#all hail the moon eye plan

[obkkseeker]

while you were out here reading hentai my man here was grinding missions

#all hail the moon eye plan #what if obito stayed an antagonist #that would be terribly hot i think #i like irredeemable assholes #being kakashi is suffering #obito uchiha #kakashi hatake #naruto #naruto fanart #kakaobi

[deunmiu-dessie]

ⅴ▬ ⁽ 𝑜𝓇𝒸 ⁾

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ♡︎ : ₅˖₇ₖ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ♡︎ : mdni----- unedited, NSFW,  explicit content, teratophilia, orc/royalty!human, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, overstimulation, breeding, spit kink, sloppy kisses, size difference, somnophilia, slight voyeurism, orcish, reader loses all forms of etiquette and just babbles-- stupidly, belly bulge. ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ♡︎: as royalty it's your duty to marry and provide heirs for the kingdom, however, your parents have a different plan for you.

꒰m!orc ₊⊹ afab!reader꒱

 𝐹or as long as you can remember, you have been allured by the forbidden. Whenever your parents commanded you to abstain from a certain act or sternly prohibited you from engaging in another, it ignited a fervor within your being. And inevitably, you succumbed to its allure.

Your relationship with your parents was not a harmonious one. From the time you were but a child, they made it abundantly clear that you were not conceived out of their love for one another, but rather out of an obligation to the throne. To them, you were an inconvenience, a mere hindrance that they longed to be rid of. Thus, you existed in a perpetual state of unease, forever uncertain of their next move.

The castle bustled with activity this week, the number of knights seemed to have multiplied, and your encounters with your parents grew scarce. Your daily meals together became non-existent- not that you were complaining. Instead, during supper, they scorned and mocked you—drawing comparisons to your elder cousin who had recently become betrothed to a Duke. You were aware that they would arrange a marriage for you; it was inevitable, but you hoped it would be to someone who would eventually cherish you as you would them.

Verily, this day seemed naught but a replica of the day prior—a day draped in melancholy. The heavens were adorned with clouds of a somber ashy hue, obscuring the radiant sun in its entirety, and permitting but a scant ray of light to penetrate. You lay sprawled on your bed; the clamor from beyond your door kept you from getting any sleep, so you opt to lay there, eyes shut and breathing even.

The two hefty thuds at your door jolt you awake, your eyes snapping to the entrance. A servant girl stood there, her gaze piercing, and her upper lip curled in a sneer. "The King and Queen request your presence for a meal in the dining chamber."

You release a heavy sigh and nod. "Yes, I shall join them shortly, Nadia." she scoffs and closes the door with a soft thud. Rubbing the remnants of sleep from your eyes, you rose from your bed, slipping into your shoes with a sense of resignation. Hastily, you arranged your disheveled hair and adjusted your attire in the mirror, preparing yourself for the impending encounter. Finally, summoning your resolve, you embarked on the descent towards the dining hall.

 Your stomach churns uncomfortably as you motion towards the knights, fingers twisting nervously as they swing open the heavy oak doors. Stepping into the chamber, you swiftly bow and linger there for a moment, awaiting permission to be seated. "Hail to the Sun and Moon of the realm." Your sire grunts and gestures for you to take a seat; you release a shaky breath and settle across from your mother, who pays you no mind.

Within the dining hall, a profound stillness prevails, accompanied solely by the gentle clatter of utensils upon porcelain plates. You dare to disrupt the silence, your heart constricting within your breast, burdened by your uneasiness. " Pray tell, have I heard true? Have the demons breached the borders, causing mayhem? Is that why the ranks of the noble knights have swelled in recent days?"

The older man looks up from his meal, steely eyes on your face. "I did not deem you astute enough to discern matters of such nature, but aye, it is true. The Orcs shall breach the barrier if we do not do something. The knights from Tvatian shall not grace us with their presence for a week's time, yet our defenses wane with each passing moment."

The sound of your mother's throat being cleared reverberates through the air, abruptly drawing your eyes towards her. "You shall soon attain the age of twenty, my dear. Do you have any intentions of entering into wedlock?" Her voice possesses a cloying sweetness, signifying her ulterior motives; she is forever scheming. As you carefully place your knife and fork on the table, you grant her your undivided focus. "Aye, mother," you reply, your words tinged with a touch of uncertainty.

With a disapproving click of her tongue, she gracefully lifted her goblet to her lips, attempting to conceal the mischievous grin that flickered across her features. "Verily, a little bird has whispered in my ear that Orcs take pleasure in having humans as mere playthings, using them as harlots and passing them amongst themselves. How dreadful."

 Your hands clench beneath the table, and you struggle to suppress the bile that threatens to rise. Your heart thumps sporadically in your chest, almost painfully. What is she implying? "Pray tell, what is the essence of your words?"

"The royal family's expectations are not to be taken lightly, my child. If you persist in shirking your responsibilities by avoiding marriage and offspring, alternative measures must be considered. You shall be delivered to the head Orc at the border; mayhap that will pacify them until the Tavatian knights arrive." Your father had spoken this time, causing you to swiftly turn your gaze towards him. Tears welled up in your eyes, and a soft laughter escaped your lips. "Pray, father, assure me that you jest."

The answer lies within his silence. Your hands collide with the table, your head sways vehemently from side to side. "Nay, nay! You shall not subject me to this. What offense have I caused thee? I have obeyed all your commands unquestioningly, and you are planning to— Nay, I shall not proceed."

As the succulent salmon dances on her fork, your mother's laughter fills the air, resonating with a warmth that belies the gravity of her words. "My dear child, you find yourself bereft of options. You shall be deemed a traitor to the noble lineage and condemned to perish before your very birthday." A lump lodges itself in your throat, and tears stream down your face, as you rue the moment you stepped out of your room. "For what reason do you bear such animosity towards me?"

"Escort her back to her chamber; she's giving me indigestion," your mother states with a grimace.  The knights pause briefly, uncertain of how to guide you away. Dismissing them with a wave of your hand, you rise from your chair and exit the chamber, tears clouding your sight. The journey back is unsettling, with the maids gossiping and gesturing, their disdain evident on their faces, and their disapproving gazes following you.

The door is forcefully slammed shut behind you, and with great urgency, your feet carry you to your bed, where you collapse with a heavy sigh. Almost immediately, your pillow becomes saturated with the tears that pour forth, and you huddle into yourself, simply becoming smaller. 

  Indeed, you knew this would occur eventually, but you hadn't thought you would be handed over to some hideous monster who would likely slay you upon arrival. Violent sobs wrack your body, shaking you to the core, while your nose runs uncontrollably, the pillow muffles a scream of agony.

After half an hour had passed, you lay there, sleep welcoming you with warm arms. The answer to this puzzle would reveal itself upon your awakening.

—

Woken by the sound of shuffling, faint whispers, and delicate clinks, you remain motionless, filled with trepidation, and unwilling to stir from your position. You quickly clench your eyes shut upon hearing the intruder approach. As much as you desired to confront them, you were also intrigued to uncover their intentions within your room.

"Seize her limbs; we must transport her to the dungeon." In an instant, your heart falters, trembling fiercely, and for a moment, your breath is held captive. As your eyes snap open, the ceiling of your chamber looms above you. Swiftly, you strike at the person nearest to you, expressing gratitude to the gods as you hear their curse.

Emerging hastily from the confines of your bed, you sprint towards the exit, a shrill cry escaping your lips as a hand clutches your ankle. You descend abruptly, your chin colliding with the cold marble beneath, silently expressing gratitude for the prudent act of placing your tongue against the roof of your mouth in the final moments.

   Swiftly flipping over, you kick frantically, tears streaming down your face as your legs are forcefully spread apart, and the assailant inserts themselves between your thighs, seizing hold of your arms.

Your vision blurs as a heavy slap is brought across your face. The brief respite from your struggle grants the assailants the opportunity to lay a cloth upon your nostrils. Your eyes flutter shut, darkness casting a shadow upon your vision. The feel of your body being lifted is the only thing you remember.

Within the confines of the cell, you find yourself in a state of contemplation, your head gently leaning against the cold metal bars. The sharp sound of heels striking the ground causes you to straighten up. The passage of time remains elusive, yet the atmosphere hints at the arrival of a new day, shrouded in the quiet of dawn.

Your mother's face came into view, causing you to sneer in disdain as you buried your head in your knees, refusing to meet her gaze. The very sound of her voice sent shivers down your spine, igniting a mixture of anger and sorrow within you. She callously auctioned you off, displaying a complete lack of concern for your well-being.

"I reckoned it would be preferable for you to don your best attire, but it would be futile. A watchman shall be present shortly to guide you to the border, make no disturbance, do you understand? 'Twould be unsightly if you do."

You ignore her, but deep down, you are filled with dread to venture towards the border. You longed to weep and plead with her to refrain from sending you, but it would only wound your pride. Instead, she smiles and draws nigh unto the prison bars. "When we emerge victorious in this war, and if you are still breathing, I shall dispatch you to a brothel. I couldn't possibly have such a defiled child. Revel in your sojourn there, my dear."

The clatter-clack of her footwear slowly vanishing into the distance brings forth a torrent of tears. Why must this befall you? What sin have you committed to warrant such treatment? The jingle-jangle of keys catches your attention; the guard stands before you with a look of pity. "Your majesty, the time has arrived."

You nod in a pitiful manner and rise from the ground, using your soiled hands to dry your tears, leaving traces of dirt on your cheeks. As you draw near to the guard,  he pulls down his sleeve and tenderly wipes your cheeks with a sympathetic smile. You bow softly in gratitude and proceed to walk with him to the carriage.

He assists you inside and closes the door; a click prompts you to peer through the tiny gap. A lock secures the door; as you lock eyes with the guard, he merely sighs and shakes his head. "The Queen has requested this. I beg your pardon, Your Majesty." 

  You remain silent, leaning back in the seat and staring blankly at the castle. You see your father standing at his office window, observing. You avoid his gaze, curling up in the seat. Then, as the carriage sets in motion, your heart swells, and tears flow.

The carriage's abrupt jolt awakens you from your nap; the sun is just beginning to descend, signaling the end of a day filled with endless riding. The only noise is the steady trot of the horses and the occasional whisper of the soldiers. Have you arrived already? You swallow nervously and flinch as the door is forcefully opened. "We have arrived, your highness."

You nod and sit up, clasping his hand to disembark from the carriage. Your eyes swiftly survey the surroundings. Despite the tales, the border seemed relatively serene. You couldn't hear anything from beyond the wall. At length, a throat is cleared,  causing you to look up, and the guard beckons you along. You hesitate for only a moment before fortifying your resolve and walking forward.

After much anticipation, the distant voices grow more distinct. "Captain, 'tis here! Shall we unseal the gates?" The clamor of the ponderous wheels turning and ascending is loud in your ears. The gate opens enough to allow your passage beneath. They weren't wasting time at all. The guard places a hand on your lower back and pushes you forward gently. "The Orc General has agreed to receive you; he's on the other side waiting."

You suppress the lump in your throat and proceed, every gaze fixed upon you. The wall loomed thick and intimidating,  and you couldn't shake off the fear of it collapsing on you as you reached the other side. However, as you eventually crossed over, your gaze locked with his.

Standing tall at a minimum of 9 feet, he possessed a powerful build adorned with thick muscles, and hair decorating his chest. Dark brown hair cascaded down to his waist woven into an intricate braid, contrasting against his pear-colored complexion and a thick beard enveloped his jaw. Scars crisscrossed his body, enhancing his rugged charm.  Despite his blunt tusks, one of which was slightly chipped, there was no denying the outrageous attractiveness of this Orc.

As he takes a step forward, an instinctual reflex compels you to retreat, a shiver of trepidation coursing through your being. Your legs, heavy as if forged from lead, refuse to heed your desperate plea for escape. A subtle chuckle escapes his lips, the corners curling upwards in a smug grin. "Time is not a luxury I possess, little human," he mocks, his voice dripping with impatience. 

  You part your lips to utter a response, but only silence greets your futile attempt. The resounding thud of the closing wall seals your grim destiny, causing your weakened knees to buckle beneath you, surrendering to the tender embrace of the grassy ground. With a deep sigh, he strides towards you, casting a towering shadow over your slumped figure, a chilling reminder of his overpowering presence.

With utmost ease, he effortlessly lifts you, as if you were as light as a feather. Your body tenses in his embrace, a mixture of vulnerability and anticipation. The tears well up, threatening to spill over. Surprisingly, his touch is tender, his hands delicately traversing your legs and back. Summoning your courage, you manage to muster a question, your voice trembling slightly. 

  "Might I inquire about your name?"  Despite your hesitant speech, he pays no mind, his voice resonating with a deep timber that sends a surge of desire coursing through your veins. A flush of warmth spreads across your face, compelling you to avert your gaze and focus on your lap. "I am Loran, the General of the Mammoth Clan."

Silence envelops the air for a fleeting moment before your voice breaks through once more. "My name is (Name)" He acknowledges your introduction with a subtle hum, and together, you navigate through the labyrinthine paths until you arrive at a large tent. With utmost care, he settles you upon a sumptuous bed adorned with furs, then proceeds to position himself near a table, obscuring its contents from your prying eyes. 

  A knot tightens in your throat as you summon the courage to voice your deepest fear. "Might you have intentions of devouring me?" you whisper, recoiling at the childlike vulnerability that tinges on your words.

His laughter causes a flutter in your chest; every aspect of him leaves your insides twisted. At last, he ceases his actions and pivots to meet your gaze, his arms folded. You had to physically remind yourself to avert your eyes from his well-defined muscles. "Would you like me to?" His voice carries a teasing lilt, yet his words hint at something more intimate.

You shake your head in denial and draw your knees closer to your body. He was nothing like the figure you had imagined; you were convinced that your life would have ended by now. Your gaze wanders aimlessly as you delve into your own musings. Unbeknownst to you, he crouches down before you. The calloused tips of his fingers grazing your chin send a shiver down your spine. Your eyes meet his, and you find yourself holding your breath.

"The hour grows late; retire for the night. "

 You offer a silent nod, watching him leave the tent. Following his guidance, you settle back onto the furs. After the tumultuous events of the day, slumber swiftly envelops you, embracing the plush comfort of the bedding.

