#those ideas cannot die out they must see the light

[saetoru]

haven’t written in weeks and idk how to formulate words anymore but anyway before i log out again for the month here’s the in progress stuff coming for january

nerd! gojo fic

ex-convict! geto fic

gojo fix-it fic (i’m rewriting canon thank you 👍🏽)

[lets-try-some-writing]

In your professional opinion: what would be some Cybertronian Superstitions? Like do the miners hit the entrance of mines after someone dies inside it to help free their sparks from their tomb? Do people not say Unicron’s name after dark for fear it’ll summon him? Is there a name(s) that you can’t say inside the Iacon Hall Of Records or else you’ll be cursed with bad luck????

Please feel free to go hog wild with this.

Oh boy I LOVE the idea of that sort of thing. Honestly, I can see all sorts of little superstitions existing due to mythos and history.

Miners make it a point to never leave their tools unattended. They take them everywhere. To recharge, to fuel, even to get repairs. As for why they do this? There is a certain belief that the tools carry a bit of the luck and wisdom of those who held them previously. And since most tools are handed down from one fallen miner to the next, miners treat their tools with reverence. Many have carried the same pick, and each has left their mark. It cannot be disregarded.

Additionally, miners refuse to enter a deep tunnel system without whistling down it first. The habit has been long since made null and void by tunneling improvements, but there are stories of miners getting lost in the dark, before they adapted to it. Many died before their optics were augmented to the low light conditions. Great swaths of miners still believe that the wandering sparks of those lost in the dark linger there, scared and alone. Whistling down the tunnel before entering gives the lost spirits of the dead something to cling to, a guide to the afterlife in a sense.

Gladiators have a particular set of beliefs revolving entirely around the concept of honor. They know that their work is bloody and often cruel, and so they have developed a strange set of beliefs. Every gladiator, before combat, will take a stick or something equally useless, and snap it in half. They will give half of their broken instrument to a trusted comrade and march off to fight. If they return alive, the two pieces are to be put back together and promptly crushed into powder to be cast out upon whichever mech or beast died so that the gladiator could live. A sign of respect. However, if the gladiator were to die, their comrade is obliged to gather up the fallen's half of the instrument and have them run through their funeral rites with the joined object. This is done out of a belief that the dead must be honored, lest they linger in the living realm to haunt those who killed them (in the case of the gladiator surviving) or to stay with the other piece of their spark (in the event the gladiator dies).

Gladiators also have a firm belief that going into battle without paint will inevitably lead to bad luck coming upon them. They take meticulous care of their accenting paint, tracing swirls and jagged lines with delicate touches meant for those of higher castes. Some believe the marks distract enemies. Others say that the marks ward off attacks, letting otherwise lethal combat situations turn in their favor. No one really knows what they do. It is just something that must be done. Failure to go into battle without paint has led to more than a few gladiators meeting their end. Seeing such things has left the rest preferring to not take chances. Megatron himself went into battle without paint one time, and he quickly learned never to do that again when he returned with a brand new scar on his shoulder.

Amongst dock workers, there are various superstitions revolving around cargo in particular. It's bad luck to look at someone's cargo if it has a written letter attached. It doesn't matter what is in the box, it is considered a stain on one's spark to witness the usually rather sappy interactions between those who bother with sending hardcomms. Additionally, dock workers have long since grown to fear any box that comes in solid black. There was exactly one incident where a black box appeared amidst the cargo and disappeared without a trace, taking several other cargo pieces with it. Since then, any black boxes are either thrown right off the truck with a collective agreement that the loss will be signed off as an accident, or said boxes are loaded up with one unfortunate spark to transfer alone. Black boxes being delivered by one mech are often found missing, the driver and the box itself having vanished without a trace. Black boxes are terrifying, and not one dock worker is willing to risk it.

It is also notoriously bad luck among dock workers to deny the youngling with golden optics a ride. They will appear anywhere and at any time without rhyme or reason. When they appear, they never say a word, instead coming up to dock workers and pointing toward whatever transport they are loading up. Dock workers have long since learned to quietly nod and promptly ignore the youngling as they load up alongside the cargo. Interacting with the youngling results in the worker in question befalling some unfortunate end. Ignoring the youngling entirely leads to a similar situation. This superstition began long ago, and many younglings have abused it relentlessly since no one knows what the mysterious youngling from the myth actually looks like aside from their optics.

Low caste mecha as a whole have a strange superstition revolving around the concept of truth. They are notorious for keeping information to themselves, but low caste mecha never ever outwardly or blatantly lie. They are very careful to leave even the smallest grain of truth in their words. Why? Because telling lies brings the whispers of Liege Maximo. What are the whispers? No one is exactly sure. It is an evil omen, one that has led the low castes to develop odd honesty. They don't want to risk Liege's touch, not when he was stated to have been torn apart during the first age for his manipulations.

Low level soldiers hold the belief that giving away their names to one another is bad luck. Since they can all die at any given moment, they find it easier to remain nameless around one another. To them, remaining without a name in the optics of those around them ensures that survivors of battle can move on without fear. Giving a name means binding oneself to another. Their sparks might linger if they are attached, and that could lead to pain for both themselves and their comrades. So to get around this, soldiers don't do the name thing. Instead, every soldier refers to each other through characteristics or words of endearment. "Yellow" for a mech with yellow plating. "Comrade" or "Brother" for a mech they have served with frequently. Anything except a name. It would be cruel to bind the dead to living and the living to the dead.

Soldiers also have a belief that leaving a corpse to rot is incredibly bad luck. It doesn't matter whose corpse it is. It can't be left out. If nothing is salvageable, the spark chamber must be removed and taken to be given proper funeral rites. Not a spark wants to risk and angry spirit lingering because the body was not tended to properly. This belief extends to the point where soldiers will actively tear out their own spark chambers if they know they are going to die (or request others to do it for them). They don't want to linger and haunt those around them, so its best that the core of their frame is guaranteed proper rites.

Flyers of all kinds simply refuse to fly when Luna 1 and 2 are fully aligned. There are a thousand stories telling tales of fliers crashing, being killed, hit by rogue shots, and everything else. They won't risk it, and instead of flying, flyers will instead actively hide from the moons on such occasions. Usually unwilling to be locked in tight spaces, such cycles are the exception. To be seen by the moons is to be hunted. They won't risk it. Additionally, flyers have one particular stretch of Cybertronian landscape they all avoid like the plague. Mecha have been known to go in and never come back out, or if they do return, they are changed. They don't want to mess with that place, not for anything.

Flyers also hold the firm belief that one must keep their optics in perfect condition. They run tests all the time to ensure that their optics function without issue. Some even go so far as to get goggles or visors built into their frames just to protect them. Most chalk this up to a simple desire to not go blind. But flyers think differently. They won't get their optics replaced even if its an option. Why? Because they hold the belief that they carry the optics of a mech who didn't get to soar. Every flyer who has ever lived has had the optics of a grounder who will never get to grace the skies. For flyers, they see their optics as something sacred. They fly not just for themselves, but also for whoever their counterpart is, living or dead. They honor another through their sight, and so they must maintain their vision at all costs. Some call the phenomenon something akin to soulmates. The flyers state that it is the price they pay for their gift of flight.

(Note: Starscream and many of his people do not subscribe to the above thought process. Thundercracker is the only notable exception. Most chalk this up to his love of romance novels.)

Enforcers have many little quirks depending on city, but one they all share is the universal habit of naming their weapon of choice. It is a strange not quite religious belief for them. Whatever the thought process actual is, Enforcers rely heavily on their weapons, and as such, they must appease the weapon itself. They have to bond to it, make it an extension of themselves so that they can move it just as easily as a limb. They go about this through naming, and once named, they never get rid of the weapon in question. Even if its outdated, old, or broken. The weapon stays. If it is obliterated or lost, the Enforcer is obliged to get a copy of their prior weapon for the sake of their continued success. For this reason, most Enforcers fight with inbuilt weapons until they settle on something, and then they buy several copies just in case.

Enforcers will also never actively say "goodbye" to one another. Doing so would imply that there is a possibility of not coming back from the next patrol. So Enforcers simply don't use such language. "Good luck" or "Get those slaggers" are common supplements. Surprisingly, Enforcers only dodge around "goodbye" while on duty. They will casually wave off companions when not on the clock without a care in the world. However, if an Enforcer really does not like someone while on the clock, they will say "goodbye" as their polite version of a middle finger.

It is not exactly a rule, but Archivist as a whole simply do not refer to the Primes by name most of the time. There is a belief that uttering their designations aloud will bring their gaze upon whoever spoke. That can either be good or bad depending on the context, but since Primus's chosen can never really be predicted, most Archivists won't risk it. Instead, if they must say a Prime's name, they will tap a nearby surface a few times to supposedly draw attention away from themselves and hopefully keep the Prime in question from seeing them. It makes no sense, but even Orion Pax kept to the habit. Although some, like Orion, usually worked around this by coming up with slightly different pronunciations of the designations of Primes to hopefully avert their gazes.

Archivists also refuse to read anything relating to relics after a certain time. There is a longstanding belief that doing so can drive a mech mad. Hidden knowledge comes at Primus's chosen joor. Sometimes Archivists will reach grand discoveries at this specific time after delving into records of relics. But more often than not, Archivists have been noted having mental breakdowns, crying, losing their minds, or otherwise going haywire. Medical professionals chalk it up to exhaustion and mania. The Archivists believe it is a warning. They refuse to read about relics during Primus's joor. Obviously, there are some thing between the veil they are not meant to know.

Medics won't come within a ten mile radius of the smelting pits where most of the dead are dealt with. They believe it is a bad omen to linger in places of death, and that the wrath of the deceased can stick to their frames, making other patients lose their lives. This has led medics to make it a habit to remove dead mecha from hospitals as fast as physically possible, handing them off to medical students to carry to the pits. Medical students hardly ever do anything of note with the patients, so the professionals don't feel bad dumping all the potential bad luck on them. The only medics who actively hang around smelting pits are morticians and mecha focused on autopsies. They think lingering around the dead will help them understand the dead. That way, they can better diagnose just what killed a mech. Such medics are usually avoided by the rest who work with the living.

Medics have very sensitive servos. There is a longstanding belief that if a medic is to retire or happens to die, he or she must give up their servos to a younger medic in training. This is to pass on skill, at least in theory. It is also a sign that a medic in training is skilled and worthy of note. To take the servos of an old medic is to take on their legacy. Similarly to the miners, medics take honoring those who came before them very seriously. They will go above and beyond to keep their servos in perfect condition so that whoever comes after them can have the vital sensors that come with a medic's servos. Ratchet is one of the few mecha to not have inherited his servos from anyone. He has also never signed up to have anyone get them after he dies. Most take this to mean he never will die. And considering how long Ratchet has lived, a good chunk of the population firmly believe that Ratchet is eternal.

[last-herondale]

Almost Pt. 2

Bucky POV (W/ FemReader)

Angst, heartbreak, sadness

Tw: some mild curse words

AN: Hellooooo. I had an idea for a part two! Two fics in one week? Who do I think I am? 😳 anyway here is Bucky’s point of view on what happened after part one! Will link below! Maybe this will be a new series? Idk feeling ambitious 🤣

Part 1

Part 3

Enjoy 🤘🏼

It had been six weeks since Steve’s party. Six agonizing weeks of silence. Forty-two days of not hearing your voice. One thousand and eight hours of not seeing you smile at my stupid jokes. Sixty thousand, four hundred, and eighty minutes of not seeing the light dance in your eyes whenever you saw me enter the room. Three million, six hundred thousand twenty eight, and eight hundred seconds since I saw you walk away from me during that party after confessing your love for me.

You said you needed time. I respected that. I understood that.

After you bared your soul to me, I told you what I thought you needed to hear. That I wasn’t good enough for you. That you deserved better. It was difficult to stand there and see the light die from your eyes as I said these things. It was painful to see you cry, knowing that I had been the one to cause you that pain. But it was devastating for me to realize that despite how much I loved you, how much I cared for you, that the words I said were still true. Agonizingly so.

I expected that this type of honesty would destroy our friendship. Even though I still held out hope in my selfish mindset that we could continue on like we had in the past. Spending our free nights together, laughing, joking, having fun together, sharing memories, crying, hugging, everything we used to do…

But of course, those dreams had not come into fruition.

When you volunteered to be shipped out of the country for a mission the day after Steve’s party, I knew it was to get away from me. And despite my frustration and worry about you leaving on some dangerous mission without me in the state you were in, Steve assured me that you would be fine. He didn’t know the extent of what happened, but Steve being the inquisitive son of a bitch he is, he was able to connect some of the dots at least. Surprisingly he didn’t lecture or judge me. I was expecting to get an earful from him about how I treated you, led you on, and hurt your feelings, but in return I got nothing.

The mission was only supposed to last for two weeks, but as the days grew longer, the whole team was on edge when the two of you didn’t return. Steve kept communications with Tony, and he would pass along the messages to the rest of us. “They hit a snag. They are safe but they are bunking down for a bit.”

I felt like I was on pins and needles. I just needed to know you were safe, that you were okay. I must have looked worse for wear around the tower, because even Nat noticed and had a conversation with me in my room. It was a little strange. Having her back in my apartment, alone, her fiery gaze still as piercing as it was when we were together. But those feelings I held for her were gone. Something else lingered there, a fondness for the time we had, but nothing more.

I knew she was your best friend, so I assumed you told her everything about what happened at the party, but when she came into my apartment with a stern gaze on me, arms crossed and all, all she said was.

“I don’t know what happened the other night at Steve’s party, but you need to stop moping and get a grip.”

“I’m fine. Stay out of it,” I said with an icy tone.

Nat just rolled her eyes and jabbed a finger at me. “If you don’t feel anything for her, then stay away or get your shit together. She cares about you too much to walk away from you, Bucky.” Nat’s voice grew softer as she thought of you. “Whenever she comes back, and she will come back, she needs to heal. She cannot continue to be your emotional support puppet. It's draining her, James. Every time she returns from hanging out with you I see less and less of her return. She cannot continue to give you all of her heart when she is receiving none of it back.

“So for her sake, please, let her go.”

It was a hard thing to hear, but it was necessary. I stopped driving myself mad with when you would return. It was difficult, maddeningly so, but after another week I was able to distract myself enough with other things… other people. I did a few missions here and there, nothing that took me out of the country, but it filled some of the time I had to think about you.

I spent time with Nadia, the girl I had gone on a few dates with, the girl I had broken your heart over. Our relationship was purely physical. She was another distraction, someone to pass the time with. She didn’t seem to mind the distance I put between us. We weren’t exclusive by any means, and she was free to explore all of her options, but that was as far as that would go. Not that I could ever tell you this, even though I wanted to.

That was the shittiest part of it all. I missed you. Constantly. I missed talking with you about every single part of my day. I missed hearing about your day, or the silly little thoughts that swirled in your curious head. I missed spending my weekends with you, staying up until the sun rose, seeing you curled up in a ball on my couch, sleeping so peacefully. The ache in my chest never ceased, but I was able to drown away the thought of you for moments at a time.

And then you returned.

It was like a blow to the heart, seeing you standing in the kitchen, casually making yourself a bowl of cereal. Your skin seemed tanner than when you left. Clearly you had been somewhere where the sun kissed your skin for long periods of time. You looked beautiful, even just in your morning casual wear. You hadn’t noticed me yet. I was frozen in the entryway, trying to think of something intelligible to say to you, when Steve walked in through the other way. He too had not noticed me yet, his skin also sunkissed and a bit long.

I opened my mouth to speak, but before any sound could come out, I watched as my best friend slid his arms around your waist, turned you around in a swift and gentle motion, and kissed you. Ice filled my veins and it felt as if a rock had dropped in my stomach. I staggered backwards a bit, hiding myself more in the darkness of the archway as I saw the scene unfold.

Steve was kissing you. His hands were gentle around your waist, and although you were taken by surprise in the moment, you stood on your toes to be more on his level. You cupped his face and smiled. You were smiling. You looked…happy.

I slipped away back down the hallway and into my room before I could see more. The image of my best friend kissing the love of my life was burned into my mind. I sat on my bed in a disgruntled mess, fighting the strange waves of feelings that were swirling in my body.

You were finally back. You were safe. At that I was able to release the tension in my chest that I had been holding since you left. And then… Steve. What had changed during those six weeks you were gone? Was it serious? Did you love him? Did he love you? These questions paced back and forth inside of my brain until I was nearly dizzy.

It was the memory of Nat’s voice that stuck out amongst my own thoughts. “Let her go.”

You had been happy in that kitchen. Steve was a good man, too good to play with someone’s feelings if he didn’t truly feel something for them. Steve was good for you. That’s what I wanted, wasn’t it? The reason why I broke your heart in the first place? To set you free to find someone that would love you in all the ways I was incapable of doing. Why was I mad that you had done that? Why did I want to punch Steve for kissing you?

