-glass creature. It was reared back, wings splayed wide, its maw open in a mighty roar.

Sea. The dragon who had embraced a helpless people, shielded them from an oceanic storm, sacrificed his life for humans. So they could live another day. 

All these years and Kazi never made the connection. Never wondered which myth determined Daria’s carving. Never asked about her little sister’s experience with the Carver. 

Now, it would forever remain a story untold. 

An intentional crunch sounded behind her. Her shoulders stiffened; her hands flexed around the dragon carving. She continued to watch the horizon as her companion neared. A military haircut past its monthly cut; cheeks and jaw bearing a shadow of bristles. Cody took a seat beside her. His legs hung over the edge. He didn’t seem to mind the water splashing his black boots, either.

They sat in silence. For a long time.

They hadn’t spoken since Kazi and Neyti met the men at the Naboo spaceport. 

The flight from Eluca to Naboo took 23 hours. Kazi didn’t sleep; she hardly ate. At one point, she was convinced it was all a nightmare. She would awake to Wolffe kissing her, Daria and Cody cooking breakfast in the kitchen, Neyti sparring with Fox and Nova outside while Fluffy prowled the perimeter of the yard. They would eat, they would laugh, they would leave for Ceaia. She and Daria would return home, together, and they would go sailing in two months.   

But the nightmare persisted until she was forced to reckon with reality: Daria was gone. 

Kazi and Neyti arrived to a bustling spaceport crowded with numerous species and a cacophony of unrecognizable languages. Kazi clutched Neyti’s hand as they deboarded. They didn’t wander long before an imposing figure found them, a mask belonging to an unfamiliar species hiding his face. Wolffe scooped Neyti into his arms; the little girl laughed her glee, clinging to his neck, but she quickly sobered.

“We have to go back,” Neyti said to Wolffe. A serious look unbefitting a youngling her age solemnized her countenance. “We left Daria. She’s waiting for us.”

Kazi grew rigid, wilting; the bustling spaceport faded beyond her unseeing stare. Grief, a shadow haunting, threatened to drag her into its dark, bottomless pit. Distantly, she was aware of Wolffe’s hand on her arm, his quiet “What happened?”  

There was an incessant ticking in the back of her skull. Each human that walked past reminded her of the magistrate; they were here to kill her, like they killed her sister—

She forced herself to blink, to breathe. She balled her fists so tightly the skin of her palms broke beneath her fingernails. 

“Daria’s not coming back,” Kazi said thickly. Neyti frowned her confusion. “We’re not…” Her voice turned brittle. “We’re not going to see her again.”

“Oh.” Neyti dropped her gaze to the floor. “Okay.”

The fingers around Kazi’s arm flexed. Wolffe lowered his masked face. “Ennari…”

“We need to go,” she said. “Please.”

Wolffe gave a short nod, adjusted Neyti in his arm, and then shifted his hand to her spine. They were boarding the men’s ship a few minutes later. 

All of it—the reunion, the eight-hour flight to Ceaia—passed in a tenebrific haze. Easy smiles turned grave; an inflectionless, objective recount of last night; a little girl sleeping soundly; a tail-wagging anooba nudging her hand when she dug her fingernails into her palms; Wolffe applying bacta spray to her twinging ankle, cleaning her hands of caked blood; an arm fortressing her as he guided her head to his shoulder. She managed to sleep the remaining two hours of the flight.

When they landed on Ceaia, Kazi resolved herself to their work: transferring boxes to the sylvan house, removing protectant sheets from furniture, establishing rooms. She even took Neyti grocery shopping. They wandered for some time. 

Outlook Harbor looked the same. Colorful buildings lining the docks, fishermen unloading their hauls, dragon statues guarding the shops. And yet Kazi hardly recognized it—the people, the ocean, the western mountains in the distance. 

It took her far too long to realize the difference: her sister. Without Daria, the colorful exteriors were pedestrian; the docks’ mazelike routes underwhelmed; the dragon statues were bereft of prowess, the snow dusting them in a doleful repose.

Kazi could feel her control slipping, a ball of yarn unspooling too fast. Too much.

The urge to cry constricted her throat. Her eyes burned from the combination of sleep deprivation and grief. She wanted to hide from the damning glares of the dragons. She wanted to flee these familiar streets and the memories they brought forth. She wanted to go back in time and convince Daria to take Neyti. To leave her behind, instead. 

Her breaths grew loud and shallow; her hands shook at her sides. The grief swarmed within, thick and suffocating. It started in her chest, a swollen mass pressing against her ribcage and lungs, spreading throughout, numbing fingers and toes, pounding in her mind—

“Who’s that?” 

The question yanked Kazi into the physical: the chilly street, the bright yellow storefront, the ocean’s waves churning. She frowned at Neyti. The youngling was observing a dragon statue outside the closest shop—a dragon sitting primly, its head raised alertly, its spine curved with regal disposition.

“That’s”—Kazi cleared her throat—“Erud. She guarded the Library of Xand where all of our historical accounts are preserved.” She managed a faint smile. “Some of the oldest scrolls in the galaxy are stored there.” 

Neyti considered Erud for several seconds and then blinked at Kazi. “Can we get shaved ice?”

A laugh broke free. The noise was a little sore, a little rusty, but it was a laugh, nonetheless. 

“Of course,” Kazi said. Taking Neyti’s hand in her own, she started down the snow-covered path. Muscle memory—developed over the years exploring these streets with Daria—guided her forward. “I know the perfect place.”

Another wave slammed against the rocky outcrop where Kazi and Cody sat. Seaweed-scented spray doused their boots and the cuffs of their trousers. The water was cold, bone-wearying.

“Daria would have loved today,” Kazi said. Her thumb plucked the spires of Sea’s spine, as a musician would the strings of her instrument. “She always preferred these quieter storms.”

“I know.” Cody scanned the horizon. “She…was excited to show me this view.”

“There’s nothing like it,” Kazi murmured. Breaths as white as unblemished snow condensed the air; the skin of her legs wept at the chill burrowing deep. She swallowed and whispered, “I’m sorry.” 

A low sigh fell from the man beside her. He rubbed a hand across his bristled jaw. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I’m the one who killed him—”

“Stop,” Cody ordered. The sharp command made her wince. Sorrow dulled the usual warmth of his gaze. “Reliving that moment won’t bring her back.”

Kazi pressed her lips together; her eyes roved across his face. He looked older, somehow. A deep line was scored between his brows, and his creased mouth was downturned. Exhaustion cricked his posture. “Did you love her?” she asked.   

Cody mustered a thin smile. “We didn’t have what you and Wolffe have. I wasn’t ready to commit to a relationship. After the War…after the things I did…” He rolled his shoulders back. “I had my objectives. And she wasn’t one of them. But…”

“She wasn’t someone you could ignore,” Kazi suggested. 

His nod was pensive. “We got along well. I tried to hold back but I liked spending time with her. We agreed we could help each other. Give one another…comfort. We knew it wouldn’t go far—not with her disease and my focus elsewhere. But I did care for her. I know she cared for me, too.”

She studied his side profile. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

He angled his head back, breathing in the salty air. “In a different lifetime…different circumstances…I would have.”

“For what it’s worth,” Kazi said, “she loved you.”

“Daria only loved one person,” Cody said with a small chuckle. He pushed himself to his feet; he nudged her with the toe of his boot. “That person wasn’t me.”

The morning sun peeked through the opaque clouds, a curious pup nosing its way out of the safety of its birthing den. Snow flurries pearled her loose hair; the wind nipped at her cheeks and nose. Far away, storm clouds brewed. They escaped her notice, however, her attention drawn to the shoreline, to the rocks in the distance where a single lighthouse stood.

Since Kazi had last seen the lighthouse, its permanently dimmed light and weathered appearance hadn’t changed. But it still beckoned to her, as it had when she was a girl. Luring, a siren’s song of formative memories, ancient myths, blessings bestowed by a long-extinct species. 

The booted crunch of fresh snow interrupted her reverie, and Kazi peered over her shoulder. The woods beyond—white-barked sequoia trees interspersed among dark evergreens—created a contrasting backdrop to the black of Wolffe’s appearance: black overcoat, black boots, black hair, one eye nearly black beneath the feeble sunlight. He surveyed their surroundings, rubbed his gloved hands together, and then settled beside her.

“Here.” He passed her a citrus-star from the bunch she and Neyti purchased yesterday. “Breakfast is waiting but I thought you’d like this for now.”

Kazi hummed her thanks, setting aside Daria’s dragon. The fuzz of the citrus-star tickled her thumb. “Neyti?”

“We made breakfast,” Wolffe said with a small smile. “She spilled the eggs so we concentrated our efforts on fruit carving. She wanted to make butterflies out of the melon.”

She lifted a brow. “How did they turn out?”

“Fucking awful.” 

Wolffe broke into a grin at her laugh, his shoulder knocking against hers. 

But their rapport soon faded beneath his assessment. His blatant search of her face: a disgruntled frown at the citrus-star she refused to peel; a flexed jaw at the snow she hadn’t bothered to brush away. He considered her for several seconds; she knew what he saw, for she had seen it in the mirror, too—the haunted gauntness she couldn’t entirely hide. Not from him at least. But she didn’t shy from his calculated silence, expecting this conversation—

“That the lighthouse Neyti painted?”

The question caught Kazi off guard but she hastily recovered. 

“That was so long ago,” she said, surprised. “I can’t believe you remember it.”

Wolffe shrugged. “It was one of the first paintings Neyti showed us. She was proud of it.”

“She was.” Kazi breathed a chuckle, studying the lighthouse’s gashed paint. “Daria and I…that was our favorite place.” 

Wolffe pressed his thigh against hers. “You wanna visit it?”

“No.” Her fingernails pierced the citrus-star’s peel; orange juice stickied her palm. “I can’t. Not…” 

With a blasé shrug, Kazi pushed herself to her feet. The citrus-star and dragon carving found temporary homes within her gray coat’s pockets, her citrus-bloodied hands forced to brave the cold temperature for a few more minutes. 

Slowly, Wolffe followed. He brushed snow from his thighs—a casual gesture that belied his tension—and then, in a serious, calm tone, he said, “How are you?” 

The gentle probing of his question, the slight hunch in his posture as he regarded her—Wolffe’s care splintered the last thread of her control. The spool of yarn unraveled completely.

“I’m trying—” Her face crumpled. Her voice cracked, broke, shattered as she whispered, “I’m—I’m trying to keep it together. But it’s hard. It’s so hard, Wolffe.”

“Hey.” He gripped her shoulders. “Ennari—”

“I left her. I fucking left her.” Dizzily, she stared at the top button of his coat. Her eyes were burning; her chest was clenched tightly. “It was supposed to be me. It should’ve been me—” 

“Kazi.” Large hands held her face, forcing her head back to stare Wolffe in the eye. “Don’t fucking say that.”

She met his gaze with a vacant look. “Daria gave herself up because of what I  did. And now she’s dead, and I miss her—” She pressed her palms to her eyes, trying to steady her breath. “Fuck, I miss her so much. I thought we had more time—I should’ve given her more time—”

“Don’t fucking say that.” Wolffe shook her slightly. “Daria made her decision. And you owe it to her to live your life. Do you understand?” 

He stared at her, harsh breaths angry, desperate eyes wide. She stared back, a tear heating her skin, wetting her lips. 

Exhaustion sunk into the very marrow of her bones; she hardly noticed the pale sunlight embracing her body or the snowflakes twinkling like stars. She could only stare at Wolffe. The flurries curling his hair. The glint of his scar against the snow-laden landscape. The strain in his expression at her emptiness. 

