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houndofsevenhells · 8 months ago

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“The Hound That Lies” (Sandor Clegane x Original Female Character)

SUMMARY — The hour of the wolf comes and a certain chambermaid still cannot fall asleep. She goes out for a walk to cure her insomnia and runs into none other than the Hound. Drunken confessions and deep introspection ensue.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — This is the "Upstairs, Downstairs" of the Red Keep that nobody asked for. Told from the perspective of another person, but very Sandor-centric. It's mostly written due to my deep adoration for him as a character. English is not my first language so if you spot any mistakes that is my fault alone.

WORD COUNT — 5,032

Masterlist

My days as a palace servant in King’s Landing started before dawn and stretched late into the night, sometimes well past the hour of the bat. The servants of the royal palace all had their place and duties and nobody stepped one toe out of line; not unless they wanted to be subject to strict punishments–or a fate even worse than that.

The royal household of king Robert Baratheon, first of his name, consisted of the usual army of servants. Aside from us, the household staff included the royal guard, the captains, the marshals, the grooms, the pages, and the Kingsguard. Those, however, stayed in the barracks and in their own palace quarters. Truth be told, we rarely saw them at all.

The army I belonged to was an army of another quality, though those in charge of it still drilled and ruled their subordinates in a way no lesser than the most sadistic of the captains.

The first layer of those closest to the king, and therefore to gods themselves, were the seneschals, the chaplains, the stewards, the cupbearers, and the chamberlains. Then there were the wardrobe masters and the raiment mistresses, who ruled the realms of the royal garments. Under them was the head maid, who held her own regiment of nearly a hundred chambermaids that scrubbed floors, mended clothes, stripped the beds of the dirty sheets, delivered sheets and clothing to and from the laundresses, and did everything else under the sun expected of the servants of the highest quality and the lowest breeding.

The kitchen staff I knew very little of and they equally knew very little of us, the waiting staff, but we all uniformly hated the lady’s maids. They were the nobility of the servants and rarely deigned to acknowledge us, the chambermaids, for anything more than lowly serfs.

Ever since I came to King’s Landing, there was hardly any disturbance in my daily routine. As the servants we had very little money and very little spare time to spend it. Most of us lived in the servants’ quarters in the lowest parts of the keep–those that had their own families and lived in the city were considered lucky.

Most nights, if I could allow myself the luxury, I tried to fall asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. But that night, the night when I met Sandor Clegane, sleep just would not come to me. I tossed and turned until the hour of the wolf, when finally I was too fed up with myself and I went outside to the palace gardens to take a walk.

Most of the time, even the foulest of guards would leave us serving girls well enough alone, but still I took a sharp dagger with me and hid it beneath my skirts. As I wandered the gardens alone, I tried to be as silent as possible. Taking in the air as a cure was one thing, but being an airhead would be another. And I have lived too long to allow myself to be stupid.

“Walkin’ around at night, girl? Are ya that reckless or that stupid?” A gruff voice startled me and when I turned around, a half-burned face of Sandor Clegane was right there before me, looking down on me with a sneer.

I swallowed hard and my hand went straight to the hilt of my dagger. I felt it underneath the fingertips and it made me feel marginally safer. But the man in front of me was huge, at least two feet taller than me; his presence dark and frightful.

“Oh,” I said, trying to make my voice sound normal. “It’s just you.”

“Just me?” He scoffed and took one step closer. The smell of wine immediately hit my nose. He had a bottle with him and now paused to take a swig from it. “Now, I ain’t arguably the worst you can meet in those gardens at night, girl, but what in seven hells do ya mean by ‘just’?”

“I meant…”

“Hm?”

I took a deep breath and forced myself to look him right in the eye. The Hound and his menacing presence in the keep were just one of those things that one had to get used to while working for the royal family. The Baratheons and the Lannisters were united as one family now and all of us had to get used to the change of regime.

Not that serving under the Targaryens and the Mad King had been such a privilege.

But the fact of the matter was, I have served under the Mad King’s rule and survived. I was not about to let a Lannister dog push me around.

“Nothing. What are you doing here?” I asked.

Clegane scoffed again and for a second I thought he would try to hurt me, but then I noticed he was swaying a little and I exhaled. Most of the household staff knew that a drunk Sandor Clegane was much less menacing than a sober one. And because Clegane was never sober, usually he would release his anger in the training yard–not on the serving girls. Which was still more than what could be said about the noble Kingsguard.

“Same as you,” Clegane grumbled. “Can’t sleep. Too much to drink, too many voices, too many memories.” He looked away from me then and I thought that would be the end of our conversation, but it would seem we must have found each other on one of his chattier nights. “You get nightmares, girl?” he asked, his attention back to me.

“I do,” I replied before I could help myself.

But that was why I was there, wasn’t it? I doubted he would remember that conversation the next day, let alone in an hour, so I decided to talk to him a little. Maybe we would bore each other to tears and then I would finally fall asleep.

“What kind?” he asked.

“What?”

“The nightmares.”

“Oh,” I sighed, “Most nights I just lay awake, full of fear, before the nightmares even happen. So most nights I just take a walk instead.”

“Does it help?”

“No.”

He laughed at that, if his particular kind of bark could even be called a laughter, and nodded as if he knew exactly what I was talking about.

“So you go out and you find me here.” He looked at me more closely and leaned forward. I did my best not to cower before him. It was not his face that frightened me. It was the height and the sheer bulk of the man that did it. Even dressed in a lighter dark surcoat instead of his usual heavy armour, Clegane could strike fear into the hearts of men with little effort.

“What do your nightmares tell you, girl?” Clegane asked and I frowned at the forwardness.

“I do not wish to say,” I muttered. “I do not know you.”

What I meant was, I did not trust him at all. Just like the Grand Maester, Clegane was a Lannister creature. It was known. After what the palace household had lived through during the sack of King’s Landing, I would never trust a Lannister with anything.

“But that is my point, isn’t it?” Clegane took a long drink from his bottle. “You don’t know me. I don’t know you. So. You can tell me anything. You have a secret,” he pointed to me, “I have a secret.” He touched his own chest, swaying a bit once more. “I won’t tell another soul, but I know you won’t, ‘cause I’ve seen you here before, girl. No one who’s lived in this bloody place half as long as you have could survive by spilling secrets.” His half-burned lips twisted in a mockery of a smile. “Or am I wrong?”

I thought about what he said and then I thought about what I saw after the sack. I only survived because I was small enough to hide in the cupboard in the pantry where the head maid stored the cleaning supplies. “Mouse” is what some of the other chambermaids called me, because I would scutter from place to place, always quick and always silent. Being a mouse had saved me that day. Mostly it saved me from the Mountain That Rides and his men.

But Sandor Clegane was not his brother, this much I knew. Just like the current king was not his horrible son. Most household staff avoided both, if they could help it–the crown prince and his horrible shadow were always together, but if you looked closely, you learned quickly that they couldn’t be further apart. I have never seen the younger Clegane hurt or kill a girl, but I have scrubbed the floors in the royal apartments where the Mountain did the unspeakable to the poor Princess Elia.

“You are not wrong,” I admitted. “I think… It sounds about right.”

I was grateful that the gardens were shrouded in darkness, because the memories of that day brought tears to my eyes that were now threatening to spill.

“So spit it out.” Somehow, Clegane’s voice made it easier to control myself. “Do ya want to sit?”

He walked past me then, quickly and remarkably quietly for a man of his size. He sat down on the grass and I followed his lead.

“The night is dark, girl. No one will see you, no one will see me, no one will hear us.”

My blood ran cold then and I scolded myself for being so foolish. Was he…?

My hand went back to my dagger. I looked at his neck, then to his armpit.

It must have shown in my face, what I was thinking of, because he sneered again and took another swig of his wine, before adding:

“I meant for a conversation, fuck’s sake. If I wanted to, I could’ve killed you ages ago. Why would I bother now?” He paused. “Oh. It ain’t the killin’ you’re thinkin’ of. No, I don’t do that either, girl. I’m no raper.”

‘Unlike my brother’ hung right there in the air above us, unsaid.

I sighed and I settled on the grass beside him. Clegane took another long drink from his bottle, then passed it to me.

“No, thank you. I must refuse.”

“You must?” He scoffed. “A proper little thing, ain’t ya…”

I pursed my lips in distaste at being called that. It felt too familiar for the chance acquaintances we were.

“I used to drink a lot,” I said, finally brave enough to make my tone as harsh as I really wanted it to sound. “But I do not, not anymore. I used to drink to hide my troubles. But the problem with drink is, your troubles remain just where you left them and they haunt you the next day.”

The Hound frowned and when he spoke next his voice was heavy with surprise, but devoid of judgement:

“You used to drink a lot?” He raised a dark brow. “I’d have never thought to picture that.”

“Why, because I’m not a soldier like you?”

I knew better than to call that man a knight, but I was tempted just to show my lack of regard for the Lannister dog.

“Nah, I suppose that doesn’t matter.” He looked away then. “So what stupid things did you do to finally make you shake the habit?”

I was surprised by the question; by the suggestion of kinship between us. But I realised there was one, whether I liked it or not.

“My mother,” I hesitated, and the Hound’s dark eyes were on me again. “My mother was a mean drunk. But when she did not drink, she was even meaner.”

Clegane looked at me then and I saw a glint of recognition in those dark, angry eyes. But then, the hour of the wolf was the darkest part of the night. I might have been mistaken.

“‘D ya fuck any strangers?”

“Not enough wine in this keep to make me fuck you, if that’s what you’re after.”

He let out a laugh. The hoarse sound of it was grating like a crunch of broken glass.

“Yeah, that ain’t what I’m after, don’t flatter yourself.”

“Well, I am glad to hear we understand each other.”

“That what you were looking for when drinking, little one? Understanding?”

“Sometimes.” I sighed. “Sometimes I drank just to feel something. You know how it is. Everyone is drunk in a tavern, everyone pretends to be each other’s friend. But that isn’t so. Strangers are not your friends, they could not be farther from it.”

“Aye, they care about nothin’ and no one other than themselves.” The Hound nodded. “Drink and pleasure, little one. That’s what the world is to ya when you ain’t careful.” He took another swig from the bottle. The smell of wine hit me again and I turned my head away.

“And you said awful things, too, did ya?” he asked.

“Hateful things,” I whispered. “That is why I stopped. It did me no good.”

“Hateful things…” The big man rolled the words on his tongue like he was curious. “Pretty little thing like you, eh?”

“Pretty things can still be poison.”

He smirked darkly at that.

“Yes, they can. You have the truth of it, girl.”

He was silent for a while and I turned my head towards him to check if he was still there. He was. He was looking at the guard standing beside the closest entry to the garden. The guard looked young and utterly exhausted. He swayed from time to time and Clegane seemed very amused by that.

“Yeah, usually it’s knights and us soldiers drinkin’ to forget.” He pointed at the guard. “Like him there. The men that drink too much and go around lookin’ for fights. We drink our cheap wine and our ale and then we go around lookin’ for nothin’ but trouble. Sometimes fightin’ people we’re not supposed to. Sometimes… Other things.” He took another swig.

“Sometimes I would even lay with strangers to feel better. To feel something.”

I did not know why I said that, but that got me his attention, so I decided to throw caution to the wind and say it all:

“To feel something other than my feelings. Other than dread and sadness. But that did not happen. In the morning, my nightmares were still present.”

“I understand,” he replied and it was my turn to be shocked. “Wantin’ to feel the warmth of someone’s touch.” He said that so bitterly that I almost felt the bile in my own throat. But there was sympathy in his voice, even though it was hard to read his face, half-covered with the burn scars.

“Aye, someone to take away your pain, even if for a night.”

“Yes,” I said, surprised. “That… That was it. How…?” But then I hesitated. Of course he would understand what that was like. He wore the worst thing that had happened to him right out there on his face. There was no hiding from it, no covering it. He had to wear it every day and live with others looking upon it always.

I felt like a fool for even asking, but the question hung there in the open. Finally, Clegane spoke:

“I know it. You thought someone would care about you, keep you warm, but in the end they never did. Did they?”

“No.” This time my answer came easier. “They never did.”

“Aye, nobody cares about people like us, little one. We are the servants. We’re here to serve.” He chuckled darkly and pushed the empty bottle away. “People don’t care a lick for ya, only for what you can give them. And when you give it… Well, then you’re no better than those slaves in Essos.”

“Is that how it feels for you?”

He turned to me so quickly that I flinched and for a second I was afraid he would attack me. But all he did was look into my own eyes; long and intently. His eyes were ones that must have seen much, but mine own had turned hard over the years, too. They no longer belonged to the girl who came to King’s Landing with songs in her head.

“Yeah.” Finally, he leaned back. “What of your family? Do they care so little about you?”

I was not always a palace maid and I had not always worked in a household as grand as the royal palace. I was born as a Rivers, in a poor hovel in the Riverlands; a ghastly place north of another village that most likely no longer existed. My mother was a drunkard, a local busty tavern wench, and due to her reputation I also had two older half-sisters. They despised me as much as I despised them.

Scrubbing floors and mending clothes had been my daily bread since the moment I could walk and take care of my own needs–that was the day I finally became useful. That usefulness took me out of that gods’ forsaken village, until little by little I travelled from the Riverlands to the Crownlands, moved from house to house in search of my own destiny, and from dusk till dawn I scrubbed and cleaned the nobles’ messes. From a lowly laundry maid at the age of seven, I worked my way up on my hands and knees, until the skin of my hands perpetually blistered and cracked from soap and lye.

“No,” I replied, my tone harsher. “There is no one.”

The Hound still looked at me like he was trying to read my face for lies. But there were none. I had no reason to lie to him. I told myself once more that he would not remember we ever had this conversation come morning.

“I have no family either,” he said grimly. “No family to speak of.”

I knew the Mountain was not dead, otherwise we all at the palace would have heard of it long ago. To now hear the admission from Clegane’s own mouth that the brothers despised each other was striking.

“So no one cares whether we live or die,” I concluded. “I imagine that is why we accept whatever people give us. It is either that, or…” I think on it. “That, or the emptiness.”

“Aye.” His voice was softer now. “But people do bad things all the time. It ain’t the end of the fuckin’ world. Not even the end of your life. So you’re still allowed to want things.”

I frowned, trying to piece together the confusing shreds of that thought. The wine must have finally run to his head.

“Are you saying even monsters deserve to be loved?”

He laughed darkly and there was little joy in that bitter sound.

“Aye, little one. Mayhaps you are a bad person, I don’t know ya. But all of us are, in a way.”

The truths he gave me struck something within me.

“By the gods, you are honest.” I sigh.

“I’m a lot of things, girl. Honest, for all my faults, is one of them.” He paused briefly. “A hound will die for you, but never lie to you. And he'll look you straight in the face.”

We sat in silence a while, but then the big man had more questions for me:

“Don’t you ever have any desire to drink again? There must be a time when you think to yourself, just one, just to forget, just to numb the pain, just for tonight?”

I considered that. Then decided to remain truthful:

“Yes. I do sometimes, yes. But then I remember how miserable wine made me feel the next day and how much pain it caused me. And how much shame it brought me. The things I did… Remembering helped me not to drink again.”

I looked up and there was a strange, wistful look in Clegane’s eyes, as though he were remembering something.

“But it did feel good while it lasted, did it not? At least, for a time, you had no aches, no hurts, you did not feel. You could forget your pain for a while, did that not feel good?”

“Ah,” I smiled sadly. “But that is why the drink is so treacherous.”

“Aye,” he agreed with a smirk. “A cruel mistress.”

I nodded.

“But it did make me forget,” I admitted. “Then I felt ashamed I forgot. And then it ruined me and I had let it, gladly. But in the moment, when you drink, yes, that is true. You forget the bad things. That does feel good. It is a perfect poison for those in pain and misery.”

I realised then that it was the sense of no judgement I was getting from conversing with the Hound that really drew me into this talk. He did not judge and he repaid me with honesty. That was so much more to offer than the monstrous kinds of misplaced affection I had found in King’s Landing over the years.

“Is it too much to ask that you tell me your name, girl?”