The warmth seeping into your skin prompts you to wriggle out of the furs. The weight of an arm flung over your stomach arrests you, dread settling in your heart and coiling around it like a vice. Though yesterday's events come rushing back to you and you relax, your tense body melting into Loran's embrace.  

  Despite the circumstances that brought you here, he had shown nothing but kindness, even playfulness - he didin't really make you uneasy, and it seemed as though a burden had been lifted from your shoulders.

In the realm of uncertainty, his actions remained capricious, yet amidst this unpredictability, a newfound liberation enveloped your being, you were free. Loran, with an irresistible allure, draws you nearer, your bodies melding as your front meets his. You place your hands on his chest and gently create distance, huffing as he cuddles closer.

After struggling a bit more, you come to a stop and seize the opportunity to examine him closely. Withdrawing your hand from his chest, you gently place it on his cheek, relishing its velvety texture. Loran possessed a striking appearance. Tracing your fingers along his lips, the sensation of his tusks lightly brushing against your fingertips captivates you once more. Their smoothness leaves you mesmerized. The rounded tips are gentle and harmless; they would not cause any discomfort if you were to share a kiss.

 Blushing with embarrassment, your cheeks turn a rosy hue, and for a fleeting moment, you seek solace by burying your face into his chest. Raising your gaze once more, you cautiously wave your hand before his face, ensuring his continued slumber. With no signs of movement and a steady rhythm of breath, a sigh of relief escapes your lips. 

  Gradually, you shift your position, ascending along his form, while your heart flutters nervously within your chest. With a mixture of fascination and unease, you lean closer, drawn to an inexplicable magnetism emanating from him. His lips, so alluring, entice you irresistibly.

 Placing your hand on his cheek, you lean in with deliberate slowness, capturing his lips with yours. The sensation of his tusks grazing your skin sends a rush of pleasure up your spine. With closed eyes, you deepen the kiss, savoring the unexpected softness of his lips. His taste is intoxicating, akin to a forbidden elixir. You have always been drawn to forbidden pleasures.

With a hint of reluctance, you retreat, allowing your eyes to slowly unveil the world around you. A startled gasp escapes your lips as your gaze meets Loran's. Despite your endeavors to break free from his embrace, his arms encase you like unyielding steel, entrapping you. Loran's chuckle resonates with a profound and drowsy timbre, while his hand ascends to firmly grasp your chin. "Do not flee from me, Sma ni." ( little one )

His lips are on yours, gentle and governing. His other hand gripping your waist and quickly lifting you onto his chest. The sensation of his thick and moist tongue overpowering your mouth elicits a fervent moan from deep within you, while your thighs instinctively clasp around his stomach. As his hands glide up your top, the pads of his fingers diligently work out the tension in your soft skin. Gradually, they find their way to your hips, expertly guiding them to grind against his abdomen.

With a soft whine escaping your mouth, you break the connection of his kiss, and your tongue lazily protrudes, leaving a trail of warm saliva on your chin. A primal growl resonates from deep within his chest, causing your thoughts to blur. Your hands instinctively find their way to his chest, the rough hair gently tickling your palms. The pressure on your hips eases, and his hand tightly grasps your hair, enabling him to sit up and halt the rhythmic grind of your hips.

A soft whimper escapes your lips as the throbbing sensation between your thighs intensifies.  Loran's lips trail along the curve of your throat, delicately nibbling at your tender skin, while his tongue glides with ease. Suddenly, a tearing sound startles you and a rush of cool air caresses your newly bared legs. The remnants of your shredded trousers gracefully descend to the floor, leaving you vulnerable and exposed.

Upon the velvety fur, Loran tenderly positions you, his voracious eyes meticulously exploring the expanse of your body. In a swift motion, he removes the sole obstruction that conceals your body, leaving you vulnerable to his cravings. You clench your thighs, your pussy pulsating with emptiness. This man was sinful; he looked so delectable, his lips shimmering with the remnants of your passionate kisses, and his complexion adorned with a captivating flush.

He lets out a deep groan, settling himself amidst your thighs, the ache in your legs a mere whisper compared to the intensity of his touch, tongue dancing over your nipples, nipping and tugging. Loran's hand travels up your body, his thick fingers entering your warm, wet mouth. You suppress a gag and suck on them shyly, tears welling up in your eyes. As his fingers delve deeper into your throat, you grasp his wrist firmly, your hips grinding against his thick bulge.

Loran pulls his fingers from your mouth, watching the rivulets of saliva drip down his digits. Leaving a glistening trail of moisture along your body, Loran delicately caresses his fingers through the soft curls of hair on your pussy, teasing you with the soft touch of his fingertips. With deliberate precision, he gradually eases one digit into the confines of your snug entrance stretching you. You pull your fleshy bottom lip into your mouth, teeth digging painfully. Your lashes flutter, exposing the whites of your eyes as they roll back in blissful surrender, eyebrows arching. Your mewls are soft and pleading. "Mmph! L-Loran. Please "

Your voice is a siren's call to him, as you whimper and plead for him. His desire to possess you completely, to fuck you full of his cum, to have you swollen with his young, consumes him. The mere thought of it almost brings him to the brink of release. Granting mercy upon your adorable, fucked out face, he finally sinks his finger into your cunt, relishing the exquisite tightness that embraces him, while your delicate hands clutch his braid and tug.

  With his other hand, he gently cups your cheeks between his large, powerful fingers, causing your lips to pucker. His mouth descends upon yours, messy and dominating, leaving a trail of mingled saliva that pools down your flushed cheeks. He chuckles as your eyes wander elsewhere, glazed and hazy with pleasure as he eases a single finger inside you.

A high-pitched sound escapes your lips as he expertly probes a sensitive spot deep within you, causing your hips to tremble and your inner walls to clench around his fingers. Leaning closer, his warm breath brushes against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "Ayh lat naka ve cum, sma shara? " His mother tongue is foreign to you, but it sounds absolutely erotic, especially while he's stroking your drooling pussy skillfully. You shudder fervently, emitting mewls and whimpers, as the squelching noises of his thrusts fill the confined space of the tent. “I—uhn~ w-wait p-please, Lor…” You babble nonsensically. ( are you going to cum, little human? )

 Loran, in a teasing mood, complies with your dumb prattling, and moves away from you, fingers slipping out with an erotic pop. A soft whimper escapes your lips, your lower lip jutting out in a pout as tears well up in your eyes from the empty feeling in your pussy, your eyes widen at seeing him suck on his dampened fingers. “N-no, why’d you stop!” 

 With a chuckle, the Orc leans in to press a tender kiss on your flushed cheeks, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. "I simply did as you asked, Faushnu," he whispers. Pulling back slightly, he studies your expression - your eyebrows furrowed, lips parted, and your chest rising and falling rapidly. "I did not mean for this," you whimper, grinding your hips against his growing bulge. “M-more. Give me more.” You give him a stern glare, that only turns him on more, his little hostage was so demanding. ( baby ) "Of course, Your Highness," he says, his tone dripping with playful mockery. Loran's large hands firmly grasp your waist, swiftly maneuvering you onto your stomach. With a gentle yet commanding motion, he elevates your hips, causing your face to be buried in the soft furs beneath you. The sensation is almost agonizing as your back arches, eliciting a sharp squeal from your lips. A glob of warm saliva unexpectedly lands on your moistened pussy, causing an involuntary clenching reaction. "What are yo--?" 

  Before you can finish, the sudden roughness of his tongue against your throbbing cunt has you seeing stars. His feral growls reverberate through the air, as his tongue delves and ravishes you with an insatiable fervor. Reduced to a whimpering wreck, tears of rapturous delight cascade down your flushed face.  Desperate to regain control, you weakly press your small hand against the crown of his head, attempting to halt the relentless onslaught. "No more, please, m'gunna cum. Want to cum for you," you manage to slur amidst incoherent babbling, your words a contradictory mix. 

Loran, enraptured by your musings, fingers your pussy once again, effortlessly finding that spongey nerve inside of you and deftly curling his thick finger into it, time and again. A torrent of scorching pleasure engulfs your entire being, as you succumb to an intense climax, your trembling thighs embracing his head while your pussy flutters around his finger.

" Loran! "You slur, thighs still convulsing as the feel of Loran's hands on the fat of your hips seems multiplied, your mind filled with goo. The rustle of fabric falling to the ground barely registers before his thick cock presses into your pussy, hands guiding your hips onto him. Warmth trickles onto your pulsing cunt, his saliva lubing where you connect. You clench around him, emitting obscene moans. 

   He delves deeper, your snugness yielding to his thick, heavy cock. You swear you can feel every pulsating vein, every ridge of him inside of you. You whimper and whine when he fucks half of his big cock into your tiny little hole, and you thrash and let out small mewls of pleasure. "Mmph, Lor--!! it won't fit!" you whimper amidst sobs. 

"Hm?" He utters, his voice a low hum, as he observes with rapt attention as you stretch around his green, monstrous cock. The pressure within your abdomen steadily intensifies, inch by inch, until Loran thrusts in the last couple of inches, his large balls flush against your engorged clit. You're already fucked stupid, pupils blown, and moans strewing from your lips. The Orc takes hold of your hand, guiding it towards your stomach, allowing you to feel the undeniable presence of his shaft protruding from your belly. "Do you feel me? Feel my cock in your insides, my little human?"

With a forceful motion, he retreats, then thrusts forcefully into you, his grip tightening on your hair as he pulls.  A fervent moan escapes your lips, as the resounding collision of his hips against your ass fills the air, the only thing you can hear. The wet squelching of your arousal intermingles with his precum, cascading onto the opulent furs beneath you. His name becomes a sacred mantra, slipping from your tongue like a fervent prayer. "S'good, m'gunna cum, let me cum, please, please."

With a gentle caress, Loran's hand ascends your stomach, pinching your sensitive nipples. You mewl, back arching as you clench and pulse around his thick length, cumming harder than before, a wave of darkness gently tinting your vision. A low, guttural moan reverberates from deep within you, harmonizing with Loran's unyielding thrusts. “That's a good fuckin’ girl.”

The Orc's hand comes down on your ass, observing the quivering flesh. Your violated hole trembles around Loran's thick length, and he snickers, his hips stuttering. "You're mine. Hm? Do you understand, pet?" His thrusts became more profound, faster, not giving you rest, groaning as you nod quickly, whimpering.

You turn your gaze towards him, his fingers constricting in your tresses. "Loran, want you to cum inside me, please." Your feeble arms emerge from beneath your form, delicate hands reaching to spread your pussy wider. "You will, right?"

 Your wanton plea hurls the massive Orc over the brink. Loran's hips slam into yours once more as his scorching cum coats your walls; the copious amount of it had you cumming once more. Loran continues to pump his seed into you, his cock still hard and balls full of cum. He longed to see you swollen with his offspring; he wouldn't stop until he knew you were trapped with him.

You are not permitted to rest until the early morning, curled against his chest with his seed leaking from your stretched opening. Your body is tender, marked with bruises on your neck and chest. Loran places his large hand on your cheek; although he is running late for the meeting, he decides to allow you more time to sleep.

He lifts you gently, thankful that he has cleaned you up and changed the bedding. You snuggle into his warmth, almost convincing him to delay for another hour. "My zemar, it's time to wake up. We must rise before the sun sets." (my heart)

Stirring in his arms, your eyelashes flutter before you slowly open your bleary eyes. Attempting to close them once more, his hearty chuckle resonates, partially rousing you. Placing you gently on the bed, he drapes one of his shirts over you, guiding your arms through the sleeves. Loran picks you up again, cradling you as he carries you out of the tent, shielding your eyes from the glaring sun. The short walk to the other side of the campsite goes unnoticed by you.

He arrives promptly, his raven perched gracefully on its stand. A soft whistle escapes his lips, a signal for the bird to gather the troops. Loran takes his place at the head of the table, positioning you to face him, your legs wrapped around his waist. With spit on his fingers, he traces circles around your cunt, pleased that it had returned to its original state, tight and warm. After lubricating your entrance, he spits on his palm and wraps his member in a firm grip, ensuring that it's slick. 

  Loran aligns himself with your little hole and eases inside, emitting a deep groan at the vice grip; you let out a sleepy moan, tightening around him. His large hands grip the fat of your hips, guiding you down the rest of his thick length. He pulls his shirt over your ass, concealing where his cock is nestled inside of you.

He has to stop himself from fucking you on the table in front of all his tribe members. Once he had you in the perfect position, his soldiers began to file into the room. He couldn't help but notice how your warm, tight hole was becoming slick. Unbeknownst to you, his thick cock was already buried deep within you.

The meeting unfolds seamlessly. With nightfall as their ally, they conspire to dismantle the impenetrable walls of the Kingdom on the morrow. A sacred covenant governs The Mammoth Clan, dictating that the fairer sex and the innocent offspring shall be spared from any affliction. Thus, the innocent shall be granted mercy and protection.

Awakening towards the end, your pussy pulsating and enveloping something thick and long. A twitching motion stirs inside you, nudging your G-spot. A soft moan escapes your lips as you hide your face in his neck. Loran dismisses it as your mere awakening, soothingly caressing your back. Only a fool would miss the evidence of your arousal - the glistening juices trickling down your bare thighs and the hint of green meeting a clenching hole

" Dismissed. "

The orcs file out of the room, speaking amongst each other. Loran's gaze descends upon your petite frame, concealed beneath his garments. He looks feral. Once the auditory commotion subsides, you cautiously lift your head, locking eyes with his penetrating stare.

"Loran, please."

The Orc emits a deep snarl, his lips forcefully meeting yours as he firmly grasps the flesh of your hips, hoisting you off his slick member. Swiftly, he plunges you back down, thrusting into you with fervor, fucking you onto him. You're moaning mess, the spit from your sloppy kiss sliding down your chin and eyes rolling to the back of your head. The sound of wet slapping resonates loudly within the confines of the tent. With a gasp for air, you disengage from him, your hands finding solace on his broad shoulders.