I clenched my fists as I sat on the bed. My body shook with so much emotion. In the torental storm that was my mind, I tried to focus on one memory. The only one that mattered. That night on the balcony. You had stood there, hair swirling in the breeze, more beautiful than the night sky. And you said it.

“I’m in love with you.”

The words calmed me. The memory of that night grounded me. Your tears. Your sadness. Your anger. I caused that. “I’m in love with you.” That is what you told me. And even though I wanted to scream it back, to shout it from the roof that I loved you too, instead I denied you. I threw it back in your face to save you from what I am. I hurt you, and this was my punishment. Seeing you pick up the pieces of that love that I shattered and give it to someone who would nurture that love.

I sat there thinking and thinking, until my head was pounding. I laid down on my bed, the image of you kissing someone else burning in my head.

“I’m in love with you too,” I muttered to myself.

Then, as tears began to silently fall down my face, I began to laugh.

[superprincesspea]

Courted by the Dragon

Chapter 6 - Total Annihilation

Aemond Targaryen is both the cause and witness to the greatest humiliation of your life. You would rather die than see him again. Yet summer at court and the precipice of civil war have other ideas.

Masterlist

~~~

You meet with the queen every day for the next three days.

Her favourite Cyvasse board is in her private garden, under a white stone arbour which is covered in burgundy roses, and that is precisely where you are sitting when the hunt returns. 

You can hear the fanfare announcing their arrival all the way from the bronze gates, and the noise must be ear splitting to those closest to it, but you’re far enough away to enjoy the tune, thinking how fun it would be to have your arrival marked with such ceremony.

You stand, expecting the queen to do the same but she remains.  

“We should continue our game,” she says, in no hurry to rush and welcome the men back to court.  

"Will they not expect you?” 

“Of course. But we cannot always give men what they expect,” she replies a little wickedly and you laugh, returning to your seat.

When Aemond arrives in the garden sometime later, he struts into the arbour in his usual arrogant manner. His dark outline looking decidedly stark against all the white stone and delicate flowers.

Stupidly, it hadn’t even occurred to you that he might come to the queen like this, and you curse yourself for not leaving when you had the chance.

Your only saving grace is that he doesn’t seem to notice you, his attention is entirely focused on his mother and, with your red gown, you’re trying your best to blend in with the roses.  

“Welcome back,” she says cheerfully, holding out her hand.

Aemond bows, offering a soft smile and a light kiss across the back of her knuckles. 

“Did Aegon kill the stag?” she asks, and a conspiratory look flashes between their eyes. 

“Naturally ,” he replies, and you don’t have to ask to know that Aemond did everything but take the killing blow.  

You wonder if you would be so kind to Cassandra, doing all in your power to make her look like the better sister, then again, there’s little you do which outshines her.  

She is tall and graceful with impeccable manners and so many accomplishments. She can sew, sing and play any instrument she turns her hand to. In fact, Cassandra would basically be perfect if she wasn’t so shy, not that shyness really mattered here. Most men in Kings Landing seemed to prefer a woman who had little to say, and you could never be accused of that.  

Still, you don’t really want to say much right now and you’re wondering if you can somehow sneak away. Yet before you formulate any sort of a half-hatched idea, Aemond’s attention turns to you. His smile quickly receding and, from the look in his eye, he seems surprised indeed to see you sitting in such private company with his mother.

You have to admit, you’d silently wondered if it was Aemond who had somehow orchestrated your friendship with her. Though you were not sure to what end.  

However, from his furrowed brow and the tight line of his jaw, you can see that it was certainly not his idea. Nor is he pleased to see you.  

“You know the Lady Baratheon,” Alicent says, gesturing to you. 

"We may have spoken once or twice.” 

You meet his eye. Once or twice. An interesting answer for a man who has seen you nude, but you welcome his restraint wholeheartedly.  

“Well , are you going to make your move or not?” Alicent asks and your eyes snap back to hers, then to the Cyvasse piece hovering in your hand. 

You place it down and Aemond moves to stand behind his mother, so he can see the board from her angle.  

"She’ll kill your king in three turns,” he says quickly, as though he’s been studying the game for a while, yet he’s only given it a moments glance. 

Alicent’s eyes dart around the board. 

“He’s right,” she admits, meeting your stare, “you’re getting better.” 

"Your Grace is an excellent teacher.” 

"Then you should play Aemond,” she says with so much pride, craning her head to look adoringly at her son. 

“Perhaps another time,” you reply a little curtly and with far less enthusiasm than she’s expecting.  

A well born lady should say ‘yes, of course, I would love to play with the prince’.  But you’d rather spend an entire afternoon embroidering cornflowers than say something like that. 

“It won’t take long,” Aemond decides with so much confidence that the queen gasps. 

Perhaps his arrogance should have stood as a warning, but it only seems to bait you into doing exactly what you didn’t want to do. Play .  

Biting your tongue to keep yourself from saying anything inflammatory, you move the pieces back into their starting position while Aemond swaps places with the queen.  

It's your move first and you play your favourite opening, one you have won with a few times before. And you’re feeling quietly confident for at least two whole seconds, before Aemond makes his turn, bringing his dragon right out into the middle of the board.  

Your heart jumps, confused, yet you play on, sticking to your original strategy and wanting to force him into a game you can recognise.  

Yet Aemond has a strategy of his own. Total annihilation. He steals your dragon with his second move, and you stare at the board a little blankly, feeling as though your legs have been swept from under your feet. 

The next two turns are the same. Fast and aggressive, forcing you to play more defensively than you’re used to and giving you little time to think. At least it feels like you don’t have much time.  

In reality, you have all the time in the world. What you don't have, is a shield from the way he’s looking at you. Or rather, studying you. Face to face and so close his leg brushes with yours beneath the table.  

You hold your breath, shifting away from him, your hand dallying between two pieces.  

You decide on the Heavy Horse and, just as you’re about to pick it up, he leans closer, catching your eye.  

“Interesting choice .”  

What does that mean? Your heart drums in your chest, your palms suddenly slick with nerves. Should you change your move? Or is he trying to trick you?  

Deciding to not let Aemond get too far into your head, you move the Heavy Horse and immediately regret your choice. But how are you supposed to think under such circumstances?  

With his leg brushing against yours for a second time, his eye grazing along your face, your neck, the soft v of your dress and right down to the tips of your fingers.  

The queen never looked at you like that , nor did her leg ever brush with yours. 

You meet his eye with as stern expression, but Aemond isn’t unsettled by stern looks, there is a dark smile pursed on his lips, and he seems to take great pleasure in stealing another piece, just as he is stealing all logical thought from your head.  

You sigh sharply, frustration clawing at your skin and, though he has seen you naked, this somehow feels worse. As though your very intellect is bare before him and he’s besting you at every turn. The most unpleasant part is, you can see yourself falling into the trap he’s setting, but it feels unstoppable, inevitable .  

Is this what it is like to spar with him? Does he look at his opponents with the same intensity, so they forget not only how to fight, but how to move altogether.  

If the queen wasn’t watching, you would walk away and never look back. Instead, your heart still racing, you move again, and again you regret it.  

He claims your Trebuchet and then your Light Horse.  

You meet his eye, and his face is the same, dark and satisfied. 

You decide right then, that if nothing else, you will take his Dragon and you do, sacrificing everything to claim it, right before he kills your King.  

You’ve lost track of how many turns it's been, but it can't have been many. Ten? Twelve? It felt like a hundred, yet it was certainly the shortest game you’ve ever played. 

“You are cruel,” Alicent scolds him, laughing softly at your expense, and you try to join her. Try to pretend it doesn’t matter that he won so easily. But it does.  

Why did he have to be so good at everything?  

Why does he always seem to have the upper hand?  

“You’ve spent too much time playing with my mother,” he says as though you care for his opinion. "You need to learn other styles, be more unpredictable.” 

"Then perhaps you should teach her,” Alicent suggests, and your heart stops just as Aemond snorts out a laugh of derision. 

“What makes you think I would want to do that ?” 

His words are so clipped and infuriatingly rude that your temper forces you to your feet, yet you remain in control of your tongue. 

The Queen doesn’t reply, she smiles, giving you both one last long look before she walks away. 

When she is gone, Aemond meets the stare you have been burning into the side of his face. 

You really shouldn’t let him annoy you as much as he does, but you can’t help it, your reactions feel completely out of your control, just like the game.  

“Did you ask her to say that ?” he says, and his tone is not exactly angry, but his eye is narrowed, as though you’ve done something wrong. 

“Ask her to say what ?” 

“For me to teach you.” 

You laugh, wondering if the question is a serious one. Wondering if he truly believes you’ve spent the last few days coaxing the Queen to force you into his attention.  

Is he completely insane?  

“Your Grace must have a very high opinion of himself if he imagines every lady in the Red Keep is begging for his company!” Maybe that was true for some of the others, but it certainly wasn’t for you.  

“So, you just happened to be here playing with my mother?” 

You huff, pushing the chair back so you can stand where there is more room for your temper, “how was I supposed to know the hunt would return today? And she invited me !” 

“Why?” 

“Why not?” you practically demand and, when he doesn’t answer, you continue. “Your grace should be rest assured that I would rather eat glass than spend another moment in his company.” 

Such harsh words should certainly not be exiting your mouth, and they should definitely be making him angrier. But the look in his eye only softens as he moves to stand beside you, a little too close for enemies.  

“Will you attend the concert tonight?” he asks, his tone much kinder than before but not kind enough to ease your temper.  

“Is that an invite ?” you say tartly. 

A smile escapes onto his face and, for once, he looks as though he’s not sure what to say.  

“My mother...” he begins, clearing his throat, “is not always as discerning as I, when it comes to... the ladies of court.” 

This seems a difficult truth for him to admit, but you have no sympathy, and laugh, pleased to imagine him pursued by desperate ladies and their Mama’s.  

“Perhaps she believes you need all the help you can get?”  

He huffs out a noise which almost sounds like a laugh, yet the dangerous look in his eye is anything but amused as he shifts closer, pinning you between the Cyvasse board and the inch of space which snakes between your bodies.  

“You think I don’t know how to seduce a woman?” he asks in a low voice, inclining his head as though he might brush his lips with yours. Yet he stops short of kissing, so only his breath inches across your lips, and you can almost taste him. Sweet, rich, like mead or honey cake.  

Your heart is stuttering as you lean back, practically sitting on the board, your gaze only daring to fix on his chest, where the Targaryen Sigil is emblazoned in black and gold.  

“Lucky for his grace, I believe your name will do all the seducing for you...” you say a little meekly before forcing yourself to meet his eye, “even if your manner might make a lady want to hurl herself from the highest tower of the keep.” 

His face, which had been so tight with tension, softens and he laughs taking pleasure in your criticism instead of offence. “But my name does not seduce the enigmatic Lady Baratheon?” 

“Should it?” you ask, instantly regretting the question. 

Aemond steps back thoughtfully, allowing you a little more room to breathe, though it doesn’t feel like enough.  

“I can think of nothing worse,” he says, and you feel a little bolder.  

“Then you will be pleased to know I dislike you, name and all.” 

When he smiles again, you think it might be quite impossible to offend an ego as large as the one he must have, and you know you should leave before making any more attempts. 

“So, which one is it?” he says, keeping in time with your steps as you move towards the door which leads from the garden. “Does my company make you want to eat glass or hurl yourself from the tower?” 

“Well ,” you faulter, laughing nervously and thinking you really should keep a better handle on your remarks. Cassandra would never say such a thing. “Since I shall be leaving court in less than two weeks, and I have no intention of ever returning. I believe I shall be forced to do neither.” 

“I am glad to hear it,” he concedes as you both wait for the guard to open the door. 

When you step through it, he remains in the garden but calls after you, “you didn’t answer my first question...” 

You turn back. “About the concert?”  

Aemond nods and the way he’s standing is so relaxed, his hand resting casually on the pommel of his sword, his foot braced on the stone step. It's as though you haven’t spent the past ten minutes telling him just how much you cannot bare him. 

“Hm ,” you say, as though you’re pondering a decision, when you already know that you have zero intention of attending the concert, just as you have zero intention of giving him a straight answer.  

Instead, you turn back towards the hall, leaving him to wonder and, though you really want to leave without looking back, you can’t resist one last glance.  

He’s still standing in the same way, watching your retreat, a slightly devilish smile inching into his cheeks at the return of your attention.  

You curse yourself. Stupid . You should have never looked back! 

[laurentidal]

Intentions

"I know what you're up to, you know."

Cal turned and saw Mrs. Reynolds in the doorway. She'd come to visit her daughter, who had recently moved in with him. They hadn't met before yesterday morning when she'd arrived. They'd exchanged pleasantries, and the three of them had spent what he'd thought was a very nice weekend together. Ginny had just gone to bed and he was about to join her.

"I'm sorry?" he asked confused.

"This has been fun, but why don't you take a seat, Cal. I think it's time we put aside the game and speak plainly."

Having genuinely no idea what she was talking about, he agreed to sit.

"How long have you been working on this plan of yours?"

"Mrs. Reynolds I really am not sure what you're referring to."

"Oh please call me Joy. No reason to stand on ceremony now and even less reason to lie. We both know what you're really after, and I have to tell you that my daughter's inheritance is far from her grasp. I don't plan on shucking off this mortal coil anytime soon. It will be a long, long wait for you. Are you sure you're committed to the long haul?"

"I'm sorry. What inheritance, exactly?"

Joy raised an eyebrow. "The Reynolds Estate," she said simply. "When I die, Joy will be worth well over three hundred million dollars."

"WHAT?"

"Keep your voice down for God's sake. We've kept the truth from her so that she could live a normal life, but our competitors and our adversaries have always had eyes for her. People like you, Mr. Forman. It's my job to see that she'd protected."

She lifted a gold chain from between her breasts and at the end was a long sapphire teardrop.

"This is one of my more recent purchases. I've only had it about a year; hardly any sentimental value. Monetary value, however… It could be sold for nearly ten thousand dollars. It's yours if you admit to your deception and vow to give up the game."

The pendant spun gently on it's chain, catching the rays of the setting sun. It was beautiful and tempting. But Ginny was beautiful, too. And a gem would never love him the way she did.

"Consider your next move carefully, Cal. You can see this gem is worth a lot. You can see the perfection in its cut. You can see the richness of the color. Think long and hard about what your future is worth to you. Focus. Listen to my words. I'm giving you a wonderful opportunity."

Cal's eyes did indeed stay fixed on the crystal. He cursed himself in his own mind for even considering wealth over Ginny. But it was a lot of money. And the crystal was so pretty. The way it sparkled. The way it glimmered. The way…

"… it catches the light. You've been staring quietly so long it seems to me you've made up your mind, haven't you Cal. You want the gem. You can't think of anything else. It has captured you."

"Captured me…," Cal muttered weakly.

"Good. Now that your defenses are down, you will finally be honest with me. You must tell the truth, Cal."

"Yes, Mrs. Reynolds."

"Why did you pursue my daughter?"

"I think she's beautiful and fun." His voice seemed so far away, even to him. Words just tumbled out, unformed by his crystalized mind. "I love her."

"Nonsense. I told you you cannot lie. You must obey me, Cal."

"I obey, Mrs. Reynolds."

"Who are your parents, boy?"

"Stacy Forman and Gregory Forman, Mrs. Reynolds."

She paused. "You aren't related to John and Josephine Forman?"

"No, Mrs. Reynolds. I don't know anyone by those names."

Joy burst out laughing, causing the gem to wobble on it's chain. It's hold over Cal began to weaken. By the time she'd regained her composure, Cal was almost completely conscious again. He simply sat there, stunned by her revelation and her attempt to buy him off; and even more shocked by her success in entrancing him. He was almost too afraid to breath, remaining just as still as he had when he was under.

"What a fun turn of events. Of all the last names you could have had… Well in that case, Cal. I think I approve. You do seem like a lovely young man, now that I know you're not an interloper. I do have one condition, however."

She pulled off her dress, allowing her bare breasts to come into clear view.

"Ginny was making quite the assortment of sounds last night. I think you should give me the same treatment. After all, I'm going to make you very rich some day."

"Yes, Mrs. Reynolds," he answered, trying will all his might to pretend that she was still in control so that she would continue.

Thanks for reading! If you are a fan of my work, consider buying me a coffee. Any contribution is insanely appreciated. 💖

[universe-friday]

EXCERPT #26:

Hello. I hope somebody is listening.

[…]

Thalia has been very friendly lately, old sport.