The way he asked seemed like a taunt, but there was a strange tenderness in that scarred face that made me feel at ease, even as his dark eyes studied me so intently.

“Laina Rivers.”

“Laina Rivers.” He seemed amused by that, a faint smile playing on his scarred lips. “A pretty name for a bastard.”

I gave him a sharp look.

“There is a sad irony in that,” he said, obviously not afraid of my silent threats in the slightest.

He smiled and there was no humour in that half smile, but the anger in him had settled at least.

“So who was your father?” he asked. “What great lord fathered you and left you in the world to fend for yourself?”

“I do not know.” I stumbled through my words a little, because his bluntness struck me once more. “But I hate him sometimes. For doing so.”

The Hound nodded and then the anger resurfaced in the unburnt half of his face. The other still showed nothing. But there was another layer to his anger now; as though there was just a touch of sadness underneath it.

“You never sought after him? You don’t even know who he is?”

“No.” I shook my head. “My mother told me very little. And she was always angry when I asked. So I stopped asking. I was a skittish child, always desperate for her to love me. I wanted to please her, to be a good daughter. Especially since I had two sisters to compete with.”

“And did it work?” He sneered. “Did your mother love you?”

“Not the way I wanted her to,” I replied, my voice barely louder than a whisper. What was that strange power he possessed that made me want to confess to him so easily?

“She loved me in her own way, I believe. But she was not kind. I think she despised having bastard daughters, despised us for being bastards. Even though that was not our fault.”

“No, it is not your fault,” he agreed and hearing that almost brought the tears back to my eyes.

There was sadness in his voice, I could hear it for true. The masks were starting to come off.

“It is never the fault of the child,” he continued. “Yet they have to suffer. That just shows how this fuckin’ world is, ain’t it?”

I remained silent, but he still expected me to say something. And I was too interested in the conversation to leave now.

“What about your own parents? Did they love you?”

For a long moment, Clegane remained silent, as though he wanted to give me a different answer; considered it, to avoid giving the real one. But it did not seem like his heart was in it. Finally, he spoke, with some hesitation:

“No, my father did not love me. And my mother, well – I do not know if she hated me, loved me, or just did not bother to see that I existed at all.”

It was so hard to hear that I could not speak for a long while.

“When did you get these scars?” I asked carefully.

“I was seven.”

He knew I knew then, or at least that I suspected, and now had my suspicions confirmed. I straightened my back and he waited for me to say something, but I would not. I would not intentionally harm him with my words now, I refused. Even if he was a Lannister creature.

“But you are true-born, are you not?” I said instead, frowning, and tried to reconcile what he said with my own conviction.

His laugh was like snarling dogs in a pit.

“That does not guarantee a parent’s love, little one. My father was a lord, you know. And a cruel, bitter man.”

That was not the moment to remark on his own bitterness and so I held my tongue.

“No, I suppose being a lord’s son does not guarantee it,” I muttered. “But for the longest time I thought… I thought that if only I had a real name, if I was true-born then maybe my mother would be kinder. Maybe she–”

“No, if she cared, she would have loved you no matter what.” The Hound sighed. My mouth nearly gaped at that answer.

“There are many bastards who are not high-born and who still have good parents,” he said. “It is not about your name or birthright. It is about whether there is hatred in a person’s heart. And by your account, your mother did not have much love in hers.”

I sat there in shock at the profound truth that came from this man’s mouth.

“I misjudged you,” I admitted and immediately felt my face grow hot with embarrassment.

“Aye.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “I am used to it.”

“But,” I said, “that is also why I left the Riverlands. I went from place to place, finding work and getting good at being a maid. I was looking for something to replace that love. And when I came to King’s Landing… Well, now I work in the palace.” I laughed bitterly. “A lot of fucking good it got me.”

He laughed then with me, a deep and harsh guffaw.

“Aye, King’s Landing. The place where every man and woman goes when they think their talents would amount to something. So many people lie and die in this stinking hell, so many more become lordlings and queens and kings… Aye, they all think they’re something special. Something more.” He pauses and looks at me with a mixture of bitterness and amusement. “Did you fall for their lies, too?”

“I did.” I nodded. I felt ashamed for having been so naive.

“You are not alone,” he said, almost like he was mocking both of us. “This place chews people up and spits them out like they are nothing. It’s the worst of men, the biggest of fools, the lowest of scum that the Seven Kingdoms have to offer. All gathered here for the pleasure of the royals.”

I wondered then how come he was not afraid to say what he thought; why did he said it so openly. All my life I had obeyed every rule and strict guidance of my superiors. I received a lashing once and I still bore the scars of it on my back. I vowed never to let my tongue waggle ever again.

Any palace chambermaid found gossiping, or behaving in a way unbecoming of a decent lady, would be punished–or worse, thrown out and left without income, forced to leave His Grace’s employment with a stained reputation and no way to fend for herself.

So I decided to ask:

“How is it that you are not afraid to just speak your mind? This place is crawling with whisperers. Don’t you have a lord or a master that would punish you for speaking so?”

The Hound smiled, almost as though he was amused at the thought.

“Why should I be afraid? They are all afraid of me.” He shrugged. “Who cares what these nobles think? The people who know me already know I speak my mind, and the ones who don’t have heard stories. And as for my master, I have none. I have no one to answer to besides the king, and he doesn’t care a lick about the likes of me.”

“I think I have heard the stories,” I admit.

“Aye. A famous man, me.” He leaned towards me, his voice hard again. “You know why they call me the Hound?”

I shook my head, though my eyes went to his chest where the sigil of his house was plain as day on his surcoat – three black snarling dogs on a yellow field.

“It is because I hunt down their prey for them. Anyone they ask me to, I ride them down. Criminals, traitors, even children… I have cut down many in my life and only some of them were monsters.”

We were silent then, until he spoke again:

“Many different names they call me, but I mislike that one the most.”

“I understand.”

“Do you now?”

“I do. Of course I do. A hound is a dog used for hunting and it is an animal, not a person. The man sitting here with me is just that, a man. Not a dog.”

He is rendered speechless after that and we look at each other for the longest moment.

“How old are you, girl?”

“Why do you ask?”

“You speak with the knowledge of someone older, yet you are small and slight and so I wonder…” He reached towards me and I forced myself to stay in place. For some reason, I knew he would not harm me.

Clegane touched my shoulder and it was as if to check that I was real.

“I am old enough,” I said, slightly amused. “And I hope to talk to you again sometime. But it will dawn soon and I must go back to my duties.”

“Aye.” Clegane smiled at that and I smiled back. “Fare-thee-well, Laina Rivers.”

“Fare-you-well, Sandor Clegane.”

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riddle-me-ri · 1 year ago

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Hi, I'm a big of your writing and wanted to request something please. How would the different Riddler react to the reader dying in their arms, possibly due to the work of another villain or saving Ed from and accident. I'd also love to see this for the different hatters and scarecrows but if that's too much to ask I totalumderstanding.

Thank you very much, please keep writing your amazing stuff 😁😁😁

a/n: oohh angst I love it! I can most certainly do that for you! I will say that is a lot to ask in one post lol, but I will do the Riddlers since it’s been a hot minute, and I may continue and do the rest of the dork squad when I get the chance or if someone requests it. Also I left most of how the injuries were sustained up in the air, so you could imagine what caused them. I’m glad you’ve been enjoying my writin💚

Content Warning: death mention…multiple times, a wee mention of violence, and some blood/gore mentions, and heavy angst.

The Riddlers React to Reader Dying in Their Arms

Arkhamverse Riddler:

Much like most everything else, he's absolutely in denial.

You're already gone but in his panic he believes shaking you will jolt you back to life.

For a moment his mind clears and he tries to patch you up, tries CPR, tries anything…

But there's no denying it…you're gone and all he can do is just hold you.

Edward has promised himself early on in his childhood to no longer cry for anything or anyone.

But no one else is there to stop the flow as he clings to your lifeless body.

And unfortunately for Edward there's no one else to blame…

Reevesverse/Dano Riddler:

Edward is hyperventilating through the mask.

He was always afraid of this.

From the moment he let you step foot in his life as the Riddler.

Edward is doing what he can to patch up your gunshot wound.

But there’s so much blood, like it was one of his crime scenes.

Your pained screams rang in his ear.

The only thing that was louder was the heavy silence that fell in the room when you were gone.

Gotham Riddler:

No…no…NO…NO…NO!

He WON’T LOSE YOU!

He CAN’T LOSE YOU!!

Edward tries to mend your wounds.

He shakes his head as you tell him goodbye, to find someone else.

He shakes his head, he knows that no matter how hard he may look, even if he did.

There would never be anyone compared to you.

BTAS Riddler:

Edward is in a state of sheer panic.

He’s cradling you while trying to think of a solution.

The ambulance is on it’s way but not nearly quick enough.

He tries to make you comfortable as possible, trying to stop the blood.

Your breaths are choppy and every exhale was getting shorter.

All he can think of to do is tell you he loves you over and over.

You tell him you love him too before you pass.

Zero Year/Capullo Riddler:

Somewhat like Arkham Riddler, he’s in denial.

For once, his ego doesn’t get in the way.

He doesn’t care how it looks when he falls to his knees next to your limpless body.

He doesn’t care that his clothes are being stained in blood.

Edward was used to bouncing back whenever he faced any shortcomings…

But he doubt there was any coming back from this.

The one person who tolerated him long enough to see past his persona was gone.

TWOJAR Riddler:

Edward is frozen; as if time stood still.

He saw the fear and pain in your eyes as the knife that was driven into you slowly pulled out of your body.

It wasn’t until your body fell that Edward found the momentum to run towards you.

The assailant is gone, but Edward is more concerned about you.

Your body convulses as you struggle to breath, choking on your own blood.

He calls out your name, begging you to calm down, that everything will be okay.

Before you die, you hear a soft choked whisper; “I’m sorry.”

Gotham City Sirens Riddler:

This is what he feared the most.

When you began dating him, he was always worried about his work catching up to you and him.

For once, he loathed how he was right all the damn time.

He’s instantly trying to heal you, but you keep asking him to stop with your dying breath.

You just want him to listen…something he often struggled with.

You ask him not to live in regret, that this is what you wanted, and that it’s not his fault.

Edward nods understandingly, before you die and small tears begin to fall.

Telltale Riddler:

Edward wasn’t scared much of anything…but this was his worst nightmare.

He’s torn between going after the person who did this or staying by your side.

When you call to him, that answers the question for him.

He can heal you–He WILL heal you.

But you have to be strong, you have to hang on, you have to stay with him…

Yet, Ed can’t deny your body going cold and your heartbeat slowing down to a stop.

He whispers quiet apologies before reaching and closing your eyelids so you can rest in peace.

Young Justice Riddler:

Eddie is an absolute mess.

He’s fighting back tears, but they still fall continuously past his eyes.

His voice cracks even more as he begs you to hang in there.

He scrambles to get an aid kit, to stop the bleeding and try to get your breathing regulated.

Deep down he’s kicking himself, maybe if he was more competent you didn’t need to come in and save him.

Your trying to reassure him, that no matter what everything will be okay…

But nothing is okay when your eyes close and your head rolled back.

Hush (DCAU) Riddler:

For once Ed wished he would go instead.

He’s the one with cancer, he’s bound to die.

He’s more than willing to go if it meant you got to stay.

Edward knew you wouldn’t agree, but none of that matters now as you’re slowly fading.

No matter how hard Ed tried to rack his brain on how to save you, he knew all he could really do was make you comfortable.

He tries to appear strong for you, as you two share sweet memories and sweet nothings.

At least he was able to be with you for those final moments before being dragged back to Arkham.

#ri writes #arkhamverse riddler x reader #reevesverse riddler x reader #dano riddler x reader #gotham riddler x reader #btas riddler x reader #zero year riddler x reader #capullo riddler x reader #twojar riddler x reader #gotham city sirens riddler x reader #telltale riddler x reader #young justice riddler x reader #hush (dcau) x reader

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balkanradfem · 11 months ago

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Mending a bag with a broken zipper

So if you've never replaced a broken zipper, it might seem like a daunting task, but it's actually very easy. I've only done it once, on a jacket, with no tutorial, and it worked perfectly, and looked awesome. So I am very confident I can do it right.

The scariest part is just removing the old zipper. It feels wrong to rip your garment or bag apart, especially if you don't feel like you're capable of putting it back together, but one needs to keep in mind that the garment can't be used unless you do it, and this is for the best.

(My gardening bag, made out of canvas, has 7 pockets, but the main zipper stopped working.)

First thing to do is to see if you have a good zipper to use as a replacement. Zippers are actually expensive to buy, but you can easily accumulate tons of them by simply removing the zippers from old pieces of clothing you no longer want. I also get clothing from other people who don't want it, and if it's completely ungiftable and useless, I will cut out all of the zippers, elastics, buttons and any decorative stuff that could potentially be used elsewhere. That's why I have a good collection of free zippers! Here's what I found I could use:

I've decided on the lowest, black zipper, just because it was the smallest and I wouldn't have to cut much off, I can use the bigger zippers for bigger projects. I don't care what color it is, as long as it works. I was also contemplating using a fun green color for the project, to highlight that it was a mend and to make the bag more colorful, but the brown thread was so perfectly suited for the bag, I ended up going with the more boring option.

Now how to get the zipper off? I turned the bag inside out to see better how it's connected. I needed to find the thread that connects it to the outside of the bag, and you see that light thread at the edge between the bag and the zipper?

That's whats holding it together. So I cut that thread and started picking it off, and once you manage to rip a few seams, the zipper starts to separate and come off. Sometimes violence can work in this situation, if you have a very sturdy fabric, you can just pull them apart. But in my case, the inner lining is pretty fragile and was starting to tear when I pulled hard, so I just patiently cut it off little by little. Seam ripper would work great in this situation, but I don't have one so I just made it work with scissors.

And the zipper came out! Here's a comparison from old zipper to new, new is slightly bigger but it won't be a problem, bigger zippers can always be trimmed. You can also see how the zipper was connected to the canvas fabric on the outer side, and there's also lining fabric on the inside that's now loose. So far so good!

Now is the part where potential mistakes are possible; I need to remember that the bag is inside out, so the opening part of the zipper needs to be facing inwards, and it also needs to go the direction all other zippers on the bag are going (I later realized I messed this up, oops.)

I'm now lining it up with the bag, and even though usually I'm too impatient to pin stuff, I yield and acknowledge that in this situation, the zipper needs pins in order to be sewn on evenly. This is actually the part where some choices can be made; you can decide how much of the zipper will be shown outside! You can sew it on so that only the zipping part is visible from the outside, or give it a wider margin so you can see the zipper fabric too. If you're sewing with a flimsy fabric, it's best to give it a wide margin, because soft and flimsy fabrics can often get stuck in a zipper if they're sewn on too close. My canvas fabric cannot get stuck, so I'm pinning it pretty close, but later in the process I did give it a bit more of a margin, because it 'felt right'.

I've started sewing it on!

So about the edges, if your zipper doesn't have a stopper there, or if it's too long and you've cut the edge off, you need to sew the both sides together, so that the zip cannot zoom over the edge and fall out. This is something I've done on both sides, to make sure it's secure, and it doesn't need to be tidy, only very firm and impossible to break apart. I'm hand-sewing it with a continuous stitch, which is very easy and it looks nice enough. At this point I completely neglected the lining and I'm just sewing it onto the outer fabric, but this is okay, I decided it was easier to ignore the lining for now, and just focus on making sure it looks nice from the outside.

Here you can see me stitching all the way to the other side, and again firmly stitching the both sides of the zipper together, so they can't break apart. Then I turned the bag back from inside out, to see how it looked on the outer side, and it looks good, this isn't professionally made, but it looks well done! I decided to then pin and stitch the other part while having the bag turned correctly, so I could see exactly what I was doing from the outside, while again, ignoring the lining.

And now the outside part is completely done! It looks so good, partly because the bag is a little faded, but the zipper looks new and well preserved, so this is like an upgrade for her. Here I'm now turning it again inside out, to fix what I've ignored before; the length of the zipper, and the inner lining.