 A particular thrust causes the swollen, mushroom-shaped tip of his cock to abuse your g-spot and your moan is shrill. You climax, your body trembling around him, leaving a creamy, ivory ring at the base of his cock. Stars burst in your vision as you weakly press your lips against his throat, whimpering as he continues to thrust into you, your sensitive and throbbing core tender. " Lor-.. no more.. s’too.. much!" you sputter, sloppily pressing your lips to his and sucking on his large tongue. 

Despite the roughness of his hips snapping into yours, he caresses your sides softly and pulls away from your kiss, licking his lips. "Be a good pet, hm? Let me use my pussy, can you do that for me? " You nod hesitantly, and he smiles, sending your stomach to unfurl languidly. "S'my good girl." You bury your face in his neck with a whimper, but when your blunt little teeth sink into his collarbone it pushes him over the edge; and he stands up with you still bouncing on his cock, thrusting so deeply that you hiss. Ropes of cum paint your pulsing walls, filling you up.

Loran's shallow thrusts ensure not a single drop is wasted as you envelop him in your embrace, closing your eyes and inhaling deeply.

Mayhap, the circumstance of being dispatched to this place was not as grievous as first imagined...

connected with this post!

#monsterfucker #monster fucker #monster smut #monster headcanons #monster lover #monster nsft #monster x reader #monster x human #monster x you #monster romance #tw monsterfucking #fantasy #female writers #possessive #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #female reader #mates #monster imagine #orc x reader #orc romance #orc x human #orc smut #size difference #male monster #monster bf #size k!nk #submisive and breedable #deunmiu dessie

[writingforatwistedworld]

Requests are open?? May I request Lilia and Malleus from the self aware au with a player who is an artist and draws them a lot?

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, obsession, death, murder, hypocrisy, fire, coma, unhealthy relationship, possessive behavior

Malleus Draconia/Lilia Vanrouge-Player is an artist who draws them a lot

Doesn't matter what kind of style and form of art you practice, you have a fan

Classical? Great! Realism? Wonderful! Stick-man-style? He put the picture in a golden frame (All hail the stick-man style!)

But if Malleus were to ever find out that said stick man is supposed to be him, well he would be over the moon

It was a totally normal day, a cat was choking up a hairball and some poor student fell off of his broom in flying class and was now stuck in a tree

But that is of no importance to us

What is of importance though is Malleus strolling down the path down to Ramshackle and seeing you sit on the stairs with paper and other drawing utensils

Completely normal. Peaceful even. Maybe a bit too peaceful

You see, if you hadn't been too absorbed into rubbing colored pigments into dead wood then you would have seen the tall black wall approaching you

A shadow falls over your shoulder and you scream

Is that... him? Why is the Overseer draw-oh

Malleus is metaphorically (more or less. Meh, he is probably this close to doing it also literally) frothing from his mouth after seeing himself in more than just one paper after the small stack stabilizing the paper you drew on slipped from your hands

Forgetting his manners he rips the paper from the ground, staring with eyes wide as plates onto the thinly pressed wood (granny is somewhere shaking her head)

Why would the Overseer, watcher over worlds, almighty ruler of everything, a god, draw him?

Coughing nervously you explained that you just are interested in are and liked to draw him

Later when he is back in Diasomnia Lilia is greeted with the sight of a tail-wagging Malleus (yes Malleus has a tail and I have no idea how he hides it)

“Lilia, the Overseer likes to draw me.”-moments before calamity struck and Malleus accidentally lit the dorm aflame from sheer joy

But... perhaps you shouldn't draw anyone else

Who knows? Maybe that person disappears for a while and just to be found in a deep coma (don't do it)

Whoa whoa whoa darling, let us not jump at him from nowhere with the fact that you like to draw him

After all, he is quite old and we don't know what his poor heart can still take

Now how about you tell him about your interest in art fir- ah... From your expression I take that it is too late for that

Indeed it is

One day you were just sitting there in Ramshackle, T-posing or whatever you do when you are not drawing

Remember that scene when Lilia was introduced to us? Well “How do you do fellow kids” over here just popped out of thin air

Now, that would have been nothing special if it wasn't for the stack of paper with his face on it on the table...

Lilia is staring, you are staring and the gargoyles are facepalming

Poor man has to take a seat all whilst you watch him with cold sweat running down your back

Suddenly Lilia isn't that “always energetic” guy but looks a lot more vulnerable

In Lilias mind however he is planning how to burn that one portrait of himself in the Draconia castle and replace it with your art

Or so he thought until he looked what else you drew

For goodness sake, someone call an ambulance! I think he is about to pass out!

If the situation wasn't already awkward enough for you (and euphoric for him) Lilia suddenly kneels down, saying something about being honored and him swearing to be forever loyal to you

Oh sweet summer child, how easily you told him “Oh thanks...” If only you knew what would follow...

You see, Lilia might have had seen a few too many heads being severed from their bodies but, oh well, all those students were a teeny tiny bit too close to you for his comfort

Suddenly there is an increase in missing students who get found in... uh... “not compatible with life” conditions

See? It's dangerous outside! Let him watch over you!

Says the person responsible for everything

You had shown your appreciation through your art, now it's his turn to show his

And what if a few students need to get hurt? (Yeah, “hurt”)

#yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst x reader #self aware au #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst malleus #twst malleus x reader #twst lilia #twst lilia x reader #malleus draconia x reader #yandere malleus draconia #yandere malleus #malleus x reader #yandere malleus x reader #twisted wonderland malleus #malleus draconia #yandere lilia vanrouge #yandere lilia #twisted wonderland lilia #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge #lilia x reader #yandere lilia x reader

[foone]

We build bases on the moon. Colonize the planets of the gas giants, terraform Mars and Venus, build orbital habitats around everything with enough gravity to hold it up. We invent FTL, and send ships named after dreams to every star we have cataloged. We have rulebooks and plans and endless ideas of what we do when finally we meet another spacefairing race, but it never happens. We don't hail any vulcan cruisers above the skies of Epsilon Eridani and get in no laser battles with a star destroyer in the scarlet light of Wolf 359. No one responds to our endless messages sent to the heavens.

Life? We find that everywhere. If a rock is big enough to hold onto enough atmosphere, we find something growing there. Maybe just a moss or some protokarotic slime, but there'll be something growing there. We spend centuries cataloging the flora and fauna (and everything in between) of a million stars, and never meet anyone who can say hello back.

Not yet at least. In the unending sunset of the Mu Herculis system there's the Peterson's Mermaids who are just developing language and starting on metallurgy. The vampires of Fomalhaut b have begun to write down numbers, and we expect them to have a full language sometime within the next hundred thousand years. There's no animal life on Gliese 499 d, but we have reason to suspect the clonal organism inhabiting most of the northern forest is verging on sapience. And we don't even have time to get into the theory that 55 Cancri B (the red dwarf orbiting the star Copernicus) is a living being in it's own right.

There's plenty of life to study. Lots to learn. But we never meet anyone we can greet in friendship, and there's no star gods out here in the black. We've looked everywhere.

Humanity takes decades to come to terms with the reality of the situation. But we do, of course. We can't give up now.

We searched endlessly for the ancient aliens with all the answers, who built hyperspace portal networks before our sun even burnt, and couldn't find them. We settled for locating our brothers and sisters amongst the stars, another race that had fought their way up from the trees and into the stars, and couldn't find them either.

We always dreamed of finding a parent we could look up to, or a sibling we could share the sky with. They weren't there.

Humanity settles into their role. It wasn't what we hoped for, but we'll be the big brother/big sister to the life of the universe. Not the parent, no. We didn't create them, and we don't control them, but we'll protect them. We'll help them when they fall, and let them make their own mistakes when they need to. But we're here to be the role model and the helper and the partner in crime, the one we wanted but never had.

We keep searching, of course. And our observers on a thousand planets report that there are hints of an ancient race, older than writing, mentioned in the myths of endless cultures. Gods from the skies who stopped the flood, who ended the plague, who taught them to plant a new crop, who stopped the war just as the bombs began to fall, and who led them to a new land when the star began to flare.

We investigate these rumors and myths and stories, just in case we missed the Ancients we always wanted to find. But at the heart of these stories, there's always a description of the helpers: bipedal, two arms, two eyes, no fur, no wings. And if the species has developed art and writing, there'll often be a drawing of a figure, standing alongside a local god or great leader, and nearby the legend will read "humans".

Art historians and religious studies scholars are amused at how often they give us halos. Someone even suggests redesigning our force-suit geometry to reinforce the impression, but cooler heads prevail. We're not doing this for praise or worship. We're doing this because no one could do it for us.

Millenia later after we've been joined among the stars by our sibling races, a mermaid and a vampire are idly chatting while they wait for their turn through the portal network around Fornax A. "What drove the humans to do all this? Why did they take it upon themselves to search every corner of the universe and decide to protect and shelter and guide the many younger races of the stars?". The mermaid shrugs, which is hard to do without shoulders. "I think they just wanted friends."

The vampire looks out the observation window, at the thousands of ships from hundreds of spacefairing races, waiting in line or jumping through phase gates to the other side of the cosmos. "Well, they've got them now."

There's a beep from a console, and a warning light activates as the ship accelerates towards a shimmering gate. Our children play among the stars, without fear of the dark. There's no monsters there, we checked. There's only us.

#my writing

[sepublic]

"And besides, my powers don't work on King."

"The... dog?"

"Yeah! 'Cause he's a TITAN! You worked in the castle Ray-Ray, you've seen the big 'ol heart, still beating too! Titans are amazing! When they're full grown, they're more powerful than anyone!"

I’m seeing people joke about Belos not knowing the giant heart in his throne room belonged to the Titan, but keep in mind the Collector thought they were talking to Raine, who wasn’t privy to the secrets that Belos was taught. Plus, I don’t think the Collector’s dialogue necessarily indicates Raine didn’t know either, just that they were bringing up Raine’s one frame of reference regarding a Titan to compare to King, and emphasize their powers (Since what prompted this was the Collector complaining about how Titan magic counters his own).

Given his intimate understanding of the isles thanks to the Collector, Belos was probably aware; There isn’t any confirmation he knew, but there isn’t confirmation he didn’t know either. I don’t think it was a coincidence that Belos chose to build his castle right in the center, right around a giant beating heart that might’ve once held Titan’s Blood before he drained it. Possession of a still-living heart that would’ve validated Belos’ claims that the Titan still lived on in some capacity (which is true), and that he was listening to it.

As for why Belos’ first plan wasn’t to possess the heart, keep in mind his curse may not have transformed him to that point yet; We never see him possess anyone until after the Collector splatters Belos, so it’s possible he hadn’t even figured out he could hijack bodies until he had to! Belos invested time into perfecting the sigils and implementing them for the draining spell, we've seen his failed experiments, and this man is the Emperor of Sunk-Cost Fallacy.

Plus, fusing with the isles itself to destroy it seems like a pretty permanent solution that could destroy the portal, or anything he’d use to make another one; And Belos was still insistent on returning home to be hailed as a hero, told he did a good job, etc. It’s only when Belos realizes there isn’t any adulation waiting for him in Gravesfield, discovering this through Hunter’s eyes and ears, that he gives up on home to focus on all he has left; Hatred.

It seems Belos' original plan was to possess the Collector when their guard was down, and use their power to kill everyone; Maybe resuming the draining spell by moving the moon back into place, controlling the puppeted Coven Heads for the ritual, etc. But then the Collector confirmed the Titan as more powerful than them, and practically tailored towards defeating such a powerful kid. And Belos planned to kill the Collector afterwards anyway, so...!

And it tracks he'd go for such a last resort, as it seems Belos is dying, from a number of reasons; He's run out of energy, with Vee contributing; His own curse has worsened; And he probably never fully recovered from being splattered by the Collector. That seemed to have broken something in Belos that he couldn't fix, hence why his body keeps falling apart outside of hosts. I think Belos merely treated the fatal injury the Collector gave him, kind of like how Manny's illness could only be postponed. And there is that analysis speculating Belos’ cursed form’s corruption as an allegory for that very illness...

#the owl house #emperor belos #philip wittebane #boiling isles titan

[munsonsduchess]

Nothing but a Good Time

summary: your coworker has called out sick and needs you to cover her interview on your day off

w/c: 9,786

warnings: nothing actually, this is p tame

a/n: it’s not plagiarism if it’s my own work! this has been rattling around in my brain for a hot minute and since i won’t be able to update Shadow of the Moon till late sunday i wanted to put something out

if you enjoy this consider reblogging! it really helps me out 🫶🏻🤟🏼

(moodboard by me)

Of all days for something to go wrong it would have to be today. A day which, as you informed your editor when he called at the ridiculous hour of 9am, you weren’t even supposed to be working. You had checked and double checked before leaving the office the previous evening that you wouldn’t be on call today nor would they need you in the office, you had planned therefore to catch up on everything you missed while you were working.

Laundry, grocery shopping, catching up on that show you’d been watching. The basics. The universe however seemed to laugh in the face of those plans so there you were rushing out of a crowded train station trying to hail a taxi looking like someone’s lost teenage daughter.

All this for a band you didn’t even like. Which admittedly you seemed to be the only one in the office who didn’t but your editor had begged and pleaded and even offered you an extra day off for covering the interview when it transpired that the other colleague who was supposed to be interviewing the band had gotten a stomach bug from her kids and wasn’t fit to leave the bathroom much less travel across the city of london to go to an interview in an expensive hotel for a band your magazine was foaming at the mouth over.

So there you were, coffee stains blessedly hidden on your black shirt, standing at the reception of one of the most expensive hotels in the city waiting for the go ahead to do your job,

“They’ll see you now” a large man also dressed in all black with a very impressive mohawk called from the private elevators, “follow me”

With a sigh you did as the man asked and followed him into the lift where he stood in impassible silence until you reached the penthouse, of course it was the penthouse, where he waited for you to follow him down the plush corridor before stopping in front of the suite.

Well time to get this over with and go back to ignoring the every growing pile of laundry in your apartment.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

Walking into the suite you were actually pretty surprised not to be assaulted by the smell of stale beer and cigarette smoke, it really did look as though the band even allowed the housekeeping staff in to clean the room. Not to mention all the appliances were still in their predetermined spots and nothing was missing or in the pool on the ground floor.