It was his concern—the slight fear he was trying so hard to hide—that convinced her to close her eyes. To lean into him. 

Then, he was holding her, running his hand down her spine, guiding her face to his chest.

“I’m trying,” she whispered. “I’m trying.”

“I know.” Wolffe pressed his cheek to the top of her head. “I know.”

22 Kelona

“It’s a sand dollar,” Kazi explained. 

The sand, wet with a bone-gnawing chill, squished beneath her burrowing as she carefully uncovered the sea urchin. Bristly spines protruded from the purple exoskeleton; the five pores undulated. She shared a grin with Neyti. 

“You know, sand dollars are rare.” She paused. “Daria and I used to spend hours out here trying to find one.”

Neyti studied the creature with her usual shrewdness and then whispered, “I miss her.” Dejectedly, she curled inwards on herself, her eyes misty with unshed tears. “I wish she was here.”

“I…” Kazi stared at Neyti, motionless. Anguish flared behind her ribcage. A cruel, burning fist constricting her heart and lungs; its roaring flames dulled the mellow waves—

“I miss her, too,” she whispered. “But she did something brave.” She smoothed a stray strand of hair from Neyti’s face; the little girl closed her eyes and turned her cheek into Kazi’s palm. “Just like your mom.” 

While the waves splashed and the thud of paws against wet sand surrounded them, Kazi squeezed Neyti’s hand. The little girl squeezed back. A poked nose, a shy grin in response, and Kazi motioned to their small friend.

“Long ago, sand dollars were once used as Ceaian currency,” she said. “Their rarity made them equivalent to thousands of modern-day credits.”

Gingerly, Neyti poked the creature’s rounded exterior. “But they’re living things.”

“They are.” Kazi leaned back on her haunches. Ocean water soaked her trousers; her knees shifted with the sand. “That’s why the currency was outlawed. The sand dollars were going extinct, and we Ceaians believe in protecting the earth and its inhabitants. Today, you’re not allowed to collect sand dollars.”

Neyti approved this news with a satisfied nod and straightening, she scanned the dark brown shore with its receding waves. Bunches of seaweed—as dark as the evergreens secluding their house—sparsely forested the beach. An abundance of seashells embellished the sand, as a jeweler would adorn a necklace with diamonds, rare yet eye-catching. Neyti skipped toward the next creature that caught her attention—a crab’s shell. 

With a small smile, Kazi started to push herself to her feet when a gloved hand entered her periphery. She accepted its assistance.

“Don’t understand how you’re not cold,” Wolffe said gruffly. The flaps of his long coat’s collar were raised, shielding his neck and jaw from the wind. He cast her damp trousers a reproving scowl. “You’re gonna get pneumonia, Ennari.”

Kazi scoffed, interlacing their arms. “I used to swim in this every morning. I’m immune.”

“I’m immune to most human diseases.” Wolffe hunched his shoulders against a biting breeze. “Not you.”

“Then it’s a good thing you like to take care of me.” 

His wry scoff confirmed her remark.

“Should she be that close to the water?”

Kazi glanced over her shoulder to see Fox approaching, hands tucked into his coat’s pockets. Behind him, the impluvious sand bore the scars of his presence: booted prints leading from the cliff’s path. Similar to Wolffe, he wore a heavy coat, though he’d opted to don the hood.

“Neyti’s fine,” Kazi said. 

An eager yip from Fluffy preceded the delighted squeal of the little girl. The three adults watched as Neyti crouched low, dusted sand from a bubbling hole, and then lifted an opulently blushing seashell. Fluffy nosed the shell with self-importance; the flick of his ears displayed his approval. Together, youngling and anooba continued their wandering. 

Fox cracked his neck. “A rogue wave can—”

“Do you see any rogue waves?” A disdainful sniff was his only response, and Kazi threw him a pointed look. “Let her have her fun. She’s been through enough.”

He winced but fell into step beside her and Wolffe. After an awkward moment of silence, he said, “I have news.”

Wolffe tensed. “What?”

“I looked into Neyti’s family.”

Kazi froze mid-step and cast her gaze toward Neyti. “What did you learn?” 

“Neyti’s grandmother was a senator in your capital,” Fox said. He spoke with a grim tone neatly folded into his otherwise characteristic apathy. “She was one of the proponents of the Security Bill.”

Kazi’s fingers spasmed on Wolffe’s arm; he frowned at her reaction. 

“That was the bill that provided funding to the National Bureau of Security and Intelligence,” she explained to him. “It gave us funding and legal approval to spy on the Empire. Obviously, the bill didn’t outright declare the government’s intent. The language was murky. But, if you know what you’re looking for…Ceaia’s declaration of rebellion was right there.”

“And Neyti’s grandmother advocated for it,” Wolffe muttered in understanding. “That’s why her family was targeted.”

“Both grandparents were killed in the Purge,” Fox said. “Along with Neyti’s mother. Official records claim that Neyti was also killed.”

Farther along the shore, Neyti experimentally toed a bunch of seaweed. She waited. The seaweed did not react. Still, a toothy grin brightened the girl’s face. She leapt over the bunch, tucked the pink seashell into a pocket, and continued along her way. Fluffy pranced after her. 

“I should’ve realized it,” Kazi murmured. “Her accent is so similar to—"

A low growl cut her off. Teeth bared, hackles raised, Fluffy scrutinized the steep cliffs behind the gathered adults. At his warning bark, Kazi whirled around. Two figures were approaching.

Instinctively, she staggered backwards, reaching for Wolffe, fear pulsing through her. But Wolffe and Fox were already reacting. They closed ranks, armed with their blasters which they kept lowered and hidden, and ordered Fluffy to take point. 

“Neyti,” Kazi said urgently, gesturing to the little girl. “Come here.”

Neyti hurried over. Her cheeks were flushed; her eyes were wide with alarm. The alarm quickly subsided, however, replaced with shock and then elation. 

“Steiner!” 

Glee sang in the shout as Neyti pushed herself between Wolffe and Fox and darted forward. Kazi lunged for the back of her coat but the youngling escaped.

“Neyti!” Kazi reprimanded.

Intrepid, the little girl kept running. Wet sand splattered beneath her shoes. Her twin braids streamed through the wind. She was laughing and smiling and pumping her arms harder, and only then did Kazi see what she’d previously overlooked: a third, smaller figure. This small figure was sprinting, too, and met Neyti halfway. 

Both girls skidded to a halt. They regarded one another for a pent breath and then they were hugging, beaming, regaling. Their hands danced with zealous gesticulations. Their grins shone with dimpled merriness. 

“That’s Heracli,” Kazi informed Wolffe and Fox, her attention focused on the girl’s reunion. A smile tugged on her mouth at their jubilance; her amusement didn’t last long, though, interrupted by the nearing adults. “And the man is her husband, Quin.” 

Heracli and Quin Obisany halted several meters away. Kazi hardly blamed them for their wariness. The minacious demeanor displayed by Wolffe and Fox—expressed in harsh calculation and apathetic belligerence—created an unfriendly atmosphere. Their palmed blasters did little to defuse the situation, either. 

“Fehr told me that you left Eluca,” Heracli said. Shivering in her long coat, she offered a half-hearted smile. “Steiner has been pestering us to see Neyti.”

Kazi eyed the dark-haired couple. “What are you doing here?”

“We didn’t have much of a choice.” Heracli shifted between her feet, weariness dimming her usually perceptive gaze. “We were tracking the doonium shipments from Quin’s mine but the Empire learned of this and, to protect Steiner, we had to flee.”

“But why here?” Kazi motioned to the tumbling ocean and the rain-sodden cliffs. “Why Ceaia?”

Heracli pursed her lips. “The Empire abandoned this planet two months ago, and the network, too. We’re safe from possible repercussions from both sides.”

Kazi exchanged a glance with Wolffe and Fox. “Why would the network go after you?”

“We know too much,” Heracli said simply. Her eyes wandered from Kazi to the two little girls and, hoarsely, she said, “We all know too much.”

A stilted silence settled across the beach; only the lapping waves disrupted it. Neyti and Steiner set off along the shore, heads bent together, breaths puffed, coats bundled. Fluffy followed at a cautious pace. 

“Do you know”— Kazi scrutinized Heracli and Quin—“what the network was planning to do on Ceaia?” 

“They wanted to build a base,” Quin answered. Black eyes, as dark as his skin, pierced her with astute cunning. “To fight the Empire, the Rebellion needs a base to host troops and ships. Command thought that Ceaia could be a potential host once the Empire left.”

A swift, silent look passed between Wolffe and Fox. The look of two commanders assessing military information. 

“They decided against it,” Kazi said. 

The report she’d read so long ago replayed in her mind: complaints of Ceaia’s unideal location and its underdeveloped technology. Like the Imps, the rebel network had abandoned Ceaia. They were…gone. 

Dazedly, she surveyed her environment—the gray mountains spired among the thick clouds, the indomitable expanse of the dark blue ocean, the lightless lighthouse still standing after decades of neglect. She was home, and she was safe.

After everything they had endured, it didn’t seem possible. Real.

“Neyti’s missed Steiner,” Kazi said. 

The statement—a tentative gesture of reconciliation—earned her acknowledging nods from Heracli and Quin. She didn’t trust them. Based on Wolffe and Fox’s persistent silences, they retained their mistrust, too. But, for Neyti, she would try.   

So Kazi reached for Wolffe; he holstered his blaster, bringing her hand to his mouth as they observed the scene before them. Neyti was showing Steiner the pink seashell; both girls regarded it with awe. 

Quietly, Kazi added, “She’ll be happy to have her friend back.”

26 Kelona

The warm light of the crescent moon fractured among bare skin and tangled sheets. It shadowed strained muscles; highlighted scars, tattoos, bruises. 

Kazi stared at the pool of stars above as she fisted the sheets. Her moans were breathy; her eyelashes fluttered at another slow lick to her labia.

Between her legs, dappled in streams of amber, Wolffe was a sculpture carved by a god: the breadth of his shoulders distinct; the curls of his hair defined; the long fingers on the flesh of her thighs firm, possessive. 

Tonight, he took his time. He’d undressed her with patient kisses to her neck and breasts. He’d skimmed a hand along her back, tracing each knob of her spine, sucking on her breasts; she’d clung to his shoulders to steady herself, wetness pooling between her legs. Only the trembling of his hands betrayed his anticipation. 

Soon, he was kneeling before her and removing her underwear. Warm lips scattered kisses along her calves, her inner thighs. Large hands palmed her ass, pressed her into their bed. 

Wolffe pleasured her with an experience developed from months of learning her body. From months of eager practice and single-minded determination to know her. All of her. 

Each swipe of his tongue was unhurried, teasing enough to have her cunt throbbing with need, but casual enough to prevent her orgasm. Each pause was intentional; he watched her through hooded eyes, dipping two fingers inside of her, grinning lazily at the arch of her hips and the shudders in her legs. Each rasped praise renewed the flush in her cheeks; he smiled against her cunt, sucking on her clit as he stretched his fingers inside of her. 

Eventually he lost himself to her pleasure, the restraints on his patience snapped. 

The teasing licks turned into relentless sucking, and the smug grins gave way to guttural moans as he massaged the inside of her cunt harder, deeper. She was writhing, her head thrown back and sweaty hands clutching the sheets. Then, her legs were stiffening, her cunt clamping down hard, and she was coming. 