I finally cut off the extra length, it's already sewn up and I'm happy with it, so I'm sure I can safely cut off the extra. On the second to last picture you can see the lining is all over the place and not even reaching the zipper, that's completely fine because I can easily stitch it to the zipper in about 3 minutes. It would have been a nightmare trying to stitch it all in one go and constantly worrying if both the lining and the outer canvas are in the correct position, this way I had an easy time stitching it to the canvas, and only a few minutes of easy extra stitching to make sure lining is all connected. I only pierced the zipper with this stitch, not all the way to the canvas, so this little fix is completely invisible and it doesn't matter if it's not the neatest.

And here we go! The bag is fully functional, completely ready to be used and enjoyed again, with her new flawless zipper, and I think this was a great way to spend an hour of my time.

#mending #sewing #diy #fixing a bag #zipper sewing #zipper #visible mending #canvas bag

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digenerate-trash · 7 months ago

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Yoo some Apocolypse sydney faction ideas!

• The reason sydneys faction is so important is because of the books and clothes! The schools water system is too old to rely on electricity, so it's basically an unlimited but controlled recourse. But it didn't take long for the electricity to go out, removing the schools lighting and heating/ac entirely. Thanks to windows being dangerous, places with lots of them are considered either dangerous or are covered up so that the turrets aren't alerted. That leaves everywhere really dark (how rogue kylar lives. Bitch can see in the dark and sleeps in lockers) and very cold at night. That's where sydney comes in- before the apocalypse, he already had the keys to the school and the library due to coming in and leaving late to open and close it, and he keeps them extremely close. His books and even his clothes are used as tinder for both lighting and heat, which is essential, although he is extremely stingy- he chooses what books are allowed to be burned, and his lambs are punished if they burn books friviously, and he also drives a hard bargain. His main import is water- one full bucket in exchange for 3 books, and a 3 days rations for clothes. People mostly use clothes as replacements if theirs are too damaged (they usually pay robin a ration of water to mend clothes, but sometimes they are unable to.) And as mostly bedding these days, due to how limited the resource is.

• The library itself is locked at almost all times, making it impenetrable. It's very dark, and almost fully silent. People sleep on clothing beds between the library's aisles, and sydney's quarters are behind his counter, where he has his chair covered with clothes as a bed and the under counter where he keeps his favorite books. The changing room is mostly storage, but also where he punishes his straying flock.

• Sydney is extremely strict with his sheep, and keeps his group extremely small and close. You have to prove to him you belong, and if you mess up, he punishes you in the churchly fashion- pain. Fire is the only good method for it. If you act out minorly, he puts the fire close to your skin and let's it redden and become painful, but if you steal or betray him.. you are burnt and cast out into the rest of the School with a brand. It's why it's so hard to get spies into his faction- hard to tolerate without the proper conditioning that his loyal flock receives. You get bedding and good food and water, but you have to lose your individuality- you have to follow every rule- you have to lose all contact with the outside population. While most students outside of this faction have given up on staying clean, Sydney demands it- it's why he trades for so much water. All of his children and himself are as clean as possible given the circumstances- hair brushed, washed and combed through in the bucket, and bodies washed of any blood or grime. If you try and sequestered water or stay unwashed, you are punished. Yes I like giving them a god complex </33

• When you're sent out to trade with the rest of the School, you are not allowed to speak. A piece of paper covers your face with the resource you're trading, and it's impossible to tell who you are. It's both isolating and it keeps you safe- Whitney can't target you personally when all of you look the same, when they can't even hear your voice. They also have a dress code- plain grey School Cardigan, and long black school skirt/pants. All in the name of avoiding vanity and keeping safe and anonymous for Sydney.

I imagine being sydneys favorite sheep in the herd would be rather suffocating> :3c

- Dolbog! (Will be making ocs for this au)

OMG EVERYONE FUCKING LOOK

I gotta say I love it when yall contribute to my whack ideas-

Sydney facing into his deepest religious teachings to keep himself safe crating structure for his faction as well as making a system that ensures he's safe as well.

Also sydney making sure that paper over the face to hide identities is smart.

Plus you know that if you're sydneys favourite little lamb you're kept so far away from the rest of the rifraff.

#forgotten au #sydney the faithful #i was gonna originaly have them as a cannibal cult. digging into that darkest aspect #but i also like the idea of sydney being into branding

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whumpshaped · 1 year ago

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can we see something of helle making the transition from the kind of person they were as a whumpee to the kind of person they are as a whumper?

masterlist

tw vampire whumper, vampire whumpee, emotional whump, past trauma, guilt, paranoia, manipulation, lady whumpee, religious themes

"Am I really allowed in?" Helle asked cautiously, hesitating at the threshold of Isabella's bedroom. They'd never been invited in by any of their siblings — they didn't even know that was an option.

"Yes, of course." She walked over to her bookshelf and started looking through her collection, an eclectic mix of various rewards amassed over centuries of captivity and torment. "Come in, come in."

They glanced down at the line separating the hall from the bedroom, then took a careful step inside. Nothing happened. Nobody tackled them to the ground and beat them. "I have never... been in either of your rooms."

"What a great day to start." She picked up a thick, leather-bound copy of the Bible, then turned to them with a little smile on her face. "Nikolai has never been interested in God. He says he has already been abandoned. But think about it; if we were despised as vampires, would the humans' faithful blabber not hurt us? Yet it does not! No amount of waving a cross around can harm us! I can hold the Holy Bible in my hands and read from it, and I feel only love."

The Bible hit the bottom of the trash can with a loud thunk. Helle was going through the collection, keeping some of the books they hadn't yet gotten around to read, and tossing all others. They felt delightfully empty even as the bin was beginning to overflow with remnants of their past, and they took it as a sign that they were finally letting go.

They moved onto her wardrobe next, getting rid of all the ruined, dusty dresses. There were holes in almost all of them, courtesy of two centuries of neglect and several hungry moths. They could've probably mended and saved some of them, if they'd had any reason to. As it stood, they just collected all of it into a pile in the middle of the room, ready to be bagged and thrown away.

"Why do you never wear this one?" they asked curiously. "It is a gorgeous dress."

"It is precious to me. I do not want to get it torn or bloody."

"Clothes are meant to be worn, are they not?"

"Not this one." Isabella ran her fingers down the length of the fabric, looking nostalgic. "I will never wear this one again, I think. I want to keep it for as long as I can, without a lot of wear and tear."

How stupid. They grabbed the wooden hanger and took it out, their hand only shaking a little as they placed it on top of the others. There was no saving it. And there was no need to save it! If Isabella had wanted it, she would've come back for it.

"If possible, I would like to go back to my hometown. Just once." Nikolai lifted the little souvenir from his nightstand, showing it off with a bittersweet smile. "Just to see how it has changed. Whether this building is still standing. This might be a good replica, but it can never replace the feeling of standing in front of a mighty palace, small and insignificant in the presence of greatness."

"I suppose we would not know anything about that," they remarked coldly. "We have never been made to feel small or insignificant."

"Not like this." He walked over and took their hand, placing the miniature model on their palm. "Believe me. Never like this. Never in such a beautiful way."

They wanted to break it. They wanted to grind it to dust and let the wind blow it wherever it pleased. Why hadn't any of them taken anything? These were things with great sentimental value to them, or at least he'd always assumed that was the case. So why? Why had they run away so suddenly? Why had they given up everything?

Had they really been so scared of getting trapped in here with them?

It was their fault. Things worsened significantly after their stupid 'escape'. It hadn't even been an escape, no one was keeping them hostage. At the most they'd fled from memories and demons of the past, not them. They'd done nothing to them.

They stood in front of the third bedroom door, hesitating. They could just leave it as it was. They could simply tell Beck that it was off limits, like their own old bedroom, and they'd never have to deal with it.

"I brought you some more," they said as they slipped inside, quickly closing the door behind themself.

"From that new store?" Aurora asked excitedly, rushing over to them. "Show me, show me! Isabella told me about the grand opening, she said there were all manner of trinkets and treasures!"

Helle pulled a box from their pocket, handing it over with a smile. "She was quite right, I could barely decide which ones to bring home. But I do believe you will enjoy all of them."

They pushed the door open, and the dust immediately made them cough and sneeze. It was bad. Likely not as bad as their own room, but probably the closest to it. They opened the windows to let in some air, stepping over old clothes and a collar on their way.

Everything was exactly as they'd left it. The signs of a hasty escape would've been obvious to people who hadn't been the cause of it. Still, they detached themself, murmuring reassurances about how it wasn't their fault. They had only been trying to protect her. Keep her safe.

Keep her locked up and docile.

What were they supposed to do after realising two of their siblings had fled, without any reason or a word of explanation? They couldn't let Aurora leave. She had always been so weak.

"I want to go to the store myself."

They sighed, lowering their hand with the offering in it. "Well, sometimes we want things we cannot have."

"Even the lady let me go outside eventually," she spat. "You are worse than–"

"Do not," they cut in, and Aurora flinched at the tone. "I hate to remind you of the rules, but they were put in place to preserve both of our sanity. Do not bring her up."

"I cannot go outside," she said miserably. "How is that preserving my sanity? I appreciate the gifts you bring me, I do, but I want to see the store myself! You– you promised it would be better–"

"It is preserving your life. You are no match even to an amateur hunter. How do you not see that?" They placed the trinket on the shelf, walking over to her and grabbing her by the wrists before she could've backed away. "How do you not see that you are the only one I have left of my family? I cannot simply let you walk into traps or– or an ambush."

"Let go of me," she asked quietly, fear crossing her face. "I understand. Let go."

"You are thinking of running, are you not? Just like them."

"Helle, let go. Where would I run to?" She winced when their grip tightened, but didn't struggle. "Helle?"

"If I ever see you outside of these four walls," they whispered, "I will chain you to your bed. At least until I can trust you again."

She blinked at them, tears slowly gathering in her eyes. She swallowed, nodding only when they prompted her to.

They glanced at the empty chains by the bed, the discarded hairpin used to pick the lock so long ago. They hadn't touched any of it. Couldn't. They hadn't managed to keep their sister in the room, but her touch still lingered, the ghost of her presence trapped in all the items she'd left behind. How were they supposed to get rid of any of that?

They wondered, for the millionth time, whether she was still alive. Had she turned to ash a century ago? Were these the last things on earth that carried her memory?

They tried not to think about any of it. Their days with Lady Marie had been nothing but torture and cruelty — but their days afterwards were nothing but paranoia and heartbreak. The scared expressions on their siblings' faces haunted them, forever making them feel like a worse monster than the one they'd slain.

They were supposed to be the hero.

The four of them were supposed be okay afterwards. Happy, even. Peaceful.

Helle turned around and left the room, slamming the door shut behind themself. They needed a snack before they continued. Maybe a priest– his faithful blabber would at least be good for a laugh.

taglist: @whumpsday @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @delicateprincepaper @whumppmuhw @florissimps @nicolepascaline @oliversrarebooks @the-cyrulik @pirefyrelight @there-will-always-be-blood @pigeonwhumps @echo-goes-mmm @whumpycries @morning-star-whump @d-cs @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @tauntedoctopuses @blueyellow8green @typewrittenfangs @whumpsoda

#at my beck and call #whump #whump writing #helle #vampire whumper #vampire whumpee #emotional whump #past trauma #guilt #paranoia #manipulation #lady whumpee #religious themes

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ember-owlet · 9 months ago

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Hi hi :]] I practically did a little happy dance seeing blue eye samurai in your fandom list !

It's super easy for me to see Mizu as a regressor due to various reasons, particularly involuntarily! (And they very much deserve to catch up on their childhood)

So I think the formal request would be a headcanon post ! 👀 it doesn't have to be specifically regressor Mizu if you don't see her in that light /gen :]

I'm just happy someone else in this little corner of agere internet shares one of my interests !! ✨️🌿

a/c : hello!! aaa i'm ecstatic to know that you also enjoy blue eye samurai with an agere lens! despite the show's brutality, there are some really good nuggets of baby content to be found. i'd be happy to write some regressor! mizu headcanons for you as its about time i wrote something for them. and don't worry, i see her in the same light as well! feel free to send me your own personal thoughts on the characters/show to discuss as i'm thrilled to be in this corner of the agere internet with you friend. enjoy the headcanons! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ disclaimer! i do use primarily feminine terms when referring to mizu (they/she), but i do acknowledge that there are many interpretations of pronouns/gender identities to refer to the character as, and i find them wonderful! /gen

dynamic: regressor! mizu

content warnings: mentions of vent regression due to trauma, physical/mental anguish, light mentions of gender dysphoria ((stay safe little firelights, you can always come back to this when you're ready))

mizu has always been a trauma regressor to me, especially due to their lack of dealing with their feelings head on. their body would have to nearly force them to stop and take a break from their revenge mission and focus on recovering.

the first time she regressed would be terrifying to her, the feeling of being so out of control and helpless would make her hide away to try to push herself out of it as fast as possible.

it would take an incredible amount of time and trust developed before she felt safe around someone to tell, let alone show such a vulnerable state.

the select characters that i could realistically see her regressing around would be sword father or ringo.

if she were to regress voluntarily it would be to have the childhood that she wished she could have, one where she wasn't forced to grow up as a boy and to ease her gender dysphoria with feminine items/clothing.

she would be a very independent kiddo, not wanting to rely on others in fear that she would be an inconvenience or she would be punished for wasting someone's time after being treated as a monster for so long. if she were honest she genuinely wouldn't know how to react to such affection.

that being said, she needs gentle reassurance when in a younger state with a caregiver that helps her along the way. adding fruit/vegetables to her meals to make sure its balanced or mending their clothes would never go unnoticed and greatly appreciated.

she'd be so used to the feeling of being in pain or nauseous that she'd have a hard time differentiating pain that should be attended to or not. therefore her caregiver would need to keep an eye on her and remind her that any and all pain is worth looking at/caring for.

as a sentimental person she'd want to keep things gifted to her and wear or use them as comfort items until they physically can't be repaired anymore.

some of her favorite gifts would include free flowing or baggy clothes that she can keep close to her person for comfort.

her main comfort item is her sword, and would not be able to go anywhere or sleep without it clutched to her side as it reminds her of home and is something that she can rely on to keep her safe.

an actually extremely feral regressor as well if given the chance to be her true self (/lh /pos). i could absolutely see them wanting to play outside and then coming back home caked in mud and bruises while having the time of their life.

let her be a goofy kid!! growing up so fast from situations out of her control that she'd long for days where she'd let herself have fun.

LOVES going to the beach/aquarium. a true ocean lover whose favorite activities involve being around or in large bodies of water.

play fighting is a love language! she would love to wrestle her playmates/caregivers to see who is the strongest. as a physically stronger regressor she'd need to learn the value of her strength and to not be too rough if she were to get too excited.

they can get easily frustrated with creative tasks, and would prefer specific instruction in order to feel useful. it would make them the best helper around.

would love to play a game where they are the hero for once. (being called a monster can wear someone down mentally and it would definitely make her day to be seen as the hero of the story).

she also requires a ton of quiet time to allow her mind and body to rest. would she ever do it herself willingly is another question for another day, but she'd reluctantly do it if asked of her with sufficient gentle praise and coaxing.

as touch starved as they are, i can't see her being the one to initiate contact with someone unless the moment takes over her softer side and she can't help but wrap her arms around them or gently nudge them with her body to tell them that she's there and cares for them.

from her caregiver or those that she considers close she would accept forms of physical affection but wouldn't be too vocal on how much it means to her.

she'd believe that she'd never be able to repay her caregiver for their kindness but will continually try to find little things throughout the day to show them how grateful she is.

oddly enough i could totally see her gifting a sword to her caregiver as it is something that she believes she's good at and would work tirelessly day and night to make sure it's perfect.

despite being in a younger mindset she can and still would mean business to anyone who dares mess with her caregiver. even a baby phoenix still has talons.