Standing in the main living room of the suite you started to take out the things you needed for the interview and found a comfortable seat next to a coffee table where you could set up your phone to record. You’d type up your notes later,

“Hey you’re that magazine chick!” a voice called from another part of the suite causing you to look up and find yourself staring into what could only be described as deep chocolate coloured eyes and a wild mop of curly hair.

No doubt in your mind this was Eddie Munson the lead guitarist and songwriter of the band. He had a very distinctive look

“I’m the reporter yes, it’s nice to meet you” you introduced yourself and held out your hand to shake the man’s,

“You’re totally not what I expected” he laughed as he took your hand and gave it a hardy shake, you didn’t know if that was supposed to be a compliment or not “the guys and I have been out sightseeing” Eddie continued, the bright smile never leaving his face.

“Oh really? Have you seen anything in particular?” you asked out of politeness not really expecting the outburst of energy that came from the man in front of you ,

“Eddie, chill man you’re gonna scare her away” another man said with a sigh, “Gareth. Nice to meet you”

“Likewise, you’re the drummer aren’t you?”

“That’s me. The good looking one”

“That isn’t what that article Nancy sent me said” Eddie said with a grin and wink in your direction, “besides chicks totally dig Jeff”

“Damn right they do” the man who’d followed Gareth into the room said, “ladies go wild for me”

“Yeah, yeah you’re just the best thing on planet earth and you’ve got your pick of the ladies” Eddie’s smile didn’t waver and it seemed as though this was some sort of inside joke between the three men as no one said more on the subject,

“Well if you’re all ready to get started” you gestured to the seats in front of you and picked your little recorder from the table, “so if you don’t mind i’m going to record the interview on my little cassette recorder here and then I’ll be typing it up and it’ll go into next week’s edition of the magazine. If you’re interested I’m sure you could pick it up from any newsstand”

“I mean we’re gonna be in town for another couple weeks so why don’t you just come by again?” Eddie said, you couldn’t detect anything but sincerity in his tone. He really did want you to come and hand deliver a magazine.

“Well I don’t know what I’ll be doing next week so I might not have the time” you answered, you weren’t sure if this was some sort of entitled rockstar behavior or something else but you’d done this job long enough to be on your guard when it came to celebrities.

Before anyone else could ask any questions you set your cassette player to record and started the interview. Luckily your colleague had already prepped a list of questions and things she wanted to talk about so you had no trouble following her notes.

The band was only too happy to answer questions and talk about themselves, you had half expected them to be like a lot of other ‘huge’ bands you’d interviewed in your time with the magazine - full of themselves, but they really did seem like three down to earth Midwestern boys. Eddie and Gareth had grown up together in a trailer park in Indiana and met Jeff later in life, they’d all shared a passion for music and started doing gigs in run down bars and clubs, at friends parties and really anything they could get a ride to. It was at one of these grungy bars in the middle of nowhere they’d been spotted and the subsequent rise to fame had been meteoric.

Throughout the interview the three men laughed and joked and poked fun at each other, at the music industry, they spoke passionately about things that were close to their hearts, causes they believed in and of course their families.

Jeff and Gareth seemed more than content to enjoy life on the road. The perks that came with being world famous Rock Stars but it seemed Eddie wanted more. He talked a lot about friends he’d left behind when the band made it big including a group of kids he talked about as if they were family,

“I mean you know what it’s like” he said gesturing to you, “you’re a mom”

It took you a second to recover from that before you raised your hands and spoke,

“Oh no i’m not a mom, you must mean Amy. She was supposed to be here today but her little one Jamie brought home a tummy bug and she’s not in any state to be anywhere but the house”

“I thought you were Amy!” Eddie said seriously, “shit I’m sorry I totally didn’t mean to offend you!”

“It’s fine, I know she was supposed to be here and that’s who the magazine told you to expect. I mean you probably thought I was a shit mom to be showing up looking like someone’s angsty teenager” you laughed trying to lighten the mood.

As the interview proceeded you found yourself reaching into the bag you'd brought with you for another cassette to keep recording. You hadn’t planned on the interview going on this long,

"That's a cool bag" Jeff commented and you reached for it, "are all of those patches for bands you listen to?"

You gestured to the little canvas messenger bag that had been your constant companion since university and the plethora of band patches decorating the front flap,

"I mean yeah, I work for a music magazine I've listened to a lot of music" you joked,

"We should get you one for us so you can have our band on your bag all the time" Eddie said, "we've got some pins too if you want one for the strap. I could get you one"

The rest of the interview proceeded after you'd switched out the cassette and you began to notice an almost imperceptible shift in Eddie’s behavior and his attitude towards you to the point where once the interview had concluded he offered to walk you down to the lobby himself,

“I could do with stretching my legs” he said with a shrug, shoving his hands into the pockets of his ripped jeans, “unless you don’t want me to go with you?” he held his hands up in a backing off motion

“No, I don’t mind” you offered him your own smile as you gathered up your things, “you can tell me what you like about the city”

“Dope!”

You suppressed a giggle at that. Eddie really just seemed like an over energetic teenager and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t endearing. To the rest of the world he was the enigmatic, charismatic lead guitarist of one of the biggest bands in the world and yet here he was so excited to walk you downstairs.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

“Well thanks again for walking with me” you said once you made it to the front doors of the hotel, “it was really nice to talk to you”

“Yeah? You really think so?”

“Sure. I was sort of expecting you all to be massive dicks all things considered but you seem really nice”

“I am really nice, why don’t you let me take you to dinner and I’ll show you how nice I am”

That floored you. You stood blinking at Eddie as if trying to find a joke in his features but you couldn’t find anything but sincerity,

“You really want to go to dinner with me?”

“Of course! You’re cute and I think we’d have a lot of fun. Plus you can show me around, all your favourite places” he beamed at you and honestly you couldn't think of a reason to say no,

"Alright, you're on"

"You won't regret this sweetheart. Promise"

"We'll see about that won't we?" with that you got into a waiting cab and headed back to the train station still reeling with what had just happened.

One of the most desirable men in the world had asked you to dinner and you'd said yes. Maybe today wasn't such a write off after all.

God bless the stomach flu.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #rockstar!eddie #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things fluff #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #duchess writes #duchess.txt

[ohtomatotome]

Getting There is Half the Fun

Word count: 6.8k 

Recipient: @violettduchess as part of the Ikemen Prince Gift Exchange hosted by @ikemenlibrary and @sunnyikemen

Characters: IkePri Keith Howell and MC (Emma), established relationship

Prompt: Something fluffy and lighthearted, maybe a trip together. It would be fun to see something not go according to plan and how they handle it. SFW, a little bit of spice.

Triggers: N/A

Content Warnings: Alter!Keith makes a couple of appearances, young children, kissing, depression, mention of sex (not depicted), mention of marriage. It is all fairly tame; just heaps of fluffiness.

Author's Notes are at the end of the story

“Isn’t this the most whimsical thing you’ve ever seen? What a vivid imagination this artist has!” 

Emma’s delighted tone caught Keith’s attention immediately. He came over to see the painting she was admiring. The couple were browsing decor in a shop situated near the crossroads of Rhodolite and Benitoite, filled with fine exports from sea-faring merchants. The framed piece in front of Emma was done by an artist who hailed from the border between Obsidian and Achroite.

Keith came to stand beside her and pointed at the painter’s signature, explaining, “I’m a little familiar with this man’s works. He doesn’t depict make-believe or fantasy. All his paintings are based in nature, and he paints them on site. This … oh, this piece is certainly not imagined…” 

His voice trailed off in a wistful sigh. She gave him a questioning look. She had never seen him go all gooey over art before. Stars and herbology, yes. But a painting? There was something special here, she could tell she was about to uncover another secret treasure buried in Keith’s heart. Emma nodded, encouraging him to continue.

The glimmer in his golden eyes sparkled brighter as he explained the natural phenomenon known as the Aurora. Astronomers theorized the shimmering ripples of bright green are waves of light bouncing off the particles in the sky, or maybe they are chemical reactions happening at the cosmic scale. 

“How I wish I could glimpse it with my own eyes, even if just for a moment.” The enthusiasm that had fueled his explanation soon was replaced by a tone full of yearning, his dreamy gaze on the painting once more.

“But why can’t you?” 

“The lights are only visible near the north and south poles of the planet. I would have to go many days worth of travel just to see even a smidge of them. And even if I was in the right place, I’ve heard the conditions have to be just right: low humidity, no clouds whatsoever, no wind, a crescent moon is best… in short, unless one lives in the perfect area and searches the sky every night of their life, seeing an Aurora in one’s lifetime is not likely. It’s like trying to hunt the rare and elusive white stag of Jadean legend.”

Emma waited until Keith was exiting the shop to secretly purchase the painting with her own money and arrange to have it shipped to the palace in Jade. Few things had ever made her lover’s eyes fill with the hungering ache she just witnessed. Even if he would never see the sight with his own eyes, this artwork would have to suffice.

Then she began to wonder: Why couldn’t he plan to see it in the future? What’s stopping him? What if she were to put the plan in motion herself, and surprise him?

—-------

An invitation arrived for the royal family of Jade, requesting a representative of the governing body to attend a special conference hosted by Achroite in the north.  As soon as Keith offered to go, Emma saw this as her opportunity to enact her plan. Skillfully, deceitfully, and delicately, she plied various tactics and reasoning for letting her accompany him. 

Keith didn't quite understand the motivation behind Emma's attempts at joining his journey north.  However, he wasn't going to deny her when there was such bold determination in her warm eyes. He was never any good at telling her 'no'.

Triumphant at her victory, Emma packed her trunk and bags with thoughts of dancing green lights in her head, only to be outshone by the spark in her prince's eyes when his wish was granted.

—-----

The fastest travel route was straight north through Obsidian. That also made it the most dangerous. Keith wasn't about to put Emma's life in danger to save a few days of travel time.  He planned a route northeast by carriage to the sea port in Benitoite, sailing north on a luxury cruiser, and then west by carriage through the mountain pass to Achroite.  

He looked over his map and itinerary one last time, a soft smile hiding the growing confidence he felt each time he examined his plans. It would be their first time traveling so far, and would be a test to how well they can bear the burdens of a long journey with limited resources. Keith had decided this trip would be the perfect opportunity to prove to Emma that he was capable, reliable, and could take care of everything.

His usual companions of gloom and self-doubt had been visiting more often during this year of peace. The period of calm also meant there was less necessity for Alter!Keith to make an appearance and save the day. However, that absence made it all the more poignant when Emma would cajole him out simply because she wanted to spend time with him. 

With lots of time on his hands, the anxious voices in Keith’s head ran rampant without an exterior distraction to keep them silent. But now? Traveling to the conference was just the thing to challenge himself and keep the depressing thoughts at bay.

He patted the side of the carriage before climbing aboard with a smile, "Easy travel, good roads, and plenty of time to relax along the way. Why, we could almost treat this like a vacation!"

—-------

Famous. Last. Words.

'Vacation' would have been the absolute last word to describe the comedy of errors hounding every leg of their journey. 

The first thing to go wrong was one of the carriage wheels broke as it hit a deep run left by the late summer rains. It happened right inside the Jadean border before stepping over to Benitoite. The only living souls around were all busy in the rye fields. After convincing one of them to put down his scythe long enough to talk, Keith discovered with dismay the small group of people he was looking at was the entire village. It was a very isolated place that relied on every able body to help with the harvest. That group included the wheelwright: Keith and Emma's only hope of getting back on the road before dark.

Keith offered to take the wheelwright's place in the field. The hardy villagers barely held their skepticism behind polite faces. 

"The wright can thresh twice as many sheaves of rye as anyone else.  You'd be taking one of our hardest workers. Besides, t’is no time to be gabbing about.  Lookit those rain clouds headin’ this way. Our work’ll have been wasted if we can’t get the rest in the barn before the drops fall. Beggin' yer pardon, but a prince ain’t no replacement for the wright."

Keith wasn’t about to take ‘no’ for an answer. Spurred on by necessity and the desire to impress Emma – and perhaps the bruised pride of being passed over without even a chance to prove his worth – he picked up a scythe and jogged to the row needing mowing. 

He shrugged off his coat and went right to work, speaking over his shoulder to the wheelwright, "I'll do your share here if you fix the wheel. And I'll pay you triple the usual amount. Do we have a deal?"

He never broke his rhythm as he talked, taking a broad arcing swing, smoothly slicing the stalks in front of him,  and moving forward with a quick grace rarely shown by the first prince of Jade. Muscles rippled across his back as each successive swing gave him more confidence. The villagers were shocked into silence.

"Y-Yes, your highness. Thank you!" The wheelwright touched the brim of his hat in courtesy, amazement on his face. Emma glanced sidelong as the villagers who now all raced to pick up their scythes and attempt to keep up with the prince. 

Tales of Keith's kindness and willingness to help commoners with even the most mundane tasks had spread across his kingdom long before this. However, the additional detail of how strong and muscular he was never accompanied the rumors. 'He sure showed them! Well, that ought to fuel their gossip through the winter," she thought giddily to herself as she headed towards the end of the field to help with tying the sheaves. Emma was pleased and vindicated on her prince's behalf, proud that his people had found new respect for him. 

—-------

After that encounter, it was supposed to be smooth sailing. Quite literally. Only … the mishap with the wheel and then the afternoon’s rain muddying up the roads put them far behind schedule. They missed the luxury cruiser. It disembarked from Benitoite the day before they reached the docks. 

With a sullen face, Keith booked their fare on a north-bound merchant ship. Emma knew that face too well: it meant he was disparaging and beating himself up inside. She knew it would do no good to convince him right this second that he couldn't control the weather.  She'd wait until they had a quiet moment together to soothe his nerves.

The trouble with that plan was that peace and quiet were impossible to find on that busy ship, not to mention privacy. They shared sleeping quarters with the crew’s family, swinging in hammocks at night and sitting elbow-to-elbow with eight noisy people below decks during the day. 