And I mean literally friendly…

Call me crazy, but how can someone kiss me and listen to me speak so highly of them just to go back to calling me ‘bro’ and ‘dude’... Huh? That’s not normal, right?

I wouldn’t know! I… haven’t really done this before…

Old sport, I know she likes me. You’d expect me to start doubting it now, right?

But I know... Have you ever just known? The way they act around you, maybe even by the way they initiated a kiss… I am many things, old sport, but I am not oblivious.

Why are they trying to push it away… push me away? Am I dangerous? Repulsive? Do the times we spent together mean nothing to her, despite meaning everything to me?

I just can’t think straight right now, old sport. Maybe I’ll just have to wait for this rollercoaster to inevitably stop.

I want to fight for it - I’m willing to fight for it. But I don’t even know who my enemy is yet. Is it her? Or is it myself…?

[…]

I was wondering around late last night, February. I found myself at the mouth of this tunnel. The entrance is illuminated by street lamps, yet, look any further and complete darkness stares right back at you. I was always afraid of the dark.

I was looking for that light, the one they always talk about, at the end of the tunnel. You were always that light, February. I even tried to call out to you.

For a moment, I could’ve sworn I heard you call back.

Perhaps, you, February, finally answer, but how can one be sure it's not just an echo? The voice responds, copying and mocking your own words and pleas. If you're shouting back, February, you have to be louder than that.

The definition of love is so old-fashioned. In every language, I'll shout from the mountain tops how much I am in love with you, truly. If only people would know what I really meant by it. If only you really knew what I meant by it.

If you're shouting back, February, don't let it be dismissive. I am being clearer than I ever have been. You have to understand that I'm serious. I need you to understand.

I need you to understand this is why I do everything I do. I do it for you. The calls, these letters… At this point, I know there’s no escaping the City. But you’re my escape from reality, February. If you ever do answer, I’m free. But for now, I am restricted to merely shouting to a void and calling it by your name.

You must wonder too what to do with that information. I know. But you could at least show me you’re listening. That you hear my pleas. If you are trying to move on with your life, tell me, because I will remain here until I do. How could I ever move on if I didn’t find out if it was you in that tunnel?

Besides, how could I know it was you? After all, we are in Universe City. The sound could have easily been another one of those dreaded cyborgs.

If it’s you, February, I am willing to hear you out, always. But you must emerge from the shadows and take a step into my light. You have to show me.

Perhaps if I cannot see you, I should stop trying to contact you. Am I latching onto a rotting idea that I should just let die? Is that what we are?

How am I ever supposed to get over this if I continue talking to you? I wake up in dread and heartache every day, knowing you’re not here. And, although the City is not a great alternative, I either live my life here or continue to do so with that ache… That dread.

This is no way to live. Any level-headed person would agree… If I can’t hear from you, February, perhaps you shouldn’t hear from me.

[...]

[thereareeyesinsidethetrees]

have you ever wanted to write paranoid ford

here’s some aspects of our paranoia (and paranoid thinking as a result) that you can use to make him a tad more accurate. of course this doesn’t speak for everyone- but it’s stuff that could help if you have no idea where to start

-if the character’s shower has a curtain, checking both sides before even daring to turn it on. yes, both sides. yes, you do look both up and down. yes, this is an important step that must be repeated every single time to avoid death (in the character’s mind, anyhow)

-on that note, having a bunch of little rules that only apply to them. don’t go in this one room or you die. don’t walk around past x time or you die. be exceedingly careful when opening x kind of door or you die. must sleep with x thing or you die. things like that

-long walks into buildings, especially in open areas. quicken your step, lest someone follow behind. you think they’ll kill you if they catch up. quick quick quick, little rabbit, quick quick quick

-cars. cars driving by (‘what if they shoot me?’), someone sitting in a parked car (‘they’re waiting to run me over’), cars cars cars cars cars

-leaving house. leads you to open spaces, many opportunities to die

-darkness. you cannot see what is coming to kill you

-thinking that there is ALWAYS something coming to kill you

-startling whenever someone pulls out a sharp object near you. they may be cooking. they may just have turned slightly too much towards you when pulling out scissors to open a package. either way, regardless of who it was, regardless of how much you trust them, you fully thought you were about to be gutted like a fish for a moment there

-always keeping your curtains drawn, your blinds closed (‘so they can’t see me’)

-hatred of being looked at (‘why? are you going to do something? if you hadn’t noticed me, there would have been zero chance of you killing me. now it’s gone up slightly’)

-anxiety. always imagining worst case scenario

-flinching when going down hallways and such too fast (‘what if there’s something waiting to kill me around the corner or a fucking spike or something is going to spear me through the skull if i go too fast’)

-*notices one tiny blemish on food* ‘this is going to kill me. i am not eating this. i will die’

-trying to appease invisible forces in order to convince them not to kill you. may include talking to nothing

-if you have objects with eyes or eye-like features in your house, turning them completely away from you when doing something you deem personal and/or important

-going to bed? keep all hands and feet within the ride at all times. you’re sure you’ll die otherwise

-staying in a hotel? you might find yourself focusing on the faint lights of the clock or alarm. you might find yourself focusing on them because you’re sure they’re going to kill you

-‘it’s not paranoia if something’s really out to get you’ and you’re damn sure there is (if only you had concrete evidence so people would believe you…)

-everything is a gamble with staying alive. this thing might lead to your death. this thing makes you fear dying. this thing makes you feel like you have one strike left before you meet your end

-for no reason at all, going to bed and thinking ‘i hope they kill me while i’m asleep so i don’t have to be awake for my death that is surely coming tonight’

-goes without saying, but suspicious of everyone. very hard to get you to trust that someone has your best interests in mind (for example: paranoid ford trusting stan and stan alone to help him, being terrified of anyone else)

-delusions. example from us: actively shutting off your train of thought anytime someone gets too close cause you’re sure they can hear your thoughts and you don’t want them to see anything that could put you in danger (you also just don’t want them to look at those in general)

[sugar-glaze-donut]

Once again - Berrien x Aruji-sama (you!)

☆Gender is not specified ☆Slight spoilers from chapter 4 of aknk ☆Angst then Comfort :3 ☆My headcanon of how Aruji-sama comes to the aknk world (at the end) ☆Time skips for every section. (section 1 - 30 years ago, section 2 - A few minutes ago, section 3 - N O W)

[—➰—⏳—➰—]

Faint light trickles from the curtains as a choir of birds chirp outside.

The monochrome man’s eyes flutter open, his eyes squinting at the light as he yawns.

Rubbing his eyes and forcing himself to wake up, he stumbles towards the curtains and opens them.

Morning has come. And like always, another day has begun.

The monochrome man wakes up his two co-workers and prepares for the day.

Comb his hair, fix his tie, and tidy up his side of the room.

He is now ready to start his day.

He greets everyone he meets in the halls, some already competing their duties, some half asleep, and a few… quite literally sleepwalking.

Everything seems to be in order.

Yes… “Order”. The constant loops they all live in.

Repeated routines, same pairs of clothes, tedious chores… this is the constant loop they go through every day.

Living a somewhat immortal life may sound exciting, but it is a tiring and torturous experience.

The time era you lived in… the memories of the past… the people you once knew, all pass away in a blink of an eye. But that’s only how story authors describe it.

They’re not completely wrong, though. Time does move fast.

But his first XXX years of solitary went by too slowly. As if life was mocking him for his existence.

Although it happened centuries ago… it still shakes his soul.

Even if his memory is quite damaged, the mere thought of having to experience that again gives him a feeling of…

Of…

…?

What do you call this feeling?

Sorrow? Hopelessness? Despair?

Whatever it is. He hates it. He never wants to experience it again.

No matter how many times he wants to scream, he cannot. No matter how many times he wants to run away, he cannot. No matter how many times he wants to DIE… he doesn’t want to.

Not now. He must stay strong for all of them.

and for his father and brother…

[—💕—🫖—💕—]

Another few decades have passed.

Faint light trickles from the curtains as a choir of birds chirps outside.

The monochrome man walks through the halls and enters a room, with a pair of teacups and a teapot in each of his hands.

He sets down the fragile objects down on a nearby table, and opens the curtains.

Sunlight beams into the room and on his pale skin.

Today is yet another beautiful day.

The man returns to his usual standing spot and fixes his tie. He fiddled with his gloves and he patiently waited.

Who is he waiting for you may ask?

It’s Y O U of course!

Come on, don’t keep him waiting!

Put on the ring! Come and say hi to him!

[—🦋—💍—🦋—]

A twirl of light appears in front of the monochrome man. He gasps in delight.

You’re finally here!

Small golden butterflies fly out of the light and form into a person.

Your vision slowly returns as you turn your head towards the man.

His pink eyes, filled with adoration are focused onto you.

A soft giggle escapes your mouth. “I’m back, Berrien”

The man, now identified as Berrien, responds to you with a huge smile adorning his gorgeous face.

“Welcome back, Aruji-sama”

He would gladly go through all of those years of solitary again if it meant that he could see you again

Thank you for breaking this cycle, Y O U .

[—🎀—🍩—🎀—] 🍩Glaze's Notes: *comes back from a burnout cutely* hii :3 this shot idea just came into my mind just when I was trying to sleep. I decided to make this into my comeback post for my burnout -3-

Last edited - July 26th 2024 {Please let me know if there are any typos in this post, and I will fix them right away!}

✦ Want to read more of my works? Come and take a look at my Masterlist! Have a nice day, toodles! ✦

[queen--kenobi]

Wheel of Fortune: Prologue

Story summary: Elayna Reyne often imagines herself being someone and making a name for herself but only in the way young girls do. Unfortunately, when Elayna makes her way to King's Landing as one of Cerelle Lannister's ladies-in-waiting, Elayna finds dreams come with a price.

Pairings: Cerelle Lannister x OFC (Elayna Reyne), OC (Tymon Lannister) x OFC (Elayna Reyne), eventual Tyland Lannister x OC

Chapter summary: News finds its way to Elayna. Some of it is good but most of it is bad. Elayna learns when it rains, it pours.

Chapter warnings: implied NSFT (wlw action, BDSM themes, D/s dynamics), discussions of domestic violence, some suicidal ideation, and sexual harassment. Also Tymon. Yeah, a lot for a prologue I know.

Author's note: Hi hello it's finally here! I know it's taken 5ever and a day, but it's here! I'm so excited to introduce everyone to Elayna in canon and Tymon as well. I want to thank @writingbylee for being my cheerleader and helping me since day one with Elayna you have no idea how much that means to me. I also want to thank @baba-fett and @emilykaldwen for being willing to listen to me try and figure all this out

Waves crash against the unyielding cliffside.

Elayna sighs. She looks down to the waters below. Jagged rocks stick up from the ocean, the edges sharp and dangerous despite the weathering. Elayna tilts her head. In the dying light, the areas where the rocks cluster almost look like teeth to her, the giant gaping maw of an unknown beast.

What would it be like to die upon those rocks?

What would it be like to kill someone upon the rocks? How long would someone suffer in the blistering sun and salty air? Would they die upon impact, or would it break their back and render them immobile, unable to stop the slow creeping of the Stranger?

She bites the inside of her lip. The pain stops the morbid thoughts, she finds. More and more as of late, her brain keeps coming back to them. They circle her brain like vultures awaiting the dying. Elayna closes her eyes and inhales slowly. Some days, she cannot tell if she wishes to kill or be killed. She thinks it is the latter of the two. She has no true wish to die, only to escape her suffering. Her life has become a prison she cannot escape from no matter how much she tries.

Then again. Is it truly a prison when she has willingly given her captor the keys? When the prison is of her own making?

She exhales. She pauses and rubs her face. 

If only she could talk to Cerelle. If only she could make her see...

“Elayna!”

The familiar voice makes Elayna's hairs stand on end. Elayna wants to ignore him. Maybe he'll go away if she pretends he isn't there. Of course, it has never stopped him before, so why would it now? Slowly, Elayna lifts her head.

Tymon walks towards her. He seems to be in a good mood. A smile graces his features. The wind blows his hair gently. Elayna looks at his eyes. His eyes turn first when he's angry; he can keep the smile up and make it seem genuine even when his eyes make it clear he wants nothing more than to commit an act of unspeakable violence just by looking him in the eye. His jaw betrays him next. 

His smile is always the last thing to go. 

“Tymon.” Elayna tries her best to answer his smile. She tries to force it to reach her eyes. It feels too tight, too fake. A surge of panic overtakes her. What if he sees it's fake? Will he ignore it? Will he pretend to not see it until he can use her lack of enthusiasm against her? What if it provokes his ire? She blinks. Her eyes must show her fear, she can't have that. 

Tymon laughs. When Elayna opens her eyes, she sees him holding his hands up. 

“Woah.” He sounds as if he is calming down a spooked horse, not a human being. She can hear the clear amusement in his tone. Elayna bites down on the inside of her cheek. She cannot sneer at him; no one else is around, and she is too close to the edge of the parapet. Despite her early thoughts, Elayna has no desire to be pushed off the castle.

“I did not mean to startle you. My sincerest apologies.”

“Think nothing of it. I was just under the impression I was alone.”

“One might begin to think you want to be alone.” Tymon stops right beside her. The sleeve of his doublet almost brushes against the sleeve of her dress. Elayna's skin crawls. “I noticed you left particularly early.”

“I needed some fresh air is all.” Elayna looks out towards the sea. “I spoke with Jeyne Marbrand. The incense they use in their Sept must be quite... strong.”

Elayna sniffs delicately as if to prove her point. Tymon lets out a small chuckle. He places his forearms on the low wall. 

“Yes, I have noticed that as well.” Tymon turns his head to the side. His green eyes inspect her. “Where is Cerelle? I thought if I found you, I might find her.”

Elayna swallows.

“Cerelle is talking with one of the Tarbeck daughters, I believe.” Gods above, she hates she knows this. “There's talk of one of them being brought in as one of Tyshara's ladies.”

Tymon hums. He looks back out to the ocean once more. He inches his forearm towards her. Elayna tries to subtly move her arm away. She reaches up and adjusts her necklace before placing her arm down. 

“Mother spoke to me today.” 

“Oh?” Elayna arches an eyebrow. “What did the two of you speak about?”

“Many things.” Tymon fidgets with one of the many rings on his fingers. “Mostly of the future.”

Elayna nods. Within a fortnight, Cerelle and Tymon would be celebrating their eight and tenth name day. The feast tonight kicks off the events to follow. The future looms large over everything now; all the politics and planning finally moving into action. A bitter, acrid taste surges into Elayna’s mouth. For all that Johanna cares about Cerelle, she will also use her, as is the way. A son ensures the line while a daughter ensures treaties and potential comfort in old age. 

She knows what will most likely become of Cerelle, but she has no idea what awaits her. For years, she and Cerelle would joke about having to find two brothers to marry. Naturally, Cerelle would marry the eldest and Elayna the younger. Elayna presses her lips together. She gazes at the far away horizon, feeling as if she herself is as much of a distance away from her own body as the horizon. Those plans... Well. They were no more.

She hears shifting, the rustle of clothes against the stone wall. Elayna forces herself back into her body. She turns her head. Tymon now stands with his back to the wall, facing away from the sea and into the courtyard. He crosses his arms.

“The plan is for you to accompany Cerelle to King's Landing when we leave.” 

“I'm aware.” Elayna tries to keep her tone pleasant. “I'm looking forward to it.”

Tymon turns his head to look at her. He evaluates her for a long moment. 

“Did you hear that from my mother or sister?”

“Cerelle told me. Why?”

Tymon smirks. “Then you don't know the good news yet.”

“Good news?” Elayna huffs a laugh. “Let me guess. Your father found an uninhabited island and named it after Cerelle?”

“Don't be ridiculous.”

“You're right, that is ridiculous. He named it after Tyshara.”

Tymon rolls his eyes. “I am the first born son.”

“Yes, but I've been under the impression islands are she's. On account of them being pretty to look at.” Elayna sees a brief flash of irritation on Tymon's face. “So the good news is not an island.”

“No, it isn't an island. That would be excellent news, but this is better.”

“Better than an island? Hmm. Dalton Greyjoy dying. Ideally a slow and incredibly painful death.”

“Alas. One can only wish.”

“Cerelle is betrothed to a Hightower? Is that it?”

Tymon scoffs. Elayna bites the inside of her lip to keep from giggling. As dangerous as it can be, she does enjoy annoying Tymon. He thinks himself to be so smart, to the point he corrects anyone he deems lower than himself. Yet, somehow, he falls into every single conversational trap she creates. It's almost as if he can't help it; he has to try to make someone else look like an idiot, even at the expense of making a fool of himself. 

The apple never falls far from the tree.

“No. It is not Cerelle marrying a Hightower.” Tymon sniffs almost delicately. Annoyance laces every word. Elayna has no doubt in her mind if she pushes more, she will push too far. Normally, she might relish in the chance to pick a fight. Instead, she decides to play nice. “I'm sure mother has higher ambitions for her.”

“What is the good news, then?”

Tymon looks at Elayna. His gaze feels intense. Elayna looks back at him. 