#regressor! mizu #blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai agere #mizu blue eye samurai #bes #bes mizu #agere #age regression #fandom agere #agere headcanons #sfw agere #sfw age regression #sfw agere blog #sfw age regression blog #sfw interaction only #embers writings

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meowthiroth · 3 months ago

Text

been meaning to post these here for AGES now but I keep forgetting to. explodes 💥

but ANYWAYS! i redid the ref art for my Stranger oc from Myst/Riven! and also finally got around to drawing the aged-up version I thought up for him between Myst 3 and 4.

also wrote out a sort of messy bio for him a while ago, which i'll put under the cut since it's kinda long lol

ACE

Basic info

• Born October 7, 1782. He is 24 during the events of Myst & Riven, 33 during Exile and 42 during Revelation.

• He stands about 5’6” (1.6m) and is around 120 lbs. Pretty scrawny and definitely built better for agility than physical power.

• He is transgender and uses he/him pronouns. That caused quite a few problems for him back home, given the social climate at the time. He really doesn’t like to discuss his past or his birth family & will quickly change the subject if asked.

• He's very kind, easygoing and silly, and he loves to help others. But he can also be quite scatterbrained, forgetful, and prone to emotional manipulation.

• While he can be a bit absent-minded at times, he’s actually quite intelligent & quick-thinking, and he excels at problem- and puzzle-solving. He often cracks Atrus’s puzzles within mere minutes, but then can't recall his thought process when asked how he did it.

• Most of his favorite pastimes involve creating and fixing things. For instance, he’s very skilled with a needle & thread, and he makes and mends all of his own clothes. Drawing is another big one for him— his journal contains a lot more doodles in the margins than actual writing.

• He also LOVES animals, especially frogs, reptiles and bugs. He’s good at reading animals' behavioral cues and often has an easier time gaining their trust than most people would.

Early life/childhood

• His birth family were early settlers in the Northwest Territory, moving out west with him in tow when he was just a small child & starting a homestead there. His family consisted of his father, mother, and 3 brothers- 2 older and 1 younger.

• His gender identity caused friction with his family later in his childhood, since they had assumed he was just a tomboyish child and would eventually grow out of it. Obviously, though, he never did.

• His refusal to adhere to his assigned gender eventually escalated to his parents viewing him as hysterical & mentally unwell. Things only continued to get worse as he grew older, which eventually led him to go on the run. He kept a low profile & travelled mostly on his own for years, pressing farther into uncharted territory in an attempt to get as far away from his family as possible, which was how he first stumbled across the Myst linking book.

Life with Atrus & family

• Despite everything Saavedro did at the start of Exile, Ace still finds himself understanding of the man's predicament (perhaps relating the experience to his own upbringing in an abstract sort of way), and he takes it upon himself to help him get home by any means necessary. He often wonders how things worked out for Saavedro after their encounter & genuinely wishes the best for him.

• Slight deviation from canon- After the events of Exile, Ace got so worried about someone else coming after Atrus and his family while he was gone that he insisted on staying with them to help keep an eye on things. He moved in with them in Tomahna and helped out, both with Atrus’s projects and just general home/family things. He sort of took up the role of another older brother figure to Yeesha.

• Over time, he begins to view Atrus & Catherine not just as friends, but sort of as a new, more accepting family. He's definitely slipped up & called them “mom” and “dad” by accident before. SEVERAL times. He was really embarrassed about it at first, although they weren't bothered by it.

• He and Atrus work well together! Although Ace can’t write his own Ages, he often helps test Atrus’s creations and suggests ways he could potentially improve them. His ideas tend to fall somewhere in between Atrus & Catherine in terms of realism- a little wacky but still somewhat grounded in reality. He’s also quick to remind Atrus to take breaks & not get TOO into his work.

• Ace also spends a lot of time back home with Catherine and Yeesha. He does a good job earning his keep by helping around the home, and he and Catherine often like to bounce ideas off of one another. He finds her creativity super impressive, and a favorite pastime of his is to try & draw various creatures and landscapes that she describes.

• Since he lives with the family in between Exile and Revelation, Ace learns about what happened to Atrus’s sons much earlier than in canon, and he often tags along with the family when they visit. Usually he doesn’t go visit the brothers by himself, since he isn’t sure how comfortable Atrus would be with that, but he has offered to deliver things like care packages to them before & he’ll often stop to chat with them for a while.

• Ace has sort of always felt drawn towards Achenar. Despite the older brother's obvious shiftiness, Ace couldn't help but feel bad for him. He'd actually collected every blue page and was going to free him before he was (thankfully) stopped by Atrus. Despite being made aware of the attempted trick, Ace still forgave Achenar pretty quickly after seeing how much he’d changed over the years, and now he's always eager to go visit him with the rest of the family. The two get along surprisingly well & become close friends over time, and Ace will often stay behind to talk to him long after the rest of the family decides to head home from their visits.

• Ace, however, has always gotten bad vibes from Sirrus ever since he first arrived on Myst. He already has a disdain for greedy rich-guy types, and Sirrus always struck Ace as very disingenuous and closed-off, which further limited their ability to connect on an emotional level. Deep down, though, Ace still has a soft spot for Sirrus, and often displays it by teasing him in a playful little-sibling sort of way. While Sirrus generally finds his jokes more annoying than amusing, it clearly isn’t malicious and at least breaks up some of his day-to-day tedium, so he begrudgingly tolerates it.

#my art #myst #myst oc #myst stranger #i have been meaning to post about him in depth for SUCH a long time omg SORRY

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spicechica · 7 months ago

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Ernst Robinson x Fem Reader AU Part 2

“Poor girl. I couldn’t imagine a young one like her surviving in a place like this,” their mother whispers. “We supposed she must be from a previous shipwreck. But, I don’t think she has any memory of it,” replied Fritz. You stare out at the half sunken ship in the middle of the sea, feeling as if it’s history repeating itself. You, a young child, barely a teenager, washed up on this island with no memory, no knowledge, and just a large antique chest that had warped from water damage, along with a few pieces of wreckage from the ship that had washed up as well. It was a mystery though how you possibly survived.

“Now sweetie, how long have you been here?”Their mother asked. “I don’t know…It’s hard to keep count after so long.”, “Well, do you know your age?” You shake your head in response. You knew you must have been around eight when you first washed up on the island, but with no calendar or watch you never really kept track of your age span. From the look of you though, you must have been about fourteen or fifteen, but who knows, you couldn’t even remember your own birthday if you wanted to.

“They said you needed help…I could help you if you want.” You stutter with your words, still unsure if you should trust these people. “I say you only have a few days before that ship is gone. If you could try to collect supplies, I could help you survive.” “Yes, thank you. Boy’s come with me.” Ernst and Fritz go with their father to the ship to collect supplies while you stay back with their mother and sister.

After a couple of hours, and a few trips back and forth from the ship, you were able to help them set up a small tent from some old wreckage and a large cloth, also starting up a fire for them to keep warm. It was strange. These people were different then you imagined, they were kind, sweet, and welcoming….a family. You forgot what that was like.

You sigh and shake your head, you couldn’t get too soft around these people. “Thank you, for helping us today.” Ernst sits next to you, offering you a piece of fruit he collected from the ship earlier. You take the offering, but scoot away a little. “It’s a miracle you survived here for so long. How did you do it?” You stay silent for a moment until you finally respond. “Well, I didn’t do it alone.” Ernst turns his head in confusion. “When I first washed up, I had no memory of where I came from or how I got here. The only clues I had were an old chest engraved with a name, and…this.” You pull out a small gold locket from under your clothes, opening it showing an old baby photo that had slowly faded over the years.

“I remember I cried that day. I was so young, and so clueless, I knew I wasn’t going to survive a night. In the beginning, I was just eating whatever I could find or reach. I was tired, weak, and always had to sleep on the beach because I was too afraid an animal would eat me.”

“That sounds terrifying,” Ernst said. “It was. Until, I met someone. An island folk. He was tall and dark and carried a spear on his back. I thought he would hurt me, but he didn’t seem to be bothered. He didn’t speak any English either. I remember following him everyday, watching as he caught and killed things for food, watching as he sharpened and mended his knives and spear.”

“I then tried myself. Practicing everyday how to catch a fish without falling into the water or it slapping me in the face.” You and Ernst both chuckled. “After a while, I was able to adapt to the island and survive. I was able to build my place in the trees and hunt my own food. But soon, the man left, and I haven't seen him since.”

“So, some mystery man you met one day helped you survive.” You nod in response. Ernst scoffed in disbelief. “I’m just surprised, girls are usually terrified and weak-” Ernst screeches as you begin to squeeze his hand with your strong grip, cutting his circulation. “OW! OW!, Okay, Okay!” Ernst gasps as you let go, watching as the color in his head turns back to normal. “I guess I was wrong.” He chuckled.

You give him a small smile as you roll your eyes, taking another large chunk from the fruit, the juices running down the sides of your mouth. You didn’t really have any proper table manners.

*Thank you all for the love and support on my last post. I'm thinking of making this into a full fanfiction. If you have any other story ideas or headcanons my inbox is open 😊*

PART 1

#Ernst Robinson x reader #stranded 2002 #stranded #ernst robinson #neil newbon #fanfic #island au #fanfiction #astarion #AU #Ernst with an island girlfriend #What's better than that 😩#fyp

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liminal-storage · 3 months ago

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VI-The Lovers

Prompt: Free Write

Characters: Soren Lessard, Auriga and Vincent Marlowe.

Content Warnings: Blood, very mild suggestive themes, death.

Note: This is a direct follow-up to this piece.

"What's the matter, dear hunter? You look as though you've seen a ghost."

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

The first time they met, her hair had been dyed blue. As deep and vibrant as the snowcapped mountains not so far away, such a color drew his attention immediately.

His boots were off, handed over to a goblin tinkerer nearby for a much needed mending. Said tinkerer was taking far longer than necessary because he...she? Soren could never tell the difference, and he'd had the privilege of watching Idyllshire spring up from nothing. Regardless, his tinkerer seemed engrossed in conversation with an identical looking goblin, who in turn looked to be making some sort of deal with the blue haired young woman.

She certainly looked striking. The blue dye made her hair shine in the moonlight, almost as deep and dark as the sea. It made the bright teal of her eyes all the more vibrant. But Soren knew he wouldn't have bothered to notice her at all were it not for a particularly enticing perfume that kept wafting his way.

With notes of sour cherries and vetiver, wine and sleepy poppy, sweet honey and vanilla, it clung to his nostrils. Strangely, it reminded him of the taste of freshly spilled blood, thick and warm. It made the points of his fangs ache, but soon someone joined the blue haired woman and he forgot about her scent.

The second figure was tall, especially for a Hyur. His white-blond hair reflected the light of the evening's full moon, and when he turned Soren could see eyes as vibrant teal as the woman's. The woman looked Soren's way before laughing, standing on tiptoe to whisper into the other man's ear.

The pair of them faced him with bright smiles in identical styles of alluring. A single long scar spanned from the man's left eye down to his chin in a smooth, straight line. It made his smile look ever so slightly lopsided even though it was not.

Soren stared, enthralled.

"What's the matter, dear hunter? You look as though you've seen a ghost."

Startled, his attention snapped to the woman again, since she had so rudely interrupted him by speaking.

"Mm?"

"You are a hunter, are you not?"

"How would you know such a thing?" Soren felt oddly defensive.

"Your clothes." The man spoke. "She...pardon, we are traveling to the outskirts of the Great Gubal Library, and we've been discussing hiring someone to guide us along the way. Ari here seems to think you're a local, judging by your attire."

"Ah."

That explained the whispering, but he couldn't shake the thought that the young woman must be teasing him for staring at her companion.

"Well, she would be correct. Though I don't call Idyllshire my home, I did grow up around here. I know the Hinterlands quite well."

"Then would you be willing? To accompany us, I mean." The man smiled again and Soren hesitated.

He did not treat with mortals unless he had no other choice. Aside from taking his meals as needed, he felt content to keep his existence as separate from theirs as possible. That wasn't to say he despised them. Their existence was simply better off without him getting involved.

So he certainly never served as a guard or guide for any of them. Killing the fell beasts which threatened them was the closest he got to "contributing to society."

Yet the man's vibrant eyes and the woman's intoxicating perfume compelled him to agree. Without meaning to, he found himself nodding.

"Excellent! My name is Vincent, and this nosy little lady is Auriga. We will, of course, pay you for your services. How does a sennight of work sound to you?"

Vincent.

He quite liked how that name rolled off the tongue.

"A sennight is fine. But I have a caveat. We only travel at night."

The sibling pair exchanged glances for a moment, but if they found the request to be odd they didn't have anything to say about it.

"Very well. We travel at dusk then, beginning tomorrow," Vincent agreed.

"I suggest having him lead rather than follow, else our trip take longer than the allotted time because he finds himself too engrossed with staring at you."

The woman winked, her teasing tone doing wonders to soothe what might otherwise become a rising temper. Soren had no idea what he had gotten himself into.

By the end of the first night, it became glaringly obvious that Auriga was trying to set him up with her brother.

By the third, both siblings already knew what he was.

By the fifth night, he'd gone to bed with Vincent twice and drank from him both times.

On the sixth night, he spoke with Auriga until the sun threatened to rise over the mountaintops.

And when the eighth night ended, Soren knew that Vincent had come to the Hinterlands to die, with Auriga his doula of death.

One sennight became two, because the thought of escorting the man to his death made his gut churn. It only delayed the inevitable. He cursed the entity that drove the man to this desperation. He cursed himself too, for falling in such a short amount of time.

Soren did not treat with humans. He loved them too much to subject them to a predator in their midst.

He fulfilled his promise. Guided them to their destination and guarded them from a couple of hungry wayward bears who got a little too close during the trek. He did not beg Vincent to reconsider. Instead kissed the inside of his wrist with his teeth, taking one last taste to remember before looking away.

Afterward, he and Auriga fell into one another in grief.

-----------

Soren stared up at Auriga and her still-dripping fingertips. He searched her face and found her smiling in that tender, sort-of heartbroken way that an old friend who you shared a loss with tends to do. He tried to smile back, only serving to bare his fangs. Auriga laughed and reached to brush his hair out of his face, and only then did he realize he'd sunken to his knees in front of her.

"Hey, there. It's been too long. You aren't looking so good, you know."

"I don't feel it, either," he agreed.

The smell of her blood and perfume made him sick with grief and hunger, and she did not stop him when his tongue darted out to lick up the spilled drops. He followed their trail all the way up to the crook of her arm where his tongue caressed the little puncture wound she'd made with a fingernail.

Her free hand moved to stroke the back of his head and his eyes drifted shut. He bit down and her blood flooded his mouth and she did not stop him. It was not lost on him that such a gift was being freely given. There, in the half-dark room swirling with perfume and candle smoke, Soren reflected on that which they'd lost.

And he steeped in the thought that perhaps he'd always loved them both.

#my writing #ffxivwrite2024 #Soren Lessard #Auriga Marlowe #Vincent Marlowe #no editing we post like men

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just-another-star-47 · 4 months ago

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Taking care of a friend

A pissed Leander and a caring Garreth. Just a little snippet because the more I write about them, the more I like them and their dynamic. It's probably the softest in my entire story, to be honest. 😅

-> More about them and other characters <-

Without saying a word, Leander dropped into the armchair opposite Garreth and slumped down. An abrasion ran up his right cheek to his temple, his clothes smelled scorched and his hands were shaking.

'Sebastian?' Garreth glanced over the edge of the latest issue of the 'Potion Master' and met Leander's narrowed eyes.

"Sebastian, of course. That dog sears me every time with his stupid Confringo."

'Oh, Amalia wouldn't be happy about that choice of words,' Garreth put the magazine aside and rummaged in the pocket of his waistcoat, while Leander mumbled unintelligibly and shifted in his armchair. When his friend pulled a small vial, containing a light green liquid, out of his pocket, his eyes widened in astonishment.

'When did you brew this?'

'Right after you told me the date on which the members of the "Crossed Wands" would meet again.'

'So you assumed that I would lose again, did you?' Leander sulked, leaning back and crossing his arms in front of his chest.

'Even winners suffer injuries,' Garreth tried to reassure him with a sigh.