Aftershocks of pleasure shivered through her body, and while her erratic breaths evened, she was reaching for the lube. 

From where he knelt on the bed, Wolffe trembled as she smoothed lube onto his cock, as she stroked his inner thighs, skimmed a knuckle along his balls, traced the tip of his cock with her finger. 

“Kazi.” 

The strain in his voice brought a lazy smile to her mouth. A smile he sought with his lips, kissing her while he flattened her back into the mattress. 

Forearms bracketing her head, he ground himself against her, lifted one of her legs as he pushed the tip of his cock into her. She squeezed her eyes shut at the stretch of him; she exhaled a shallow breath as he sank into her deeper; she bit his shoulder, gasping, once he was settled fully inside of her.

As always, he waited. Low breaths panted against her neck, and once she brought his mouth to hers, he started to thrust. Deep, slow thrusts that made her feel each centimeter of him.

“I’m gonna take care of you,” he said roughly. He nuzzled his nose to her throat, murmured, “You’re mine to take care of.”

She was kissing him, and he was hitting a spot deep inside of her—a spot that had her clinging to his shoulders, her fingernails digging into his skin. She gasped. Everything grew tight. Her cunt clenched around his cock, and with a strangled cry, she came. He lasted only a few more thrusts and then he was coming, biting her shoulder, shuddering through his pleasure. 

Afterwards, they laid together, his body atop hers, his face buried in the crook of her neck. Gentle fingers circled the lines of her ribcage, the muscles of her inner arms, the planes of her hips. Her own fingers smoothed the scars on his back and painted the tattoos of his left arm. 

Half-asleep, she heard him whispering, hushed words breathed against her skin, barely audible. For a moment, she listened intently—

“I love you,” he whispered thickly. Something small and warm tickled her shoulder; it sank into her skin. “I love you.”

Gingerly, she lifted his face to hers. He didn’t resist, though he did angle his face into the nightly shadows; the moonlight caressed his wet eyelashes. 

“I knew there was something more that day you checked on me at the lake,” she said with a sad smile. 

Silently, he regarded her with an intensity unwavering: intrigued, hungry. 

“You made me feel seen, and that terrified me. The thought of trusting you—relying on you…” She let out a self-deprecating chuckle. “I don’t know when it truly started, maybe it was that day, or maybe it was when you stood up for Neyti and me at the Marketplace, I don’t know but”—she cupped his jaw—“I’ve been in love with you for a long time.” 

He swallowed. The fingers brushing her jawline, her ear, were trembling. 

“Thank you,” she said. “For waiting for me.”

A tear splashed onto her chest. Hoarsely, he said, “Thank you. For loving me.”

3 Selona

A ragged blanket, its dark blue wan and edges frayed, beckoned to Kazi. Similar to how an elderly dog would wag its tail upon seeing its owner after years apart. 

Neatly folded atop a wood carton—the handiwork of Daria, she assumed—the blanket seemed to deflate with each cautious step she took toward it. As if it knew its time was nearing and, after so long protecting its charges, it could finally rest. She knelt before it. The soggy floor of the lighthouse’s lantern room drooped beneath her weight. With trembling fingers, she removed the blanket, its threadbare material exhaling its final breath.

Old, faded drawings greeted her: fragile, and with a somber disposition born from years of neglect. 

Carefully, Kazi lifted the flimsisheets from the carton. The drawings—expressions of dragons, once adoring parents, dancing sisters—were distorted and water-stained. Still, she could distinguish the difference between hers and Daria’s. 

Her sister’s drawings displayed the practiced elegance and focused approach Daria had exuded even as a young girl. Kazi, on the other hand, had lacked artistic inclinations. Her drawings were crude, blobby rather than refined, disarrayed blending rather than composed shading.

Kazi held up two pieces. A mutual attempt by both sisters—when they were seven and five, if she were to hazard a guess—to draw Goch, the first dragon to befriend the Ceaian people. The comparison was unfair. Even at such a young age, Daria outmatched her in every artistic distinction. She couldn’t help but laugh. 

She laughed at the ridiculous state of her drawing, and she laughed as she remembered how jealous she used to be of Daria’s talents, and she laughed as she shuffled through more mediocre drawings. 

She laughed until she started to cry. 

And she cried until her cheeks were caked with tears, and her eyes were puffy, and her chest hurt from the hollowness carving it open. 

The dead blanket wiped her tears; the faded drawings held her hands.

Smiling wetly, Kazi brushed a finger along Daria’s imagination of their family, caressed the pale-skinned depiction of her sister, and then tucked the flimsisheets back into their carton. She folded the blanket; she nestled it atop its former charges. As she pushed herself to her feet, her knees aching from however long she had cried, she looked outside the broken window. 

It shouldn’t have surprised her. The man below. Most likely, he’d returned from his run, noticed her absence, and then tracked her footsteps through last night’s downy snow. She braced her forearms on the windowsill and poked her head out.

Leaning against the lighthouse sat Wolffe. The early morning breeze ruffled his curls; his gaze was drawn to the clear, gray horizon. 

“You can come up,” Kazi called to him. Wolffe tipped his chin back. He arched a brow in question. She grinned. “I think the stairs will hold your weight.”

His huff of exasperation preceded the amused shake of his head. Regaining his feet, he started for the door, and moments later, they stood together in the lantern room. He appraised their surroundings with his usual calculation: a finger skimming the wobbly railing, a bent study of the floor’s gaping holes, a boot nudging broken glass.

With its decayed walls, haphazard stairs, and smashed windows, the lighthouse didn’t seem like much. A relic of a bygone era. 

But there was something in the air. It lingered. A strange mixture of rotting wood, old seawater, and crisp snowfall mixed and homogenized into the unmistakable scent of childhood. Of birdsong early on a summer morn, of frolicking among fields of waving wildflowers, of roasted nuts over a winter’s fire. 

“I want to rebuild it,” Kazi said. Wolffe turned toward her, and she tucked her hands into her coat’s pockets. “No one owns it. The locals don’t bother to visit. And thanks to modern technology, lighthouses aren’t even necessary. But…” She thought about the dream she and Daria once shared. A dream to rebuild the lighthouse and open the most lauded inn across all of Ceaia. She offered Wolffe a hesitant shrug. “I want to rebuild it.”

His eyes narrowed as he assessed the room. “The foundation is solid. So is the structure. I checked them. But we’ll have to gut—” 

“Wait.” Kazi frowned. “Why did you check the foundation?”

“I knew this was coming,” Wolffe said bluntly. He searched her face with characteristic patience. “Daria…told me a lot of things the last few months.”

Her frown deepened. “Like what?”

“That you don’t belong anywhere but Ceaia.” Wolffe took a step toward her. “That you would return. One day. And that I’d have to decide if I wanted to follow you.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “She told me about this place”—he motioned toward the stairs—“and she asked me to help you rebuild it. Hell, she made me promise, Ennari.” He tapped the underside of her chin, murmured, “And I did.”

Kazi swallowed. “She told you?”

A small nod was Wolffe’s sole response. He extended his hand, his half-smile affectionate; her palm slid into his. A callused, scarred warmth embraced her. At his gentle squeeze, she traced the rounded edge of his jawline, wrapped her fingers around the back of his neck, brought his forehead to hers. 

They remained like that for a long time.   

As winter reached the culmination of its peregrination, softened soil welcomed citrus-star seedlings, and faint pink blossoms graced the white-barked sequoia trees of their haven, they whiled away long hours at the lighthouse.   

It started with gutting the interior. 

Early mornings Kazi spent with Cody. Other than the radio sharing news updates from across the galaxy, they worked in silence. Sweat dampening their shirts, faces flushed, equally dedicated to their task. 

After their conversation on the cliff, they never talked about Daria again. Kazi suspected they never would. The relationship they developed the last year—hours spent in the kitchen teaching and learning unique recipes, borrowed books about painting techniques and subsequent conversations—had cracked. It was irreparable. They both knew it. And they both knew his days on Ceaia were numbered.

So those moments in the lighthouse, when it was just them, the morning tide, and the chilly breeze, provided them a reprieve. A reprieve from the grief, the longing, the blame. 

Small smiles, hoarse chuckles, reassuring pats ensued. Kazi made her request for a painting and, during their breaks, Cody questioned her on descriptions, encouraged critique of his most recent sketches, explained the techniques he thought worked best. 

The day Cody finished the portrait of Neyti’s mother was the last day he and Kazi spent time alone.

Gutting the lighthouse and rebuilding its interior took more than a month. Floor plans, sanctioned by the local construction company, provided clear instructions for the reconstruction of the staircase and the four floors; weekly site checks by a project manager approved the lighthouse’s structural additions and confirmed its compliance with safety measures.

Soon, the reconstruction concluded and the interior design process began. Neyti’s favorite part: painting. 

An abundance of paint brushes, rollers, cans, and trays littered the various floors of the lighthouse. Throughout the painting weeks, the newly replaced windows remained open, the scent of springtime blossoms and salty ocean purifying the air of malodorous fumes. The floors’ ceilings and the lantern room’s domed roof required ladders; sore arms and shoulder muscles persisted. 

One afternoon, wiping sweat from her forehead, Kazi stepped away from her section of the third floor’s wall. The warm sunlight dappled the light blue paint—a blue as pale as a melting glacier. 

Downstairs, Fox, Nova, and Neyti were snacking on a basket of freshly baked bread, slices of cheese, and clusters of grapes. Kazi joined them. A grape popped into her mouth, a swig of the cool water. She took the time to stretch her aching fingers. 

When they finished the reconstruction two weeks ago, she returned to her nightly quilting sessions with Nova. Last night, with a yellow thread reminiscent of autumnal leaves, he tied the last stitch. They unfolded the completed quilt, admired its threaded story, and then carried it downstairs to his bedroom, hanging it on a rod. A plethora of yellow and gray panels softened by stitches of greens and purples cascaded to the floor; the white border spanned the entirety of the wall. 

Kazi smoothed a wrinkle. “Why didn’t you hang the other quilt in here?” 

The first quilt Nova had completed—the quilt displaying the war memorial on Coruscant—blanketed the couch on the main level. Neyti used it often when she watched a holofilm.

“The memorial’s for my brothers. Not just me,” Nova said. He studied the quilt with a small smile. “This…is a reminder. That my vode are still with me. And that I can still do some good.”

“I like that,” she murmured.

For some time, while she perused the quilt’s intricate stitching, Nova studied her. 

“Daria’s dragon,” he said, resting a hand on her shoulder. “You should consider moving it to your bedroom. It could be a good thing.”

She thought about Sea currently guarding the blue-stemmed, purple-blossomed plant in a window of the kitchen. “You might be right,” she said hoarsely.   

A giggle interrupted last night’s memory and Kazi watched as Neyti tossed Nova another grape. He caught it midair, swallowed, and delivered a humble bow. Chuckling at their theatrics, Kazi grabbed a slice of bread and made the trek back to the quiet third floor. 

Fingers dusted free of crumbs, a paint roller dunked into the tray of blue paint, she eyed her progress—

“I think you should hit me.”

Kazi stiffened, and she shot an unimpressed look over her shoulder. “I’m not hitting you.”

“You’re still angry with me,” Fox said with a casual taunt. He strolled into the room. A streak of blue paint bruised his cheek. “Releasing your anger can be a good thing. I know it. Wolffe knows it. Let’s get it over with and then we can move on.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not angry—” 

“I was an asshole, Kazi.” He took the paint roller from her hand and tossed it onto the plastic-sheeted floor. A cocky grin failed to hide the guilt rounding his eyes. “It would make me feel better if you hit me. 