“Once Cerelle is settled and has found a husband, mother suggested you might come back. With us.”

Elayna's heart doesn't just sink; it plummets. It drops from her chest to her stomach the same way a boulder falls from a cliff. 

“I'm... I'm afraid I don't follow.”

“Don't play dumb with me, Elayna.” Tymon smiles, and for the first time, his smile itself scares her. “Isn't this what you wanted? I would think so, given all the times you have tormented and teased me. Finally, Mother has come to her senses about everything as well.”

“Tymon, I genuinely do not know what you're talking about.”

Tymon sighs. It's one of the most patronizing sounds Elayna has heard. It makes her skin crawl and jaw tighten.

“Mother wants to ensure you and Cerelle have ample time together before Cerelle is married. Once Cerelle is settled, our betrothal will be made official and announced.”

Elayna instantly regrets not jumping off the castle and onto the rocks below. A sour, bitter taste floods her mouth. She stares at him. 

“We're...?”

“To be married. Do keep up, Elayna. I cannot have a wife who is slow on the upkeep.”

Elayna's years of practice prevent her from snarling at him. Her upper lip still twitches. Her jaw clenches. She glares daggers at him. 

“I'm not slow!” She pauses. Tymon gives her a look as if he might hit her should she say more. “I am merely... surprised. I wouldn't have thought I would have been a contender.”

“I thought my fondness for you was evident.” Tymon tilts his head. He almost seems genuinely confused as to why Elayna doesn't understand. “ ‘Tis a good match.”

“Surely there are better matches. One of the Lefford's daughters per-”

Elayna's next words are muffled. Tymon surges forward and kisses her. The beginnings of his beard feel rough and unpleasant against her skin, as do his lips. He takes advantage of her parted lips to try and slip his tongue into her mouth. It feels wet and gross against hers, almost slimy. An unpleasant shiver runs up her spine. Elayna clamps her teeth down on his tongue. She means it as a warning bite.

It works.

Tymon pulls away, fury blazing in his eyes. His smile drops.

“Tymon. I don't... this isn't appropriate!” Elayna hisses. “Nothing has even been announced or made official, you cannot just kiss me like that.”

“I don't care.”

“Well I do. Your reputation may not be at stake but mine is.”

Tymon stares at her, his expression unreadable. Elayna's chest heaves. 

“Why would your reputation be ruined? Everyone knows you are mine and mine alone.” He reaches forward and attempts to touch her face. Elayna jerks backwards and away from him. 

“Tymon.” 

Both Elayna and Tymon turn towards the sound of the voice. Tymon scowls. Cerelle stands on the parapet as well. She looks radiant, the setting sun lighting her in beautiful hues. Cerelle has her father's hair and eyes but everything else about her comes from her mother, down to the cold expression she wears.

“Cerelle.” Tymon greets. His tone matches the coolness of Cerelle's face. “I was wondering where you were.”

“So you thought to seek Elayna out?” She steps forward. Tymon’s upper lip twitches, but he manages to wrangle it under control at the last second. Elayna takes the welcome distraction and begins to put some distance between herself and Tymon.

“Yes, well. The two of you are close.”

He makes it sound almost disgusting. Elayna glares at him. Still, she doesn't say anything, not wishing to draw his attention to her. Cerelle tilts her head. A perfectly curled ringlet of blonde hair falls into her face. 

“Elayna is not my keeper.” She sounds as if she wants to laugh.

“No, but you are Elayna's.” 

Cerelle raises an eyebrow. “Speak plainly. If you have an issue with my relationship with my ladies-in-waiting, say so and be done with it."

Tymon lifts both his hands in the air. He chuckles softly, a sly smirk making its way onto his face. 

“I meant no offense, dearest sister.” He lowers his hands. 

“I take offense to your actions, not your words.” Cerelle steps forward. Her gait remains surprisingly steady. Elayna knows, though. She sees the barely repressed anger and tense jaw, the way Cerelle clenches both her hands into fists for the briefest of seconds before clasping her hands in front of her, the flare of Cerelle's nostrils as she nearly stalks towards her brother. 

“My actions?”

“Yes. Your actions. Mother has made it explicitly clear you are not to be alone with Elayna. Yet you openly defy her and seek out Elayna when I am busy.”

Tymon swallows. Elayna sees his Adam's apple bob. She takes advantage of his surprise and almost scurries over to Cerelle. Cerelle seemingly doesn't react to her presence.

Tymon stares at his sister for a long moment. Cerelle stares evenly back at him, her steely gaze not dissimilar to Johanna’s. Tymon must make some sort of expression because after a long minute, Cerelle's brow furrows. She raises one eyebrow. The left side of her mouth lifts slightly, not quite into a sneer but certainly a scoff. Annoyance rolls off of Tymon. His hands clench into fists for a second before he thinks better of it.

“Very well.” Tymon tries to sound pleasant, as if he's truly deferring to his sister. The blazing storm in his eyes says otherwise. He bows his head. “I shall do as instructed. Do try to not hog all of my future wife's time.”

He turns on his heel and heads towards the other set of stairs. Elayna watches him from her place behind Cerelle. She waits until he disappears from sight to speak.

“Thank you.” Elayna murmurs. She tries to effuse her gratitude into every word. Cerelle tries to keep her steady gaze. Despite her efforts, her expression softens, the hard edges of her jaw easing and forehead relaxing. 

“I cannot rescue you all the time.”

“I know. I don't expect you too.”

Elayna steps forward. Cerelle does as well. 

“Mother wants to see us as well. After she talks to Tymon.”

Cerelle stands torn. Elayna sees it clear as day. Cerelle refuses to close the distance, but with each passing moment, her posture relaxes some. 

Elayna moves first. She steps closer to Cerelle, stopping two paces away. 

“I'm still mad at you.” Cerelle looks away as she speaks.

“I know. I made a mess of things.”

“I'm not going to forgive you easily.”

Elayna steps closer. She could reach out and touch Cerelle if she wants to but opts not to do so.

“How would you like me to apologize?” Elayna looks around for a second. The two of them are alone. “I've been told I have a silvertongue when it comes to apologies.”

Cerelle's stern exterior fully breaks. She blushes. Red rises from her neck to her cheeks.

“Elayna!” She hisses. “Not here.”

“Oh, I wouldn't dream of doing that here.”

Cerelle finally closes the distance between them. She reaches out and loops her arm through Elayna's. 

“We should get back to the feast.” Cerelle lightly traces a finger down Elayna's forearm. “If we don't, they'll come looking.”

“Whatever my Lady desires.”

The look on Cerelle's face sends a pleasant tingle along Elayna's spine. Cerelle hums. Elayna bites the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling victorious. Cerelle's expression no doubt means a delightful night lies ahead of them, one Elayna imagines many women only dream of happening to them. Her own eight and ten name day is still several moons away yet many ladies have taken to giving her womanly advice. She cannot bite or scratch for too much passion may scare her husband, and it is unseemly to mark him with her nails and teeth. He may mark her as he wishes, though. His pleasure must occur; some women say she can experience it while others say she must not. Do not get on top for he will get sick since to do so is an abomination and sin. He must never look at her nether region except for when he slides into her.

All the rules make her want to laugh. While she cannot say she has experience with men beyond a kiss, she doubts the rules. If they are true, men have weak constitutions.

Cerelle never complains about her being on top or whose pleasure comes before the others. Cerelle never cares if Elayna’s mouth finds its way to Cerelle's lips or clit. Truth be told, she seems to enjoy the act quite a lot. Cerelle does prefer Elayna not mark her; Elayna has no qualms about being marked so long as it isn't visible. 

Despite her gender, Elayna finds herself performing more husbandly duties than most men. The only rule existing between them is they must not break their maidenheads. It is the only thing their husbands may have before them. 

Elayna's greed knows no bounds; everything a husband could take is hers except for that one thing. The same goes for Cerelle. She owns everything except Elayna's maidenhead. Elayna can only dream of that happening.

“Perhaps I will need you tonight. I would like to spend time with my boon companion.”

“I am always at your service.”

They begin to walk towards the stairs. Cerelle's grip keeps Elayna close, as if she thinks Elayna would go far. Elayna would never. If she could, Elayna would chain herself to Cerelle. She would put a collar around her neck like a hound and hand Cerelle the lead. She wonders if it would surprise Cerelle but doubts it would; Elayna often kneels at Cerelle's feet and whines like a bitch in heat.

“Behave.” Cerelle squeezes Elayna's arm. Elayna starts. She gazes at Cerelle with wide eyes. 

 “I am!”

“Physically? Yes. Mentally?” Cerelle clicks her tongue. 

“Oh?” Elayna arches an eyebrow. “And where exactly did you learn to read minds?”

“I didn't. I just know yours well.” 

The two of them finally enter the turret. Elayna listens in case someone is coming up the stairs. She sees and hears no one. Before Cerelle can lead them down the stairs, Elayna maneuvers them towards the wall. As soon as Cerelle's back is against the stones, Elayna pounces.

Cerelle's lips slot against hers perfectly. Cerelle squeaks in surprise, which makes Elayna grin into the kiss. Cerelle quickly recovers. Elayna groans when Cerelle digs her fingers into Elayna’s hair. She avoids Elayna's intricate braids, instead opting for the thick, brown curly hair at the base of Elayna’s skull. Those strands of hair being messy can be explained away; her braids falling out of place can't be. Elayna braces herself. She places one forearm on the wall by Cerelle's head. Her other hand rests on the bodice of Cerelle's gown. She wants nothing more than to ruck up Cerelle's skirts and trace the creamy expanse of skin she knows lies under the red silk. Caution makes her stop. Fabrics wrinkle all too easily. 

Still, Elayna can only be cautious for so long. She inches her hand upward, fingers grazing the underside of Cerelle's breasts. The motion makes Cerelle stop. She digs her fingers hard into Elayna’s hair, her nails nearly digging into Elayna’s scalp. She pulls Elayna's head back. Elayna isn't sure if the sound escaping her mouth is from pleasure or pain. 

“No.” Cerelle's chest heaves. She doesn't look angry, despite her tone. “You aren't forgiven yet.”

Elayna pouts. 

“How am I to be forgiven if you won't give me a chance?”

“You have to earn forgiveness. Me giving you what you want will only reinforce your terrible behavior.” 

“You speak of me as a dog.” 

“Perhaps if you behaved, I wouldn't have to treat you like one.”

“I am not a dog.” Elayna huffs. Cerelle arches a perfect eyebrow. She lets go of Elayna’s hair.

“Oh? What are you then?”

“Is not a dog not enough?”

Cerelle snorts. Despite her derision, Elayna sees the fondness in Cerelle's expression.

“No. You are not a dog. They can be taught manners.” Cerelle hums. A devious smirk appears on her lips. “You're a kitten. You refuse to listen and learn, you act as if you're above the rules, and you believe if you want it, it is yours. However, you don't have the claws nor teeth to back your attitude up.”

Elayna stares at Cerelle, wide eyed. She opens her mouth in an attempt to respond, but no sound comes out. She feels hot, not just her face but her entire body. Her breath comes in short bursts. 

“I...”

“Yes?” Cerelle tilts her head. “You what?”

“You... you...”

“Is my kitten having trouble finding her words?” Cerelle grabs Elayna's chin and forces Elayna to look at her. “Answer me.”

“You're so... so mean.” Elayna whines. She tries to bury her face in the crook of Cerelle's neck to hide her embarrassment. Cerelle's grip on her chin prevents her from doing so. Cerelle clicks her tongue in mock sympathy, a direct contrast to the delight dancing in her blue eyes.

“Behave tonight, and I might just let you find out how mean I can really be.”

She lets go of Elayna’s chin. Her blue eyes meet Elayna’s hazel ones. Cerelle seeks reassurance, from the way she looks over Elayna to make sure what transpired is truly alright to the way she frowns when she sees the small red indentations from her nails on Elayna’s chin. Elayna smiles. She presses her forehead to Cerelle's. Both of them close their eyes. They stay still for a moment, breath falling into line with the other's.

“You promise?”

Elayna opens her eyes and grins. Cerelle's eyes fly open. She stares coolly at Elayna. Elayna tries her best not to laugh. 

“I would be careful if I were you.”

“But what if I want you to make me regret it?”

“Then you cannot complain later.”

The sound of footsteps makes both girls back away from each other. Cerelle smooths out the wrinkles in her dress with one hand while Elayna checks her hair. None of her braids appear to be loose. She tucks the small amount of hair Cerelle accidentally removed from the carefully done hairstyle and stuffs the ends as best she can into her braids and held up hair. The two look at each other. Elayna scans Cerelle and nods. Cerelle does the same for Elayna.

“Shall we join the others?” Elayna offers her arm to Cerelle.

“I think it best.”

In the whirlwind of the feast, Elayna forgets about having to speak with Johanna. She spends most of the night dancing and laughing. No one yet knows of her creeping fate; Elayna takes advantage of this fact. Truth be told, she refuses to imagine what her future looks like. Instead, she decides to enjoy the moment. 

The moment includes Elayna staying with Cerelle as the first night of festivities begin to wind down. They don't even bother to come up with an excuse if they're questioned; it's happened a million times before after a feast and will no doubt happen again. Everyone knows the two are inseparable. 

“Elayna.” Cerelle murmurs from the dark. They lay in bed together, Cerelle pressing up against Elayna from behind. One of her arms lightly rests over Elayna's hips.

“Yes?” 

“You have yet to make good on your promise and apologize to me. Properly.”

Elayna hums. She rolls over to face Cerelle. They both wait for a second.

“I suppose I can.”

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

“I don't want to marry Tymon.”

Elayna knows not the hour. She assumes early since the darkness seems almost oppressive. Elayna rests her head just underneath Cerelle's bare breasts. Cerelle sits mostly upright, lounging on some pillows. One of her hands rests on Elayna’s head, fingers gently intertwining into Elayna’s dark curls. 

“You must.” Cerelle gently scratches Elayna's scalp in a comforting gesture. A tinge of sadness colors Cerelle's tone, though. Elayna buries her face into Cerelle's soft curves. She takes a moment to find her words, tasting each one on her tongue. 

“He scares me, Cerelle. He scares me so much. I... I worry he means to harm me.”

Cerelle sighs. The bed creaks. Cerelle brings one hand down and places her fingers underneath Elayna's chin. She tilts Elayna's head up so she can look at her. 

“He would harm you if you were betrothed to another.” Cerelle speaks bluntly. She never minces words when it comes to important things. “I hope Mother and Father realize this. Perhaps this is their way of mitigating damage. If you don't marry, violence is inevitable. If you do marry, mayhaps it will be... limited.” 

“I doubt it.” Elayna frowns. She looks away into the darkness. Cerelle gives her that luxury. “He doesn't love me. He doesn't even like me. He just sees me as an object to own.”

“Most men see their wives like that.”

“I know that! But... I sometimes...”

“You sometimes what?” Impatience bleeds into Cerelle's tone. 

“It feels as if he sees me as little more than a broodmare for prized horses.” 

Cerelle doesn't say anything. She neither confirms nor denies Elayna's accusations. Instead, she takes a strand of Elayna’s hair between her fingers and gently plays with it. Elayna lowers her head. She shuffles up the bed some, intent on placing her head on Cerelle's chest to hear her heart beat.

“I can't save you all the time.”

“I'm not asking that of you.” Elayna huffs. “I can rescue myself if need be. I'm just... I'm frightened, Cerelle.” 

Elayna's whole body trembles. Cerelle shushes her. She places her hand back on Elayna’s head. Elayna tries to relax into Cerelle's embrace; her body refuses to obey her commands. Every part of her tenses. Cerelle sighs. The sheets shift, a whisper of silk, as Cerelle reaches down with her free hand and takes Elayna's hand in her own. 

Elayna waits for Cerelle to say something, anything. She waits for words of comfort. Cerelle stays silent for an uncomfortably long time. Eventually, Cerelle sits up some and presses a kiss to the top of Elayna’s head. 

“Go to sleep, Elayna. We can talk about these matters in the morning.”

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

Johanna calls for them after breakfast.

Thankfully, the two of them were already decent. Three years of practice means their timing is down to an art. No one ever expresses any suspicion.

“Cerelle. Elayna.” Johanna looks between the two of them. The pair sit opposite Johanna. Elayna’s back stands ramrod straight while Cerelle almost leans back in her chair. “ ‘Tis time to begin looking at the future. The Lord Lannister and I have discussed this, and we have come up with a plan.”

Elayna and Cerelle exchange a look. Elayna raises an eyebrow to which Cerelle blinks. Johanna watches them.

“One of Princess Helaena's ladies-in-waiting injured herself badly, to the point she must retire and go back to her family. Truly a shame what happened to her. Rumors are she is now a cripple. Despite how unfortunate this is, a princess should never be without.” Johanna meets Cerelle's eyes. “I have arranged for you to be one of Princess Helaena's ladies-in-waiting. She needs someone more confident than she, and I know you will serve her faithfully. Elayna, of course, will follow as one of your ladies.”

“We're going to King's Landing?” Cerelle grins. She looks to Elayna, eyes glittering with hope. Elayna grins softly in return.

“Yes.” Johanna nods. “Even though you are one of the Princess's ladies, I do expect you to spend time with your uncle. He will be able to provide valuable instruction. Your father would have sent you earlier, but now I believe you will be able to fully grasp any advice given to you.” Johanna turns her attention to Elayna. Elayna almost wants to shrink back. “You, of course, will ensure Cerelle's comfort and safety. I also think it would behoove you to accompany her when she visits with Tyland. You may learn things as well.”

“Of course.”

“Good.” Johanna places her hands in her lap. “Cerelle. You're dismissed. I wish Elayna to sit with me a while.”

Cerelle and Elayna exchange looks. Elayna doesn't move, even as Cerelle does. 

“Mother.”

“Cerelle.”

Cerelle takes her leave then. Elayna adjusts her position in her chair. 

“Tymon spoke with me.” Elayna watches Johanna. Before she takes a sip, Johanna indicates with a gesture for Elayna to be poured a goblet.

“Did he?”

“He said you spoke to him about a betrothal. Of him and me.” Elayna tries her best not to pout or look too sullen. 