'Not Sallow.'

Leander stared almost hostilely at the vial of healing essence Garreth patiently held out to him.

"I can't take this. Otherwise the others will make fun of the fact that I can't stand pain."

With another sigh, his friend put the potion back in his pocket and pulled a small bag onto his lap instead.

'You really don't think it's possible for me to come back without injury, I see,' Leander slid closer despite his disapproving words, 'but I'll beat Sallow eventually, I guarantee it!'

Garreth did not reply, focussing instead on treating the graze of the still sulking man.

Ever since the first duel between the Gryffindor and Slytherin student, in which the former had suffered a nasty laceration and burns, Garreth had made it his business to keep the doctor's bag well stocked. Even then, his childhood friend had refused to be healed with magic of any kind. Whether he wanted to prove something to himself or to Sebastian remained unclear.

When Leander began to talk at length about the duel and his approach, Garreth only kept humming in confirmation as he dabbed dirt and blood from the pale skin and carefully applied an ointment. He had long since realised that Leander was by no means bad. The repeated questions from Lucan about training together were proof enough. And yet he knew that his friend would vehemently disagree with his view until he had defeated Sebastian Sallow.

'It's not that I wasn't able to block the spell,' Leander continued to huff as Garreth mended the sleeve of his shirt, 'I just think that even in a duel there should be a trace of chivalry.'

Garreth couldn't help but grin. Perhaps he shouldn't have encouraged his friend to read adventure novels with him back when their were children.

'Done'; he placed the arm with the now mended fabric in Leander's lap and leaned comfortably back to listen to the last details of the report.

The 'Potion Master' could wait.

#hogwarts legacy #leander prewett #when shadows turn to darkness fic #ri writes #garreth weasley

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circle--of--confusion · 3 months ago

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Wanna Bewitch You In The Moonlight

Another Dracopia fic with my OC Sarah! This one got away form me oh boy. I hope y'all enjoy!

Summary: Copia and Sarah have spent so much time together but they are always either too tired or keep getting interrupted when they try to take things further and have their first time having sex as a couple. What are you to do when both of your jobs are very important?

[This takes place right after the first fic "The Cardinal and the Seamstress" but before Terzo and my OC Amelia have got back together for their story]

This can be read on it's own for the most part, but here is my origional fic for them if you haven't read it and want to lol.

Words: 10.7k

Read On AO3

MASTERLIST

Warnings/Tags: explicit/18+, established relationship, dracopia, flashbacks, so much neck kissing wow!, first times as a couple, blood drinking, fluff, smut [vaginal fingering, oral sex [f receiving], hand job, vaginal sex]

There’s a bundle of fabric on Sarah’s desk when she walks in to the studio on Monday morning. Her eyebrows knit together as she walks closer to inspect the pile. Shirts? Alex and Amelia, fellow co-worker and boss [though she considers them to be friends too], walk in after her to their desks that also have piles of fabric.

“Oh!” Amelia calls over to Sarah once she realizes Sarah is at a loss for what to do. “You haven’t been here long enough to experience this!” Amelia walks over to Sarah’s desk, giddy. “Every few weeks we have clothes delivered to the sewing department that need to be repaired or mended. Or sometimes straight up re-made if they’re that attached to the style.”

Alex looks up from his desk where he’s sorted the clothes based on what needs more effort and less effort. “Copia’s suits took priority so this is your first time, awwww.” He responds playfully. Sarah rolls her eyes.

Amelia jumps in. “Which means, we get to play my favorite game… drumroll please, Alex!” Alex taps his hands on the desk rapid-fire then stops and they both yell simultaneously like game show hosts. “Lust! Or! Wrath!”

Her eyes go wide and she laughs. “What?”

Amelia’s back to her desk and sits down. “I noticed when I’d been working here for a bit, that most of our mending is sewing buttons to go back on shirts. This made me have two thoughts. One: I should consider snaps in the future. And two: is this a frustrated clergy member or a sexually frustrated clergy member’s shirt?” Her eyebrows comedically rise a couple times. She sighs with a hand wave. “It helped to pass the time.”

“Depending on the time of the year, we have a lot to fix.” Alex chimes in from his spot, already meticulously stitching on a button. He stops to look up at Amelia, pointing off in the distance in thought. “Do you remember The Great Valentines Fabric Massacre of 2015?”

Amelia shudders. “Ugh, don’t remind me. I swear, my hands were cramped for a week!” She groans.

Sarah nods and sits down at her desk. “Well, I guess I’ll uh, get to work!” She looks over the stack and finds a pair of pants, a handful of button ups, and a couple habits that need their hems fixed from dragging on the ground. Over the next half hour the trio work in silence, the only sounds in the room coming from either their exasperation when the thread comes loose from the needle eye or the sounds of their scissors snipping thread. Sarah’s eyes drift occasionally to her bag where her personal mending project lies at the bottom of her bag. Maybe she can find a way to throw it onto her desk without drawing attention. Alex and Amelia can be nosy.

Her hands drift down to grab the shirt from her bag and she flinches when Amelia cackles. “Look here, I have a shirt from Cardinal Alister and Cardinal Brian.” She looks up with a knowing smirk.

Alex gasps. “Good for them. I know Cardinal Brian just got out of a rough break-up and I heard rumblings of a possible date between those two the other day.” He tilts his head, smiling.

Sarah is almost done dragging her shirt into her lap when Amelia breaks her focus. “Speaking of dates… How did your big date with Copia go, Sarah?” she looks directly at Sarah who is blushing a deep shade of red while her shirt is caught halfway between her bag and the desk. Amelia smiles like a cheshire cat. “I can assume it went well?”

Caught red-handed. “Y-Yeah. It went, uh, well.” Sarah mumbles out.

◊◊◊◊◊

11 DAYS EARLIER

Sarah woke up snuggled against Copia’s body, his arm is wrapped around her stomach. They fell asleep spooning, the adrenaline and energy draining from her the moment they got back to his room after his first Ritual as head of the Ghost Project. She expected they would’ve been able to stay awake to talk about the experience but the moment she laid down in his arms, a yawn betrayed her and she was a goner. The last thing Sarah remembers from last night before she fell into a deep sleep was the feeling of Copia’s lips in her hair and a soft whisper of “goodnight, Sarah.”

Sarah’s dreams, however, were very active. Her inner most desires while she slept helped to fill in the blanks of what she wished they could’ve done last night. She now knows what his mouth feels like on her and where his hands like to roam. It’s plagued her mind since their date and lazy day together a handful of days ago. She dreamt of what it might feel like with him kissing other parts of her body without her clothes getting in the way. Would his lips linger on her chest? Sarah wonders if he would grab her thighs or hips to hold her in place.

She imagines his fangs would find a way to poke out, an involuntary reaction in his lust-fueled mission to ravish her body. Dream Copia had a particularly enjoyable time kissing her above and below. His hands caressed her body, one on her thigh and the other on her hip as he licked and sucked at her most sensitive parts. And deep down at the very bottom of her mind, she wants to experience Copia drinking her blood again. It’s always on the forefront when he kisses her neck.

She feels a growing desire in her, now fully awake and tingling. Sarah can still feel his hands from her mind, no wait, his hands are actually lightly dragging along her left side while she lays on her right in front of him. Her eyes fully open, taking in her surroundings; Copia’s body is pressed close to her back.

Copia hums. “Good morning, amore. Are you finally awake?” He whispers, lightly kissing the top of her shoulder. His left hand that was trailing up and down her side rests on Sarah’s hip.

She turns around to her left side to face Copia and hums her response. Her right hand moves up to hold his face while she leans forward to kiss him good morning. His mouth tastes faintly of copper and apple juice? “You were amazing last night, Copia.”

He smirks. “I was hoping you would be able to say that about more than just my singing when you woke up this morning.”

Sarah blushes. “I’m sorry for falling asleep.”

He shrugs his left shoulder. “It’s probably better for us that you got your rest.” His hand, previously on her hip, snakes it’s way behind her back and he rolls her over, pinning her to the bed on her back while he hovers over her body. “But! I have you now for a few minutes at least before you have to go off to work. Lucky me, I finally get a break from everything today.” He kisses Sarah’s lips softly before starting a trail down to her neck where he stops to suck and nibble lightly on the healed flesh from where he drank her blood a few days prior.

Sarah’s hand grips into his hair, holding him in and encouraging him to keep his lips there. Copia gladly complies, groaning when she scratches lightly on his scalp. He moves to settle between her spreading legs, one arm holding him up while his other roams up and down her side squeezing slightly at her hips. Sarah softly squeals and wiggles in her spot under Copia’s hold. His ministrations on her neck have turned from light nips to determined kisses. She feels a light poke of his teeth on the sensitive flesh, aware his fangs have introduced themselves to the situation. She smiles and her fingers in Copia’s hair tug lightly. “Copia…” She rasps, leaning her neck over to give his mouth more room to roam.

He hums a breathy “Sarah…” in response. He feels overcome with a growing lust at her scent, his hips begin to roll against her body on their own volition as he grows in arousal. Copia breathes heavily against her neck, intoxicated by her presence.

Sarah is lost in their hazy moment of groping and kissing. A part of her realizes she needs to get up soon and get ready for work but then she gets lost again in the weight of Copia’s body on hers and the way he’s moving over her. His fangs drag lightly on her neck, teasing, making sure not to puncture the skin. She’s also now aware of the hardening bulge down below between Copia’s legs as he rolls against her. It thrills her to know he’s as desperate for her as she is for him. “Oh, Copia… I need you.” she sighs. “Please.”

He nods against her neck and pulls her closer to him. “Me too, amore.” Copia moves up to look into her eyes. “I would love to-“

♫ You can dance! You can jive! Having the time of your life! Oohhhh ♫

Copia’s eyes shoot wide open. “Shit! My alarm!” He scrambles off of Sarah to grab his phone and ends up falling off the bed onto his back on the floor. He rushes to stand up and walks over to his phone on the nightstand to turn off the intrusion. Copia slaps his hand over his face, rubbing slightly. “Ugh, I just remembered that I have a meeting today with Sister Imperator and I need to brief the ghouls of last night’s ritual.” He looks over to Sarah on his bed and she hums as her only response. Her eyes are distracted by something and when he follows the line, it’s to the very obvious tenting in his sweatpants while he stands in front of her.

She giggles, her eyes locked across the room at his crotch. “Okay.” When Sarah looks up at Copia’s face, he looks exasperated.

“Really?” He asks.

She puts her hands in her face and shakes it before putting them back down. “It looked at me first!” She yells and Copia scoffs. “It’s distractingly big and very obvious, Copia! What was I supposed to do? Not look at it?” She sees his eyes flare when she says ‘big’ and stalks closer to her, tilting his head.

“This is what you do to me, dolcezza.” he pouts. “And then you torture me by laughing?”

Sarah’s hands rise to touch up his stomach to his chest over his shirt and Copia flinches slightly from the contact. “What are you going to do? Punish me?” She smiles seductively.

♫ Mama Mia, here I go again! My, my, how can I resist you? ♫

He groans. Very fitting Sarah thinks.

“Well not now.” he rolls his eyes. “I really need to get ready for the day now and you, my amore, need to get to work.” He kisses the top of her head and leans down to her ear. “You better go before I change my mind.” Copia smiles, gives Sarah a peck on the cheek, and turns to the bathroom to shower.

She stands, flustered, and gathers herself to leave so she can get ready for work. As she walks out of his room, Sarah can hear faint whistling echoing from behind the bathroom door. She laughs and closes the front door of his room behind her.

For the entire day, Sarah had “Dancing Queen” stuck in her head.

◊◊◊◊◊

When he saw Sarah that evening to have dinner, they didn’t speak of what had happened this morning. She greeted him like normal, a quick kiss on the lips, and walked inside to sit down on the couch. She’s asked what movie they would watch after eating and he responded without missing a beat. He couldn’t help but notice, though, that she looked a bit flushed upon walking in and jumped a couple times when he placed a hand on her to cuddle on the couch. They may not have spoken about what happened this morning, but the knowledge of it just sorta floated in the air.

The next couple nights went along much smoother. Some of the tension in the air had dissipated and now the two are cuddling on his couch with an old movie playing on his box tv. Eventually the movie became ignored by the couple as they were more into focusing on each other. Sarah had initiated first by looking up at him halfway through the movie and placed a small kiss on the underside of his jaw. He leaned his head back as she continued to plant small kisses on Copia’s neck and one thing led to another. Sarah moved to sit in his lap to straddle him. Her hand holds onto the back of his head while the other rubs lightly on his chest. Copia’s hands have planted themselves on her waist. She adjusts herself to be flush with his body, not feeling like she’s close enough.

“Mmm, amore, you seem very determined tonight.” Copia moans, leaning his neck further to the side to give Sarah more access as she alternates kissing his lips or his neck. He feels her teeth bite down slightly and he whimpers. The sensations of Sarah’s mouth on his neck and exploring hands on his chest are being sent straight down to his dick. If he doesn’t get relief soon, he just might explode. He hasn’t had time to bring up the other morning so they can see where things might’ve gone. Sarah giggles into his neck before she leans back to look into his eyes. Her lips are puffy from the kisses and her pupils are blown wide open from lust for him. He thinks she looks divine.

“I can’t help it. You are way more interesting than the movie.” She smiles. He leans up to share a short kiss.

“Would you like to move things to the bedroom?” Copia teases, rubbing his thumb on her waist. “I feel like we have some uh, unfinished business from the other day...” He smirks.

Sarah smiles and nods rapidly. “I would lo-“

A loud trio of bangs on his door breaks their bubble. Copia knits his eyebrows together, getting up when Sarah moves off his lap. He walks awkwardly, shifting his half-hard dick in his sweats so he doesn’t scare whoever is at the door. A couple more impatient knocks bang on his door before Copia can get it open.

“Papa?” Copia gasps. Secondo is standing at his door, scowling. “What are you- I mean why are you..?”

“I found this,” he holds up his cupped hands “,roaming around in my record collection. She was nibbling on my mint condition Abba records.” Secondo holds up one of Copia’s rats.

He gasps. “My baby!” Copia quickly moves to grab at the small animal, softly scolding her. “Mi dispiace, Papa. I hadn’t realized she got free.”

Papa grumbles. “Just don’t let it happen again.” He bows his head slightly. “Goodnight.”

Copia nodded his head quickly as Secondo walked away. He nudged the door closed and made quick work of putting his mini escape artist back in her cage, double checking the lock, and then walked out to the living room. Sarah has stood up and looks like she’s ready to go back to her room.

“Are you leaving?” Copia asks, pleading for her to stay.

Sarah sighs. “I should probably head out. We’re in the thick of it with sewing your suits at the studio. I need to make sure I’m rested so I don’t make any mistakes.”

He looks down, defeated. Copia walks over to Sarah and leans down for a goodnight kiss. She chases his lips briefly when they part. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Sarah nods. “Of course.”

◊◊◊◊◊

“What cosmic entity out there keeps cock-blocking you two with Abba?” Alex remarks.

“I don’t know! I like Abba, too.” Sarah huffs.

She feels pent up. Five days have passed by since Copia’s ritual and they still haven’t found a way to consummate the occasion. At least not together. Her entire life has been consumed by her Copia this week but she hasn’t had time to be with him in person long enough to take the next step in their relationship. It’s not like he’s lounging around eating bon-bons, either. They exchange quick texts throughout the day, in-between sewing breaks and meetings or rehearsals. He sounds just as desperate as she is.

-----

Copia 2:35pm

My love, how are you this afternoon? I ache to see you once again and have you in my arms. I’ve been feeling like a coil that’s been wound tight.

Sarah 2:44pm

Me too. I’ve had to uh, take care of myself on my own, if you catch my drift.

Copia 2:46pm

Oh? Amore you can’t get me so riled up at a time like this. I’m rehearsing with the ghouls right now. They can smell when I’m horny and they say it’s not a great sight.

Sarah 2:47pm

So I shouldn’t tell you all about how I used my fingers on me as if they were yours? ;)

Copia 2:49pm

You should. In great detail, actually! Though, I am a visual and hands-on learner…

Sarah 2:50pm

I’ll keep that in mind.