“Hitting you doesn’t bring Daria back,” she said quietly.

“No.” His face slackened in resignation. “It doesn’t.”

The spring breeze rustled the canvas on the floor; its airy warmth fluttered through Fox’s curls and caressed Kazi’s face. 

“You were an asshole, Fox,” she said, sighing. A muscle clenched in his jaw. “I hated you in that moment. I still hate what you said. But…” She hugged her arms around her stomach. “I’ve already lost Daria. I’m not interested in losing someone else.”

“I cared for a lot of men,” Fox said after a moment of contemplative silence. “And they all ended up dead. Pushing others away…it was easier than dealing with their deaths.” He swallowed. “But…I don’t want to live the rest of my life like that.”

Kazi retrieved her paint roller and placed it in his hand. A clean roller dipped into the paint tray greeted her own. They worked in silence. 

An hour later, returned from the harbor with groceries, Wolffe joined their painting endeavors. The questioning tilt of his head earned a reassuring pat from her in response. He hefted his roller with a contented smirk. 

Renovations to the lighthouse concluded on the 33rd of Telona—what would have been Daria’s 25th life day—with the hanging of a painting in the lantern room. 

Perched on Wolffe’s shoulders, her tiny arms trembling beneath the weight of the frame, Neyti hung her artwork. At Wolffe’s suggestion, she repositioned it. Humming her satisfaction, she shimmied down his back and retreated. An admiration of her work commenced. 

The charcoal sketch from so long ago had developed into a colorful painting. Two little girls, hands clasped together, stomped through rain puddles. The pinks of their dresses contrasted the blues of the puddles and the grays of the ocean. Behind them, the lighthouse blazed brightly. The sole detail unique to the painting. 

(The reference photo—one of the many taken from Kazi’s adventure book—now decorated a wall in her and Wolffe’s bedroom. It was his request: to personalize their room with photos and artwork. Often, she caught him staring at the wall, his observation silently pensive. Once, she saw him touching a photo of his men, a tear sliding down his cheek.)

“Mum?” Neyti bounced on her tiptoes. “Do you like it?” 

Kazi studied the painting, its meticulous strokes, its sedulous color choices.

“It’s beautiful,” she said. A genuine smile bolstered the sincerity of her words, and Neyti ducked her head with a bashful grin. “But”—she frowned at the frame—“it’s crooked.”

Wolffe scoffed. “It’s not crooked.”

“The right side is higher than the left.”

He scrutinized the painting through narrowed eyes. Another scoff, equally arrogant as his first, succeeded. “It’s not.”

Neyti looked from one adult to the next. Her perceptive gaze returned to the frame, a critique elapsed, and then, clapping her hands, she declared, “That’s okay. I like it as it is.”

“It’s perfect,” Kazi agreed. She took in the entire room: vines of green ivy vivified the railing, the windows provided a clear view of the stelliferous night, a low couch offered comfort for visitors. “All of it—it’s perfect.”

Eventually, Neyti returned to the house with Fox, and Kazi and Wolffe found themselves alone. 

Staring out a window with his arms wrapped around her front, Wolffe rested his chin atop her head and asked about an unfamiliar constellation. Kazi told him the story of the dragon Pandora and the medicinal practices she taught the Ceaians; as she spoke, she mapped the constellation in the sky. He followed her finger’s path. Curious, studious.

A contented silence fell between them once she finished the story. The cool temperature of early night bathed them in fresh air; the high-pitched whistle of an unseen whale pierced the quiet. With an amused chuckle, Wolffe brought a finger to her chin and tilted her face back. 

“You think Daria would like it?” he asked quietly. His eyes were bright with mirth yet also hesitant. “What we did here?”

“Yes,” Kazi said with a wistful laugh. “I think she’d love it.”

“Good.” He brushed a finger along her cheekbone. His smile was soft. “She’d be proud of you, Ennari. For returning. For building this. For living. She’d be real fucking proud of you.” 

Kazi twisted her face into his palm. “And she would be so grateful for you. For everything you’ve done for us. For me.”

Wolffe swallowed. The starlight glowed within the darkness of his regular eye; it twinkled among his cybernetic. Both were watery with affection. She smiled softly. 

“I’ll wait for you,” he murmured roughly. Warm lips sought her forehead. “Take your time.”

Kazi waited for his footsteps to retreat before she reached into her trousers’ pocket. Seating herself on the couch, she placed the locket with her family’s photo on the window’s sill and then unfolded her letter to Daria. 

The black ink twinkled beneath the light of the Dancing Dragons, the brightest star in their embrace gleaming. Beneath her perch, waves rolled against the cliffs. Calm and encouraging, like they were listening. A cool breeze tickled her face. Scents of sea salt and honeysuckle invigorated the lantern room.  

With a deep breath, Kazi started to read: “Hi, Dee.”

Masterlist | A Muse | Epilogue

A/N: Kazi would never again visit the lighthouse with her sister. – Line I, Chapter I

[k-s-morgan]

Hi! I've been in the Hannibal fandom for two years now. Rewatched the show many times and yet Will Graham still confuses me like no one else. Hannibal's design is complex but somewhat understandable after watching the show again again. But Will's design is like a loophole. He can empathise with the killers. That means he can understand them. If he can understand them then why does it feel good for him to kill them? How does it work for him exactly. Does he feel for the killers? If he felt for the killers then what about his violent tendencies towards them?

I've always thought that he is like a God. A God of the killers. The killers offer him their design and he takes sacrifice in return of understanding. But how does his psyche work exactly?

Hello! Oh yes, Will is a very confusing character - it’s his defining trait, and I think that’s because he lies to himself, to others, and to us as an audience. He wants one thing, wants to want another thing, does the third thing, and making sense of it is a complex process.

I think Will’s empathy is a big red herring. I agree with Freddie here: he understands killers because he’s one. He has an almost supernatural gift that helps him recreate the situations almost exactly as they happened. He understands what motivates killers, he might sympathize with them, but I think he might also envy them their freedom to be what they are. They are a reminder of what he is and what he can’t allow himself to have. But most importantly, they are a way for Will to find a compromise with himself and feel better about his true self. Killing bad people is an excuse to justify his darkness, but I don’t think it’s a part of his design per se. 

I agree with you that Will is like a God - he and Hannibal both are. That’s one of the things that separates them from others and elevates them above everyone else. Let’s make an overview of Will’s victims.

1) Hobbs. Hobbs was a monster and Will killed him. But it wasn’t about justice and righteousness, not according to him. Killing a person and feeling pleased that you saved someone versus liking the act of killing itself are drastically different things. Many police officers have to kill in their line of duty. Very few of them get off on the act of murder. Those who do are killers, and they are especially dangerous if they immediately try to follow it up with another murder. Will never once says he liked killing Hobbs because he made this world better. When asked, he says that he felt a sense of power. This is a motivation of many actual serial killers. If Will was just glad that he saved Abigail, he would know it's normal. He wouldn't have been almost on the verge of a break-down and haunted by Hobbs. So it’s not about helping others, it's about murder, even if the victim was a monster.

2) Stammets. Will had no reason to try to kill him (which he admits to doing). Based on his and Hannibal’s talk, he understands that he just wanted to feel what he felt after killing Hobbs, and this makes him panic. So again, no someone. He’s chasing the high of killing someone, and Stammets is the most appropriate victim. 

3) Ingram. On the surface, it looks like Will wanted to avenge Peter and himself by proxy, hence pulling the trigger on Ingram. However, after Hannibal manages to stop him, days later, Will complains about losing a chance to feel how he felt when killing Hobbs. Murder high is his main motivation again - everything else is background or an excuse, depending on your reading.    

4) Randall. Will threw away the gun on purpose to make the murder more intimate. This is not about justice and this is not about protecting himself because by doing this, he reduced his chances. Will also beat Randall up until he wasn't moving. There was no reason to snap his neck. Mutilation, cannibalism that followed, keeping his suit, admitting he enjoyed the murder and calling it his design - this is about murder and WIll’s love for it primarily. The design part is especially important: based on it, we can conclude that Will loves a performance just like Hannibal.  

4) Chiyoh and her prisoner who Will set up. Chiyoh was innocent and didn't deserve to die. Her prisoner might not have been guilty - in fact, Will was the one to suggest that, and yet Will still set him up. It was a game and he was an observer - he lied in waiting for Chiyoh’s scream. He then turned the body of a losing party into art. Very creepy and very like Hannibal.

5) Chilton. Will clearly explained his motivation: he wanted Chilton to pay just because he wanted to be famous and messed with Hannibal by writing his ridiculous book. Will showed no remorse and admitted he did it on purpose.

6) Police officers he set up to be killed by cooperating with Francis. The ones he stepped over without a second look. They were innocent and they were a collateral damage. Will is a cruel God who doesn’t bother with mere mortals as long as it fits his purpose. In this case, his purpose was freeing Hannibal. Everything else was still a blur in his mind. 

7) Francis. Enjoyed the murder, admired the blood, called the situation beautiful.

8) Bedelia. She's innocent in comparison to Will and his body count. If Will faced no repercussions and continued getting more and more people killed, she had every right to go free. But God doesn’t have to be fair, and Will proves it by targeting her. 

What does it all say about Will’s design and philosophy? Apart from Godlike attributes and indifference toward collateral damage, I think Will is led by his bloodlust - he just tends to control it and direct it at specific targets. 

Will might prefer to kill “bad people” in the first two seasons, but it’s the process of murder that excites him. So I see his righteous choices as a preference that helps him justify his dark nature partly, not the core reason for his violence. Hannibal seems to be moved by his interest in human nature and his hunter instinct, but Will, I think, is a truer killer because he actually feels drunk on murder. Unlike Hannibal, he looks downright euphoric when/after he kills Randall and Francis. In TWOTL, Hannibal is more focused on the fact that his dream came true and he and Will killed someone together, but Will seems primarily caught up in the murder after-shocks themselves. Hannibal thinks about Will, Will thinks about how beautiful blood looks under the moonlight.

So, post Fall, I believe that at first, Will will stick to killing bad people like murderers, but once some times passes, his need for justifications will fade. He’ll move on to rude people, only his rude will differ from Hannibal’s. Hannibal doesn’t differentiate between genders and ages, but I think Will will. He’s interested in a feeling of power, like he himself says, in a sense of dominance, so he’ll look forward to a fight. He won’t be interested in attacking a teenager like Cassie, for instance, because the power imbalance is too prominent. But as soon as someone more equal does something Will heavily dislikes, something that wakes his bloodlust (a personal insult, physical or verbal abuse toward other people/animals, etc.), he’ll attack. He’ll be careful - he knows how to avoid being caught, but it will still be unpredictable and passionate. Will is a storm to Hannibal’s calm.

Then there is unpredictability. Hannibal tends to plan everything methodically. The only times we see him being impulsive is in Europe, where he’s descending into self-destructive mode, so it’s not a norm for him. For Will, though? Will consists of unpredictability, and Hannibal is fascinated by it.I think Will is going to kill when an impulse strikes. For example, he might go shopping, without having any dark plans, and end up murdering someone because the circumstances pushed some unfortunate soul onto his path. Will might or might not display the body depending on his mood. Today he can be in an artistic mood, but tomorrow he’ll be in a violent and impatient one, wanting to destroy the body entirely and leaving a total mess behind.