There was one moment of peace, though. It occurred above deck at night when the sea was glassy smooth and the crew wasn’t throwing mouthfuls of curses at one another. Keith hugged Emma from behind, whispering just a tad louder than the wind whistling past them, “I don’t know how I’d get through this ordeal without you. But at the same time I feel like the worst person alive for bringing you on such a doomed voyage. I'm sorry you’re with a jinx like me.”

She leaned into him, turning her head so the breeze wouldn’t snatch her words away, “Darling. There’s no such thing as bad luck. Where you go, I go.  And that’s that. I love being with you, no matter where it is or what is happening.”

—-------

Finally having landed just east of the mountains bordering Achroite, Emma thought they could relax at last. A coach was hired easily, and they were well on their way through the mountain pass. That's when they heard a series of muffled THUMPS behind them. 

Alarmed, Keith had the coachman stop the horses as he took a look at what made the noise. Almost every one of Emma's bags were on the dusty road, clothes strewn about.

"Wha….what happened?? How….?!" She felt like crumbling onto the rocks and crying.  How could this trip get any worse? She bit her lip to stop the wobbly tremble that threatened to bring tears to her eyes. 

The coachman came over and looked at the shredded leather casings of her bags, nodding, "Oh yah, this is old leather. It's no surprise that the salt air on your sea trip had weathered it and made it too brittle to withstand much more abuse. S'too bad, it is. But there's an expert leather worker just ahead."

They wearily gathered up her belongings and did their best to stuff it into Keith's luggage. His was supple, well-treated leather that showed no signs of damage from the sea voyage. Emma inner thoughts were cruel for the ride to the village, reminding of the gulf between their backgrounds, status, and financial situation. Feelings of inadequacy crawled angrily across her heart. 'Of course. Of course the poor little orphan girl has crap for baggage – why would someone like me ever need to travel? No one expects someone like me to ever go beyond her front door.’

Fortunately, the leatherworker was home. Unfortunately, he was forced to watch his young children because his wife was recuperating from a severe illness at her sister’s. He met them at the door bouncing a screaming baby in his arms while a toddler on unsteady feet clutched his pants leg. His face was apologetic, “I’m awful sorry, I am. But with the missus gone, I can’t leave the house. I tried keeping ‘em in the workshop with me one day to see if I could get any work done, and it was a disaster, heh.”

Clenching her fists in frustration, Emma took a deep breath while trying not to despair. “If you can’t repair my pieces, do you have any luggage completed that I can buy right now?”

He shook his head, “Nah, I don’t do my business like that, makin’ stuff that might sell ‘someday’, I only take on jobs that will pay me when the work is done.”

Both Keith’s and Emma’s faces were crestfallen. They knew they could buy luggage once they get to the capitol city, but it was still a long ways to go and her belongings were getting dustier and dirtier by the mile. They muttered their thanks, turning to go, when the leatherworker suddenly made a sound like he just remembered something. “By any chance is what yer needin’ is just the fastenings? Like the straps around the bags and such? Because I do have those ready-made.”

“Yes! Yes, that’s what broke. That’s all I need replacing!” Hope filled Emma’s voice and face and she stepped up the stairs again towards the little cottage. Emboldened by this promising possibility, she brushed up her prettiest smile and offered, “How’s this? I’ll watch your little ones while you repair my baggage, and we’ll pay you twice the going price.”

The man blinked, glanced past her to where Keith was still waiting by the coach, as if to silently ask ‘Are you okay with this arrangement, buddy?’ 

She turned around and gave him an optimistic ‘thumb’s up’ gesture with a big nod to encourage him t agree, “Right, my dear?”

Keith was gazing at his beloved with open admiration. He nodded, “Absolutely. That’s a wonderful idea.”

They sent the coachman off with enough gold to ensure he’d come back to get them later than evening. While the leatherworker took the ruined luggage into his workshop, Emma introduced herself to the children.  Besides the baby and the toddler she had seen at the door, there was also a 5 year old inside. Hours went by as the couple played games, told stories, and fed dinner to the kids. Both of them had wildly giddy sweet thoughts running through their heads of how capable and adorable the other one looked in this parenting mode.  It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say ‘baby fever’ had taken root that very day. From this moment on, Keith in particular was prone to falling into daydreaming about their future family.

—------

At long last they reached the Achroite castle without further mishap. As they unpacked, weariness settled in. The long journey and many unforeseen hardships were at last taking a toll on the young couple. Keith took a seat on the bed, resting his back against the headboard. He patted the space on that mattress next to him, gently calling “Emma? Come take a rest.”

“But I’m only halfway done with putting away my things…” is what she said, but her heart wasn’t in it. She was in the middle of pulling out another sweater from her bag when she felt warm hands glide from the top of her arms, down to her hands, freeing the fabric from her grasp. Keith set the garment on top of the luggage just as Emma’s shoulders slumped. She turned to face him and sagged against him with a sigh, while he bent his head to place a kiss against her hair. She gave no resistance when he led her to the bed.

The sky darkened as they lay on top of the crisp sheets, snuggled together in a drowsy heap. “We can’t fall asleep…” her drowsy voice was muffled against his shirt, “...or be late to dinner.”

“...we won’t…but, hmmm…” Keith’s lethargic murmur turned almost sour, “what if …  would it be the worst thing in the world … if we just stayed in bed?”

Emma squinted a bleary eye at his face, trying to discern if, in fact, Keith had already dozed off for a second and allowed Alter!Keith to slip into consciousness now. That reply sounded an awful lot like something the other one would say. Oh, what did it matter? She was too tired to really care which one was beside her at the moment; she loved them both equally. 

However … it would be rude of them to be absent at the first gathering of the conference. And then they’d have to make apologies to their host, which was not an attractive prospect. Prince Matthias didn’t seem the sort to forgive easily, no matter how small the slight. She didn’t want to be the cause of an international incident right at the beginning of their stay. 

“Nnghh… no,” She struggled to rouse herself into a sitting position, and jostled his shoulder in an attempt to keep him awake. “We have to get ready.”

Moody citrine eyes opened to give her a scathing look. Well, that made it clear who was at the forefront now. “Don’t ya think he’s earned a rest?”

Emma expected any sort of objection from Alter!Keith, but not this tactic. His words gave her heart a warm squeeze, just as they did any time he showed consideration for his other side. She also realized he knew about this weakness of hers. Was he trying to exploit it for the sake of a nap? She rolled away off the bed and went to one of her open trunks for a fresh gown.

“Tch. That’s sweet of you to show concern. But it’ll mean more trouble for us later if we don’t get moving now. Decide which one of you is going to be on the surface for this meal. It will be lots of socializing and politics.”

Suddenly deja vu from mere moments ago danced over her memories as a warm presence moved behind her and hands slid down her arms. This time, however, they belonged to a very handsy prince. His words gusted hotly over her ear, “Mmm, I’ll stick around long enough to help you undress. He really oughtta be present for the boring – I mean, important stuff.”

—-------

As much as they yearned for one another’s intimacy through the week, the conference schedule kept Keith busy all day, and social obligations kept the pair busy in the evenings. By the time they were alone and could have enjoyed one another in private, exhaustion demanded it was time to sleep. 

A few times Keith had asked Emma how she had kept herself occupied during the day, and received very predictable answers such as; visiting the town market, strolling in the conservatory and greenhouse, socializing with the other noble ladies. And reading, of course. She never went into detail of any of the sights she had visited or conversations she had had. Usually Emma was full of chatter about the things that had filled her day. Keith decided not to pry and merely attributed her quietude to the demanding schedule rather than her being evasive on purpose.

What Emma was actually doing was reserving a cabin rental and preparing for the most romantic and memorable viewing of the Northern Lights ever! The cabin would have the groceries stocked and firewood ready by the time they arrived. All they needed to do is show up and enjoy a few days' rest away from the hustle and bustle of the conference. This was the real reason Emma had begged to come along on the journey in the first place. 

After that hellish trip north, they needed a relaxing break now more than ever. Her chest warmed at the thought of being able to give her beloved prince a special memory like this. If only nature and the heavens would cooperate to give them a once-in-a-lifetime show, that would make it truly perfect.

The night before the conference ended, Keith heaved a sigh as he began to fold clothes to go back into the bags. 

“Darling? That was a rather heavy sigh. Is anything the matter?” Emma’s sweet inquiry washed away the layer of fatigue that had covered his soul. He paused to look over at the bed where she was flipping through a cookbook of traditional Achroite foods. With a book; in her natural habitat. Keith’s soft smile was full of adoration at this comforting sight. He often wondered how it was possible for the simple act of looking upon her in repose was enough to give him his own sense of calm. 

—---------

It reminded him of the first time he had encountered the odd phenomenon, on her first visit to the kingdom of Jade:

As he showed her around the palace, she asked to see his personal chambers. Worried had plagued him, thinking it would be awkward beyond measure and she’d find fault with everything. However, when he watched her step among his belongings, inquisitive fingers trailing over the spines filling his many bookshelves, eyes lighting up at seeing the keepsakes decorating his bedside table, he realized with surprise that his anxiety had been utterly unfounded. In fact, the sight of her in his room, among his things, gave him a deep sense of peace. 

A warm blanket of contentment and resolve settled around him in that moment, as if he was being told ‘this is right, this is good’. It felt so very natural to have Emma there at all hours of the day and night. Having her near was a balm like no other. He had mused on the mystery of it: If he was struggling with a letter at his desk or fretting about an upcoming meeting with bureaucrats, all it took was to look up for the fraction it took to see her with a book perched at his window seat or sitting on the couch. His heart was eased instantly. Her presence was a wonder drug to his perpetual paranoia. Wherever Emma was, that was ‘home’ for him.

He floundered without her presence. His soul required her like a tree needed sunlight. 

Alter!Keith was in the same situation, though for different reasons. He needed Emma to stick around because her deciding to stay sent the message that he was worthy of notice, of love. That he deserved to exist.

Neither side of him could never admit this to her, though. His reliance on her would only highlight his ignomy and patheticness. How utterly weak would he appear to her if he confessed he needed her just to get through a day without a panic attack? 

—------------

Her miraculous effect was the reason he hadn’t required much persuading to allow her to join him on this trip. Prince Matthias was an imposing figure whose presence in a room was nearly as oppressive as Prince Chevalier’s. Keith was glad to have his own personal ball of sunshine to help him survive the stressful conference. Without her warm kisses in the morning and her sweet voice at night, he was sure his nerves would have been frayed beyond measure before he returned to Jade. 

He basked in her soothing oasis a moment before answering her question, “It feels as though there hasn’t been a moment of true rest during this excursion. I realize it wasn’t intended to be a relaxing getaway, but it would have been nice to just have a day to spend with you. To sleep in and enjoy breakfast in bed, or stay up late trying to glimpse the Aurora, or have the leisure to browse their castle’s extensive library. And now we have to be back on the road tomorrow. At the risk of sounding petulant … it isn’t fair. I’m bone-weary, Emma.”

By the time her name was on his lips, she had gotten up and moved to stand beside him, small arms around his thick torso, forehead pressed to his broad shoulder. He soaked in her serenity for a few heartbeats, nearly crumbling under the immense gratitude he felt for her love and support. 

She broke the harmonious silence first, “Isn’t it a good thing, then, that we don’t have to go home just yet? We can extend our trip a little longer.” There was a playful lilt to her words, obviously inviting him to inquire into her meaning. 

Keith turned within the circle of her embrace to face her with a quizzical lift of his thick eyebrows, “Did the royal family invite us to stay past tonight? I hadn’t heard of this.”

She shook her head and pressed her lips together in a smile that was eager to burst forth with the news. Emma was determined to keep the surprise until the last moment when they arrived at the cabin tomorrow. Then she realized his anxiety might burrow needlessly under whatever cute evasions she gave now with a smiley ‘Just you wait! You’re going to love it!’. Wouldn’t it be less cruel to tell him now instead of risking him worrying himself into a fit? Why not give him the choice: divulge the secret, or be left in the dark?

She grinned impishly up at him, “Oh, we are staying in Achroite for a little while longer, but not as Their Majesties’ guests. Would you like to be surprised? Or shall I tell you all about it now-o-OHH!”

Keith had picked her bodily off the floor in a bear hug, squeezing her last syllable into an excited squeak as her feet left the floor. He laughed heartily as he spun her around with ease. “Emma! Give me all the details. Packing can wait!” 

Energy recharged as he held his beloved ray of light within his arms. He could hardly believe his amazing luck. Had she really planned something to help him relax before they started the arduous trek back home? He lowered her to the bed, brawny arms pressing down the mattress on either side of her, face bearing down on her with a smile sanguine and imploring.

She giggled at his lack of princely composure and laced her hands around his neck, drawing him down for a quick kiss, “You know the days I've been going into the market and village? That was to prepare for three days of relaxing at a cozy little cabin just an hour’s ride north of the castle. It’s stocked with food and firewood and everything we need. And the best part?” She paused to land a little peck on the tip of his nose. “It’s the perfect place to watch the Aurora.”

Emma paused, holding her breath for his reaction.

She finally had to exhale because he was silent for so long. “Darling? Keith? Are you not excited for the trip?’ A moment ago she was ready to dissolve into happy giggles, but his reaction now had her nibbling her lip.

“...You planned all this? By yourself? For me?” His questions were hushed, awestruck. 

With a slow nod, Emma resumed her smile, “Not just for you. For us. I’m going to be there as well, silly!” 

She finally giggled as she watched his face change from surprise to delight. The grin on his handsome face was dazzling, but she only glimpsed it a moment before he leaned down for a kiss, which she gladly returned. He trailed little kisses down her jawline, and she continued answering his questions between happy sighs. “And … you know, it wasn’t too much trouble to prepare. After all, I should get some practice, don’t you think? I’ll need to know how to plan much greater events … at some point in the future…” 

Keith caught her hint squarely in the chest, and was glad to have his face hidden in her neck so the blaze upon his cheeks would be unseen. Inwardly he berated himself for the thousandth time for not having the guts to clear the way for Emma, a commoner from Rhodolite, to become his wife and Queen of Jade. He couldn’t propose until he knew the path would be easy for her. Yet he wasn’t going to start the official process until he was sure that was what she wanted – that he was what she wanted. It was a catch-22 that was a sure way to spiral into despair if he thought about it too long.