Copia 2:52pm

You are so cruel me, Sarah. This rehearsal is not going to go well and it will be all your fault. ;)

-----

Later that evening, she’s the last to leave the studio and locks up. She notices something in the corner of her eye but when Sarah looks up to see, it’s gone. She moves on further down the hall shaking her head. A trick of the light she thinks. A woosh of air passes behind her and she’s grabbed from behind, a sturdy arm snakes around her waist to pull her snug to their chest. The other arm rises to put their hand on her chin, holding her in place.

“Did you think you could tease me like that earlier today and get away with it?” A husky voice whispers into her ear.

Copia Sarah realizes. She takes a breath. “Are you going to do anything about it?”

Copia nuzzles onto the side of her face. “I am, dolcezza.” He walks them over to an alcove down at the end of the hallway. “Though I’m not sure if I have the patience to start until we get to my room.” She gasps.

She’s turned around and Copia captured her lips with a furious kiss; it’s full of passion and urgency. She hums into his mouth and wraps her arms around his neck to pull him closer. Sarah’s tongue pokes over to his lips, asking to deepen the kiss. She feels his fangs on her tongue and gasps as he opens his mouth wider; they drag along once he begins to mouth down her jaw. He breathes in a deep breath before pulling away. Sarah takes a step back, hitting the hard brick of the wall behind her. Copia leans down to kiss her neck, inhaling a deep breath at her scent. One of Sarah’s hands holds his head in place and the other holds his side. He presses his body into Sarah’s, trapping her against the wall. Some of his frustration feels like it’s dissipated by being able to hold her. His frantic movements become still with the feeling of her body on his.

“I missed this. Missed You.” Copia mumbles into her neck. His hands hold Sarah in place by her hips. “My room stopped smelling like you yesterday.” He shudders out a sigh.

For a moment the pair simply hold each other, enjoying the feel of their lover’s body in their hands. They’ve both been stressed and over-worked and this brief moment of peaceful silence feels like a gift from the Lucifer himself.

“Copia.” Sarah whispers. “Let’s go back to your room now, hm?”

He leans back to look at her, gazing sleepily into her eyes. “That is music to my ears, amore.” He smiles and grabs her hand, pulling her away and down in the direction of his room. “And I should know!”

They’re excited, giggling away when a voice calls down the hall. “Oh, Cardinal! Do you have a word?” Copia and Sarah stop in their tracks, both groaning internally. Sister Imperator.

“Go to my room and get comfortable, please.” He kisses her knuckles before removing his hand from hers. “I’ll be back soon.” Sarah nods and walks off, hearing the strained greeting he gives to Sister.

Once she gets to his room, she finds a pair of her pajama pants and puts them on. For a bit she wanders around his room, admiring the books or knickknacks she hadn’t had time to look at in the past. She walks over to the sprawling cage set-up where he keeps his rats. They squeak happy noises at her as she comes over to give them some attention. “Our Copia should be home soon, little ones.”

Sarah then lets out a loud yawn and decides to lay down in his bed for the rest of the wait. The plush, luxurious feeling of his bed along with the lingering scent of Copia’s body soap and cologne in the sheets lull her into a deep sleep before she knows it

◊◊◊◊◊

When Copia is finally back into his room, he heaves a tired sigh. Sister Imperator wanted an update on the rest of the album and it took much longer than he expected. However, the sight that greeted him once he entered his room had him swooning. Sarah, his love, is bundled up under his comforter and sleeping soundly against his pillows. After he washed off the black paint around his eyes, he changes into sweats and a t-shirt before joining her under the covers. As if she could sense his presence in bed, Sarah moves to lay her head down on top of Copia’s chest and wraps her arm around his waist. He chuckles at the small, content hum once she settles in her new position.

Copia and Papa Terzo are walking together to a meeting the following morning. He’s lamenting about the recent week of failure to take anything further past very passionate kissing with Sarah.

“Why don’t you just say ‘fuck it’ and take a day off, Copia?” Terzo asks bluntly. “Whisk her away and have your way with each other, eh?”

Copia scoffs. “I would if I could. Sister Imperator has been breathing down my neck to get this album finished.” He exhales a long sigh. “And I couldn’t make Sarah take a day off of her job just to have sex!”

“Why not?”

“Papa.”

Terzo grumbles. “You can still find a way to make time for her, Copia.” He insists, looking over to make his point. He places a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Things are only going to get more chaotic from here. You need to make the initiative for the both of you.”

The two round a corner, walking by a few clergy members. Terzo receives a couple flirty “hello Papa”s from siblings along with a sarcastic eye-roll from Amelia who’s passing by them as she heads to the studio. Terzo wiggles his gloved fingers at her, waving as she walks by them.

Copia rolls his eyes as well. “I think you need to take your own advice, Papa.”

Terzo hums and shakes his head. “No, I can’t. My amore isn’t like yours, Cardinale. Amelia is skittish. I need to make her come to me.” He swats his hand in the air. “Don’t worry, though. I have a plan.”

Copia eyes Terzo. Oh no.

The following evening, Copia sits in on his scheduled confessional duty. He’s sat by himself for most of it. A couple siblings have come by to discuss their sins and celebrate them in the name of Satan. I should’ve brought a book he thinks. The sound of the latch on the other side moving breaks his train of thought. Footsteps softly thud and then the bench creaks signaling the occupant has sat down. Copia sits up straight in anticipation for what they will say.

“Forgive me, Papa, for I have not sinned.” A soft, familiar voice fills the booth.

Copia doesn’t realize he’s let out a surprised “Oh!” and Sarah gasps on the other side of the screened enclosure.

“Copia! I- uh. I thought one of the Papas was on duty tonight?” She sounds terrified. He can see through the mesh screen that her hands slap up to cover her face despite the already given privacy.

He shifts awkwardly on his bench. “Ah, no, dolcezza. It’s my night tonight.” Sarah hums. “Please tell me what’s bothering you, though.”

Sarah lets out a quick huff. “Can we uh, pretend it’s not you right now?” she winces.

Copia knits his eyebrows together. He can sense the anxiety in the air. “Ah, o-ok.” He shifts briefly, sitting up straight and moving to look forward. “Um. What’s been on your mind, sorella? You said you have not sinned?”

There’s silence for a handful of seconds. “No… I have not. At least, not the particular one I would like to do.”

Copia is stunned. “Do you wish to elaborate?”

“Well. I haven’t been able to enjoy some personal time with my, uh, boyfriend.” She clears her throat. “We recently got together after a few weeks of shy back and forth.” Copia smiles at that. “It’s been exhilarating but we’ve only ever made it up to the kissing and groping parts of our alone time.”

Copia chuckles silently to himself. “And you want to do more than that?”

“Yes. So much more.” Sarah admits. “I like the kissing, though. But we keep getting interrupted when things seem like they’re going further. It’s very frustrating.”

“I’m sure he agrees.” Copia nods, agreeing.

“I mean, once I get back to my room, I can only relieve the tension with my fingers so many times.” Sarah casually responds.

Copia feels like his tongue is caught in his throat. He can only nod silently, agreeing. “Yes, exactly.” He chokes out. “Mhm.” Terzo’s words from the day before pop back into his mind. “You need this man to make time for you, it seems.”

“It would help if I wasn’t so tired from work, too. I’ve been a bit busy.” She sighs.

Because of me Copia half scolds himself. “I see.”

“And you- he’s been busy, too!” Sarah interjects. “We both just need, I don’t know, less important jobs.” They both laugh on their side of the booth. There’s a small moment of silence before Sarah softly says “Copia?”

“I’m sorry, amore.” he sighs. “But because of this, I think we’re due for another date now, Sarah.” He proposes.

Sarah hums. “What did you have in mind?”

“This Friday, three days from now, I will pick you up at your room and we’ll wine and dine. I’ll plan a dinner for us and then we will go back to my room to continue how we see fit.” His voice goes up in a playful tone towards the end. “What do you think?”

“I think I could be okay with that.” She responds back in jest.

“Molto bene. I will need you to take the day off, too, amore.” Copia demands.

She balks. “Copia.”

“We could both use a break, Sarah. And I don’t want you to be sleepy while I woo you to my bed.”

Sarah sits there for a moment. “Fine. I’ll try.”

◊◊◊◊◊

The next morning Sarah finishes the last few details of Copia’s suit she’d been sewing and looks up at Amelia while she’s lost in a trance of stitching. Last night she came up with an idea for an outfit to wear to her date and formulated an idea that might convince Amelia that she can sew a non-Copia project on the clock.

“I finished my suit, Amelia.” She calls.

“Oh good, you’re ahead of schedule!” She responds without looking up.

“Yes!” Sarah exclaims at too high a volume. “And uh, I was wondering. Since I’m ahead of schedule. Could I get Friday off?”

Amelia looks up from her machine; she has a blank expression and a kind of look in her eye that Sarah cannot decipher. “Any particular reason?”

She twiddles her thumbs together. “I have plans…”

“So soon? Did they just come up?”

“Yes...” Sarah cringes.

Amelia turns back to her machine to sew again. “Well, that’s just a pity. My rules state that any employee must give all time off requests at least two weeks in advance so I can tell you whether or not I am completely fucking with you.” She looks back up to Sarah and winks.

“What?” She looks shocked.

“I saw Copia as I made my way to the studio this morning. He asked me to give you Friday off from work and I knew you were going to finish the suit today, anyway.” Amelia reveals. “I told him I’d think about it.”

“Amelia, you are absolutely diabolical.” Alex chimes from his desk.

She smiles. “Thank you.”

“I- I was also wondering… Since I’m ahead. That I could make a date outfit with my free time?”

Amelia stops sewing. She looks up from her machine before shrugging. “Fuck it. sure.”

Sarah bolts up from her seat. “I’m going to go look for fabrics in the closet before you can change your mind!” her voice fades the further back she goes into the room. Around ten minutes later she emerges with a pile of fabric options.

“You’re going to voluntarily sew fabric that has sequins on them?” Alex questions.

“You went rifling through the Papa cabinet?” Amelia calls to Sarah.

She spins around to look at Amelia. “Those are the better fabrics!” Sarah argues, holding her hands up.

“I’m starting to question why I even put that there in the first place. When am I ever going to use blue sequin fabric for a Papa Ritual costume?” Amelia shakes her head.

Sarah makes quick work on a bodice with the sequin fabric, grumbling to herself the entire way. Alex laughs every time Sarah has to replace a sewing machine needle because it broke running over a rogue sequin she forgot to snip off. She’s up her third needle.

On Thursday afternoon, she’s happy clapping at her finished dress. A blue sequined bodice with satin off-shoulder sleeves and a gathered skirt made from the rest of the satin that ends at the knees. And it has pockets she squealed. The dress is carefully put in a black garment bag and she heads to her room in the evening, passing by Copia on her way.

“What’s in the bag, dolcezza?” He asks.

“It’s a surprise.” Sarah teases.

Copia chuckles, calling back “I wait with bated breath.”

Friday evening rolls around sooner than she expected when Copia proposed their date those days ago. She received a text to be ready at 6pm for him to pick her up and lead her to their destination. He’s kept all of the details under wraps.

A knock on the door takes her out of her thoughts. Sarah gets up and opens the door to reveal Copia, dressed in black pants with a tucked-in black button up. His sleeves are rolled up and the top buttons are open, showing some whisps of his chest hair. He smiles wide at Sarah’s dress, eyes flicking up and down. He takes a moment to admire the way she looks before responding.

“Oh, Sarah. You are beautiful!” he gasps. “I feel very underdressed now.”

She grabs his hand and rubs her thumb over it. “Please, don’t. I got carried away and wanted to make something special.”

He laughs. “You succeeded.” Copia holds out his other hand. “Shall we?”

Sarah nods. “Yes, we shall!” She walks with him, hand-in-hand to their date spot.

He leads them on a path that soon becomes familiar to her: Papa Primo’s garden. Towards the back, in a secluded, private part of the grounds, there is a gazebo that is accentuated with flower pots that hang off the rails of the structure. Soft fairy lights and lanterns are placed around to give light once the sun starts to set. Copia leads Sarah up the steps to a table he has set up with their food.

“I asked Papa if I could use this,” he gestures to the gazebo “,tonight. He’s secretly a romantic but don’t tell him I said that.” Copia winks as he pulls out a chair for Sarah to sit down.

“Mums the word.” She mimes zipping her mouth shut.

For a while the couple sit in silence, stealing glances to each other in-between bites. Copia takes a sip of his wine before breaking their bubble.

“I’ve been working on more music this week.”

Sarah looks up. “Oh, tell me about it!”

“It’s another instrumental. I want to combine synth and harpsichord.” His eyebrows jump up at the end.

“I’d love to hear it once it’s complete.”

Their meal is finished shortly after, and a couple of Primo’s ghouls appeared to clean up the table. Thanking them, Copia held his arm out for Sarah and they began a short walk through the garden. The soft lights along the tall bushes illuminated their slow path. They settle on a bench, Copia’s arm stretches out to lay behind Sarah on his left. She leans into him, placing her right hand on his thigh.

Copia looks up, realizing something. “I think this is the bench you found me on all those weeks ago.”

She laughs softly. “And look how much has happened since then.” Sarah looks up at him to see him smiling at her. “Copia?”

“Yes, amore?”

Sarah giggles. “I can see your fangs poking out right now.”

His eyebrows shoot up and he blushes. “They have a tendency to do that when I’m too relaxed or very happy.” His hand behind her brushes her shoulder.

She feels too overwhelmed in that moment and looks down. “Oh.” Sarah looks back up. Copia pulls her towards him and leans down to kiss her. She smiles at the light graze of his fangs on her lips.

When Copia parts from her, Sarah brings her left hand up to his face to bring him back to her lips. He mirrors the “Oh” from Sarah earlier. He’s pulled Sarah practically on top of him now as he leans back against the armrest. Copia’s right hand moves to hold her down by her back and Sarah soon parts from him to take a breath; his eyes are still closed.

She takes a moment to look at him like this. Copia’s head is tilted back, a blissful smile on his face. The points of his fangs poke out from his lips. The soft lighting of the garden cast onto his face and she can manage to see a light dusting of freckles on his cheeks. She leans in to kiss one of the soft wrinkles on the side of his mouth.

“Should we go back to my room now?” Copia says, eyes still closed.

“Yes.” She nods. He stands up and holds out his hand for Sarah to hold. “Lead the way.”

There’s no rush to get back to his room. On their walk they each take turns to stop for a quick kiss on the lips or the bring the other’s hand to their lips for an absent-minded kiss.

Once they arrive at his door, she feels a somersault of emotions deep in her stomach. There’s an unspoken word between them as they walk into his room. Finally. They both toe off their shoes by the door and then Copia and Sarah move to face each other. There’s been a fury of want and need between them for days now. It’s all culminated to this moment and she feels as if it’s a calm before a storm. She stands in front of his door and looks to him.

Copia raises his hand and places it on her lower cheek. He licks his lips before looking into her eyes for any hesitancy before leaning down to kiss Sarah. This one feels different compared to the others. The journey of what could happen tonight between them begins with this kiss. He hums into her mouth, feeling overwhelmed by the situation; she’s already feeling weak in the knees.

Sarah’s arms wrap around Copia’s back to pull him closer and she feels him smile on her mouth. He takes his free arm to snake around her and starts to mouth to the edge of her lips, creating a trail of kisses down to her neck. She tilts her head to the side to give him more room. He breathes in at her neck and Copia feels renewed with passion; he pushes his body up against Sarah so that she’s pinned against the door. One of his hands on her back travel down to skim the curve of her butt and he holds his hand there to keep her on him. She revels in the feeling of his hold on her body,

Sarah can feel a stirring down below from Copia and she realizes he’s now slowly grinding his crotch into hers as he holds her to him. She sighs when the feeling of his teeth graze over her sensitive skin and one of her hands rises to his hair where she combs her fingers through it. She remembers something in that moment and Sarah tries to hold on a bit longer to tell Copia something before they carry on. “Copia…”

“Mhm?” Copia mumbles. Sarah doesn’t respond immediately so he pulls away to look at her, waiting.