“Your father will accompany us when we go to King's Landing. Jason or I will suggest the idea then.”

Elayna frowns. She leans back in her seat. Johanna sets her goblet down. 

“Elinor. If you would leave us.”

The servant curtsies before leaving. Elayna waits to hear the soft close of the doorway to the servant's quarters. Johanna eyes Elayna. Her hands rest in her lap. 

“Do you not wish to marry Tymon?” 

“ ‘Tis not that! I'm just... I don't mean to question you, but I do not see how I am the appropriate choice.”

“Tymon will need someone who can reign him in once he is in charge. Someone practical who knows the ins and outs of this place.” Johanna takes a drink from her goblet. Elayna tries not to fidget and keep her hands still. “Even if he were not set on you, you are the best choice. Whether you recognize it or not, you are everything but a Lannister in name. ‘Tis time that changes.”

Elayna purses her lips. She bites down on her tongue to keep herself from saying the immediate thought in her mind. Truthfully, she does not want this marriage; she wants no marriage as of now. It is inevitable, she knows. Elayna is acutely aware of this fact. It doesn't ease her mind on the topic. 

Johanna stares Elayna down once more. Eventually, she places her goblet down with a sigh.

“ ‘Tis time for you to grow up.” Elayna nearly flinches at Johanna’s steely tone. “I know of you and my daughter. I have... indulged you both and kept your secret, but it cannot go on any longer. You both have your duties. I will not let our reputation be tarnished because you refuse to give up antics more suited to young girls. Indiscretions like this do not go on for several years nor do they go as far as it has. The time for that is over.” 

Elayna trembles. Fear courses through her body.

“I understand, my Lady. Forgive me.”

“I keep this quiet not for you but for Cerelle.” Johanna’s nostrils flare. “I do not agree with what the two of you have done in the slightest. I recognize the impulse, but it cannot continue.”

Elayna dips her head. She feels frozen, stuck to her chair even though she wants nothing more than to run. Johanna clearly sees it. She leans forward and places a hand on Elayna’s knee.

“If you were a man, it would be done. Cerelle deserves a loyal husband. I meant it when I said you were one of us.” Johanna’s voice softens for the briefest of moments. When she pushes back to her full height, the harshness returns. “But you are not a man. It can't continue.”

“It can't. It won't continue.” The words taste bitter. 

Johanna leans back in her seat. She picks up her goblet again. 

“Good. To prove your commitment and to show you keep your word, you have a task. You are to target Prince Aemond. Find out what he likes, what he dislikes. Learn everything you can about him. Then, you will feed this information to Cerelle. I can't ask for a betrothal outright. The future is too uncertain. I can, however, obtain it other ways. When you come back, you will be betrothed to Tymon and marry him.”

Elayna nods.

“Are we in agreement?”

“Yes.”

“Look me in the eyes when you say it.”

Elayna blinks back tears. She clears her throat and poorly suppresses a sniffle. She inhales. 

Lifting her head is the hardest thing she's ever done. 

“We are in agreement.”

Johanna smiles. It doesn't meet her eyes; it's a socially expected smile. Her lips stay too close together, and her eyes blaze.

“Excellent. You are dismissed.”

Next chapter

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

Promise

We will pretend it hasn't been 3 weeks since I made this post asking for writing ideas.

Anyway, @wangxian-stan here's the idea you suggested, I hope you like it and sorry for the delay!

Here's the prompt:

It is so quiet in the jingshi that, if Lan Wangji tried, he would even be able to hear the sizzle of wax melting under the gentle flames of the candle wicks. The silence rings in his ears – and not even the sounds of the night outside are doing much to fill it.

It’s unnerving. Such undisturbed silence reminds him of times he would rather forget. Of loneliness, pain and the discordant notes of songs ending in tears, the bitter taste of alcohol and regret.

The dull sting of his wounds being cleaned adds on to that – especially since the claw marks on his back cross over the faded scars of the discipline whip. It feels almost uncanny, some kind of déjà vu – except it is not a healer or his brother that is helping clean and bandage his wounds, but his husband.

However, for all the teasing and talking Wei Wuxian does, the energy and the liveliness that Lan Wangji loves him for – he is being unsettlingly quiet as well. He has been this way ever since Lan Wangji returned from his night hunt with the back of his robes torn into, red painting the edges. The injuries do look worse than they feel and Lan Wangji made sure to tell his husband this much from the start – but Wei Wuxian seemed a bit too shaken by the sight to really listen, his expression darkening and his voice waning until he decided not to speak anymore at all.

And so, he is now tending to Lan Wangji’s wounds, with the gentleness and care of someone that has known far too much pain, his fingertips trembling on the washcloth as he cleans the injured skin. The beast had hurt him not out of an oversight, but rather, as a choice – he had not thought much about it, intercepting the hit in place of Lan Jingyi more out of instinct than anything else. Whilst a hit like that would do little more than inconvenience him, someone as young as Jingyi could have been incapacitated by it for a long time – so it was a small price to pay, in hindsight.

But it does make Lan Wangji’s heart squeeze to see his beloved be so affected.

The ointment Wei Wuxian uses on him next smells of herbs and the faint scent of disinfectant – again, much too familiar. A very effective cure, developed by the Lan healers long ago, though unkind to the touch. It stings terribly being placed on an open wound, Lan Wangji knows it better than anyone.

Which is why he’s tried to keep his reaction contained, not wanting to worry his husband any more – yet  a faint hiss does still leave his lips as Wei Wuxian applies some of the medicine to his wounds. His fingertips lift off the sensitive skin, and a gentle current of cool air blows over the sting to soothe it. The knowledge Wei Wuxian is so gentle moves Lan Wangji to finally speak.

“Wei Ying…”

The other makes a questioning noise, continuing to gently blow over the wound and alleviate the sting.

“It is alright. I feel fine.”

“It’s important to make sure you heal properly. Do you know how easy it is to get an infection from something like this? Open wounds must be treated seriously even if they’re not bad.”

Lan Wangji feels like those words are not Wei Wuxian’s own, rather repeating what he himself has heard a long time ago, a lifetime ago, from somebody that had been too good at her craft to die the way that she had.

“You need to be more careful.” Wei Wuxian adds, the tone of his voice softer, worried and loving all the same.

“I am.” Lan Wangji replies, and he’s being truthful in this simple, confident reply. He is careful, calculated and precise – but not when it comes to protecting the people he cares about. There is no time for him to weigh his options when danger befalls somebody he considers part of his family, and he knows Wei Wuxian cannot blame him for it – because he does the same.

Wei Wuxian carefully covers the wounds in bandages, his touch light. “You know what I mean. You got off easy now, but what if it won’t be like this next time?”

Lan Wangji sighs, fondly, warmth blooming in his chest at his husband’s worry. “Wei Ying…”

“I know, you’re the great, peerless, undefeated Hanguang-Jun…” he smiles as he says it, “…but you’re not immortal.”

“Not yet.”

That pulls a light chuckle out of Wei Wuxian, and it is the first time that night that the heaviness in the jingshi lifts. “Well, since you promised me forever, that means you have to make sure you get there in one piece.”

A smile tugs at the corners of Lan Wangji’s lips. “I will. I promise.”

He feels a soft pair of lips at the nape of his neck, Wei Wuxian’s lips whispering into his skin. “I’ll hold you to that.”

[violethowler]

I am firmly of the opinion that the idea behind the New Seven Hearts in Kingdom Hearts 3 makes perfect sense and is entirely consistent with the themes of the narrative. In a series that consistently hammers in the message that light and darkness cannot exist without each other and must ideally be in balance, and how there is always darkness in every heart, the idea that there are at least seven people at a time who are naturally devoid of any darkness whatsoever throughout their entire lives from birth to death sticks out as contradictory to this messaging.

So the idea that it’s a temporary position that’s passed on from person to person without requiring the previous holder to die first makes a ton of sense in light of the symbolism behind what light and darkness represent that I’ve talked about multiple times in my Constructing Kingdoms videos: Light in KH fundamentally represents focus on others and darkness represents focus on yourself, with the conflict between the two representing conflicts like selfless vs selfishness, community vs isolation, conformity vs individuality, etc.

In that context, the idea that being a heart of pure light is a temporary state works as a potential metaphor for how even the most selfless people who are constantly doing things to help others around them still naturally have to take time to take care of their own needs – physically, mentally, and emotionally – or else they’ll ultimately burn out. (There are also a few meta elements when you factor in the workings of the KH universe when it comes to the Disney worlds, but I’ll save those for later so i don't get distracted lol).

However...

I do think it's a missed opportunity that we were introduced to the idea through the Organization going after new Princesses in KH3, rather than through BBS dropping the bombshell that Minnie was a PoH in the pre-KH1 era.

Think about it.

In her KH2 escort mission she exclusively light-based magic, and her attempt to seal off the Disney Castle audience chamber demonstrates a knowledge of how to ward off darkness, similar to how six of the Seven Princesses in KH1 were able to hold back the darkness coming out of the Final Keyhole using their own power until Sora returned to seal the Keyhole. Her sealing of the audience chamber not being effective at keeping out Heartless could even be retroactively explained by her Light magic being weaker after she gave up her PoH power.

A single mention of Minnie being a PoH in the BBS era would be enough to plant the possibility in players’ minds of more Princesses outside of the 7 we’d already seen without taking away screentime and narrative focus from the Wayfinder trio’s story.

Nomura has talked about how he likes giving players things to think about and speculate over when it comes to the story in the games that he's been involved in, and the fact that Minnie is obviously still alive in the present-day narrative would’ve given fans tons of questions to speculate over as we waited for KH3:

Did this mean that Princesses can pass on their pure light status without dying the way that similar mantles commonly work in a lot of fantasy media? Or is she still a PoH in the present day and there were always more than just the seven that Maleficent needed to open the door to Kingdom Hearts in KH1?

Would we be seeing new Princesses in KH3? And if so, would it be a new set of seven, or will some of the PoH we know be keeping their positions a little longer?

If we do get new Princesses in KH3, would we get to see the transition happen or would it just happen off-screen between games? Did the ones who passed their mantle on already do so and we just didn’t know it?

Would any of the new Official Disney Princesses be Princesses of Heart if or when they appeared in KH? If so, which ones?

If not the new Official Princesses, what about Mulan, Ariel, Tinkerbell, or Esmeralda – the few Official Princesses (the latter two of which only formerly) – to appear in KH but not be a PoH? Would any of them become one in the future? Or were they former ones who had already passed on their mantles like Minnie had?

And since Alice’s inclusion in KH1 means that being an Official Disney Princess is not a prerequisite for PoH status, what other iconic female characters from Disney properties – both those that had already shown up in KH and those who had yet to appear – might be candidates for former or future PoH?

Imagine how excited people would've been if Larxene's line in the KH3 trailers about Elsa being one of the New Seven Hearts was confirmation of theories that the fandom had been debating back and forth over for almost a decade, rather than introducing a whole new concept that most fans had never thought of before.

[shisui-uchiha-anon]

a rp starter for @kiigan

Amaterasu stands in a beaming pool of light at the cliff near the edge of her kingdom. Watching the endless meadows of heaven, seas of time. She closed her eyes, and all light died--her eyes reopened with the Sharingan glow. A fire, blood, and the burning flesh--those are the first things she sees through her son's eyes. Her beloved child, his hands are bloody red as he clutches at his chest, his vision is blurry, and he is stumbling. Amaterasu stumbles too as her child. She screams as the thunder strikes in the distance, and only the strong arms of her consort keep her from falling.

She felt him fall, she felt the pain , she struggled till she came back to her senses. Till she realized who is holding her. Each clan believe in certain God. But not each clan have the Chosen one. His eternal fire is extinguished. Amateraus could feel it. All that she gave to him was back in her veins. Well almost all.

The Uchiha clan prays to the Goddess Amaterasu. She is the daughter of creator deities Izanagi and Izanami. Amaterasu when translated, her name, it means Shines from Heaven. She holds answers--but who will give her the answers? Who will tell her how is this fair? Is her son's life just one gasp for the air? Is his life just one blink of the stars, before he sinks into the ground?

Why must that man who screamed her son's name, suffer and fall apart? A tragedy .....

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

It was not like him, not at all to question himself this much. Usually, his impulsive nature would determine the outcome. But the last outcome was decided by the others. The last thing Shisui remembers is the cold embrace of the river and the endless dark. After that, it was just nothing, a void. No pain no regret - not even selfishness for leaving the way he did. That lasted for five minutes, or at least that is how it looked to Shisui.

He gasped for air, his lungs struggling to breathe. The breath of life returned to him. What looked like five minutes is actually years. Soon Shisui found out the painful truth, or at least he thought he knew. One thing was certain ….

A loud crack of fire brought Shisui back from his own mind. He was no longer a child, he postponed this meeting for too long. He hides the signal of his own chakra so that Itachi cannot find it. That has to stop. Last time it was a tight getaway. But this time Shisui will allow himself to be found.

There, approaching so fast, like lightning, the familiar chakra signal, so familiar to Shisui's own. It trembles like the pulse of a bowstring - just a second before it crashes on Shisui like an arrow hitting a target.

Itachi....

How am I alive? Resurection? Or something else. Some people did believed in resurection. For those people death is inconsequential. It's not an ending, but a new beggining. Is this then a second chance? An reunion? The very idea of recurection was so seductive to Shisui. Before he rose from the dead did he spent a few years in hell? Is it that simple? Those who were dead live --and those who live believe, they shall never die?

[docholligay]

Shamash answers: Live action final

The brief was, Sailor Moon thought: Angsty

Only 6 answers, so you're all getting a point today!

3rd places, with a place in my heart

The girls have to deal with honest to good consequences for being child soldiers- nightmares, ptsd, etc. --@amhrancas MakotoxAmi but Makoto refuses to acknowledge that she is gay --Alice (No tag for your so you'll have to pay attention when we draw!) I'm so disappointed that PGSM winds back the Minako thing so fast, after I'd spent so long anticipating it. I suppose it was too much a little-kids show but I really want to chew on that for a while, the pain of this Amazing Cool Girl that most of them idolised and were just getting to know and were so excited about and she's just… gone. --- No name, let me know if this is you and I'll try to verify. BUT ALSO YES THIS IS MY BIGGEST CRITICISM OF PGSM FUCK ME The idea of Usagi never being awakened is a fun one to play with for me - how it can all go terribly wrong if she doesn't bring everyone together, if there is no healer in the mix, how does it make the inner/outer conflict play out when S comes around - assuming everyone makes it that far. -- @vassekocho this is such an intersting idea to me, the idea of a SM where people could DIE AND STAY DEAD.

Second place, shocking even me by being about Mako

Mako knows everyone's tastes by heart. It never takes her long to learn- 3 times cooking for somewhere to get their allergies and sensitivities down, maybe another 2 to hammer out their dislikes, and 2 or 3 more to pinpoint and memorize favorites and preferreds. It's habit to make things for her friends. So when they're adults, those of them that remain, and she finds herself humming Haruka's favorite song while making a beer batter, or able to recall Ami reciting trivia as she dices vegetables, it always slams into her. She's making something for someone who isn't around anymore. She made a coursed menu, and only half of it can be fully enjoyed. The cupcakes don't need to be lactose-free anymore. She'll freeze up. The batter stiffens, the vegetables wilt, the courses are mistimed, the cupcakes burn.

@katrani Mako's not my girl, but good work is good work and damn this is GOOD WORK. I love this idea so much I moight use it myself someday, that way of indexing people by what she does in the kitchen.

And first place, coming for me personally and well:

Sailor Moon S AU: The gun lays abandoned on the road, left by Eudial in her haste to depart. Michiru stares. She had seen it. A premonition, Haruka laying broken and lifeless, a heart of such pureness pulsing as a star above her. She understands. Haruka had been but a brief respite, a moment to bask in light and goodness. That she would be the cause if its demise is fitting, she supposes. She is not light, or good. And Michiru has always done what is necessary. Personal cost is immaterial. She picks up the gun. Sights Haruka. "Michiru?" Confusion in those verdant eyes, but also trust. So much trust. She cannot do this, yet she must. The world is at stake. The mission above all else. She closes her eyes. Opens them. "I'm sorry." A whisper carried away on the wind, a prayer swallowed up by the universe. She shoots.

@seolh ABSOLUTELY tailor made to me, holy fuck. I love this, I cannot wait to see Michiru ruin her own life in the aftermath.

[valiantpoison]

The Moment

Just a small study on what is objectively the coolest ending in the game...so...spoilers ahead.