How Will would prefer to kill? In my opinion, in an intimate way. It doesn’t mean he’ll be weaponless, but something like a knife would fit his tastes well. He’d be able to feel it plunge into his victim’s body, tearing through skin and muscles, etc. - personal and intimate. Akin to what he did with Francis - his feral half-snarl, the way he paused after stabbing him before opening him up - it was dark and mesmerizing. Will might get into strangling, too, because it takes a lot of time and it is even more intimate. It might end up being his favorite. So, I can see him using his hands or small weapons to fully sense what he’s doing to a victim. This is something that he has in common with Hannibal because from what we saw, Hannibal also enjoys more intimate and prolonged murders that give him a glimpse into a person’s pain and struggle for life.

[janghoefett]

Golden Berries

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

Rating: Explicit (18+) Pairing: F/M Word count: 1.7k

Summary: Grogu stumbles upon berries. You try some. SURPRISE! It was SEX POLLEN! Boba and Fennec inform the Mandalorian that you actually ate a very powerful aphrodisiac, and you guys do what has to be done...

Warnings: Reader is the only one affected but both parties have wanted each other. Din is a good boi, intercourse, armor kink? He keeps it on. Reader cries afterwards but it’s all good.

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

The child put everything in his mouth. Everything.

It was only natural there’d be some kind of accident one day.

“What’s that, honey?” you asked, leaning in for a closer look at the bush. Grogu picked off the small fruits with a vengeance, promptly shoving two handfuls into his little mouth. “Berries?”

The child was chewing with gusto, cooing at you and holding up one of the golden berries. You picked off a fresh sample to look it over; you had never seen any berries that looked like this, but their appearance was intriguing.

Well, Grogu seemed to be enjoying them enough. So you tried one.

Oh, it was sweet… delicious, actually. So you tried another. And then another.

—————————————————————

“Did she eat this, kid?” Din asks.

Grogu is covered in spilled golden nectar down the front of his little cloak, clutching a plump berry in his hand and quacking something indecipherable at the kneeling Mandalorian.

The Mandalorian takes the berry, much to Grogu’s dismay, and looks it over before passing it to Fennec. “Shand, do you know what this is?” he asks.

“It’s an aphrodisiac… the powerful kind,” she answers with certainty. “It’s not surprising that the kid is fine, most non-humanoid species are immune to it.”

“An aphrodisiac?” Din repeats in disbelief.

The Mandalorian had heard rumors of such poison but simply brushed the tales off as sick fantasies concocted by other hunters. He looks between Fennec and Boba in search of answers, but he knows it makes perfect sense; he had just seen you lying there in his bed, sweating, grabbing at him, breathing quickly… and whispering his name through your fever.

“Fennec’s right, Mandalorian,” Boba confirms grimly. “The girl could die without relief.”

Din’s heart sinks. No, no this couldn’t be happening, he thinks. Not to you. Not to the girl he tried to refrain from loving all this time.

“What about an antidote?” Din asks, his voice breaking slightly. “We can take her to a medic—”

Fennec cuts him off with a wave of her hand. “As far as I know the only cure is… what you are able to provide.”

“We both know you would never let any harm come to the girl,” Boba says lowly. "She wants you. Go to her.”

It was the truth. Din nods after an uncomfortable silence, shifting his weight. “Can you look after the kid?” he asks, clearing his throat.

“The child will be safe with us,” Boba confirms with a single nod. Fennec allows Grogu to sit up on her arm, as he promptly snatches the berry back from her grasp.

He doesn’t let a crumb go uneaten.

—————————————————-

When you see Din standing in the doorway your body clenches. You’re soaking wet between your legs and the sight of Din almost physically pains you. You needed him terribly. You are aware that something had happened to you, but your brain struggles to put it into words… all you know is that you need something, that you need the Mandalorian to touch you.

“Din… I…”

“I know, mesh’la. I know.”

He approaches you slowly, his helmet tilting to scan the view of you before him. How many times had Din’s mind conjured up an image of you like this, spread out, chest heaving, begging for him to fuck you?

“Do you know what happened to you?” he asks gently. “You know you had an… an aphrodisiac—”

“Oh stars, Din, please! I’ll… I’ll be so good for you,” you find yourself panting, your words coming out without filter as if they are not your own. “Please. Just… just touch me… Din, please.”

Din’s heart breaks to see you in this state of pain, begging for him as if you assumed he would not want you. He sits on the edge of the small bed and leans over you, taking off a glove to feel your cheek. “Mesh’la? Will you let me help you?”

You nod eagerly, your eyes pleading. “I’ll do anything you ask…” you breathe.

“No, sweet girl,” he says softly as he comes over you, allowing you to hook your legs around his waist. “I’m not going to ask you to do anything… you tell me what you need.”

Din pulls his helmet off. You lock eyes and, tentatively, he brings his lips to yours for the first time. You whimper when you feel him brush between your legs; his cock had swelled and the friction against your center makes you break away from his lips with ragged breath.

“Din… I’m sorry,” says the part of your brain that still had a shred of sense. “I… I didn’t mean to…”

“Shh, mesh’la,” Din tells you, cupping your face. “Don’t say that. Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes. Please, yes. I need you. Fuck, Din, I want you always.”

“Cyare,” he whispers, kissing your forehead. “Then let me take care of you, okay?”

Trembling, you continue to kiss and grind against one another as your hips buck to provide more relief for yourself. Din just feels so large above you, especially with the added weight of his beskar, and your ache only swells.

Din moves to plant kisses down your neck and over your stomach until he slides your pants down and off your legs, looking up at you with those big brown eyes. “Fuck, cyare,” he groans at the sight of your exposed center, kissing your swollen bundle of nerves. You cry out and grab at his hair; the sensation was almost too much.

Din slips two experimental fingers inside of you and crooks them upwards. Your cunt was already flushed with desire, warm, wet, and inviting. “I just… need you, Din,” you whine. “Please.”

The Mandalorian’s brows furrow as he comes back up to you, reaching down to take his cock out from beneath his flight suit. Everything had happened so fast; here you were underneath Din Djarin, your Mandalorian, about to make love to each other for the first time. You didn’t want him only under these circumstances, no. For far too long you both had been hanging onto unspoken feelings, a certain understanding of one another.

Din rubs the head of his cock against your entrance for a moment, breathing raggedly at the sensation, and sinks in.

The stretch hurts wonderfully and a strained moan escapes your lips. “Relax for me, cyare,” Din croaks in your ear. “I know you can take it.”

You’re both heaving from the tight fit when Din finally bottoms out, hanging onto each other tightly, just as a tear pools at the corner of your eye.

“I’m hurting you—”

“No!” you pant, keeping him pulled close. “It’s— it’s so good. Fuck, Din!”

The Mandalorian pulls back slowly and snaps back into you, both of you gasping in delight as your hips start to establish a rhythm. Your hands slap against his beskar as you try to find something to grab onto, but instead Din takes your hand and laces his fingers through yours, pinning it down above your head.

“I’ve wanted you,” Din groans into your neck. “So long. For so long, cyare…”

Everything is heightened for you - you can feel every ridge, every drag against your walls, every vibration, and you come hard.

“Fuck!” he grunts, his hips stuttering. “Was that — did you come already, mesh'la?”

“Don’t stop!” you cry.

Din’s breathing is strained as he keeps up the pace with strong, deep thrusts. Your legs are still trembling and the Mandalorian can tell you’re struggling to last; he runs his hands over your skin to soothe you for him, to keep you going. You can only whimper beneath him and twist your hands into his hair.

“Din…” you pant.

“I know. I know, sweet girl.”

In mere moments you’re falling off the edge again. For several seconds you are left riding wave after wave from the pleasure that Din brings you, crying out for him, dragging your fingertips along his beskar… and the sensation is too much for him to hang on.

He fills you full while you lie there fluttering around him, both of you trembling from the exertions and sobbing each other’s names.

A wave of relief washes over your mind and body, and Din senses the change. He steals one last kiss from you, remaining sheathed inside of you, lingering there as if to memorize the feeling before waking up from a dream.

“Can you rest for me now, sweet girl?” he says softly. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Thank you, Din,” you mumble, surrendering easily to a needed slumber.

——————————————————

You don’t know how long you slept for. When you wake, the fog has cleared from your head and only a pleasant ache remains in your body.

It had been quick and rough but… cathartic. As you come to your senses, you find that Din had slid your underwear back on in a gesture of respect. You’re lying in the crook of his arm, a hand resting atop his chest plate.

Din had made no more advances than necessary and treated you with the utmost care. He had stayed armored. He did not remove your shirt. He had listened to your every desire and decided to take care of you when you had been left so vulnerable.

Oh stars. What have you done? You can’t help but weep.

“What’s wrong, sweet girl?” he coos, cradling your head. “How do you feel?”

“I’m so embarrassed,” you sob. “I’m so sorry, Din…”

Din shushes you, cradling your head. “Hey. Hey, look at me,” he says, tilting your chin up. “Cyare, I… I didn’t want it to happen this way. Don’t cry.”

You nod solemnly, bringing your hand up to wrap around his. “I know,” you breathe. “I know…”

Din pulls you into his chest, both of you heaving with emotion until he rests his forehead against yours. You close the gap, barely brushing your lips against each other until they lock.

“Don’t scare me like that again, okay?” he whispers.

“I promise.”

[honeyhan-123]

The Monster In Plain Sight

Summary: Steve’s been slowly biding his time, playing the role of the perfect Captain America, but now he’s sick of playing and he’s going to take what he wants. 

Warnings: Non-con, Dark! Steve, Steve is a serial rapist, somnophilia, forced exhibitionism, breeding kink, use of the word Daddy. If any of these makes you uncomfortable please do not read. 

Word Count: 2.1k

AN: Ooop, I can’t believe I’m actually posting for the first time in nearly three months. Please be gentle <3

Also I would like to thank everyone on the dark group chat for encouraging me to keep on going with this idea. It didn’t quite turn out as dark as I thought it would but you guys gave me the incentive to keep on going so thank you <3

My Masterlist

He was hard. Achingly hard. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt like this, this desperate for release but he knew he had to take his time. He had to relish in every single second he could get. He doubted he would get another chance and so he had to make this one count. 

The sleeping pills he had slipped into your wine at dinner were obviously working as you barely twitched as he slid your bedroom door open. It had almost been too easy to get his way. All he had to do was move in next door and play his usual role. No one would ever suspect The Captain America of the sinful acts that he was about to do, that he had done numerous times. 

But even as he watched you sleep, he knew something about this time was different. He wasn’t quite sure what it was. Maybe it was because unlike his usual victims he had actually made contact with you. He had never been so bold before. Usually there was always a camera lens separating him from his victims. But not this time. Not with you. 

He slithered over to the vanity opposite your bed, setting up his tripod with hasty fingers. He double checked the view point, making sure that the entire bed was in frame. He knew he wouldn’t forget a moment of what was about to happen but still, he wanted the momentos. The physical reminders. He pulled the sheets back from your unconscious body and relished in the way your nipples hardened at once as they met the cool night air. 

It was only at times like this when he could stop acting. When he could truly be himself. For these brief hours he could be who he was, not who the world thought him to be. 

He slid one hand up underneath the silk nighty you wore and cupped your tit as his other hand dipped into his already open pants. It was a relief to feel the cool breeze on his hot pulsating length and even better when he grabbed one of your hands and wrapped your fingers around it. Slowly he moved your hand up and down, a low groan tumbling from his lips. Your dainty fingers felt amazing wrapped around him, far better than his own, but he longed for more. 