“Oh…” She’s taken aback by the look in his eyes. The pupils are blown wide and his white eye almost looks as if it’s staring into her soul. I probably look like the same she thinks. Copia’s kiss-swollen lips rest slightly parted as he looks and waits.

He brushes the thumb of the hand still on her cheek over that spot it’s touching. “What do you need to say, amore?” Copia whispers.

She takes a breath. “I’m really looking forward to having sex with you.” Sarah smiles.

“As am I.” Copia agrees, encouraging her to continue.

“And I wanted to say that… If you wanted to bite me, to drink from me, you can.” Copia’s eyes open wide in surprise. “I want you to do it again.”

He grins. “I would love to.” Leaning down to place a short kiss, he mumbles on her lips “Would you like to take this somewhere else now?”

Sarah nods. “Can we go to your room?”

Copia smiles. “I think that can be arranged.” He takes her hand and leads the two of them through his apartment to his bedroom. When they stop in front of his bed, Copia’s hand reaches out to play with the loose skirt of Sarah’s dress. His eyes glance to her before asking “Would you let me help you out of your dress? I want you to be comfortable in my bed.”

She lets out a nervous laugh. “It’s actually not that awkward to wear.” Copia nods. “But yes, you can help me out of it.” Sarah nods.

Copia walks to stand behind her and puts his hands on top of Sarah’s shoulders. He rubs his thumbs on her bare shoulders and leans into kiss her head. Moving his hands quickly to the top of the zipper on the back of her dress, he begins pulling the tab down its path that stops at her lower back. He’s not sure how to pull it off Sarah’s body and pauses. “Eh, dolcezza...”

She giggles lightly. “Pull it up over my head, Copia.” She turns her head back to look at him.

“Ah!” She raises her arms up to help as he pulls the garment up Sarah’s body and lays it down carefully on a chair to the side. If Copia needed air to breathe, it would’ve been stolen from his lungs. All of the newly exposed skin he can see of Sarah’s has him in a frenzy. He wraps his arms around her waist and the touch of her soft skin under his hands feels heavenly. “Could I ask you one more thing? Well, two, technically.” He rests his chin on Sarah’s shoulder when he speaks next to her ear. Copia sways them both slightly as they stand.

I would do anything for you right now. “What is it?”

He moves Sarah’s body to turn her around. “Do you mind removing your underwear and then going to lay down on my bed for me?” He leans down to peck her cheek.

She’s too lost in the feeling of his thumb rubbing smooth circles on her waist to respond right away. “Y-yes. Yes. I can do that.”

“Bene.” Copia replies.

He lets her go and Sarah makes quick work on the last items. She sits down onto his comforter and scootches back to lay down against the pillows; the fabric feels lovely on her bare skin. Copia watches her every move like he’s trying to commit this sight to memory. When she settles in her spot, Sarah leans onto her left side and props herself up on the bed. “Now you.”

Copia walks closer to the bed, placing a knee near hers on the mattress. “In a moment. I just need to do…” He leans down to kiss Sarah’s lips in determination. She pulls him closer to her and he loses his balance, crashing down onto her body. They both let out groans at the sudden shift and he pecks a couple quick kisses to her lips before pulling back. “That.” They both laugh. “Well, the falling wasn’t planned.”

“Don’t keep me waiting for too long.” She pouts, running her fingers though his hair.

Copia moves to sit further down in-between her open legs and looks up into Sarah’s eyes. She hums and nods for him to keep going. His hands wander from her ankles up to caress the sides of her thighs. “Gorgeous.” he whispers to himself. Copia leans down to kiss her shoulder, propping himself up on one arm, and starts a path of kisses from there. He smacks loudly and dramatically, the tickly feeling of his mustache on her skin makes Sarah laugh and wiggle in her spot under his hold. He flicks up to look at her face: eyes closed with a smile.

He continues down Sarah’s chest, taking time at each breast to kiss and worship. He nibbles and bites down softly before running his tongue over it to soothe any pain; Sarah’s hand grasps up at his head to have something stable to hold on to. She gasps softly and then sighs, running her fingers through his hair again. “Sarah…” Copia breathes out when she starts scratching at his scalp.

Copia carries on, pecking and kissing his way down, passing over her stomach to her hips then down further to her soft thighs. His hands take hold and he ends his journey in-between her legs to kiss different spots of her thighs. She opens her legs wider to accommodate the width of his head and shoulders while his mouth finds a particular spot to fixate on. Halfway down on the inside of her right thigh, Copia kisses, nibbles, and licks the spot into a quickly forming hickey. He bites down slightly with his teeth, breaking the skin this time and drawing a small amount of blood into his mouth. Sarah cries out and Copia holds up a hand for her to hold while her other now grasps the sheets. His tongue combined with the bite pain washing away help lull her back into a calmer state. Copia’s thumb rubs along her hand as a small distraction.

“Mi dispiace, amore. I wanted a small taste.” Copia looks up to check on Sarah. Her hair is ruffled from moving around on the pillow while she writhed against the fabric. “May I continue?”

“Please do.” Sarah sighs.

His eyes wander down from her face to the tops of her thighs where they meet. He leans down, following the enticing scent of her to the spot normally hidden by her clothes. Copia adjusts his body to sit on his knees in-between her legs. He’s tantalizingly close to the area she needs him to touch.

“Please.” She urges, nodding her head.

He places a small kiss to her hip before sitting back up. She has a slightly confused look but it soon changes when she feels a finger softly swipe up her slit. She flutters her eyes shut from the light contact, leaning her head back in the pillows and it emboldens Copia to keep going. He moves slowly over her lips, teasing the bud of her clit occasionally. It’s all intentional but featherlight pressures and he feels Sarah growing even wetter under his touch. He loves how she’s so taken with the little affection.

“Do you like that?” he purrs. “You were already wet for me when I started and now? Oh, I feel like I could drown.” He breathes in a deep inhale of her scent. “But what a way to go, eh? Do you think you can handle a little more?”

With her eyes closed, all Sarah can do is hum. She can’t find the words to speak for him. Copia stops his movement when she doesn’t respond and she whines. Her hips move on his stilled hand to get some friction back. “Wha-?”

“I need you here with me, Sarah.” He tilts his head as he looks up at Sarah. “Do you want more?”

She lays her head back and huffs. “Yes, I want more AH!” Her thought is cut short when Copia gets back to work with his fingers, now pressing down with more pressure as he circles her clit with his thumb while his finger taps lightly at her entrance. “Shit, Copia.” The new sensations have her moving her hips in sync with his hand. “Keep going.”

He smiles. Slowly, Copia inserts his finger and she moans out at him. He moves slowly in-and-out, testing the tightness before adding one more. “Is this how you relieved your tension back in your room? All alone and pent up? Needing my fingers instead of your own.” She whimpers from his words and at the slight stretch and they can both feel the small squeeze of her walls on his fingers. Copia slowly lowers himself to lay down on his stomach to begin kissing and worships Sarah’s clit while he curls his fingers in her.

“Oh fuck, please don’t stop.” Sarah groans, opening up wider. “You are amazing.” He smiles into her pussy and she can feel it. She rolls her eyes slightly. Smug bastard.

“Dolcezza, are you close? Can you come for me, amore?” He begs between her legs.

“I’m-“ coming she thinks. The orgasm that washes over her is so sudden and she wasn’t expecting it. Her whole body feels euphoric while she flutters and clenches down on his fingers. After she’s come down slightly from the high, he removes his fingers so both of his hands can hold up her hips while he dives in to lick up her release. He continues his ministrations to her sensitive clit, sucking and mouthing at her pussy with renewed fervor. She grasps his hair on his head and he groans when Sarah pulls slightly at the strands. The vibrations from his voice spur on her small hip bucks to move in rhythm with Copia’s mouth.

He's rutting his hips against the mattress and it’s a sight for Sarah to see. He’s so overcome with the entirety of her around him and on his tongue that he’s nearly on the brink of bursting in his pants he still has on. He looks determined to give her another orgasm before coming up for air. Sarah’s free hand moves up to cup her breast and from the enthusiastic licks and suctions on her clit from Copia along with her own fondling of her chest, she falls over into a second orgasm of the night, arching her back off the bed. The sound that leaves her throat is an obscene moan and Copia smiles, proud he can elicit such a reaction when they’ve just started.

He moans at the lingering taste on his tongue once he sits up after she calms down from her high. “I think you tasted even better the second time, amore.” He sits up in bed on his knees. Copia licks around his mouth and then wipes the rest off with the back of his hand as he watches Sarah with a toothy smile.

When Sarah comes-to, she moves to sit up on her shaky knees in front of Copia with a determined look on her face. She holds onto his shoulders for balance while she kisses the side of his face before moving to his lips, tasting herself on his tongue. Her hands on his shoulder begin to move down; one hand stops on his waist and the other continues its mission to touch his bulge in his tight pants. He groans out at Sarah’s gentle palming at his crotch. She leans in to speak into his ear and says low but clear. “I need you to get out of these pants so you can fuck me, Copia.” He growls and she can feel a slight twitch from his clothed cock at her demand. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

Copia is slow to move so Sarah begins impatiently unbuttoning his pants for him. He leaves the bed briefly to stand, much to her dismay, so he can get the garment off his legs along with his briefs. The cool air of his room is like a savior to his sensitive, leaking cock; Copia practically shudders as he breathes out. All that’s left on him is his button up as he gets back into the bed. Sarah’s hands fly to undo the buttons but her frantic fingers cannot be still long enough to effectively free him from the fabric. She growls and then her hands firmly grasp the open collar. Strengthened with frustration, Sarah rips the shirt open, popping buttons off the shirt to allow her to get it off.

Scandalized, “Sarah!” Copia gasps. He stares at her in awe, his fangs poking down from his growing smirk. “My buttons!” He pretends to be upset and pouts.

She huffs and looks up at him. “I’ll fix it later. I’m a seamstress, remember?” She kisses the smirk off his face and pushes the damned, insulting fabric from his shoulders. With Copia now fully naked in front of her, she admires the hairiness of his chest and soft stomach. Sarah’s eyes slowly follow the trail of hair that leads down to her destination. His achingly hard erection is on display for her. He’s long and thick and she licks her lips at the small mess of pre come that’s spread around the tip because of her.

He chuckles but it soon turns into groans when he feels Sarah’s hand travel down to collect some of her lingering orgasm between her thighs to use as lube on his cock while she strokes it with his own slick. She moves her hands at a slow and steady pace, copying Copia’s fingers on her from earlier “Fuck me, Sarah. If you keep doing that, I won’t be able to last very long.” He whimpers slightly at the light caress while Sarah moves her lips to kiss his neck. His hips thrust on their own volition and she smiles. Sarah pulls away and he pouts.

“You know what to do then.” She shifts, falling back down to lay in bed. Copia watches in awe as he takes in his amore, legs bent up to herself but closed. She beckons him to come closer, crooking a finger towards her. She hides the very place he wishes to bury himself into. He finally starts moving closer, holding himself in one hand, softly stroking in the same way Sarah had been before and looks deep into her eyes.

“I can’t fuck you, Sarah, if you sit like that, eh?” he smirks. “Spread your legs for me, dolcezza. Let me see you again.”

She obliges, feigning ignorance. “Oh! So sorry.”

“I would ask if you were ready for me but that may be redundant.” He jokes. Sarah laughs, leaning her head back with a blush, she covers her face with her hand. “Hey, hey, don’t get shy on me now.” He holds her chin, pulling Sarah to look at him. He leans down to give a small kiss as he steadies himself at her folds. The tip of his cock nudges slowly into Sarah’s cunt and they both moan. He kisses her gasps and whimpers through the process of burying himself fully in her comforting heat.

“Ah! The stretch feels so good.” She whines.

He pants slightly. “You feel divine! So warm, so snug around me. Almost like a hug.” He laughs, delirious already. He tries a few shallow thrusts in and out, slow at first, testing the waters. She quickly clamps down like a vice on his cock and he groans. With a determined move, he wraps his arms around her body and rolls them to the side, switching positions. Copia props himself up to sit against the pillows while still holding on to Sarah. He removes his arms and she leans away to sit up.

She looks at him, tilting her head. “Wha-?”

“I want you on top when I drink from you.” He says, his hand rising to drag a finger over her neck to her sternum. “Are you ready for that?”

“Yes.” She nods rapidly, adjusting to the feeling of being impaled by his cock while she sits on top of him. She feels a slight twitch inside her and they both groan.

He places a hand on her cheek and she stills. “Try not to move too much, Sarah. I want this to last a bit longer, eh?” Sarah nods again and he smiles. Copia sits up and one hand rests on her waist. His other hand stays on her cheek and he leans in, placing a small kiss to her neck. His fangs graze over the skin and Sarah shudders slightly in anticipation. His kisses become heavier, sloppy, and lingering before he starts the next one on her pulse point. Finally, he stills on one spot, deciding where to bite.

She silently pleads “Please… Ah!” The next thing she feels is the sharp bite of his teeth followed by his tongue lapping at the skin to help soothe as much as he can while it still stings. “Copiaaaa….” She breathes out once the sharp pain fades to a pleasant balm washing through the rest of her body. He moans against her neck and she whimpers. His hips below her have started to shift, slowly bucking up to her as he holds her body to his. She rocks her hips in a similar rhythm, chasing a fleeting feeling.

Copia mouths rapidly at her neck, lapping up her delicious blood. Blood that he hasn’t stopped thinking about for days now. The high of her taste once again on his tongue makes his head feel woozy and he begins to thrust harder up onto Sarah’s pussy. He can tell she’s just as affected from the venom running through her blood now that the pain has faded by her soft mewls. He removes his lips from her neck, looking up to Sarah whose eyes are shut tight in bliss, body involuntarily rocking on top of his to work on falling into bliss once more.

He mouths a bloody kiss to her lips before asking “Could you give me one more? Come for me again, Sarah?” She mumbles out a yes and he goes back to her neck, placing a light kiss to his teeth marks before biting down again. His hand on her waist moves to Sarah’s back, helping her small movements above him.

She feels close, the feeling of her blood being drank along with the fullness and stretch of Copia inside of her have Sarah on the brink of another orgasm. His thrusts up into her become sharper and more precise. He growls into her neck, leaning back and taking Sarah to lay on him. Their skin is glistening in a thin layer of sweat from their exertions. Sarah’s thighs are burning at this rate but she persists through the ache. The new angle allows his feet to plant into the mattress and give more weight to the thrusts. She moans deep in her chest and it rings through the room. Sarah feels the fluttery feeling below come back once again and whispers desperately to Copia “Just a few more like that and I’ll ah-OH!” Her words are punched out of her throat as the rush of pleasure runs through her body. “So good… feel… floating.” She murmurs as she clings to him.

The tight pulsing of her walls on Copia’s cock has him cresting over into his own orgasm shortly after, shooting thick ropes of his come into her. They rock against each other, riding through their highs and Copia feels too overwhelmed at the sensations. Her soft skin on his hands, how he sits in her wet warmth, her blood on his lips and tongue. He’s barely processed his first orgasm when his cock kicks once more and he’s screaming out while a second wave of hot pleasure overtakes his body. He yanks his mouth from Sarah’s neck and lays his head back, body possessed as he thrusts up into Sarah and rides out the sensations. All he can do is breathe through it, heaving his sweaty chest as she sits up and softly swivels her hips on top to help him through it. She runs her fingers through his chest hair to soothe him and watches as he scrunches up his face in bliss with a toothy, bloody smile.

When she tires, Sarah falls to lay on top of Copia’s body. They lie there, catching their breath for a few minutes while basking in the afterglow of a thorough fuck she thinks. Her heart swells with an affection for her vampire lover that she wasn’t prepared for. Maybe it’s the venom. His hand comes up to rub small circles on her back.