Of course the two of them were madly in love, and they spoke in terms of ‘always’ and ‘forever’ when expressing their feelings. 

But they hadn’t ever sat down and plainly discussed the future. 

What Emma just said now was the closest either of them had ever come to a proclamation of their intentions for marriage. He couldn’t swallow the fact that he had been too feckless to say something before Emma. Now that she had been brave enough to be the first one to break the ice, he couldn’t hesitate any longer. But oh, how he loathed for her to see his face like this: sweaty, nervous, pathetic!

He moved his lips to her ear, giving it a quick kiss before whispering with a tone that flowed with love and hope, “It’s my dearest wish to put you in that position, Emma my beloved. I didn’t want to come across as presumptuous. Or … maybe I simply lacked the courage to speak to you about it before. Or … or –”

He was interrupted by her hands dragging his face up and her lips seeking his. She kissed him long and hard, not letting go until several seconds had passed, then huffed out, “Keith. I’ve felt you wanted to marry me. I could tell in every action, every look, every touch. But hearing you say this? Hearing that you want it just as much as I do, just as much as I always thought you did? It puts my heart at ease to know, with certainty, that you feel the same as I do.” 

She held his cheeks firmly as he tried to look away, forcing him to return her gaze. He saw nothing but kindness swimming in her eyes. She waited a beat longer, holding his gaze before continuing, “And that’s enough for now. You don’t need to rush into … well, anything. The wheels of monarchy creak along slowly. You don’t need to do it alone, though. I’m here to help, to support, in whatever way you need. And that’s all there is to it. Alright?”

The corner of his mouth quirked up in chagrin, already finding another fault in himself no doubt. But he nodded regardless because he believed her. A feeling of triumph and pride soon overtook his usual shame. This conversation was a true breakthrough! She wanted to marry him! He wanted to marry her! With elation, he leaned in to kiss her deeply, eliciting a moan from Emma. As his lips left hers and he began to nibble down her neck, he asked, “This cabin, you said it quite a ways from here? Does that mean it’s isolated? Not in a village? No neighbors?”

Fingers roved through his sandy hair as she gasped at his adventurous kisses plunging down her collar. She endeavored to think and answer at the same time, “Mm-hmm. I think so. I didn’t – hmm ah! – didn’t see any other buildings around.” 

She was about to follow up by asking why he wanted to talk about this now, when there were obviously other things the two were thinking about. But suddenly she felt Keith smiling against her cleavage, and he glanced up at her with a devastatingly hungry look, saying, “Good, then there will be no one close enough to hear us. We can be as loud as we want.”

—----------------

Their first evening at the cabin was full of excitement. The snug little building was cute and clean, if a bit sparse. There was a distinct sensation of ‘playing house’ for the couple as they went about getting the bedroom ready, cooking dinner, and getting the hearthfire going. 

While they ate, they talked over all the misfortunes the trip had entailed: Broken wheel, missed ship, horrible sea voyage, ruined luggage, lost time, and extra expenses. Yet when they remunerated all the bad things, they were able to point out good things that came out of each predicament. The rye was harvested in record time, Keith’s good reputation was solidly implanted in that village, the wheelwright was able to afford much-needed upgrades due to Keith’s generous payment, Emma’s baggage was now better than ever, the leatherworker was able to afford the expensive medicine his wife needed. 

There wasn’t anything positive they could come up with to say about the merchant ship, until Emma suddenly remembered, “There was that night you held me from behind, keeping me warm and whispering the sweetest things in my ear. Remember? On the deck? The night sky was full of stars. The steady sound of the prow sloughing through the sea will stay in my head forever, just as that memory will. I remember thinking: ‘It doesn’t matter if I’m on a floating palace or a rickety fishing boat. As long as Keith is with me, I’m content and I’m where I need to. All I need to be happy is Keith.’ And I don’t think I would have encountered such strong, resolute determination if I hadn’t been in that situation. The foul odiousness of that ship contrasted so starkly against the purity and strength of having you next to me.”

Keith wanted to cover his face with his hands to hide his blush. He really couldn’t stand the way she heaped compliments upon him, and had the audacity to say it with such a sincere smile! He quickly turned the conversation back to reflect on her merits. “You were amazing with those children. I would never have thought to strike a bargain like that, nor could I have done that all by myself. You’re a natural. I loved watching you holding the baby…” he cleared his throat and barreled on, switching the subject, “That just goes to show that you are the one who cares about helping people, and are resourceful, and reliable, and kind, and capable. And everything I wish I was.” 

With a self-deprecating smile, he reached across the table to hold her hand. She squeezed his, ready with a rebuttal to help buoy his self-esteem, “Darling. You are all those things. Hasn’t this trip shown that? Together, we can overcome anything. I couldn’t have done any of this on my own.”

Keith had to admit that he was only able to jump into action when the wheel cracked because he was intent on keeping his Emma safe. In fact, the desire to prove himself capable in her eyes was the driving motivation for enduring all the mishaps on the trip. If he had been by himself, there’s no telling how well he would have fared. But with Emma there to support him and be the reason he needed to ‘man up’, he knew her words were true: together they could overcome anything.

They had decided to go to bed early and wake up a little after midnight because the locals had said that was the best time to view the Aurora.  Due to the odd hour, it was Alter!Keith who unexpectedly awoke in the middle of the night. He walked to the door that led to the balcony and looked through the window at the sky. Grumbling, he let the curtain fall closed again and climbed back into bed. Emma stirred awake at the movement, sleepily calling out, “Keith? Is it time to go outside?”

“It’s me, not him. And no, there’s nothin’ worth looking at. Whole damn sky is covered with clouds. If it had been the right conditions, I woulda let him switch over because I know he wouldn’t want to miss it. But ...” He moved closer and wrapped an arm around her hips to pull her flush against him as he continued in that gravely sleep-soaked voice, “I think I’ll let him sleep a little longer. You, though, aren’t gonna get much sleep tonight, sweet cheeks.”

—-----------------

Long after the sun had risen, the couple slept late to thoroughly enjoy the laid-back schedule. Keith was first to arise; he noticed the new pink marks the other man had left on her skin in last night’s pleasures. He sighed regretfully, more for having missed the chance to enjoy her himself than for missing the Aurora.

That night they resumed the same pattern as before, with going to bed early and planning to wake up after midnight in hopes of seeing the dancing lights. Luck was on their side that night! The humidity and wind were just right, the sky was clear of a single cloud, the moon was just a tiny sliver. Keith excitedly woke Emma, then wrapped themselves in thick boots, hooded cloaks and then in more blankets before settling on the bench outside on the balcony. The mountains were visible on either side, and the broad flat valley and its bubbling river spread out before them, creating the perfect stage for the heavens to put on an unforgettable performance. 

“Oh. My. Word. It shimmers like a magic trick!” Emma breathed the words, mesmerized.

The couple sat transfixed, silent for nearly twenty minutes as the bright green glow warped into misty shapes, faded, and lit up again as vertical shards of light wavered across the sky. 

She snuck a peak at Ketih’s face, which was awash in the verdant hue of the Aurora. His eyes sparkled, a childlike look of wonder writ across his features. He noticed her staring, and looked her way at last with a wry smirk, “You’re supposed to be watching the lights, my dearest. Not me.”

“I’ve got two eyes. I can keep one of them on you while I take in this amazing sight.” She grinned and snuggled closer to him, to which he responded by wrapping an arm around her waist to impart more body heat.

“It would be a shame to waste even one of your precious eyes on me. You can look at me any time. But this rare phenomenon is something you may never see again.”

Her cheek nuzzled his shoulder as she gazed skyward once more, letting out a contented hum, “We could always come back here? This would make a cozy spot for our honeymoon.”

Keith’s hand flexed tightly around her hip at the word ‘honeymoon’, mirroring the way his heart was squeezing. He softly muttered, “Or sooner than that,” as his thoughts drifted to the little jewelry box stowed away in one of the shelves of his dresser back in Jade. 

It contained his great grandparents’ rings. They were originally part of the collection of family heirlooms, but had never been treated like the great ornate pieces of the crown jewels because they were not that impressive. There were modest gold bands with a few small green gems. Their unassuming beauty and elegance reminded him of Emma. His grandparents had had a fairytale romance full of joy and love, a rarity for royals.  Ever since he had decided he needed Emma in his life, he had hunted them out of the collection, tucking them away for the eventual proposal.  Keith hoped that maybe just by wearing them, his grandparents’ legendary luck in love would rub off on him and Emma. He pictured himself sitting out on this balcony in the near future, with a ring in his pocket, waiting for that perfect moment. 

He had been a standstill for too long, fettered by indecision.

Soon it would be time for him to finally take action.

(This is the daytime view the couple would have had from their balcony in Achroite)

Author’s Note: This story was partly inspired by my own recent failed attempts to watch the Northern Lights with my husband, lol. With Keith’s love of astronomy I thought a rare cosmic phenomenon would be on his bucket list, especially being situated so far away from either of the globe’s poles. I had the entire story outlined and was well on my way with the narrative before Keith’s route was released. Of course I started reading it the say it was out, but I was only on chapter 20 at the time I finished writing this, so if anything is wildly OOC for him or Alter!Keith, I apologize. However, it is very satisfying to see that as I got that far in his route, most of the inner thoughts and outer reactions I wrote for him were things I later on saw in his route. Yay! It’s so nice when that happens. I really hope @violettduchess like this. Thank you for asking for Keith; he is a true treasure. I had so much fun taking on this assignment for the exchange.

#ikemen prince gift exchange #ohtomatotome #ikepri keith #ikemen prince keith #keith howell #ikepri mc #ikepri emma #ikemen prince fanfic #my writing #my fanfic

[nuclearanomaly]

1 – Envoy

wc. 737 | Heavensward MSQ

In order to make the Moogles of the Mists reveal themselves plans are made that Ninira does not care for much.

“You seem displeased.”

Ninira turned, prying her gaze away from the distant looming structures that made up the Churning Mists’ horizon, as Alphinaud approached. 

“With the plan.” He continued when she didn’t respond. He had finished packing what supplies he had and was clearly ready to depart.

She bit the inside of her lip. So it had been that obvious. She needed to get better at controlling her emotions so they weren’t so blatantly plastered on her face for all to read. 

“I am…” There was no point in lying. Not to Alphinaud. She wouldn’t lie to Alphinaud, not after all they had been through, not unless she needed to…

 “I know it’s our best chance at getting these Moogles to reveal themselves but…” She averted her gaze, “I just don’t like the idea of you going alone.”

His expression softened. “I know, however I am not the one accused of regicide.”

This was true, as was the fact that none of their other companions were viable options either. While Ysayle might not be as quickly identified as the leader of the Ishgardian Heretics within the forests of Gridania, the risk was still there. And as she had already pointed out her skills were better served trying to find and petition the aid of amiable dragons. Estinien was also out of the question. He was not about to leave, not with the Eye allowing him to confirm Nidhogg’s presence nearby. For him to accompany Alphinaud to Gridania would leave Ishgard even more exposed than before.

“I still don’t like it. You might not technically be as wanted as I am but they’ll know you were with me. I don’t trust what’s left of–” She hesitated, not wanting to re-open old wounds too badly. “–the deserters from the Crystal Braves to leave you be, if they come across you.”

Alphinaus shifted at the mention of his old, failed, peacekeeping movement but didn’t seem too discouraged as he continued. “We can simply hope that most, if not all of them, are stationed in and around Ul’dah. With any luck my arrival in Gridania and potential talks with the Elder Seedseer will go relatively unnoticed.”

Ninira’s mouth twisted at that comment as well and Alphinaud smiled. “It is also probably for the best that I am the one performing such talks as it is clear you are still, stung, from the Banquet.”

“And you’re not? They walked out on us!” Alphinaud opened his mouth but Ninira knew what he was going to say. “For political security, and safety.” She sighed, “I know… I know… but it was still insulting.” A few moons prior and she was hailed the Hero of Operation Archon, how little it clearly mattered now. 

“Perhaps it was, regardless we must move on. Fortunately, the talks will also give me the opportunity to clear those tensions with the Elder Seedseer.”

Ninira sniffed. But this was off topic from her real worries. 

“What if something does happen?”

Alphinaud could only shrug. They had been avoiding Linkpearls for extra security after their escape to Ishgard. They could opt for them now but there was no way to know if it was worth the risk.

“Give me a week.” His gaze was distant, contemplative. “I estimate, with the travel time from Gridania and taking into account what access the Seedseer can get us to speed things along, I can be back here well within a week.” He looked at Ninira. “If I’m not back by then you may do what you wish to come find me. Burn things down and what have you.”

This made Ninira’s mouth twitch into a smile. “I don’t think that will help with our current reputation.”

Alphinaud smiled slightly in return. “No, I suppose not.”

She sighed, though her apprehensions still fizzled under the surface she was mostly reassured. “I will hold you to that. I can wait a week.” A week would feel long, A week spent watching Ysayle and Estinien to make sure they remained friendly enough to not ruin all of Alphinaud’s plans while he was gone would feel longer, but she would do it.

“Thank you, Ninira. I promise to be as quick and discreet as I can. And to return sooner rather than later.” 

She nodded, and watched as he adjusted his belongings, giving her a final nod in send off before focusing on the spell and teleporting from sight.