With a final tweak of your nipples, he let his hand slide town along your stomach and towards the lace that covered your mound. He cupped it through the scanty material, pushing the fabric into your lips as he felt you up. He couldn’t wait to be inside you, to have you wrapped around him like a vice. 

Getting you out of the nighty without jostling your body too much was a little difficult. Perhaps he should have cut it open, that would have fitted better with his plan should you awake. Ridding you of your panties was far easier and the sight that met him was beautiful. 

Sure he had camped out on your fire escape multiple times, watching as you dressed or prepared for a shower. But even then you had always been quick to recover yourself, as if you knew he was outside, watching with a hand wrapped around himself. Now however, he had you exactly as he wanted and he could take as long as he needed. 

Whipping out his phone, he made sure to capture all your best angles. He wanted your body to be immortalised forever so desperately that he even risked turning the flash on. He didn’t want to miss a single curve. When he felt as though he had enough pictures to last a lifetime, he moved onto stage two and trailed a hand up your calf. 

He kept his touch light for the most part until he reached in between your thighs. Steve couldn’t help the guttural sound that came out of his mouth as he parted your thighs, showing off the wetness that drenched your pussy lips. He had barely touched you and yet you were practically soaking the sheets. You must need it bad and who was he to refuse a woman in need? 

He wondered briefly what was going through your mind as he played with your slick. Were you dreaming of him? Of him doing these things to you? Of him making your body feel this way? 

He sure hoped so. 

He wanted you to know it was him. That he had crept in here after dark and filmed himself while he took you however he saw fit.

Deep down he knew he could never allow that to happen. That you could never know. It would be a PR nightmare and his days of taking whatever he wanted would be over. The only reconciliation in his mind was that if everything went according to plan, maybe this wouldn’t have to be a one off like all the others. Maybe he would purposely wake you up? He could make it seem like whoever had done those depraved things to your body had got away and it would only be natural that you would seek comfort with him, your supposed hero.

A melodic whimper filled his ears as he swirled a finger around your bundle of nerves, pulling him back into the moment. Even unconscious you were so reactive. So desperate. His nimble fingers faced no resistance as he pushed inside, swirling them along your inner walls. 

Steve doubted that you needed any more work up before he satisfied himself. You were just that needy. So without a moment's hesitation, he pulled his fingers from you and licked them clean. 

You tasted so sweet, just like he knew you would. A part of him wanted to bury his face between your thighs and stay like that forever but the aching in his cock reminded him of why he was really here. He needed to fuck. 

It had been far too long since his last time, a month, maybe more. He had spent so much time following your every step that he hadn’t gotten the chance to find anyone to satiate his needs. Plus, the last time he had it had been a little disappointing if he was being honest with himself. He had cummed, multiple times but instead of the usual calmness and serenity that filled him after a session, he just felt hollow and empty. 

He had known it was because she wasn’t you. Her pleas for him to stop were wrong, far too shrill for your sweet voice. He ached to hear you plead with him to stop, to hear to cry out for help. His gut twisted in the best way just imagining it but he would have to content himself with just your body tonight. 

He crawled onto the bed, spreading your thighs with his hips as he lined himself up at your entrance. He paused, just briefly to look over at the camera, giving his future self a devious smirk before casting his eyes back to your face. He didn’t want to miss any of your body’s reactions to him. 

He felt like he was coming home as he slid inside, forcing his entire length into your tight channel. Your warm velvet walls gripping him like a vice. It was nice. So nice that he just wanted to stay here, his cock buried deep inside of you for all of time. 

‘Fuck baby, you’re griping me so tight.’ He couldn’t help the words as they fell from his lips and he hoped that you would register them, at least subconsciously.  

Without any more hesitation he pulled back out, leaving just the tip before slamming all the way back home. Perhaps he wasn’t being as careful as he should have due to the circumstances but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He just wanted to mark you as his and if you felt him in the morning, even better. 

His pace was punishing as he thrusted his hips wildly, his hands groping both your tits. He toyed with the pert buds as your walls fluttered around him, a soft and delicate moan falling from your lips. The sound made him grateful he had invested in the extra strength microphone for the camera. He didn’t want to miss a thing. 

‘You’re just so desperate aren’t you baby? You just need it so bad. Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna give it to you, just how you want it.’ He pushed your legs up, over his shoulders as he pushed even deeper inside of you. He could see the faint bulge of himself inside of you with every thrust and he imagined it going straight into your womb. The idea of his seed taking root inside of you did things to Steve that he had never known possible and suddenly he wanted it. He wanted it all.

He had always made sure to pull out because any child would be able to be traced back to him but the idea of you, round and full with his child… It was too good a vision to pass up. 

His cock throbbed in need. The need to feel your velvety walls squeeze him, the need to fill you to the brim. His hand dropped down to where your bodies were connected, finding your little bud with ease. He swirled his finger in your slick and relished in the corresponding moan that came out of your lips. 

‘C’mon baby, I know you wanna cum for me. I know you wanna be a good girl for me.’ His voice was throaty as he whispered into your ear, his ministrations on your clit never ceasing. He felt the familiar squeeze of velvety walls and he knew you were close. 

‘That’s it baby, be a good girl for Daddy. Cum for me baby. Cum on Daddy’s big thick cock.’ He knew his words had taken affect as almost immediately he felt the pulsating of your walls, gripping him tight as you came. The sound of your pleasure was almost drowned out by his own low groan. ‘Fuck baby, milking me so tight. Fuck, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum inside you, gonna fill you with my seed. You want that don’t you? You need it.’

Steve could barely control himself as he felt his balls pull up, his seed spilling inside of you in hot spurts. He allowed your legs to fall down his shoulders as he collapsed on top of you, trying to catch his breath. 

‘Fuck baby, that was so good, so fucking good.’ His words were slurred, his heart still racing inside his chest. He felt the familiar pull in his gut as he started to harden again and he was about to start taking you again when he heard a soft mumble get caught in your throat.

He froze, still completely encased in you, unsure of what to do. If you opened your eyes you would know immediately what had happened and he probably wouldn’t get a second chance without resorting to drastic measures. 

A moment passed, and then two and your eyes still remained firmly shut and Steve let out a sigh of relief. Perhaps he shouldn’t go for round two right now. There was always tomorrow night, and the next night and the next. He could hold back for now. 

Slowly he pulled his aching cock from you, watching in awe as a little of his cum seeped from your swollen lips. He gently scooped it up before pushing his fingers back inside. He didn’t want a drop to go to waste. 

He pulled the camera off the tripod and carried back to the bed, giving your body a loving once over with the lens before putting himself back into frame as he knelt by your head. ‘Y/N L/N, twenty-first of September. Rating, ten out of ten. I will be coming back for seconds.’ With one last pan down your body, focussing on your cum soaked lips, he started getting redressed. He hated to leave you, but he knew he must. You couldn’t know that it was him doing these sinful acts with you, not if he wanted more. 

He grabbed the notebook on your bedside table and turning to a new page he began to write with his non-dominant hand. 

Thank you so much for last night baby. I can’t wait to see you again.

He placed the note on your pillow and pushed his lips against yours, sweeping his tongue around your entire mouth and drinking in your taste. It was with extreme regret that he left, but he knew he would be seeing you in a couple of hours. He would make sure he was the first person to see you in the morning. He would hold you in his arms and comfort you as you asked him for help, and he would give it to you. 

And so much more. 

+

Tags will be added in a reblog

Part Two

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

Thanks for reading <3

[goldenlaurelleaveswrites]

Sabine’s Big Day

I’m sorry for the delay, things have been a bit crazy in my life. I hope you enjoy the next Part of The Big Day (AO3)

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

Sabine dabbed carefully at her teary eyes, she didn’t want to ruin her makeup, but she couldn’t help but cry. Even anxiously pacing around, Marinette was an absolute vision in her dress. And it didn’t help that Tom kept bursting into tears every time he looked at their daughter. 

But no matter how much the sight made her tear up, she couldn’t take her eyes off her daughter as she tried to calm her. 

“… And if Hawkmoth decides to akumatize someone?”

“Then Ladybug will handle it,” she said soothingly. “Chat Noir too,” she added as an afterthought. Unfortunately, her words didn’t seem to offer any comfort; instead, they just sent Marinette pacing in the opposite direction, wringing her hands. 

“Sweetheart, don’t you think there are other things to stress over today?” She shot Tom a look as he seemingly realized what he had just said.

“Not that there is anything to worry about, dear! It’s your wedding day; this will be one of the happiest days of your life…” she trailed off as she caught sight of Fang, who seemed to be admiring himself in the mirror. Her thoughts immediately jumped to the father of the groom and the surprise Gina and Anarka had planned for Marinette and Luka. 

 Maybe there were a few things to worry about.

Marinette didn’t seem to hear her though, as she continued on with her tirade. “But weddings always make people stressed! All it takes is one miscommunication between the florist and the venue, and poof! Suddenly there’s an akuma that turns people into topiaries!”

She remembered that akuma all too well. She and Tom had had the misfortune of delivering a cake to that wedding when the akuma occurred. While they had avoided being turned into shrubs, it had been a little too close for comfort.

The scratching of scales against the wood floor caught her attention, and then she felt a tail brush against her ankle. She watched as Fang laid his head on her daughter’s foot, stopping her midstep as he nuzzled her leg. 

Marinette froze, before her lips curled into a soft smile.“Thank you, Fang,” Marinette whispered as she knelt to scratch the flower girl's head.

“Honey…” she reached out to her daughter, gently clasping Marinette's hands in hers. “Are you sure it’s really an akuma that you’re worried about?”

“Marrying Luka is the easiest decision I'll ever make.” She began to tear up at her daughter’s words and the conviction with which she had said them. “I love him, mom. He makes me happy.” 

Marinette had always been indecisive and anxious, but Luka had always been able to soothe whatever storm was brewing in her daughter’s mind. 

“I know, darling.” She felt her husband’s hand settle on her shoulder. 

And then they were all hugging and crying.

“Mama, Papa! You’re making me ruin your makeup!”

“You look beautiful, darling,” she heard Tom say through his sniffles. 

“But let’s get you cleaned up! You have an aisle to walk down!”

                                                           *** 

She took her place at Marinette’s right, as Tom took his place on Marinette’s left. She forced back the tears that were threatening to well up in her eyes as Marinette looped her arms through theirs. Marinette had been adamant that either they both walk her down the aisle or no one would. 

She had always known Marinette would grow up one day, but it felt so soon. It felt like just yesterday she had been holding her baby in her arms for the first time. 

The moment almost didn’t feel real. 

Was this how her father had felt? Right before he walked her down the aisle?

She didn’t know if she was ready to let go of her little girl yet. She knew she wasn’t losing her daughter but rather gaining a son. But it was hard knowing her baby was all grown up with a life of her own. 

Her eyes met Tom’s over Marinette’s head. 

Tears were leaking out of the corner of his eyes, but he was smiling. She was too. 

Luka loved Marinette so much, and they had so much happiness ahead of them. 

But Marinette would always be her baby girl. 

The music from inside the ceremony room swelled, and she felt Marinette squeeze her arm. And then the doors opened, and they stepped towards Marinette’s future. 

                                                          *** 

She wasn’t sure if she should sink in her seat or leap to her feet and haul Adrien out by his ear. 

She had once thought of him as the dear boy, even after Marinette moved on from him. He had always seemed so sweet and polite. 

But just over a year ago, things changed. 

Suddenly he had seen Marinette as more than the friend he had always claimed she was, and he had begun hounding her to go out with him. She had no idea what had caused the change in his feelings, or seemingly his entire personality for that matter. 