They experience the moment that they die well before they pass. Well...that’s not exactly true, to be fair. Time is no longer linear for them; everything that they experience happens both all at once and is separated by many, many lifetimes. There’s no ‘well before’ or ‘well after’ because that precludes the idea that occurrences sit somewhere in the middle of a straight path, when really there’s no path, only a rubber band ball of events and encounters, endlessly tangled into a mess most couldn’t comprehend.

So, to say that they experience the moment that they die before they pass is a fallacy. They only believe that it’s before their physical body disappears, because their consciousness will likely meld into said rubber band ball once their soul no longer has a vessel.

An eternal blackness surrounds them as they walk, alone and quiet. There are no markers, no features around for them to orient themself - they can only keep moving forward, waiting to find what awaits them at the edge of eternity.

It is…themself. Themself, withered and old, covered in databands not unlike the one their consciousness still projects onto their own wrist.

When the elder speaks, their voice is not frail, is not weak. Sol hears this other them as though listening to a recording of themself. It’s disorienting, but they’re very familiar with the sensation and easily cope. “Are you not bored yet?” The elder asks, slowly stepping towards them. Their voice echoes in the void surrounding them.

“Bored? Why would I be?”

“Eventually, anyone would tire of knowing everything.”

Sol considers this, putting their knuckle to their chin in thought. “I guess, but I’m not tired yet. There’s so much to see. So many lives.”

The elder hums in thought, regarding them carefully. “And what are you searching for in those lives?”

“...Searching? I don’t need to search for anything. It’s all there, all at once,” Sol returns, clearing their throat.

“And yet you are waiting for something, correct? Surely, if you’ve seen everything that there is to see, you could move on.”

“There’s no moving on from…this…” they gesture to themself. “I would assume you’d know.”

The elder shakes their head. “No need to be difficult - you have seen your life from birth to death an infinite number of times. Even now, you can start anew.” Older Sol holds out their hand. “If you come with me, we can begin again, as you know we always have.”

Sol holds their own hand to their chest, taking a step back. They can’t do that this time. They can’t…can’t go back to being normal. Not after everything they’ve done, everything they've seen, everything they’ve been. They’ve woken up so many times to strange dreams and half-understandings, have been hospitalized time and time again just from the flashes of premonition. Now? They don’t know if their small, child-brain could withstand what they are.

The only thing they don't know is…this. This moment, this consciousness and its amalgamation of experiences. This is the only future they don’t know, and there’s such comfort in that; in not knowing what is to happen. Because if they don’t know what’s going to happen, then…anything is possible.

The elder drops their hand with a sigh. “No one can join you here, Sol. Who is it you long to see again?”

Their eyes fall to their feet. There’s no ground underneath them to speak of, no soil, no grass. No flowers, no fruits, no evidence of Vertumna at all. This is the wormhole, it must be - just a force so powerful that even light cannot penetrate it.

For the first time since they’ve been alive, they feel…anxiety. No Vertumna means no…

Their brow furrows as their mouth twists in pain. “Who is it?” The other them asks once more. They don’t sound impatient, simply unwilling to let it go. “There are so many it could be. You know this. Loved ones who passed. Loved ones who got away. Loved ones that you yourself left behind.” They pause when Sol doesn’t answer. “But I suppose I can hazard a guess. In nearly every life, there was one you could not distance yourself from. A man who is not, and will never be, a man.” They run their wrinkled fingers over the dozens of databands on their wrists. “We’ve had so many lovers, so many partners, but it will always be them. This, I already knew.”

Sol swallows. They take a moment, then part their lips to respond. “I…do you think it’s…could I…?”

“What is it?”

“You’re…right. I’m waiting. I’m waiting for a universe where I touch the Array, and when I connect to it, bring it here. There must be one. There must be.”

The elder them looks very sad, suddenly. “The only way to see him again is to start over. It is the natural order of things for you to start over. You cannot stay here forever. He will not come. He does not have a true soul. You can only find him on Vertumna.”

Sol closes their eyes tightly. “There’s an infinite amount of possibilities out there. In one of those, I learn of a way to bring Sym to me, and once I see it, I can replicate it. I can do it myself.”

“Young One…this is a fruitless task. You will see him once more, if only you follow me. If you wake up again.”

They can’t do that. It took them what feels like a millennia to adjust to this. Many millennia. A six year old would…go mad. There’d be no point in going back there, because they’d have no chance to see or meet Sym. They’d be sequestered to a medbed for the rest of their life, drugged to debilitation. Of course, a single lifetime feels like less than a moment to them right now, but it wouldn’t to their new self. There would be years of suffering - both their own and the people around them. They’d never be able to prevent a single catastrophe. Everyone would die. Sym will never have known them.

“I’ll keep waiting,” Sol insists. “Forever means nothing to me, when I think of him.” Their elder self seems quite dissatisfied. Perhaps they feel as though they’ve failed Sol. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. How do they throw away this existence that they have, one with hope, for a life where there is nothing but pain and strife? They can’t do it. “There are infinite other me’s that take your hand and follow you into the light. This one won’t.”

“Very well…” they’re told. “I will leave you to your loneliness then, Young One. Hopefully we cross paths again.”

Sol takes a deep breath, then manages to smile. “You’ve taken care of me so many times. I trust you to continue to.”

The elder them nods, then gives them a small smile. “Thank you.” They take a step back, then another. “As you know, Symbiosis is our fate. In every life that we have the chance to meet him, we do. In many of those, we take him as our lover. I understand your devotion, even if I think it fruitless.”

“Perhaps it is. Perhaps it isn’t. You were right that knowing everything is boring, so why would I be interested in forgoing this existence, where nothing is for sure? Sym could find me. I won’t say it’s impossible.”

They get a wry, pitiable smile for that. “I’ve already indicated that I concede. Goodbye, Young One.”

Sol returns their smile with one of their own. “Goodbye, Old One.”

Without another word, their elder self vanishes into blackness, becoming one with the void. Once more, as they always have, they return to the illusion of Vertumna’s grassy fields, lay in the meadow, and wait.

[mayhemscorner]

Oblivion Beneath Vows

Terzo x f!reader

18+ Minors DNI

Summary: Reader cannot produce an heir, leading to tension in the abbey. Will she be able to stay as a sister? Will Terzo even care?

Warnings: Soft core SMUT, ANGST, injuries, mentions of blood and abuse. Topics may be sensitive, theres also some fluff. I apologize in advance.

“Do you mean what you say?”

His voice clips loudly through the marble halls, for once, it was a tone of destruction. A tone so deep it rattled my rib cage and felt as if it would send the mausoleum shattering down. It was a dark contrast to his usual sultry and even light tone. I can only backpedal pathetically in my state of confusion. I was being accused of something I knew nothing of, and even worse it has possibly sent the most cool headed figure in this hell forsaken place in to a fit of mania.

“Answer me!” He seethes out, stalking at an unsettling pace towards me, black shoes clacking monotonously down the eerily white halls. 

“P-papa I-“ I begin to stutter, back scraping against the cool stone behind me, emitting a gasp as I recoil forward at the sensation. My body jerks once again at the grasp of his hand clamping down on my shoulder, eyes scanning my every movement,” T-Terzo, this isn’t like you.”

“You-“ he begins, pausing to run his free hand in to his already disheveled hair and letting out a maniacal laugh,” you have betrayed this Abbey, tainted it!” 

His voice only raises, becoming more feral with every word, bubbles of spit begin to perspire as if rabies itself had claimed him. In this state, I’m guiltily starting to wonder if it had.

His hand clutching against me tightens, accidentally sending my head smacking in to the tomb behind me and legs threatening to collapse below me. My only instinct is to claw frantically against his gloved hand as it starts to burn against me, searching his mismatched eyes for any sign of remorse,” I’ve done nothing but hold this abbey together in your absence!”

“Lies!” He spits out, the other hand  gripping against the top of my head, ripping the veil away and destroying what had been left of my modesty… my humility. In moments like this, I understand why we praise hell over heaven. The darkness in this world consuming everything it touches, it’s now rare to see the light of innocence. Those lucky enough to see it, are damned to watch it fade just as quickly as it had appeared. A baby only coo’s for so long. A hunter must eventually kill its prey it admires from afar. Mothers in this world now have to watch their children die at the hands of others. And in moments like this, it is why I understand I was chosen to live a life of sin, because anything innocent… disgusted me. The first time I had ever laid eyes on a child, I had vowed that my legacy wouldn’t continue. I had been cursed regardless. Innocence was a pitiful ideology in this world and as the world before me escapes in a flutter of stars and blackness as his hand snakes around my throat, I can only smile. If I was damned to hell, i invited it with open arms. 

But it never came, and as oxygen stings its way back in, my body crashes to the floor. I stare in horror, matching his own face as he looks at the hand that was just at my throat like it was the most vile thing that ever graced the earth. My lungs ache, gasping for air as the confusion sets in,” why are you doing this?”

“If you wish to leave this abbey, then I shall strip you of your habits myself.” He answers coldly, reaching for the front of my dress. My hand slaps his own away,” and where would you have gotten the idea that I’d just leave? Just to run away from the only thing in my life that has any meaning? To run away from you.”

His eye twitches, accentuating the phosphorus white that was the sign of the Emeritus bloodline. His hand once again reaches out to me, this time coiling his fingers in my hair and lulling my head up to face him directly,” these walls may not be thin, but there are still ways to hear, Y/N! I heard you talking to Nihil!”

My heart sinks, the pain against my scalp dulls as my veins fill with ice. It had been a set up all along. Something sinister is happening in the abbey, and it was Terzo and I who would pay. I can only bite my lip in worry as his other hand raises,” at least say something!”

My throat tries forming words, watching as tears threaten to spill over his lashes, but I can only choke on everything I’ve wanted to say. Nihil wanted me gone for refusing to produce an heir, Sister Imperator refused to even look my way, but I seen almost a glimpse of satisfaction whenever she would walk by. I couldn’t even repent at this point, knowing this had probably been on Terzo’s mind as well, and we weren’t getting any younger. The brutal reality, I was infertile, unable to produce an heir even if I had wanted too. But was I supposed to tell the truth in a moment like this? Would Terzo even believe me at this point? Would it be better if he just never knew, then only one of us would be to blame.

“Terzo- I’m… sorry.” I whisper, only looking away as I feel his hands tear the fabric just above my breasts, leaving me shivering in shock and coldness. 

“So be it.” He swallows, turning away, yelling one last time in anger and sending a fist against the wall before leaving angrily down another hall. I grasp at my shoulder, feeling the raised marks from his hand, thankful that if I must be parting, I’d at least have something to remember him by for a few days. I cant tell if the tear sliding against my hot cheeks was from pain or sorrow… maybe even regret for not telling the truth. But if it was one thing I learned, Nihil and sister Imperator were not a force to be messed with. The healing flesh on my back was a constant reminder. The first conversation with Nihil had me sent to a barren room as other sisters had lashed me, all quietly apologizing as it had been their own form of torture as well. Even in a satanic church, punishment was frowned upon and only used when necessary. I messily gather my tattered robes, holding them at my chest to save what modesty I had left for anyone that had been cursed with crossing my path on the way back to my chambers. As I stumble down the halls in a sweaty daze, a small gasp rings from behind me,” oh, sister! What’s happened?”

“Ive been stripped of my habits.” I sniffle out coldly, composing myself as the ghoul comes in to view. I can see her eyes widen in shock behind the mask concealing her ghoulish features, all but her glowing and ominous eyes. I look down, finally taking in the state I was in. Fingers smeared with dried blood, no doubt from Terzo, and flushed skin peeking from my torn clothing. Even through that, I was never hit, and I had realized most of the things that Terzo had done to me were all in a safe manner, and never meant to truly hurt me. She sneaks in to an open room, retrieving a blanket and throwing it over my shoulders,” was that… the yelling I heard?”

I can only move forward in a daze, the whole altercation was hazy as other things flashed before me. Terzo had to be discussing with Nihil that a sister had been stripped of her habits, especially the one closest to him. If I don’t leave here soon, I can only imagine the punishment I’d receive if Nihil were to see me.

“Must’ve been something else.” I mumble blankly, wiping the corner of the blanket against my face and watching as the salty tears embedded in the fabric before moving on to my room. Im starting to wonder if heaven was barren, as the only form of innocence is standing before me, and they had been sent directly from hell. I deflect her arm that reaches to interlock with mine,” sister, please let me help you! I know this must be tough for you and I-“

“Please, just let me be! I’m fine! I need to go pack my bags.” I clip back, cutting her off and entering my room. I feel her eyes watch my every move, only briefly turning away as I strip my habits and throw them angrily at the wall. My eyes sting as I watch the past ten years of my life fall to the ground, sending my own feral instinct in to full force. Wearing only my undergarments, I throw the bedside lamp at the wall, followed by anything that could be lifted. I grip the dresser and topple it over as footsteps clammer in the hallway and the ghoul grabs me gently. It was like the stories of warriors after a loss, destroying any possession they had as if they didn’t deserve it in the first place. I felt like a warrior, but honestly what have I ever fought for? I once again find myself on the cool floor, finally hitting rock bottom and locking eyes on the dusty suitcase under my bed as if it were mocking me. A sob wracks my body and the ghoul runs a gentle hand through my hair and  hums a melodic tune,” sister, I’m just going to close the door, you at least deserve the privacy.”

Her hum continues as she scurries to the door, making it a second too late as a foot stops the door from closing. My fingers grab against the robe by my bed, quickly throwing it on as the other figure steps in.

“Cumulus, give us a moment please.” Nihil wheezes out. I can’t help but to grit my teeth to the point of hearing a crack,” you’ve won, I’m on my way out if you’ll at least allow me to pack.”

“Out? You have not been stripped of your robes, sister. But I do advise you stop dawdling with Terzo. Ive seen the destruction you two have caused and our bloodline must continue.” He says, completely clueless to earlier events and only pointing at the destruction of the room. 

I sigh, pulling my face in to my hands in frustration, “Terzo stripped me of my habit, and with him as acting Papa, I must comply to him. I no longer have duties to carry out within the abbey.” 

“Nonsense, I am Papa. You are done when I say you are done, sister.” Nihil laughs, pointing to his robes ceremoniously, causing the most guttural laugh I’ve emitted in my life,” Terzo is my only Papa. I spent years serving Terzo, not you. This is not your choice, it’s his… and his only.”

He bends down, picking up my lamp and casting his ghostly white eyes unto me,” I would watch your tongue. I still have say here, and Terzo would be nowhere without me. Now tell me, how did he handle the news you were leaving of your own free will?”

“You made sure he heard only part of our conversation… it was you!” I utter in disbelief. The moment it happened flashes before my eyes as it all clicks together…

“Y/N, if you do not choose to produce an heir then I suggest you leave of your own free will. The bloodline as you know is critical for the abbey.” Sister Imperator waves dismissively on the other side of the table.

“Sister Imperator, I- I can’t.” I mumble back, twisting my hands together in my lap and looking between the two nervously.

“Then what are you saying child?” Nihil gasps out, leaning over the table to stare at me.

“I cannot produce an heir, I’m sorry.” I wince back. 

“Those are not the words I’m looking for.” Sister Imperator clears her throat, kicking me against the shin gently under the table,” what you are trying to say is you are leaving of your own free will.”

“Just give me some time to think this through!” I plead, not yet ready to reveal the truth for Terzo’s sake… even for mine at this point. 

“Promise me, sister.” She rings out impatiently.

“If I do not produce an heir… then-“ I begin only to be cut off as a knock rings against the door,” then, what?”

“Then I shall leave the abbey of my own free will.” I gasp out, realizing the commitment I had just made, excusing myself abruptly and opening the door to see no one there.

Her sinister smile is like a neon light shadow after staring at it for too long, etched across my vision as I comeback to the here and now, only to be faced with a similar smile on Nihil’s face,” ill let you pack your things. I do hope the journey home is… peaceful.”

Nihil takes his leave, causing me to send the lamp against the closing door in another fit of rage. I stuff what I can in my suitcase, and open the door to a life I barely knew, a life without the abbey. A life without Terzo. I finish ripping my veil and hang it on the outside doorknob, listening to the sound of squeaky wheels against cold stone. 

“You aren’t leaving! No!” Cumulus appears from thin air, trying to pull me back,” I heard everything! You need to tell Terzo!”

I stop in my tracks and scoff, turning towards her,” and tell him what? That they’re right? I can’t produce an heir, so what good am I?”

“Can’t… or won’t?” She chirps in confusion. I shake my head and tighten my eyes in frustration,” both.”