Once Copia feels himself soften, he rolls them over once again with a collective groan so he can slip out and let Sarah lay down. She smiles weakly at the feeling of a small trail of Copia’s spend trickling out. Slowly he gets up to walk to his bathroom where he washes his face and cleans himself up. He leaves the bathroom with a wet cloth along with a bandage kit and settles back on the bed to take care of his lover. She hisses at the feeling of it on her neck and thigh but he kisses her forehead as a distraction. The gentle swipe of the cloth on her vagina has her wiggling from sensitivity. He chuckles after he’s finished, taking the cloth to the bathroom. Finally, he walks to the fridge where he has a couple chilled juice boxes and grabs a granola bar for Sarah.

She smiles at the gesture when he comes back into the room. Sarah had just enough energy to get under the comforter and she’s snuggled into the pillows while she waits for Copia to do the same. Her hand motion for him to come to bed has different energy from earlier but he grins all the same. Copia lays down in bed and wraps Sarah up in his arms for her to lay on his chest. His thumb rubs on her skin where he lays his hand. She lays her cheek on his chest and places a hand his stomach. They bask in a comfortable silence, enjoying the feeling of skin-to-skin under the soft covers. Sarah tilts her head up to look at Copia who is already looking down at her.

“What are you thinking about, amore?” Copia asks softly.

Sarah smiles back. “Just… you.” She laughs lightly. “What are you thinking about?”

“You.” he places a small kiss to her head. “How are you feeling? You didn’t pass out this time, that’s progress! I ah, pre-gamed so I wouldn’t be tempted to drink too much.”

Sarah snorts. “I feel great.” She adjusts on top of him. “A bit sore, but I feel fantastic. How are you, my love?”

“I wasn’t expecting the second orgasm, that’s for sure.” Copia and Sarah burst out laughing. “Or the business back there with the buttons, eh! You’re full of surprises mi diavolessa.” He playfully shakes Sarah in his arms.

“I just… really wanted you inside me.” Sarah laughs. “It wasn’t fair that you still had clothes on while I was as naked as the day I was born.” She taps a finger on his chest. “And you said in a moment! I think you and I have very different definitions of that word.” She playfully huffs.

“Well, I am so sorry for keeping you waiting.” He takes Sarah’s hand to his lips to kiss it before putting it back down. “I will make sure you don’t wait as long next time. I felt so drunk off of you that I lost track of time.”

Sarah’s heart flutters at his words. “It felt amazing when you drank from me. I felt like once the venom kicked in, I was consumed by you inside and out. It was perfect, Copia.”

“You really like that, huh?” she nods and he leans back in thought. “The first time it was so sweet and I felt addicted the second it hit my tongue, hence the passing out.” he cringes and Sarah giggles. “This time there was a kind of richness to it. You are decedent. All of you.” Copia’s strokes small circles to her skin. A yawn sneaks its way through Sarah’s lips and she sighs in defeat. “Are you getting sleepy, dolcezza?”

“Unfortunately, yes. I want to stay awake! If I go to sleep then this wonderful night with you will be over.” Sarah pouts up to Copia. She rolls over to face away from him to get comfortable in bed. He moves to wrap his arm around her from behind and nuzzles his face in her back before sitting up on his other arm.

Copia leans in to place a small kiss to her shoulder. “There will always be other nights, amore. And remember,” his fingers tickle her stomach; she wiggles at the feeling. “,you don’t have to go to work until Monday and you have a change of clothes here.” He leans in to whisper in Sarah’s ear. “Over the next two days, we aren’t leaving this bed.” He exhales a devious laugh and lays back down, settling behind her.

Sarah lets out a tired but mischievous chuckle. “If I’m not leaving this bed, then who needs clothes?” A dirty laugh echoes from the couple into the room.

Copia kisses between her shoulder blades and hugs her closer to him. “Goodnight, Sarah.”

◊◊◊◊◊

Sarah is broken out of her stitching trance by a knock on the door.

“Cardinal Copia! What a pleasure to see you.” Amelia sounds way too happy.

He gives a shifty bow to the room. “Good afternoon, everyone. I need to speak to Sarah, ehe.”

“Well, don’t keep her waiting.” She shoos Copia.

“What do you need?” Sarah calls over.

Copia walks up to her table and stands beside Sarah’s chair. He leans down to whisper in her ear, holding out his hand away from Alex and Sarah’s line of sight. “I found the button we couldn’t find before you left this morning.”

She can feel Alex and Amelia’s eyes on the two. She quickly snatches the button from his hand and ekes out a quick “Thank you” to him. He leans down to kiss the top of her head and bids the studio an awkward farewell.

Sarah is halfway through sewing on the last of Copia’s button when Amelia cackles out “Lust strikes again!”

hehe Amelia is such a menace. She and Terzo really are meant for each other. I Hope y'all enjoyed it. I didn't intend to write something so long lol.

#cardinal copia x oc #dracopia #cardinal copia fanfiction #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost fanfiction #cardinal and the seamstress #my fics #personal #ghost

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tomoletters · 11 months ago

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Stitched holes in my black boots with fishing line Laced in memories of the hotel room we danced in The night you told me this city wasn't yours anymore Yet I would forever be your favourite home Tattered clothing held together by rows of safety pins Keeping the places you touched in tact a little longer So afraid of the day there's one wash too many And the scent of your shampoo leaves for good Duct tape over every seam of my messenger bag Desperate to hold together our long and messy history Carrying the last stray hairs of yours that held on Rested by crumpled receipts from times we'd share Laminated covers over every message you send me Collectors items, reluctantly aware I now have them all Nothing left but to sort them into colour-coded folders You always kept your desk space so well organized Maybe if I add enough paperclips this love wont fly away Just one more day, week, month, year - eternity One last second spent in the moments between us Before you end up in another beginning, someone else's arms Stationary drawers and laundry hampers can't solve this Our chapter was far too short to end where it did We still have strings I need to haphazardly mend And staples for you to punch through my heart With this final paper plane, addressed from me to you Promise I understand not everything gets to last You've grown too much to remain nostalgic any longer Though, I wonder if the sky can ever contain what you're after If we got another chance to do it all over, start from fresh Tell me, how different could our picture book possibly be? Time after time, I swear to you I would be content As long as on each page, remained versions of you and me I would've stuck to you like glue, unwavering, you know? Taping stories together, convincing myself of grand delusion While I wanted to wait for you, it burned when you didn't stay The truth is, we both deserve better than "someday" ... "You and me, someday."

Date Written: 23rd of November, 2023

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bigsoftmarshmallow · 3 months ago

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I have something new that I've been working on if you want it?

Another Preggo ELady: Nanema has settled quite well into her temporary role of strategic adviser & at-home co-ruler. She no longer does much herself on her own besides cooking & practicing sewing as she wishes not to worry her husband. And she has begun to rely on others to carry most things for her. (I like to think Ganondorf would notice & be appreciative of the courtesy.)

Which, she feels she has to have something to keep her hands occupied. Otherwise, she might go insane. (She's always been a very kinetic learner & thinker, so she gets antsy if she doesn't have something to occupy either her mind or her body with.)

She’d known some basic things involving sewing, but it was mostly for the purposes of suturing, mending clothes, the sewing of leathers for weapon handles & armor as well as padding for armor. Now that the baby was on the way, she thinks it’ll be pragmatic to learn to actually make clothes. She’s begun using her mother’s old clothing pattern scrolls in an attempt to learn how to make Sheikah clothing & it’s going well so far. (There have been definite stumbling points, especially in the beginning when she accidentally made a kimono with 3 sleeves. XD But she’s taken the failures in good humor & uses them as learning opportunities. She is very quickly improving. Though, I’d like to know the Dorfs’ reactions to the 3 sleeved kimono, especially considering she simply showed it to him & told him about her harrowing experience in performing the small blunder of her own accord with a small, humble smile. I like to think he’d get a bit of a chuckle & might wanna keep it to show their child, who might also get a laugh out of it someday, though, that’s just my perspective. What do you & the Dorfbots think? Anyway, I don’t think she’d mind the possible gentle teasing in the slightest, though.)

However, in the cases of OoT & TotK, she’s asked her husband if it would be alright to have a Gerudo seamstress come teach her some traditional baby clothes. An infant thobe seems to be the most practical start & would be a comfortable first night outfit. For TotK, she may also request some more clothing pattern scrolls from Kakariko if it isn’t too terribly inconvenient. (Their responses, if you please? And, in the case of a denial, she nods & does not press.)

Nemma's also begun to take up different hobbies such as art (mostly coal sketching & painting, but the painting one is still a fairly new one as she has much more experience with simple drawing from understanding basic cartography), practicing her calligraphy (both Sheikah & Gerudo), fashion sketches, low-effort gardening, & reading teaching books (her children WILL be educated). Mostly to keep her occupied when she's able to delegate. (His opinions on these new hobbies of hers? To be clear, she realizes that her painting skills still have a long way to go, though she's planning to take her time with improving at her own pace as this is something that she's doing primarily for leisure & relaxation. However, if he tries to make it sound like a piece is wonderful, be warned, she will give him the look. Not a stink eye, just this unimpressed if indulgent look of, “really?” With a sassy brow raise.)

In the case of HW, specifically, she's taken on the task of making sure the supplies for the effort are maintained.

Other than that, she’s taken on the task of governing the household/castle in the cases of OoT, TP, WW, & TotK. In the case of HW, she's taken on the role of head strategist & military logistics management supervisor. (Meaning that she is “responsible for developing, evaluating, monitoring, & supervising logistics & plans. She ensures that Ganondorf's soldiers & their equipment are in the right place at the right time, & that every mission is safe, effective, & successful. She does this by integrating planning & implementation, & by considering all possible aspects, phases, & contingencies.”)

So, she no longer fights & just after learning of being expecting, she took on an apprentice in the art of smithing in an effort to help maintain their weapon quality later when she is unable to do it herself. After all, smithing is very backbreaking work, so she wished to teach him the techniques as quickly as possible so that she could later take a bigger step back to preserve her & the baby’s health. It's been going well so far. The boy, Zenny, has definitely made his share of mistakes, but has also been dedicated & eager to learn, if a bit shy. However, he has a very strong interest in weapons & a deep appreciation for their history. He also already had a strong woodworking & general blacksmithing foundation, but had decided that his passion was in weapon & armor making.

It’d almost been providence that brought him to them near the very beginning of her pregnancy, it seemed. (Ganondorf’s opinion on the boy?)

But, that’s besides the point, Nemma's also taken up canteen operation & either training, leading, or working with the very few cooks they have on hand. And though she isn’t a medic, she knows basic first aid & is rapidly learning more from the singular medic on staff. (Gan’s opinion?)

Bottom line: when Ganondorf is on site, he’s the one in charge; when he isn’t, she is.

Though, all this does tend to make her seem like quite the busy little bee, but she’s actually quite the accomplished leader, multitasker, & deligator.

Now, could I possibly get their thoughts, feelings, opinions, & reactions to all this? If not, that’s fine, I’m just enjoying myself & I wanted to help keep your mind occupied if I can.

IT TOOK ME A HOT MINUTE BUT WOO!

I love pregnant Nemma. Ganondorf does too. He lets his wife do anything she wants. Who is gunna tell her no? Her? The Demon King's wife? The Gerudo King's wife? No one. Nope.

*********************************************************************

Ganondorf's and Demise's reactions to Nanema's 3-Sleeved Kimono and other activities:

Wind Waker Ganondorf:

When Nanema shows Ganondorf the three-sleeved kimono with her small, humble smile, he can’t help but chuckle softly. He finds the mistake endearing and appreciates her humor in handling it. Ganondorf would likely want to keep the kimono as a memento, envisioning the day when they can show it to their child and share a laugh together. He deeply values her ability to find humor in her mistakes, seeing it as a sign of her resilience and good nature.

As for her new hobbies, Wind Waker Ganondorf would be quietly supportive. He understands that she needs to keep her hands and mind busy, especially now, and he finds her efforts admirable. He might admire her artwork and calligraphy, but if he tries to overly praise a piece, that “really?” look from her would make him smirk, knowing she won’t accept empty flattery. He respects her enough not to indulge in insincere compliments.

Ocarina of Time Ganondorf:

Ocarina of Time Ganondorf would find the three-sleeved kimono amusing, letting out a rare, genuine laugh. He might tease her lightly about it, but it’s clear he’s proud of her for trying something new. The idea of showing it to their child later would definitely appeal to him—perhaps as a lesson in humility or just as a funny story from their past.

When Nanema asks about having a Gerudo seamstress teach her traditional baby clothes, he would likely agree. The practicality of ensuring their child has proper attire from both Sheikah and Gerudo cultures aligns with his own values of strength and tradition. However, he might gently warn her not to overexert herself. He’s deeply aware of her kinetic nature and would subtly encourage her to pace herself.

Twilight Princess Ganondorf:

Twilight Princess Ganondorf would be intrigued by the three-sleeved kimono, and while he might not laugh as openly as the others, a smirk would tug at his lips. He appreciates her willingness to laugh at herself and would quietly keep the kimono as a reminder of her determination and growth. His reaction to her hobbies would be one of quiet observation; he’d watch her progress and offer support when needed, but he respects her independence and doesn’t interfere too much.

When it comes to asking for a Gerudo seamstress, he would grant her request, understanding the importance of blending their cultures. He would likely even offer to retrieve additional clothing pattern scrolls from Kakariko, if it’s something she truly desires. He’s protective but trusts her judgment.

Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf:

Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf would probably find the three-sleeved kimono both amusing and a bit impressive in its own way, seeing it as a sign of her creativity, even if it was unintended. He’d keep it as a trophy of sorts, something to show their child later as a story of persistence. His reaction to her new hobbies would be one of encouragement, especially considering her role as a strategic adviser. He sees the value in her developing skills that can be applied to their military efforts or household governance.

As for her role in managing military logistics and strategy, he couldn’t be prouder. He values her competence and trusts her completely in ensuring their forces are well-prepared and that their household runs smoothly in his absence. Regarding her apprentice Zenny, Ganondorf would be cautiously optimistic. He appreciates the boy’s dedication and is pleased that Nanema has someone to pass on her skills to. He’d watch Zenny’s progress carefully, knowing that the young man’s success reflects on both Nanema’s teaching and the future of their armory.

Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf:

Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf would find the three-sleeved kimono amusing and would chuckle at the sight of it, appreciating her sense of humor in sharing the blunder. He’s a bit more reflective and might even see it as a lesson in the unpredictability of life. He’d definitely want to keep it to show their child one day, as a reminder that even mistakes can be valuable.

When Nanema asks for a Gerudo seamstress or additional scrolls from Kakariko, he would likely grant her requests without hesitation, understanding the importance of preserving and blending their cultural heritage. He’s more attuned to the deeper significance of these requests and supports her fully, knowing that her actions are always well-considered.

As for her new hobbies, he’d be quietly approving, especially her dedication to teaching herself and expanding her skills. He knows she’s doing it for their child’s future, and that fills him with a quiet pride. However, if he tries to overly praise her painting skills and gets that unimpressed look from her, he’d smirk and simply acknowledge that she’s still improving. He appreciates her honesty and drive.

Demise:

Demise would likely be the most entertained by the three-sleeved kimono, letting out a deep, rumbling laugh. He’d definitely keep it as a trophy of sorts, seeing it as a sign of her persistence and willingness to learn. His reaction to her hobbies would be more of indulgence; he respects her need to keep busy and would likely enjoy seeing her explore different creative outlets. He wouldn’t interfere but would be watchful, ensuring she doesn’t push herself too hard.

Regarding her role in logistics, strategy, and governance, Demise would be both proud and possessive. He sees her as an extension of his power and influence, and her competence only reinforces his own. He’d be very protective of her during her pregnancy, ensuring she has everything she needs, including capable hands like Zenny’s to assist in areas where she can no longer exert herself fully.

Each version of Ganondorf, along with Demise, would have their unique reactions, but they all share a deep respect and affection for Nanema, valuing her determination, resilience, and the care she puts into her work and their shared future.

#mallowresponse #legend of zelda #ganondorf #ganon #demise #ocarina of time #wind waker #hyrule warriors #twilight princess #tears of the kingdom #skyward sword #ai use #use of chatgpt

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