All she knew was that even as Marinette planned her own wedding to someone else— Adrien had been relentless in his pursuit; and crossed many boundaries. He had sent flowers and expensive gifts to Marinette every day, even when her daughter begged him to stop. He had shown up at Marinette’s work to surprise her. The boy had even somehow managed to get himself onto Marinette’s balcony and set up a candlelit picnic. 

He was no longer the dear boy. He was simply a petulant child who didn’t understand the meaning of the word no. 

Truth be told, she wasn’t entirely sure why he was here in the first place. Perhaps foolishly, she had thought he would have had the grace and dignity to turn down the invitation he had received as a professional courtesy.

But it seemed Adrien had decided to use the opportunity to confess his love for Marinette one more time, even going so far as to call them soulmates. 

She hadn’t been sure if she should leap to her feet or sink into her seat when he stood, but she had to hold back a smile at the way he seemed to shrink under Marinette and Luka's glares. 

Was it petty? Maybe. But under the circumstances, she could forgive herself.

She did allow herself to smile when Adrien sat down, looking thoroughly cowed. 

She still couldn’t believe how much Marinette sometimes sounded like Ladybug. It was uncanny. 

                                                          *** 

She leaned into her husband’s side as they watched Luka and Marinette seemingly float across the dance floor. It still felt surreal, knowing her little girl was a married woman now. But it was the best kind of surreal, like that wonderful place between sleep and being awake, where all the best dreams happened. 

And looking at the two of them twirl around in each other’s arms, lost in each others’ eyes, tears gathered in the corner of her eyes again. 

“It feels like just yesterday that was us.” 

She nodded as Tom wrapped his arm around her, but her eyes never left her daughter and new son. 

                                                          *** 

Jagged’s toast had certainly been… something. 

As wonderful as Luka was at soothing Marinette’s anxieties, she had the distinct feeling having Anarka and Jagged Stone as in-laws was going to have the direct opposite effect on Tom. But it had all been fine in the end, and the croque-en-bouche had escaped Jagged’s toast mostly unscathed. 

She chuckled as she caught sight of the newlyweds, who seemed to be off in their own little world. They probably would have been fine if the croque-en-bouche hadn’t made it out in one piece. 

There was a good chance they might not have even noticed. 

                                                          *** 

She was still chuckling, hours later, at the bouquet toss. She knew she would get an earful from her cousin and her daughters the next morning. But it was worth it. And it had seemed no one was willing to argue the results of the bouquet toss, which made it even better. 

 “I’m glad te call her me daughter.” Anarka settled herself down in the chair beside her, eyes trained on Marinette and Luka as they danced to the last song of the night. 

“I couldn’t have asked for a better son,” she murmured in reply. 

They sat there as they watched their children glow with happiness. She really couldn’t have asked for a better son. 

He always knew how to soothe Marinette when she was plagued with stress and anxiety. He was the wind beneath her wings lifting her to fly even higher when she was at her best. 

He let Marinette shine bright without diminishing his own light. 

The music was coming to a close.  Even as the last notes of the song still played, the couple starting making their towards the doors, waving their goodbyes to those still present. 

Watching Marinette and Luka walk out the door, their fingers entwined, warm filled her chest. Even if today hadn’t gone exactly as planned, they were happy and that was all that mattered. 

There was nothing to worry about. 

“Ye think they’ll like the surprise?”

[devildomdoofus]

Lemon Dreams: Part 1

[NSFW]

Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan

a bit of spicey lil dreams the brothers have of MC. If requested, I’ll add the undateables (minus Luke) into a Part 3.

Gender-Neutral as always.

MINORS:

DO NOT INTERACT

DO NOT PROCEED

Be smart, have common sense.

I’m not responsible for your irresponsibility.

You see the warnings. I put them out plainly. Adhere.

‼️WARNINGS‼️

NSFW, mature theme, mature content, implied intercourse, nudity, swearing, light bondage, BDSM, tidbit of pet play, wet dreams,

IF I MISSED ANY, PLEASE INFORM ME

Author’s Note (Sorry, I’ll try to be brief):

Trying my hand at some “light” N S F W content to see how I do and see how it goes.

Thank you all, once again, for the love and support and positive responses!! You’re enjoyment is the reason I keep doing what I love to do✨ Please: stay healthy, stay safe, stay you, and stay ruling them all, MCs 💕

- DevildomDoofus

💙Lucifer:

Regrettably, it has been nearly a millennia since he’s had any amount of a decent shuteye due to his brothers’ antics, his oversight of R.A.D., and obligations to Diavolo so you can only imagine the amount of fatigue that he felt in his mind, body, and soul. But because of his image and his own personal desire to be nothing short of perfect, he couldn’t simply rest whenever or wherever he pleased. It was outlandish to even consider the idea. Unfortunately, the side effects of denying himself any form of rest were starting to show. It was causing him to make mistakes he wouldn’t normally make and Diavolo had to personally intervene, using his authority on behalf of his dear friend’s health or lack thereof and demanded that he take a day off. He was the only one in all of the realms that could try and convince this workaholic to put on the breaks. You, yourself, have tried before but Lucifer was as stubborn as the days of summer were long and you felt like you were talking to a brick wall. But because Lucifer could not deny his prince’s demands, he reluctantly obliged... but not without absolute confirmation that nothing would go wrong while he was absent and as soon as he felt rested enough, he would return immediately.

Locking himself away in his room while putting a soundproof spell on the outside of it, he finally sits down at his desk and leans back in his chair as he sluggishly closes his eyes. The silence was both mildly relaxing and extremely uncomfortable as it was so rare for the world around him to be so... quiet. so undisturbed. So peaceful.

It was a bit unnerving.

He sighs deeply. This whole resting thing was going to be a lot more difficult than he originally thought. He stands up to go grab a vinyl record, places it on the antique gramophone and turns the device on. The orchestra makes their way through the metal funnel and the melody of the instruments echo beautifully throughout his room. “Much better,” he hums to himself. He tosses his coat aside, unbuttons his vest and drops it to the floor, removes his button-up shirt, kicks off his shoes, and does away with his belt while his pants follow suit. He dons his nighttime robe and finally slides into his bed. As soon as he hits the mattress, his eyes shut and his mind turns off, allowing him to drift swiftly into a deep slumber.

The dream started out like any other dream he’s had in his life; it’s mundane and not much is going on. It’s practically the same as ‘bringing work home with him’ but in his dreams. He’s at his desk, crossing his t’s, dotting his i’s, finalizing some paperwork, and the like, while the stress from his waking hours begins to find its way back to him like a boomerang.

Then, as if by magic, all of his stress melted away as soon as he heard a knock on his door along with your voice calling for him softly on the other side. He smirks. “You may enter.” He kept his head low as you stepped in due to the fact that he was finishing signing a particular paper. “Just a moment,” he instructs, as the last cursive letter finds its place on the paper. He begins to lift his eyes to meet yours. “Now, what can I do for yo-...” He freezes.

There you were, standing before him, in nothing but one of his ties hanging loosely around your neck. His jaw clenches and his fist tighten into a ball so firmly that his knuckles turn white under his gloves.

‘Like a lamb to it’s slaughter,’ he quotes, internally.

Needless to say, the dream takes a more DRASTIC turn and he’s got you bent over the desk, hands tied up with his tie that you so graciously considered to bring with you, and his name pouring out of your lips like a faucet. He’s taking you all for himself, piece by divine piece, with every snap of his hips, bite of your skin, and claw of your flesh. What a sight you were beneath him.

The moment he wakes, his body is covered in a ‘morning’s dew’ of sweat and the sheets of his bed have become painfully heavy on his lower half. His heart is still thumping wildly in his chest and his eyes are darting everywhere in his room, ensuring that he’s alone and no one can see him in such a disheveled state. He uses part of his robe to dab away the sweat from his brow and then rubs his eyes as he collects himself.

Spends the next many few hours calming himself down and hoping that he is blessed by some unholy miracle where NOBODY walks in...

especially you...

with nothing but his tie hanging loosely around your neck and-...

Ah shit.

The following morning at breakfast, he is eyeing you rather heavily from across the table and his brothers take notice but never dare to say a word. They just assume that you’ve done something to piss him off again and want no part of it.

They are not entirely wrong, though. You had unknowingly irked him quite a bit.

You entered his dreams without permission, made such a delectable spectacle of yourself in front of him, and caused him to feel things that no other demon, angel, human, nor any other soul for that matter, has been able to make him feel. And now he has to deal with these explicit thoughts and feelings, especially when you’re around or in his vicinity, along with many other things that demand his attention and it’s all just so irritating. Delightfully irritating. The kind of irritating he secretly enjoys.

The next few days, you never really get the sense that anything is off with Lucifer for how well he carries himself, no matter his circumstances, and yet... he seems to be less physical with you. Normally, he would give you the occasional hand on the shoulder or upper back when you needed guidance, allow you to lean on his shoulder when your days had been particularly rough and you needed to rest, or pinch your cheek when he teased you but lately... he wouldn’t even keep eye contact with you for very long without turning away and- was that a hint of pink in his cheeks? No, surely you are imagining things. Lucifer, blushing? Has the devildom froze over?

💛Mammon:

This poor, sweet and a little bit sleazy man was just SO exhausted from having to get up early that morning when he’d normally sleep in, to go to a school he doesn’t ever really pay attention to, as well as constantly keep lower demons from getting anywhere near his precious MC, bribe Levi to do his homework in exchange for an exclusive Ruri-Chan figurine (which he went into further debt to obtain), keep his overbearing fanbase from his modeling jobs happy on social media... it all was simply too much for The Great Mammon to be doing when he could alternatively be doing something better. Like being lazy sleeping off this R.A.D lag.

He had skipped his last few remaining classes and told you he was headed to your room to crash before school let out and you two could hang out later. He plopped onto your bed, nuzzled his face into one of your pillows, and fell asleep shortly after to your sweet aroma surrounding him.

His dream began as they typically do, with him gambling his Grimm for higher payouts or watching the Devildom stock market fluctuate in his favor... or more often times than he’ll ever admit, it’s just the two of you spending some quality time together alone for a change.

Only this time, his dream didn’t end up the way it typically did.

In his dream, he was sitting next to you on the sofa with his arm resting behind your head wanting to wrap it around you so fucking badly and watching whatever you had put on when it was interrupted by the winning lottery ticket read out. He leapt from couch with a big yell and the winning ticket in hand, and rushed to hug the tv and to kiss the demon inside of it, thanking him, Lady Luck, and anyone else involved in his incredible fortune today. As he turned around to come squeeze you tight with excitement and have you share in his celebration, his whole body tensed and he stopped in his tracks. He had become a deer in the headlights.

You were now lewdly postured on the couch, bare and exposed, excluding how you were practically dripping in gold jewelry/accessories whilst surrounded by enormous piles of Grimm. With one finger, you beckoned him over.

To say that this is one of his all time favorite fantasies would be THE understatement of the millennia.

He was in front then over you in a matter of milliseconds, his demon form taking over his body and stealing noises from you that the entire House of Lamentation- no- the entire Devildom could hear and FUCK he loved that thought almost as much as he adored you he cared about you; the thought that the entire Devildom could hear that you were his and his alone, that no other soul could make you feel like this.

And just as it was about to get really good, he wakes up.

Red faced, breathing heavily, and a thick coat of sweat all over his body. Not to mention the newfound, painful tightness in his pants.

He’s jerking his head around the room to confirm hoping to deny that is was all simply a dream, and to be certain that you hadn’t come back from school early or something and found him like this.