“There’s gotta be a way around it! Nihil is already decommissioning Terzo, next Friday!” Cumulus quips out, quickly placing a hand over her mouth as if she wasn’t supposed to say anything. i can feel the sensation of needles prickling at my back,” what do you mean?”

“I shouldn’t have said that! No one must know! She has found a successor… I’ve already said too much!” She tries to backpedal but fails tremendously. I could sense the danger, but would Terzo even hear me out? I decide there was no time to think, only time to warn him even if he resented the very ground I walk on. Cumulus once again tries to hold me back,” you can’t tell him! Please, sister!”

“What else are we supposed to do? What if they hurt him?” I whisper as footsteps sound for the third time this night, revealing Terzo himself.

“What if they hurt who?” He calls out, gently sidling up, yet refusing to make eye contact. 

“I have to go…” Cumulus whimpers out, retreating through a dark door and disappearing without a trace. The two of us remain, sitting in an uncomfortable silence that could be cut, even with a dull knife. 

“Y/N… I came to apologize, but I assume there is nothing I can do to make you change your mind after my outburst.” Terzo mumbles, sliding his hand down his other arm nervously. I sigh, dropping my head and remember why I was leaving in the first place, it was he who had stripped my habit after all,” It seems your mind was already made. You aren’t one to go back on your word, and I should leave before you feel anymore shame for something that isn’t even your fault.”

His hand reaches against my shoulder, moving the robe to expose the raw skin below. I look over to see his bloodstained glove with red and swollen scratches peeking from beneath. Our own faults clash together in that moment, revealing neither of us was the bigger person, both reacting how predator and prey were destined to act… in a fit of survival. A sore reminder neither of us were the predator in this situation, only the prey fending for their lives without knowledge of anything else. His lips meet my shoulder, the pain mixed with longing of his soft presence unlike earlier,” do you truly wish to leave? It is because of me, no?”

My hand threads through his still messy hair as my head drops against his forehead,” it is not my choice if that’s what you’re asking.” 

His wavering hand dances across my back, dropping my robe lower to trace my bare spine, checking for other injuries.

“Terzo, i’m fine.” I assure him, pulling my gaze upwards to meet his own. Tears blur his perfect eyes,” Cara Mia… who did this?”

His finger traces a healing scab from the lashes before tossing the torn habit from my doorknob and entering the poor state of my room. Terzo quickly locks the door and crashes against the bed, hunched over and grabbing a fistful of the bedding in anger,” how many times has this happened?”

“I-it’s not often, I deserv-“ he raises a finger, cutting me off,” How many times, Y/N?”

“…a few.” I exhale, still standing near the door. Terzo’s mangled breathing reveals his panic, as his hands pull against his hair,” why didn’t you tell me?”

“Terzo… I couldn’t.” I stifle out, cautiously walking up beside him and sitting down. His eyes return to the crazed state I had seen earlier in his fit of rage.

“It was my father.” He seethes out. I can only swallow, not even daring to nod. He goes to leave, only being stopped by my tight grasp, loosening at his wince of pain and the feeling of fresh blood. 

“It was my fault.” I plea, searching his face to see if relaxes before I continue,” I can’t produce an heir… it was deserved.”

Terzo dons a look of confusion,” when did I ever say I desired an heir? Is this… is this the fault of your lashings?”

I nod, confusion creeping across my own face,” you aren’t mad?”

“This is why you are choosing to leave the abbey? I’m in no need of an heir, this disgraced bloodline has no reason to continue… I’m sure Nihil has plenty of bastard children doing the work anyways.” He chuckles out, shoulders finally dropping.

“Nihil said it was imperative, that if I didn’t, I should leave of my own free will, I was made to promise.” I stutter out. He nods,” as I’ve heard. I feel we have fallen victim to a coup d'etat of sorts, cara Mia.”

“That’s not all… they plan to remove you from your position. I wasn’t supposed to hear.” I whisper, breathing heavily from his close proximity. He only smiles, leaning over me and pushing me across the bed,” then there is no need for me to make an heir if they already plan on replacing me, no? But, we can at least practice the motions…”

He places a kiss where my jaw meets my ear, snapping his head to nibble against my lobe. 

“Terzo…” I trail off, lost in the unique patterns his hands weave across my body,” I must kiss any wrongdoings I have made away, and I apologize in advance, because this may take all night.”

“You can’t quite kiss with anything other than your lips, dear.” I laugh, patting softly at the hardening bulge against my waistline. He only chuckles against my neck,” I did apologize in advance for keeping you up all night.”

His teeth graze against the vein in my neck, trailing down to my collarbone and nipping playfully,” that’s not a kiss!” 

“Sorry, sorry!” He groans jokingly, eyes becoming hooded with intimate desire and coming up to rest his hands on each side of my face,” I must warn you, you could possibly die from a kiss this good.”

“I haven’t yet.” I whisper out, grabbing the collar of his dress shirt and connecting our lips in need. Terzo deepens the kiss, tongue sliding cheekily against my bottom lip and knee sidling between my legs, pressing desperately against my pulsating core. My own hands paw against his clothing, proving that innocence is found within sin, that there can be no heaven without hell. I already knew I was not destined for heaven, we worshipped the opposing side anyways. But in moments like this, I catch a glimpse of heaven through his eyes, a glimpse of the innocence that remains in him when his hands stutter before tracing the outline of my body as if it were a map he had traced a thousand times. It was as if I were his only piece of heaven for him as well, entangling our souls together as the electricity between us dances an intricate waltz of death and life. Death and sin had always won, but in this moment, we were only innocent in the intimacy created. I can feel my eyes lull to the back of my head as if they were searching for my next thought, lost completely in the motion of his lips needfully tugging and pulling against mine. 

“Cara Mia, you are shaking.” He breathes out quietly, inching my robe lower and exposing my chest. I pull him in for another kiss, worried if he pulls back once more, he would be gone forever,” I can’t help it, I don’t want to lose you.” 

Terzo peppers my lips in heavy, lustful kisses,” you see I am too indecent to go anywhere even if I wished to do so. But I am right where I wish to be. Now what is it that you desire?”

“You.” I breathe out hotly, quickly becoming flustered with the buttons of his shirt before he quickly tears it off.

“If that is what you desire, you shall have me in whole.” He groans out as my nails dig against the back of his head, tugging needfully. Terzo once again returns to my chest, leaving a playful purple mark below my collarbone, and trailing downwards. With every kiss, he states different words, the main thing he repeats over and over,” Mi dispiace.”

The pain of unfulfilled ecstasy brings animal like instinct to the surface, gripping at his pants and moving to my knees off the bed.

“I am the one trying to apologize here, you return to the bed.” Terzo tuts, cradling my face in the palm of his hand. When I rise, he turns me away from himself, arms circling around me and grabbing against my breasts. One returns to my back, pushing me forward as his lower half straddles mine. Fingers dance wistfully over the building wetness between my legs. A digit slips between my panty line and I gasp at the sensation of it being buried in. Curling loosely, the rhythm lulling my body in tune as I press my face further in to the bed. My breath quickens as does the pace, degrading me to a messy state of muffled moans,” T-Terzo.”

“ I know, I know Cara Mia.” He coos, retracting his fingers and flipping me over to face him. 

“We do not have to go further.” He offers gently before I shake my head and motion him to come closer,” I said I wanted you.”

The devilish smirk as he lays on top of me causes my lower half to ache, jealous of my own lips receiving all of his attention. His tongue begging for entrance as his right hand drops his pants. I grant it, dropping my own hand to grasp against the hardness I longed for. I pump slowly. Feeling a shiver wrack his body and his tongue leaves my mouth. My body is swallowed by warmth at the initial penetration, a slow movement so I could adjust. A moan escapes us both, and he rhythmically snaps his hips in need, bracing himself with his hands digging in to my hips. Again he begins to apologize, keeping his pace but quickly losing his mind. I reach up, wiping a tear from his eye and rest my thumb against his cheek,” it’s a sin to look this good while being buried inside of me.”

“It must be a good thing that I am a sinner and not a saint.” Terzo huffs out, briefly losing his pace and slowing. 

“Don’t tell me you’re already close? You said you would keep me up all night, Terzo.” I whisper his name in his ear as he lets out a grunt of pleasure. 

“It’s hard to last when I have such beauty to gaze upon below me.” He exhales, dropping to interlock our lips once again and quickly regaining his composure. 

My hips buck, anticipating the building sensation of release. His mouths closes tightly around mine, stifling my moan as I reach the summit of my climax, convulsing uncontrollably as his pace quickens. 

Terzo is shortly behind, panting against his sloppy movements and finally going still as the heat grows between us. Terzo’s forehead brushes against mine, his lips following behind to place a soft kiss against my glistening skin. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up, Y/N.” He whispers, quickly gathering his discarded shirt to dab at the perspiration of my skin before he even worried of his own. My body refuses to move, swaying in to the dizziness of the afterglow in pure ecstasy. 

“Im alright, just lay with me.” I beg through love drunk slurring. He only chuckles, sliding back in to his pants and dropping beside me to lay on his back. I turn to meet the messy state of his face, smeared paint and disheveled hair causes a grin to slip across my face as my hand lazily reaches out to move stray hair dropping against his eyes. I could only imagine what had rubbed off on to mine, but in this moment it didn’t matter. 

“To think my irrational thinking had almost costed me you.” He sighs, pulling me to lay atop of him. 

“I wouldn’t mind hearing you yell like that again in a different manner…” I playfully mumble in to his chest. Terzo’s laugh rattles my body as his hands cradle me close to him,” you little devil. Do not ruin a sincere apology by your lust.”

“You’re right, that’s something you would do.” I yawn out, jabbing another quip in his direction. My eyes struggle to stay open as he coaxes me to the bathroom, setting me against the cool granite counter and running a rag under water to clean my face. He hums lightly, washing away the grime and sorrow of today, even taking a moment to just rest his head in the crook of my neck. My memory fails me as sleep starts to win, my body curling around his as he lifts me and whispers,” come sleep with me, Cara Mia. We will get this sorted tomorrow.” 

I nod as a robe is draped over my body, not even leaving the position he was carrying me in. Passing dim lights and sneaking through corridors, Terzo’s soft steps make it even harder to fight the battle of slumber. The instinct of surviving has wore off, and my body needed to recover. Just as I’m about to drift off, plush bedding greets my outstretching limbs, searching for his presence. When I finally find it, one last kiss is placed at the crown of my head and I finally let sleep win. 

In a sinner’s world, I wasn’t afraid to indulge a little slice of heaven, even if only for a brief moment. As Terzo said, I was a sinner after all. However, I was willing to be an angel in someone else’s narrative, even if only temporary. And I was willing to love with every ounce of my soul, even if it would cost me my life. With him, it mattered not if we ended up in heaven or hell, it mattered that he was by my side for eternity. 

[mydahliarose]

Dollhouse of joy 🪽🃏

Pairing: Michael x niiri Michael x demon oc

Trope: forbidden lovers angel x demon

Fandom: what in hell is bad?

Tag: angst with fluff, comfort, hurt, playful teasing, no smut,soft intimacy, doctor and patient roleplay,mentions of my other ocs briefly, wholesome

Synopsis: niiri attempts to pray but hurts herself in the process in doing so to see her worth of becoming an angel. Michael has his paranoia moment aswell so niiri hatches an idea when Michael offers to be alone together she takes him to her domain that's a dollhouse in the form of Michaels most happiest place, his old room.

Nothing but empty silence filled the cathedral at night. Well all accept for niiri's presence, kneeling in the statue of god and his angels surrounding him. Such a rare and unusual sight to see a demon be dedicated to God, because she truly believes she could be an angel in heaven and finally leave demonhood behind her. Oh niiri...god has abandoned his angels wondering where on earth he is, while still retaining there intense devotion for him as they attack and kill devils aswell as the descendants of solomon. There is nothing to do in heaven besides love god to the fullest. You must be truly divine or else a cruel fate shall come if you dare defy. She remembered what Michael said that night in his birthday " are you willing to go through such trials?" Was niiri willing to go through such psychological torture of it all and go as insane as these angels have become? Sure she was already not all the in the head but heavens trials would break her just as its done to her dearest angelica. Oh sweet Michael...

" our father-ngh! w-ho a-rt agh! I-in heaven-s-shit! I can do it..."

Demons cannot say the Bible verse. holy things are considered a weakness for the demons. if they even dare try to finish it the consequences are Burns to blistering the pain is so excruciating it feels as if theyll ash away and die. The doll demon knowing of this contenued on, all it took was repeating Michaels words again and again while her heart raced thinking of him.

" h-hollowed b-be thy name! T-thy kingdom c-come,! T-thy will b-be AH! Done!

She hissed in pain, her bisque doll skin cracking as her flesh is now bare making the burn excruciating, damaging some of her nerves.

"o-on e-earth as it i-is heaven...g-give us this day our... our?" Her body grew weak drastically, she needed to stop or else she will pass out. Shed be lucky if it where the two exorcists who managed to trust her shed get lucky and theyll put her to rest, but if it where another? Shed be done.

"and forgive us... o-our...a-as we forgive... forgive...

"please forgive me father..."

"im sorry i was born imperfect..."

Her body rocking back and forth, already at her limit of her wounds that she would crash headfirst at front. Her body may heal but her fragile mind was another story, this was her attempt to show herself to the skies she was worthy she knew her prayers and she blew it. Or so she believes that herself, or maybe they truly did see her unworthy. An unworthy unclean imperfect demon who shouldn't be allowed to touch the gates to heaven.

She shakingly lifts herself, back into her kneeling position even in defeat there was a spark still glowing within her. Holding her hands together closing her eyes taking deep breaths.

"our father who art in heaven!"

She roared her prayers until she was heard i will be heard!. Please god, one chance was all she ever wanted.

" hollowed by thy name! Thy Kingdom come! Thy will be done!."

I am niiri! Hear me now! Ive massacred my kind for this moment! Im no demon im an angel! God please fix me to your image!

A traitor to her kind now, all those memories in hades where nothing but a locked trunk stuffed in an attic.

" On earth as it is In heaven. Give us this day our daily bread!"

I promise you and your angels im one of you...

Bring her light, give her the most beautiful wings, the most brightest of all halos so that shed feel like a princess walking down her kingdom as the angels welcome her in open arms.

"and forgive us our tresspasses, as we forgive those who tresspassagaints us.

Open your gates and let me in....

Please give her a chance and look her way to see for yourself...

"and lead us not into temptation, b-but d-deliver us from evil!

Let me in so i can feel complete!

So to feel humanlike, In this doll body while there was life within herself wasnt enough, she hoped to morph into a proper angelic body to truly feel herself.

"f-for tine is the kingdom..a-and the g-glory..."

So i can...

And then she looked up weakly to the statue of a familiar war angel of justice next to god and a tear ran down her cheek.

So that i may be able to be with Michael without the reprocussions....

That's what i want more than anything god...let me..let me-.

" NIIRI! "a voice so beautiful yet a hint of authority in there tone echoed the cathedral. She turned and her eyes widened, Michael. Shed struggle to stand on her own, the smell of something that's been left burning on a stove waved through the seraphs nose. Eye twitching, he stormed over immediately to stop her from doing something that felt almost suicidal. He had been listening the entire time, that niiri so into her prayer didnt hear the entrance door open. Looking at her in this state set something off in him, it felt almost to familiar...

" Angelica?" She said as Michael lifted her up full force as if he didnt want her kneeling down any longer.

"get up now!" He said in raged, why does she bother doing this to herself? Its completely pointless and dangerous she should know better! He thought to himself. He didnt want to admit it but he was beginning to get concerned for her well bieng. But then niiri moved her hand away.

"no, i was about to get it right this time! God was finally going to see my worth! Im finally going go get my wi-" she was then abruptly stopped by Michaels words.

" you cant." Just that word alone you could hear splitting crack coming from her heart almost. "

" but...b-but if god can forgive and all then surley he can forgive me for bieng born a demon...an imper- Michael placed his hand onto her mouth to stop her from saying that word. " Don't you even dare finish that sentence!". All filthy demons are imperfect, that go againts gods will, and thus deserve a painful death. but with niiri, he just couldnt think of doing that to her; atleast not anymore, not ever since his pure heart began to sing love songs in a beat everytime he thinks of her. my sweet niiri...she was perfect to him. So perfect, that he hadn't realized how shakingly he had became when he saw her at her limit all the things that made her beautiful where vanishing from her burns. It knotted his heart so much he just wanted to kiss her pain away...

"Michael?" She muffled. hands still covering her mouth that it made him snap out of it immediately he had forgotten he was inside a church which ment...

Oh no oh no has god heard all his filthy adoration to his demoness crush through his inner thoughts?! Has he perhaps heard his heart beat rapidly when he laid eyes on her?! He must have heard everything! Goodness was Michael begining to grow scared, Nausea coming through the roof with an aching headache. Immediately he takes his hand off her and jumps back looking at her as if he had seen a ghost. God...why couldnt you have turned her into an angel.