#ffxivwrite2023 #Ninira Nira #Alphinaud Leveileur #sometimes Ninira can be miffed about things as a treat #but yeah Nini doesn't go back to recruit forest moogles #there's literally crystal braves in the aetheryte plaza #and you what? walk past them like sup assholes like u didn't go hide in Ishgard bc ur eorzea's most wanted #they could have played that up more so in my sandbox I do hehe #writing: mine

[n3cr0p0l1s]

i have been right all along

i've got a secret, you won't believe it

well i got this feeling, that i was put here for you

dabi x reader

summary: another night you can’t sleep. you get out of bed, frustrated, deciding to at least be a productive insomniac, but destiny has other plans. 

wc: 2.8k

warnings: gn reader, dabi threatens reader once, mentions of blood/injury, drug use (weed), typical dabi/reader scenario, very heavy theme of destiny/fate, soulmates implied (kinda) but this is NOT a soulmate au, title is i have been right all along by armor for sleep (author is here to push the emo touya agenda), see end of work for a very ramble-y author’s note

you glare at the ceiling. you’ve tried all the typical techniques, yet sleep evades you for another night. no matter the number of sheep you count (hundreds, thousands) sleep does not greet you. the popcorn of your ceiling seems to glare back. frustrated, you rise from bed and slip on your sweater, figuring you may as well be productive at—you tap your phone screen—1:56am. ugh.

it’s as you shuffle down the hallway that you hear it—a quiet, repetitive thud.

the building you live in is old, and you’re more than familiar with its strange creaks and groans, but this is not the thump or hum of an old building. you still instantly—the sound is too close to be from somewhere deep within the building. you refuse to let that thought, the chill it shoots up your spine, to take hold of you. taking a deep breathe to steel your nerves, you move to the end of the hallway.

from what you can make out in the darkness everything is as you left it only a few hours ago—fuzzy blanket still crumpled in a pile on the couch, dirty coffee mug still on the table. light from the nearly full moon pours in through the glass sliding door that leads to your balcony—it’s small, quaint, but it and the view were the reason you chose this apartment—the peacefulness of moonlight something you would bask in if what was on your balcony didn’t force a sharp gasp past your lips.

the glass of the door, usually covered in nothing more than dust, is smudged and smeared with blood. a trail crimson leading down to the heap of what, you assume, to be a man, with his head leaned back against the glass. had he been hitting his head against the glass? the bloodied stranger does not give you the opportunity to continue that train of thought—his head turns, fixing a piercing blue eye you, his glare sharp. you freeze, mouth agape—if it hailed razor blades, you think, this is what it’d feel like.

your gasp must have been louder than you thought. the man turns his head forward again, staring through the gaps in the balcony’s banister. the man’s voice is low, threatening, as he speaks, “run or scream and i'll torch the entire building.” his hand raises, blue flame coming to life in his palm to underscore his threat.

you don’t actively keep up with current events for the sake of your mental wellbeing. you catch enough of the news to not be ignorant of the world around you, but that flame—you’ve glanced it on the news more than once.

a man, beaten and bloodied, on your balcony at near two in the morning could only ever be trouble, but this man—dabi, you remember the newscaster calling him, the cremation villain—is more than trouble. he’s dangerous, deadly. your anxiety spikes. you can’t leave him there …right? you can’t run or call for help, his threat and reputation make that clear, and trying to defend yourself would only cause you to embarrass yourself in the last moments before he kills you. but—you think—even if he hadn’t threatened you, you wouldn’t want to alert anyone to his presence anyway, to be the catalyst that gets him in tartarus.

you’ve heard enough about the league of villains to learn their purpose, their mission, and can’t say you disagree with them. their choice of actions certainly cross more lines than you can count, but the hypocrisy and deceit inherent to the current hero industry is something you are intimately familiar with—it makes your blood boil.

silence has settled over your home once again, the lack of sound becoming a roaring buzz in your ears. the man—dabi, you remind yourself again—still stares ahead, paying you no mind. with a quiet determination, and the little courage you can muster, you insert yourself into the course of his night. “are you… do you…” dabi’s head turns lazily to you, turned enough this time that both his eye are on you—they rove up and down your figure, taking you in.

dabi can sense your fear, it rolls off you in droves, your anxious heartbeat palpable (or—is that his?). he can’t gauge the extent of his blood loss, hasn’t been able to with how woozy it’s made him. the darkness beginning to creep in at the edges of his vision is enough to tell him it’s far from good.

it’s obvious you’re putting significant effort into hiding your fear, all but shaking in your pajamas and house slippers, dabi wants to laugh, mock you for trying to hard, but a steadfastness in your eyes stops him. his gaze lingers there—something within him tumbling into place the longer he stays fixed on you—he hopes you’re too frightened to notice. s’just the blood loss, he thinks, doesn’t matter.

you clear your throat to break dabi out of the trance he’d slipped into. the eye contact is stifling, too much for your nerves to handle right now and it feels like you can’t fucking breathe. “if you–i can… help you, if you want…”, the air still in your lungs rushes out as your stint of bravery wanes. for a moment you think the skin around his eyes crinkles in amusement at your terror, but it’s gone just as quickly as it appeared—a trick of the moonlight.

“ya sure that’s a good idea, sweetheart?” he sneers, “i get the feeling you know who i am.” his head thuds against the glass again as a shock of pain seems to run through him. your body jerks towards the door to help him, moving before your brain catches up, only just stopping within arm’s reach of the door. “no-yes, kind of? but i really would rather you not bleed out on my balcony?” your tone raises up in question, unsure. dabi seems to find the uncertainty at your own words amusing—he barks a laugh before taking a sharp inhale and clutching both arms around his torso, curling in on himself in pain. you move again, hand making contact with the door handle. slowly you unlock the door, waiting to see if dabi registers the click of the lock.

he’d give you another warning before he made good on his threat, right? your intuition is telling you he won’t hurt you—there’s zero fucking logic to it, this gut feeling, but it has hold of you and it won’t let you go.

the sound of the door sliding open pulls dabi’s attention back to you. with the glass no longer separating you, you can hear how ragged his breathing is, see the pallor to his unburned skin—not good. he looks seconds from keeling over and you really don’t want him, or anyone, dropping dead on your balcony. under even these circumstances you’re dumbstruck by his features—he’s gorgeous.

you crouch down and offer out a hand to help him up. if dabi notices how badly that hand shakes, he does not mention it.

---

getting dabi inside is nothing short of a feat—for someone so lithe he’s heavy (you’re not weak per se—at least, that’s what you’ve always said—however lifting a grown man, nearly dead weight as he leans on you, has you reconsidering your self-assessment). he drops unceremoniously into the dingy, chartreuse eye-sore of an armchair you keep banished to the corner of the living room. (you can already see his blood seeping into it, muddying the old fabric. it’s going to be ruined, already is, and you’re glad, you fucking hate its mocking shade of yellow-green.) under the light you see the extent of his injuries. it that gut feeling showing up again, causing something to twist in your chest that you refuse to name. (you know it—the feeling of not being able to protect friends, loved ones—rage.)

dabi can sense your unease, has sensed it this whole time, and feels the need to break the tension—whether for you or himself, he refuses to think any deeper on it. his head rests on the back of the chair, face towards the ceiling. “comfy chair”, only a mumble, still his voice makes you jump. you stop for only a moment in your assessment of his wounds, seem to relax some. you huff a small laugh, “i fucking hate the thing.”

---

dabi is compliant in your helping him. you remove his coat and shirt, his torso having the worst injuries, with only a slight shake to your hands. you’re confused by the large gashes that trail into fresh burns—a moment later you realize he must have cauterized them to slow the bleeding (another something you will not name sinks in your gut—sorrow). periodically you ask if what you’re doing hurts. he only huffs, “nah, sweetheart. ‘s fine.” you glance up and see the his lips pulled up in an almost smile (the crinkle around his eyes is back—it wasn’t a trick of the moonlight).

having dealt with the worst of dabi’s injuries you sit back to asses your work—definitely not the best, you think, but his breathing is no longer ragged and a bit of color has returned to him. his head rests on the back of the chair again, eyes closed. you take the opportunity to really look at him—the contrast of healthy and burned skin mesmerizes you. (you don’t understand the suddenly craving to touch that comes over you—to graze your fingertips along his staples, to acquaint yourself with the patchwork of his body).

dabi peeks his eyes open, watching as your gaze travels down the expanse of his exposed skin. so lost to your thoughts you do not see him move until he’s invaded your personal space. you startle, sucking in a harsh breath and jerking away from him. “didn’t mean to scare ya, sweetheart”, his voice is quiet, sheepish. then, with a gentleness you’d think a villain incapable of, his hand grips your forearm and strokes his thumb back and forth along the skin—an apology you realize. your brain sluggish as the earlier adrenaline wears off, you look at his hand, blinking dumbly as the last few seconds process. you mutter a “’s okay” and place an unsure hand on top of his. (he’s so warm—how did you not notice earlier?)

dabi pulls his hand away and looks away, missing the way your face falls at the loss of his touch. you clear your throat to grab his attention, “you can, uh, shower if you want.” you refuse to make eye contact before continuing, “your clothes too, i can wash them, if you’re okay with it.” there’s no response, you look up expecting him to be mean, to laugh at you—a silly girl being fooled into safety by a villain, but dabi’s expression is confused rather than smug, “ya sure?” you nod and there is a long pauses as he stares at you, his expression unsure (dabi should spit in your face—burn down your building like he’d threatened hours ago, show you how foolish it is to offer hospitality, kindness, to a man like him. a criminal, a murderer. but dabi is a selfish man above all else, so instead he shoves down down down the feelings you cause to flare within him).

you wait for him to continue, worried you’ve crossed a line. then—the smugness you’d expected before is there, “was expectin’ ya to tell me to get the fuck out”, he laughs, dry and harsh. “surprised you haven’t.” he gestures vaguely to the room, “’specially after bleeding all over the place.” your response matches his in tone, digging your usual personality out from underneath the night’s layers of fear and anxiety, “not the worst it’s seen actually, ‘m kind of a klutz”, you shrug and laugh, the sound twinkling in dabi’s ears (he shoves it down down down). “you ruined that god-awful chair so, thanks, for bleeding all over the place.” you feel woozy when you stand, your body’s weariness making itself known, “um, g-gimme a sec to grab you a towel and stuff… first door on the left is the bathroom”, you point towards the hallway and excuse yourself to grab a towel and clothes for him—an old pair of your sweatpants, a t-shirt you stole from an ex.

---

while dabi showers you pick up the bloody heap of his clothes and throw them in the wash. the remnants of your first aid kit lay scattered around the living room—you’ll pick up the disarray tomorrow, you’re too tired to care right now. moving to the kitchen, you grab the window cleaner from under the sink and glance the time on your stove—3:26am. ugh. you head to the sliding door wanting to at least attempt removing as much blood from the glass as you can. in the dark you’re sure you miss some, but it’s clean enough that a random passerby won’t call to report a blood spattered balcony. you roll your eyes at the thought.

the shower is still running when you walk back inside and beeline to the bookshelf to grab the old cigar box off the bottom shelf. it’s been a fucking long night (christ—still is a long night), you think you deserve a little substance abuse, as a treat. you slip back onto the balcony, placing the box down onto the small patio table and sit in its matching chair. you pull your supplies out of the box and pack a bowl.

it’s been a while and the first hit burns but—god—it’s exactly what you need right now. you close your eyes and listen to the ambient sounds of the at night city. the past few hours replay over and over in your head, unable to move make sense of the gut feeling that has now dug its claws into you—you don’t know how much time passes like that.

the scrape of the door sliding open dredges you from the depths of your thoughts. lazily you look over and see dabi leaning against the wall opposite you, his arms crossed over his bare chest—he’s only wearing your sweatpants. he’s beautiful—ethereal in the moonlight.

you hold out the bowl and lighter to him, his eyes unfocused and staring off into the night, you hum to grab his attention. dabi quirks an eyebrow at you, not moving otherwise. you give a small shrug of your shoulders and he deems that enough of an answer to his unspoken question. he takes the bowl only, not the lighter, from you. and raises it to his lips. he takes a hit by bringing a small flame to life on his fingertip—its the most radiant shade blue you’ve ever seen, more brilliant than the ocean glittering in the sun. you wonder if it’s possible to drown in flames, if they’re as blue as dabi’s.

your mind feels far away from your body and you don’t realize you’re staring until dabi breaks the silence for the second time tonight. you can hear, almost feel, his smirk, “ya good over there, sweetheart?” your eyes flutter as you come back to yourself, “yeah. sorry, ‘m tired.” you look down, bashful at being caught staring. unsure what to say you start fidgeting with your fingers.

dabi hesitates—he wants to apologize for ending up on your balcony out of all the others, for ruining you night and chair (even if you said you fucking hated it). the words are too heavy on the tip of his tongue so instead he sighs and looks out into the night once more, “wasn’t plannin’ to bleed out on your balcony” he pauses and turns to face you again. “but thanks for”, he gestures vaguely to the wounds on his torso “this, ‘s not gonna happen again. but i won’t bleed all over your place if it does, pick some asshole’s balcony to fuck up, promise.”

he’s going to leave, you realize, the villain that bled all over your home is going to walk out of your life just as suddenly as he appeared. you don’t want him to leave—it’s ridiculous, you know—but you choose to trust that damned gut feeling. “your clothes are mid-wash, gotta wait for that unless you plan on wearing my sweatpants to wherever you’re going” you fix him with a pointed glare, “and those are my favorite, i'm not letting them outta my sight.” you force a laugh, hoping it hides the dejection in your voice. dabi rolls his eye at you, the slightest smile gracing his features, “whatever you say, sweetheart.”

(you want to ask how he ended up there on your balcony, with you—why you. something about the night weighs heavy in your chest, the yet unknowable significance and consequences of tonight. whatever cosmic fucking bullshit the universe decided to make manifest on your balcony, you can’t help but feel a little rueful. there’s no logic to these thoughts, you know that, but down to the marrow of your bones you feel it. and you know, cosmic bullshit or awful happenstance, you are fucked.)

note: hello! thank you for taking the time to read, it’s very appreciated ♡ this started as a short thing i couldn’t get out of my head and then turned into a very self-indulgent beast LMAO. after not writing for so long it’s been really enjoyable getting back into it (all it took was a little bit of dabi induced brainrot). i’ve actually become really attached to this, and have bits and pieces i (still) can’t stop thinking about. so there’s a small chance i write more to this? but i’m just going to let it all swirl around in my brain for now. again, thank you so so much for reading!! 

#dabi x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #touya todoroki x reader #dabi x you #iadfakdjsnadfkj very nervous to post this #fic: mine

[hearteyes-for-killmonger]

-6- Enchanted Love

In the old world, before the creation of the current nations, there were empires.

The Udaku Empire was strong, capable, proud, and powerful. The people were widely known to be full of health and rare beauty, blessed by the healing waters and medicinal balms of the land. The king himself was hailed as the most powerful and the most eligible bachelor as he ruled alone with no queen and no successor. He was mighty in stature, as stunning as his people, and intimidating to behold, broad shouldered and gruff with dark piercing eyes and long thick locs that reached the end of his coat.