“Unholy shit.” He wipes the sweat from his face and then takes his phone in his hand to check the time. “UNHOLY SHIT!!” You had texted that you were on your way back home 10 minutes ago! He had to be quick.

He replaced the sweaty sheets and pillow cases with new ones, adjusting them so that it looked as it had before he slept on them, tied his school uniform coat around his waist to disguise the ‘friendly neighborhood bachelor,’ and darted like a bat out of devildom to his room, avoiding major hallways and doors to ensure that no one could stop him or chase him down and see him in his predicament.

You can be sure that for the next few weeks, he’s avoiding you like the plague. He sends texts that he is “paying off a debt and can’t make it,” or “Sorry MC, I’m a little tied up at the moment. This Grimm won’t make itself.” and to you it was a little odd, but nothing he hasn’t exactly done before, so you go about your days as normal. Poor Mammon has once spent an entirety of four months working a few jobs to pay off one big loan.

If only you knew how often he was reliving that dream in his head, over and over and over again. For such a thing to become reality? Well... he feels he’d have better luck winning the lottery. But just as he gambled, he wouldn’t give up so easily.

🧡Leviathan:

It is not uncommon for Leviathan to have certain dreams about certain individuals he enjoys, be it anime characters, video game characters, idols that he fawns over, etc. It’s normal. Quite often, in fact, but he would rather LITERALLY DIE before he ever admits to such a thing, much less have anyone think he has a crush. With his brothers as they are known to be, he’d never live it down. Which is one of the reasons why he keeps himself locked away in his room and goes on binges of whatever it is he’s invested in at the time. He’s left alone to do and be as much of himself as he pleases without judgment. It is one particular episode of an anime he had been bingeing for several hours that has him with his head resting upon his keyboard and ever so slightly snoring away as the characters converse in the background. It wasn’t boring in the least, it’s just that his eyes refused to stay open any longer and his body decided for him that it was about time for a proper nap.

His dream began as normal, with him on a quest to save the renowned, royal heir from the ten-headed beast that guarded the tower in which they were kept. The journey to the tower was extensive and not without its obstacles, the battle was epic, in every sense of the word, and the reward for it’s heads would match the gratification of the victory that ensued it.

Little did he know that in that tower, it wasn’t just any royal heir lying in wait for their prince to come, as they had always been. It was you.

You, in all of your glory, draped across the bed and adorned with the finest of cloths that were barely covering your most intimate of skins.

As he entered your bedroom chambers, expecting to find a fictional character he adored in his waking hours, he stops dead in his tracks and his entire body turns red hot in matter of seconds. You could easily hear the thumping of his heart throwing heavy blows at his ribcage, and, if you looked close enough, you could see the steam trickling out of his ears. You could also hear the clinking of his amor, the metal plates shaking against one another as he trembles before you.

Leviathan.exe has stopped working.

Yes, he’s had plenty of dreams like this before but.. fuck.. they were never of you. Much less like this. Believe him, he’s tried on many occasions to at least see your face or hear your voice, ANYTHING. But inevitably, his anxiety and shyness won in the end and you never came passing through his dreams... until now.

You leant against one arm, your lips curling into a smile, and then beckoned him silently with one crook of a finger.

Anxiety and shyness who?

He quickly does away with the heavy armor, tossing them aside, and crawls across the bed to you, to your face, to those precious lips.

He takes a hold of them in his own and seemingly devours you as he strips you of what little cloth covered you and then pushes you back down against the bed. The dream continues with your bodies intertwining in every way that earned him the lewdest of noises from you.

Until he jerks awake with his face a deep shade of crimson, body covered from head to toe in a mist of sweat, and a heartbeat that could put a drum solo to shame. He quickly scans his surroundings as he’s coming back to reality, making sure he’s the only one within a mile’s radius. If anyone thought he was a hermit now, you can only imagine what it would be like if he was caught looking the way that he did. The anime that he had fallen asleep to was now on a screen that was asking for confirmation if he was still watching. He presses the power button on his computer and wipes away the sweat on his brow before leaning back in his chair, eyes glued to the ceiling as he’s recollecting the dream. He sees the faces you were making in pleasure pass through his mind once more and it makes his face turn 30 shades redder and increases the painful tightness in his snug sweatpants. He shakes his head, no longer wanting to continue digging this grave of overwhelming lust, and plants his head back onto the keyboard. Lord Diavolo, please, just kill him now.

The following months, Leviathan stays locked away in his room and avoids you as if you were the final boss of a game he never wants to stop playing. He knew that if he saw you, got near you, or even heard your name being mentioned, there would be no way of stopping his thoughts, his body’s reactions to those thoughts, nor his brother’s comments about how he’s “acting awfully strangely.”

As much as he wishes that he never had the dream in the first place because of all of the trouble it’s causing, he can’t help but relive it over and over again, putting it on repeat in his mind. But to admit to you these powerful feelings and attempt to bring it to reality? Only normies do such a thing... right?

💚Satan:

Line after line, chapter after chapter, book after book, he simply could not put the new series he had discovered down. He was so invested, he’d finish one book and immediately pick up the next. His mind was reeling far too fast for him to stop now and nothing in all of the three realms could do so. That is until his own body waved it’s white flag and begged for him to shut his eyes, even if for just moment. Satan bargained, internally, that he’d allow himself roughly thirty minutes of rest before he’d pick back up where he left off. He sets the book on a nearby desk, settles down onto his loveseat and closes his eyes.

As a man of many talents and faces, his dreams were known to be as heavily diverse as he was, and often times reflected whatever book he had been reading, philosophy he had been pondering, or stress he had been managing. No one particular type of dream frequented more than another.

That being said, in the past few weeks, you had been a bit more physical with him. Whether it was a simple brush of the hands as you two reached for the same novel, late night study sessions ending up in late night study and cuddling sessions, or the occasional linking of arms as the pair of you walked the length of a museum and studied its inhabitants. It goes without saying that you were making an impression on him and his mind, leaving little to no room for any other thoughts than the ones involving you. Naturally, you had found your way into his dreamworld and you were the one constant in the ever changing slumber visions.

The dreams that you were involved in, which were now a majority of them, were mostly sweet; the most intimate being the one time you had placed a chaste kiss upon his cheek. If you were to ask him about these dreams that had him chipper than usual, he would smile and tell you that “they were simply pleasant hallucinations but nothing more.” And he’d be lying through his teeth, desperately trying to keep his cheeks from reddening in front of you. If you were lucky enough that his gaze lingered, you’d catch the tint of pink making its way across his face. The poor inner romantic in him couldn’t help himself. He’s mastered the art of poker face in its entirety, but when it came to you, his willpower and calm demeanor waned into nothingness and he was like putty in your hands. Just don’t push it or there will be Devildom to pay.

This particular time around, though, his dream would take a more unforeseen turn.

In his dream, he had invited you to join him on an outing over to the Royal Library and you two were now making your way to your favorite lone table in the farthest back corner, hidden behind the many shelves of books. After claiming your usual spot, he went to gather the books he wanted to go through and planted himself in the chair to finally open them up and get started. Meanwhile, you had wandered off, presumably, to find and create your very own mountain of novels to conquer.

An hour or so passed and he had made his way through five of his books when he felt a tap against the cover of the one he was currently reading. “Forgive me, MC, but I’m almost done with this paragraph and I need just one more moment to do so.” Another tap against the cover. “May it wait, MC? I’m nearly finished.” This time, you gingerly grabbed the tip of his book and tilted it away from him (a pet peeve of his). Just as he was about to give you his trademark glare of warning, his eyes widen and his jaw clenches, with his fingers letting go of the book and tightening into a fist taut enough to turn his knuckles white.

There you stood before him in little to no clothing, fluffy little cat ears and a tail to match, with a leash and collar adorning your precious neck. You took his stiffened hand, ever so slowly opened it up, and delicately placed the end of the lead into his palm, flashing him your cheekiest grin.

Now you’ve gone and done it. He snaps.

He jerks the end of the lead so that you’re aggressively pulled forward, bending over the table and sending the piles of books to the floor with audible thuds, and your lips crash into his. He uses his free hand to trap cradle the other side of your face as he devours your lips, devours your taste. Impatient and hungry, he soon lets you go with a low growl before standing up and dragging you behind him, forcefully, by the lead, coming to the front of a shelf that leant against a wall and grabbed your waist, lifting you up to push you against it, having more books tumble to the floor with a sound thud, while once again, taking your lips with his. Something about the way you looked, the way you sounded because of his actions, drove him completely mad.

Before it could go any further, he jerks wakes to the sound of someone knocking on his door. He quickly scans his surroundings and when he finds it empty, he breathes a heavy sigh of relief. The knocks continue and from beyond the door, a familiar voice requests his audience. “Satan? It’s Solomon. My apologies, but I just wanted to return a borrowed book.”

He reaches for a nearby cloth and dabs away the sweat that covered his face. He steadies his breathing and in the stablest voice he could muster, he answers back, “Alright. One moment please.”

“Take your time,” the sorcerer replies.

He gathers himself quickly, as the master of his own emotions does, hoisted up from the loveseat, straightens himself out and starts to head for the door but with a quick glance downwards, he pauses. There’s no way he could greet Solomon with such a visible... display...

He takes his coat from the coatrack, wraps it around his waist and finally opens the door with a welcoming smile.

“Thank you kindly for the recommendation. It was a pleasant read,” Solomon tittered in recollection then immediately shifted into a frown of concern. “Satan... are you alright? Forgive my intrusion, but you seem a bit disheveled.” The disheveled man in question nods, chuckling in hopes of deterring Solomon from pressing any further by lightening his aura. “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you for your concern. I simply had a bit of a nightmare.” Solomon raised a brow and Satan continued in his tall tale. “It had been so long since I’ve had one, so I’m sure you can imagine how unnerving it’s effects had on me.” Moments passed like molasses as Solomon pondered what Satan had said and the uncomfortable silence was wearing down on Satan’s last minute, makeshift composure. “Thank you for returning the book,” Satan’s voice firmly interjecting the fellow wise man’s thoughts as he received the book from his hands, “and I’m delighted that you enjoyed yourself.” He holds the book in front of where the coat covered his waist. “If you wish for more recommendations, I’ll be happy to share them with you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some tea to drink and a book to read to calm my nerves. Good day, Solomon.” Before Solomon could get a final word in, Satan slips back into his room and shuts the door. For good measure, he locks it and turns the deadbolt. He shuffles back over to the loveseat where it all began and dropped down, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out a heavy sigh. The blush that wanted so desperately to creep it’s way into his complexion the moment he’d awoken was now set free and his entire face turned red. He knew how to keep a tight grip on every other emotion he’s ever had... but love? Lust? This was going to be a challenge.

Outside of the door, not having moved an inch, Solomon stood with his chin snug between the crook of his forefinger and thumb. “Can demons have nightmares...?” He audibly contemplated as he waited a moment, following his train of thought before asking himself aloud again, “If so... then why did Satan have an erection?”

A pair of delicate hands found their way to Solomon’s shoulders and he glanced over them to see Asmodeus leaning in close to his ear. “It’s called a kink, darling.” Solomon politely shoos away the embodiment of lust with a gentle wave of his hand before starting down the hall from which he came, with the demon practically skipping in tow. “Kinks, we both know, I’m aware of. I had just assumed that his.. situation.. would be more relative to Belphegor.”

“Well,” Asmodeus chirped, “that’s what you get for assuming.”