" d-dont...dont ever say that word again..." He said with a shaky voice, face begining to sweat as he pressed his fingers on his throbbing head.

"....you mean imperfect?" It finally clicked " you mean...i am perfect? Just the way i am?." She tilted her head waiting for a response.

Oh, why does she have to look at him with such cute but deadly stare? Only making it difficult for him to not defy his precious god. He tried to look away, to bad for him he accidentally moved his eye to the corner to look at her. Ahh her white painted makeup with her rosey blush truly matched the lights of the skies. She was the perfect ang- no...she is a demon and she must accept that the holy land would never truly see her as divine. Theyd kill her if they had the chance once she's defensless.

"niiri..." his eyes look up to the statue of god before looking back at her.

"tck... enough with this make believe act! You are a demon! No angel would look down and see you as one of them! You can pray all you want but your only going to contenue hurting yourself in the process!" There was a small menace laughter that felt more of emotional pain than anything, pain of there forbidden relationship." Now look at you! Your all blisters and cracks! When will you open your eyes niiri?!"

Did it hurt to hear? Absolutely. but was it ever more painful because it came from Michaels words? One hundred percent. this was his paranoia talking she had to keep that in mind as to not feel this way. the problem was she to suffer from her own malady of delusions that makes her difficult to stay compose.

" you dont know that! Maybe itll just take time is all! Not tomarrow but any year or more! Maybe i just have to try harder in our executions to be seen as a potential devine bieng!."

The seraphs rolls his eyes letting out an annoyed sigh. Walking towards her he places two hands on her shoulder, gripping them but not to tight as to not worsen her wounds. They seem to have began slowly healing now.

" enough! Theres no chance in you becoming an angel niiri its facts! Thats why god dosent respond to you! Thats why no angels have come to your aide-

It was niiris turn to cut him off now. " You did Michael...you heard my prayer back then in the circus operation mission that you where sent to originally exterminate me remember?"

Immediately Michaels eyes widen. That was the first time they had properly met, thou it was his teammate exorcist that convinced him her words where true to keep her by there side. He thought he'd regret it but in the end it was a huge turn of events in his life, and dare he say something hes always wanted deep down, love.

" i-i did..."he says as niiri cups his face, growing tense at her touch god he wanted more of this from her...

Hesitantly he holds her, tears flowed from his two beautiful eyes. Then Michael says something he thought hed never say.

" why has god forsaken you such fate? Why couldnt he have made you an angel..."

He tilts his head to her palm, nuzzling it as he close his eyes leaving it sweet kisses despite the fear of bieng watched looming around him.

"if you where an angel...things wouldnt be as complicated..."

Niiri moved his beautiful face touching hers, lips nearly touching if she wanted she could have kissed him right then and there.

" i am an angel"

" i am your perfect angel from hell..."

" and you are my perfect angel from heaven~" there was a flirterous manner in her last sentence.

Oh that honeysuckle voice, so doll like yet seductive left a shiver running down his spine.

" my angel..."

Eyes closed, thinking about tasting her sweet midnight lips not caring if it smeared all over his glossy lips ahh the temptation...

But Michael leaned to her ear instead to whisper something.

"lets do this somewhere more privately where we can be ourselves dear."

Oh what a little tease he was, niiri couldn't help but giggle. Finally the tension was fading away and they could let loose together.

"Of course my beautiful white swan~"

She lets go of his beautiful face to offer him to hold her hand, She hatched an idea.

" place your hand in mine, and think about your most favorite place to be alone with me in."

Michael looks at her in curiosity, but nonetheless he does what hes told. He closes his eyes and takes deep breathes, in and out concentrating of his most treasured place. somewhere to be safe and sound with his demoness. Although he couldn't see anything, he felt a small gust of wind woosh over him. Somethings changed.

"now open your eyes."

When he opened them, he was awestruck this couldn't be...

"niiri... this is my-

She smiled then in her joyus state taking over,she gives Michael a big warm hug. Using her strength she lifted him up that his toes where barley touching the ground. Face blushing mixed between the emotions of love and disbelief at what he is just witnessing in his surrounding.

" surprise! This is my domain expansion the dollhouse!, well technically this is your version of it for now." The room was in pastel colors, glow in the dark stars lighting the dim room. The most extraordinary detail, was the ground that was made entirely out of clouds, thankfully they where walkable. This familiar room held so much memories for Michael that he couldn't help but shed tears.

" ahhh my sweetest Dolly of mine, you always know how to sooth this seraphs sadness away..."

He brushed her long front strand of hair away to kiss her forehead. A thank you gift for her. Although happy memories linger here, it also held something he couldnt let go, lucifer hyung. His face from joy slowly began to fade, luckily niiri caught this and tilted his chin up to look at her.

" no no no! This is exactly why i brought you here, so that we could make new fondful memories here! I know that your pscyhe still cant let go of the painful events that happend between you two. But i promise you, if you let yourself distract away from your worries and god, you will have the time of your life here!. This place is safe away from all that my dear" she says with all her endearment. If Michael is sad then shes sad and that only makes her more determined to help him heal from all his trauma. Locking into her loving eyes as she spoke Michael couldnt help but chuckle. Ahh much better sight.

"with you here, i already feel safe." He pats her head before bieng released from her long hug.

"now angelica~ since this is your playtime session with yours truly, what do you suggest we play together today?" She waited for his response.

Oh he gets to decide? How very thoughtful of her, there was just so many to decide! Lets see, play with the toys in his old boxes? Maybe not just yet, hide and seek? No not feeling it. Then he remembered niiris wounds again, they'll healed better now but still he wished to nurture her from her pain- wait that's it!.

" hmm, i think i want to play doctor with you my dear, and you will be my patient." He said with confidence. Niiri gasps dramatically at his request.

" you just read through my mind! Hehe maybe ill get a turn to treat you later?" She twirled her hair around.

" ahhh perhaps if my patient behaves well at her checkup ill consider it~" he teased with playfullness. Finally he felt like he could let loose here without the real world interfering with his mindset.

He went to look around for a futon mattress for her to lay, oh my goodness Michael has never felt this excitement in a good long time until now, oh how he longer missed this energy.

" come now and lay here while i check your pulse then ill be doing a body checkup". He tapped on the mattress to signal her.

Niiri jumped and plopped down, thank goodness it didn't break from her strength. " Im ready casanov- i mean doctor! *Cough* im sooo sick! Please help me figure out whats wrong!." She dramatically places her hand on her forhead as if she was in dire need of help.

" oh heavens, it seems we have a code blue on our hands!, here let me immediately check your pulse". Michael took a hold of her palm, putting his middle and index fingers at her wrist from the bottom of her finger. He listened closely, using some of his angelic powers to make her veins visible through his light.

"your heart beat seems to be in good health." Badump " hm? It seems you are suddenly beating rapidly i wonder..."

Even if it was just roleplay, watching Michael enjoy himself in this doctor scenario of taking care of his demon lover she couldnt help but skip a beat. So cute, so caring he wanted more of this.

" i think ill have to check your hearts pulse just to make sure" oh she was done for.

"o-oh well the stethoscope is over t-" she was stopped by Michaels sudden closeness to her chest.

" no, i think ill just listen to it myself. What of it's faulty? We cant have that now can we?" Like hell hed let this opportunity slide to make her melt through his needy charms.

" oh- hehehe... ah i see, why use a tool when my most perfect doctor is right here to do it himself? How silly of me to suggest it in the first place~." So warm she felt.

" that's a good girl, now stay still for me will you? " Niiri nodded and that was his signal to lay his head on her chest. He didnt dare move, carefully listening to her heartbeat...badump! Badump! .

"Niiri! Good gracious! Your heartbeat has gotten faster! What have you taken any caffeine this morning? Perhaps anxiety?".

Niiri shook her head, she couldn't even look at him. "N-no!"

" hmm then maybe, could it be..." He jolted his head up to niiris face suddenly now seeing a bashful niiri trying to hide her face.

" aha! I diagnose you with lovesickness! Oh how adorable!." He pinches her cheeks very slightly before tapping her nose with his finger. " Niiri my dolly~ please keep making that beautiful noise from your heart for me everday will you~?" He cooed.

" ack! Haha! Oooh Michael cakes this heart will always pump for you~, especially with how good your doctor role is im for certain its going to combust soon!" A snort coming from him as he rubs her shoulder.

" remind me to prescribe you some medications ok?"

She mimics her hand to sound like its talking " yeah yeah doctor~" she was about to stood up until Michael stopped her. "Ahem, i don't think i said your appointment is finished yet? I still have to check around more." Her eyes widen, where on earth is he going to check now.

" o-oh doctor where else do i need a check up?" She said as Michael crosses his arms.

" i need to check all over your body to examine all your burns from earlier..." He looked at her with concern.

Oh he still hadnt forgotten about that...

" oh right...its already healed from regeneration, but you are the doctor and i won't stop you from doing so then~". He really cared for her this much.

" good, im glad you understand. Now sit up." She does just that, she was also kind enough to unbutton her shirt for him.

Now Michael got a taste of his own medicine, as he began to feel warm inside his face redder than any cherries seen.

" a-alright...lets examine these healed spots now shall we?" He picked up one of her arms, moving it towards him to see and sure enough theyve healed. Tsk...if only god hadnt interrupted back there in the church he would have tended to her wounds.

"doctor..." Michael was listening to her.

" do my wounds still need to be healed?" He only nodded, but as healed as her outer layer was he could still see a tiny scaring needing to go away. So with his gentle lips he kissed it, one single kiss was all it took for it to go away with a golden light resembling little fireflies almost. The kiss of an angel is the most divine healing in all of existence.

He trailed his lips up to her upper arm, showering every consequences of her actions away with his purity. It didnt stop there, from her shoulder he'd kiss her upper back. He imagined what it be like if she had wings, oh how he'd always take a chance to nuzzle in between them, stroking them to watch them flutter as shes always done to his. He kissed there more that it left niiri to shiver down.

"a-ah! Ahh i see...,you got bothered by the fact that you couldnt tend to me at my worst state because of God. So you took this opportunity to make up for it yes?."

Michael did not respond he was to focused on showering her body with all his light.

"mmhm...~" he mumbled, her body now in a much better state thanks to him. Not before one last peck on her cheek.

" ahh there we go much better now~, it would seem your appointment is finally finished." If only it lasted longer but alas he wanted to give niiri her turn. Now hed be the one to play patient and immediately he took no time to switch his role.

"cough! O-oh no! I think i caught your love sickness~ i feel feverish..doctor dolly i need you to hold me~ " he falls so dramatically into her arms, his expression really gave off as if he looked weak and sluggish. Nuzzling onto her chest for comfort, hes so freaking cute she thought to herself.

" OH NO! We need all the angel numbers for a miracle to save you! " Carrying him bridal style she runs to the toy boxes, seeking to find some plastic medical equipments and wala! A thermometer just exactly what she needed.

"alright angelica open wide im going to check your temperature ok?" She says in the most nurturing care tone. as she places her other hand onto his forhead, Pretending as if hes actually burning up.

" ahh..." He obliges into her care as the tool was placed closing his mouth awaiting to see his temperature.

" ok lets see now... GASPS! 113?! Oh my goodness! was my lovesick so contagious that you couldn't resist me? Well no wonder you got it bad! Tsk tsk" she teases him.

" ahh doctor you caught me~ now look at me, needing your assistance to cure me cough! Oh whateeever shall you do my sweets?" He curls up closer to her, his attention seeking growing stronger as they contenue to play make believe.

" hmm, well sweety it seems we have no cure for this lovesickness you and i suffer from". Gently plays with his hair " although... Is it bad as a doctor to wish there never is a cure to this?." A soft chuckle escapes her lips.

Michael ponders at the thought then remembering her heartbeat whenever he does something for her Lovingly. Even he himself chuckled at the thought.

" you know what? Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad after all.." he smiles. " I wish wed always fall for eachother like this even in different timelines..." How sweet of him to say thought niiri. A life in different times with the same lover? How beautiful.

" but what if love sickness kills us?" Silence and then he speaks " my dearest, this is supposed to be a realm of joy yes? Lets keep it that way please?" He made a puppy face that niiri could not resist.

" ahh ok ok! Oh no patient your fever is getting high! Oh i know!" She lays him gently, running to find something that would similarly look like medicine. She searched around the boxes again until she found a fake vintage doll medicine bottle, crossing her fingers hoping there was something edible in here shake, ok there's something in here now lets open it. Pop, oh! There's little candys here, yes this will work splendidly.

" sorry i took so long starlight! Now come into my arms again"~ immediately pulls him close then smothers his forhead with kisses.

" take these pills that I'm prescribing you dear, take one now then the other later ok?" Takes a candy out of the toy pill bottle that's a shape of a star.

" chew " she commands, he leans his head up taking the dessert slowly chewing it down so he can get rid of this fake fever.

" ahh i think ill feel better soon knowing my doctor is so nurturing of me~ actually doctor if it isnt to much to ask...can you rock me back and forth? Id think thatll help me relax a bit in your care.." niiri smiles.

" this is your dollhouse domain and so it shall be requested, nothing is to much to ask in order to feel joy in this realm remember that Angelica~" ruffling his hair, she moves her body back and forth. Humming a bit as she stares into the stars and he watches her.

" this has been the most fun ive ever had in a long time, i wish it never ended..." He sighs.

" then how about we play one more game? We can play here as long as we need to!"

Michael smiles as he thinks. " Patty cake?

" i love that game! Cmon sit in front of me then." Michael releases from her hold as he positions himself to clap her hands.

" ready?" She says with glee

" niiri, im always ready~" he said with confidence.

And so niiri started the rhythm " pat-a- cake! Pat-a-cake! Bakers a man bake me a cake as fast as you can! " The pace speeds up, both lovers managing to keep up the pace as the ryhme repeats again.

"Pat it and roll it with an M." Wait shouldnt it be the letter B? Michael thought to himself

" then put it in the oven..."suddenly niiri snatches Michaels wrist, pulling him up close to lock his lips onto hers. Hand slithering up to cup his face, moving it from behind to caress his feathers. They flap through excitement, a muffled moan of surprise escapes his luchious mouth as eyes lock wide.

"mmmff?!" She chuckles in his lips before slowly releasing him " for Michael and Me~..." He was left utterly speechless beyond belief, he lifted his fingers as to feel his wet lips. He could taste sugar in those lips, addicting as his love for her is.

" n-niiri..." Now he looked utterly lovesick for real this time, no rolepay this time. He felt dizzy and woozy in the best way possible.

" i need you.." he wraps his arm around her pulling her even close to him that she has no chances of escaping. He wanted everything of her. " Mmf! M-michael~" she muffled.

While Michael continued to have a taste, niiri focused on showing affection to his wing, her favorite part of him. Moving he hand back and forth until sharp gasps escapes, winged feather switching more and more through her action.

" you mean everything to me, more than anything in the world.. that's why if i where to miraculously become an angel, id win there approval to be with you..."

It all made sense to Michael now, he stopped the kiss but not caressing her.

" my angel, you do not need there approval because i your angel from the heavens already approve of this forbidden relationship please Remember that." He kisses her again and even more passionate this time not caring if he loses his breathe. " I need you niiri..my beloved antique doll~" he began to cry a single tear then another streamed down his golden eye. His other eye seemed to be doing the same aswell. He was very emotional in this moment.

" your to kind to me my love..." Then she to began to cry, then something Michael does leaves her speechless. He pulls a feather from his wing, eye twitched from the Small pinch sensation putting it between her ear. " Michael...your own feather?"

He gives a genuine smile." that is your wing my dear, a reminder that you are my angel always..." He moves to the crook of her neck where he placed his feather to nuzzle her new set of wing like he's always wanted to, even if it was just a feather itll do.

Niiri returned the same gesture aswell, biding her face where his wing was tears of joy glistening down his pastel white shirt. But he didn't mind.

" your the only one who sees me for who i am... thank you."

Thats how they spend the rest of there hours, alone together sharing emotional intimacy moments while playing more. They wanted to be together in the dollhouse domain, not ready to once again face the challenges of bieng together out on earth hell and heaven.

it had to happen soon.

End

Angel dividers by @/Chocoperrito

Star divider by @/dwaintydoll

Blue sparkle divider by @/anitalenia