His military strategy was unmatched due to his experiences of war, his training, and his knowledge of the land. Having grown up in the midst of all out war, he was trained young in weaponry and hand to hand combat to overtake neighboring kingdoms, thus expanding his influence and making his name one to be known and feared.

No kingdom could stand next to his once he decided to take it. His army would always conquer with barely any casualties because he trained his men as brutally and as rigorously as he was trained. Still... It was said that there never was a king so fair. Even those he overcame with military might had to respect the honorable man that he was. He took in every citizen as his own. He protected the widowed and the orphaned. No one in his kingdom lacked.

Then the worst happened. A chance visitor appeared in the king's chambers. When he turned over, the face he saw was not one of his clean and well vetted consorts. She was old, ugly, and full of sores. He drew the blade under his pillow on her swiftly in her sleep, figuring her a witch sent to destroy him. He drove it through her stomach with the intention to do one thing–kill any possibility of a potential heir producing in her womb. Once he had pierced her gut, her scream caused a guard to enter the room.

"Semi," the king called, but the old woman vanished, her blood still soaking the bed. The king sent his men to retrieve her dead or alive, but she could not be found no matter where they searched.

And then he met Inamore.

Through the dense rainforest, the tried and true formation of men treaded slowly and soundlessly, navigating trails mapped by the king himself to account for maximum area coverage. Through thick misty fog, they moved with stealth, taking full advantage of the vision barrier.

"King," Huli whispered, getting King Udaku's attention. Huli had been keeping silent communicating with the troops ahead. "Out in the clearing, they found something–someone. A woman."

"A woman," the king repeated in anger. They were deep into the forest. A lone woman was suspicious with all the thieves wandering amongst the deadly wildlife. The king was highly suspicious. "Tell them not to move forward until I arrive."

With that, he advanced, and the troop moved with him toward their target, who was at the end of the meadow. She was indeed a woman, but she looked nothing like the old hag. That meant nothing.

He approached, prepared to kill, but something about her stopped him and overwrote his plans. He was spellbound. There she was in a forest of danger, dancing in a flowered meadow under the moon. On closer inspection, she was stunning. Between her shapely contour, her smooth and unhurried motions, and her flexible range of movement, she did not move like a woman wounded. The witch would've been injured. This woman wore a long white dress with long flowing sleeves and flowers weaved into flowing locs as long as his. Her beauty surpassed any woman of his kingdom, which he thought was impossible. He had to have her.

From the mist, he revealed himself in the moonlight. The woman, fully absorbed in her hypnotic dance, did not notice his approach as he edged nearer following and predicting her sweeping steps. She only opened her eyes when he held her hand and waist. Instantly, she leaped out of his arms. Despite his widespread influence, he could see in her fearful expression that she genuinely did not know of him. Had she known, perhaps she would not have dashed blindly in a panic.

Through dense trees, the king pursued on foot, evading every danger and heading her off in an effort to stop her right as she reached the steep rocky cliff at top speed. It was a 60 ft drop onto sharp rocks, and she'd gone over, looking over her shoulder. He caught her hand in the knick of time, pulling her to safety. She'd almost lost her life and was shaken at the fact. That was when he offered his hand hopefully, and she took it, allowing him to guide her back into the meadow, his eyes remaining on her and hers on his. A mutual trust was building. She grabbed his hand with earnest eyes, and they began to dance as he never had, turning the forest into a blur as if nothing else in the world existed.

It was never clear why the queen was in the forest to begin with and she did not speak for she was mute, but when the king brought her back to his kingdom, he released each of his concubines to their jealousy and dismay. The king now had one lover, and he had named her Inamore.

As time went by, the kingdom grew to love Inamore, for she and the king were inseparable. All could see her exceptional beauty and genuine kindness. She baked for the sick and started the tradition of yearly grand banquets where everyone in the kingdom would be invited into the royal castle to dance and dine to their heart's content.

And then she conceived an heir.

It was the talk of the kingdom. The king himself was alight with joy preparing weekly banquets in celebration. It was at one of these joyful banquets that the witch resurfaced, boldly taking a stand before the kingdom guests to bare her scars in bitter accusation of the king. She appealed to the court, begging for fairness and support in her plight against a wicked monarch. The people didn't show her mercy, choosing instead to throw wine and spoiled fruits, jeering and hazing as they sided with the king. Neither was the queen impressed by the witch's story.

Humiliated and scorned, the witch placed a curse of eternal bloodlust and unquenchable thirst on the king and his lineage. She spoke that he would drain his entire kingdom in a single swoop and that their blood would be on his hands, including the blood of Inamore and his unborn heir– and then she vanished again without a trace.

Over the weeks, his condition became as she said. He grew 50 times as strong, 10 times as keen, and 10 times as fast. His eyes grew more red every day, and as he fought the burning thirst from a locked dungeon guarded by Semi and Huli, his kingdom mourned. He was the best king they had ever experienced.

As for Inamore, they no longer danced or made love. He couldn't trust himself near her, though she trusted him with her life.

"I'm leaving. Find another man to marry," he finally mustered up the strength to tell her. He was sullen, depressed, and barely able to move, having starved himself. Animal blood was insufficient. Human blood was unacceptable.

Inamore could speak no words, but her spirit told him that, like his loyalists, she would not abandon him. Together, they constructed a second palace, equally as grand as the first. It was deep within the forest away from the kingdom, and the king ruled in two places, sending his order from the newly built dungeon he'd locked himself in.

"Take it," Huli pleaded. He stuck his arm through the cell bars for the umpteenth time in the day, offering his wrist and begging the king to drink. It took months of consistent offering from various servants before the king caved, having never tasted human blood, but once the first drop hit his tongue–he lost half of his loyal men to his frenzy.

When he came to himself, it was already too late. He found the bloodied body of his pregnant wife in his hands. Fortunately, she wasn't dead, and she was able to recover.

Inamore did not blame her husband, but he blamed himself. He kept his distance until she could no longer stand to be parted. She forced her way into his presence again and again to prove to him that he could do it and when the time came to give birth, he was right there by her side trying his hardest to keep his composure around the blood. He couldn't have predicted that it would be childbirth that claimed her life. He'd been so afraid of himself that he hadn't considered that outcome. His people tried to console him, but he couldn't be consoled, not even for the sake of his newborn son. He tried every method he could think of to die, one directly after the other until method number nine... decapitation.

His death was mourned throughout the land as a great loss to humanity and to the world. His kingdom became the foundation of Wakanda. His original palace became the palace of new kings and queens, and The Legend of the Cursed King was preserved along with the tragic story of his enchanted love.

@dashhoney25 @lettidarawest @soufcakmistress @ljstraightnochaser @princessstevens-blog @eye-raq @thiccdaddy-mbaku @destinio1 @iamrheaspeaks @hidden-treasures21 @bidibidibombaclaat @forbeautyandlife @blowmymbackout @misspooh @thotyana-in-this-hoe @purplehairgawdess @thegucciwaffle @goddessofthundathighs @theegoldenchild @thadelightfulone @sultanabby @mysticalblackhottie @baekhyunbabybunni @fd-writes @richonne4life @goldieccentric @thehomierobbstark @capswife @blackpinup22 @harleycativy @lishabaybeee-blog @playgurlxoxo @beaut1fulone-blog @blackerthings @syndrlla97 @ladymac82 @browngirldominion @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @uzumaki-rebellion

#original #erik killmonger #killmonger #erik stevens #erik killmonger fanfiction #black panther killmonger #black panther fanfiction #black fanfic writer

[hollideon]

diving headfirst into oblivion, ravenous predator pilots (longer story under the cut)

accel weapons have long since been outlawed, but that doesn't stop one or two from being kept in back pockets. this particular one — you don't know how it was kept under wraps. an affected area this size? inspection teams should've been able to sniff it out. hell, a satellite scan could've picked up the temporal haze.

no matter. the cloudy gray orb hangs there now where most of a moon used to be, already aged to cosmic dust. the crumbling remains spared the blast now plummet towards the world below. a regional extinction event at the least.

heavy-handed. the enemy defense fleet still remains though, too spared the blast and with little left to lose. "hellion 5, do you read? there's a warsuit on your tail, looks like one of the praetors," came the voice of someone in operations over the radio. then, your handler's voice: "hound, divert course. bait that praetor away from the rest of the squad and put it down." you acknowledge and veer off course towards where this praetor is supposedly hiding — blindspots in your radar drawn by beams of temporal haze. whoever this pilot is, they're clever.

"hellion 5, looks like the bogey's taking the bait. id reads praetor I, fable." "praetor I. you've got your work cut out for you, hound. don't disappoint." you won't disappoint. not now. you put all else out of your mind — here, away from the larger battle, it's just you and your target. praetor 1 fable is quick. the fastest warsuit lunar regime money can buy. you've been waiting for this.

time loses meaning in a fight like this. each life-and-death moment its own self-contained war. you and praetor I trade missiles and energy blades. railguns. and support drones. hails of lasers and oversized conventional rounds. toe-to-toe, until — a railround tears through your warsuit's shoulder, taking the arm with it. fable, silent until now, hails your warsuit, taunting and sadistic. hungry. "don't tell me that's all you've got, mutt. you were just getting fun."

in your feral, violence-addled brain, an idea emerges. one-armed and nearly out of munitions, speed is the only way to win. you need more. you snarl back across the radio and break away, pushing your thrusters to their limits. straight towards the hanging orb — the accel weapon's lingering blast. fable follows suit, couldn't resist if it wanted to.

grey haze begins to cloud your exterior vision. temporal haze. time distortion. dispersed at this range from the epicenter, they're fairly weak. hazardous, but not the edge you need. deeper. fable pursues and... appears slower. "into the blast? bold move, hound. be careful, or you might not come back." your handler's voice, but distorted. slowed down. the plan is working, but you need to go deeper. sensors scrambled by the haze, you turn them off. all you need are your eyes and an opening. your warsuit rattles and groans under the bombardment of the haze. before long it'll start to disintegrate — aged to dust by the accel weapon's blast just like the moon. not much longer now. the trick, at least in theory, is turning away while your brain can still process the flow of time. no one's willingly dived into an accel weapon's boundaries before. there's a reason they're outlawed.

your radio crackles to life again, displaying praetor I fable once more, but all that comes through is a deep rumbling. paint and exterior plating flakes off your warsuit into nothingness. fable's is an ant in your rearview, and just as slow. it's time. you burn hard, priming your energy blade and urging your thrusters to share your hunger. you hurdle towards fable's warsuit, and its voice over the radio becomes clearer and clearer, mad and frothing and ravenous. "–never cared for them or their 'ideals.' you're just like me, hound. i can smell it right through your warsuit. yes, a real predator! come, give me a–"

and then, naught but static. warsuit still cloaked and sticky with temporal haze, you accelerate faster than any warsuit likely ever has, cleaving praetor I fable in two at a respectable percentage of the speed of light and leaving your own an inert and twisted mass of fused metal floating through space. true to your promise, you don't disappoint.

#mywriting #empty spaces #microfiction #mecha #hellion 5

[avatarofseshat]

Roses

Pairings: Steven Grant x f!Reader, Marc Spector x f!Reader

Warnings: Smut (not too explicit) , Minors DNI. 18+ Only (to be safe)!

Technically part four of The Sun & The Moon series but can be read alone as well.

Moon Knight Masterlist

—

“How are you always so sensitive?” You whisper half in amusement and half seductively as you run your fingers down Steven’s toned chest admiring how the golden hue of the morning sun made his olive skin glow.

“Anything for you, love,” his voice trembles as you continue to brush your finger across his torso as you admire every slight imperfection.

“You are so pretty,” you praise as you place a kiss to his toned chest.

“No, y-you are,” he stutters as your hand wonders lower and dips beneath the duvet that covers your shared bed “c’mere…” he mumbles cupping your cheek and pulling you into a passionate kiss “I love you” he voice his husky as he briefly pulls away. As soon as his lips meet yours again he flips you over causing your hand to rapidly move to his back in an attempt to move with him “as much as I adore your touch, darling…I have a better idea.”

It was late morning by the time you both emerge from your shared residence with fingers entwined as you headed towards the street to hail a taxi. It was Saturday - and it happened to be your anniversary - it had become your custom to attend the local outdoor market.

You had caught Steven staring at you doe-eyed more than usual that day and you could help but notice how his eyes would scan up and down your light blue sundress before meeting your gaze.

“Like what you see, Mr. Grant?” You mumbled against his lips before peppering him with sweet kisses.

“Hmmm,” he mumbled against your neck completely oblivious of the odd looks you two were probably attracting. He had that effect on you, when you were together the rest of the world didn’t exist.

As the warm rays of the sun gave way to the cool night air you noticed how he seemed to grow more anxious. You were hoping it wasn’t because they had leave and cancel your dinner plans. You were relived when that wasn’t the case as you sat across from each other at the restaurant. He looked beyond gorgeous in the shirt and jacket you were sure Marc made him purchase as it was classic black and white.

In a sudden burst of confidence Steven reached across the table and took your hand in his as he other hand fidgeted with his jacket pocket.

“Y/N, darling…” he whispered as he took your hand “do you have any idea of how much you mean to me…us,” you had no doubt that Marc had just said something “and I don’t know what I would be without you…you’ve excepted us and have loved us unconditionally. I only hope that I can return it.” You could just hear Marc scoff at that.

Your eyes widened when you noticed the small box he had in his free hand as he slides from his chair to kneel before you on the stone floor. You smiled as he struggled to open it with one hand before relenting to release your hand “Sorry…darling,” he mumble an apology as he opened and a smile spread across your face.

It was a gorgeous natural oval cut Lapis Lazuli surrounded by several smaller diamonds all set in gold. You met Steven’s chocolate gaze both of your eyes rimmed with tears with overflowing emotion.

He took a breath to steady his racing heart “Y/N…darling…my love…will you marry me?” Us.

“Yes!” You instantly replied, you weren’t just saying yes to Steven, even though he was the one to ask. You were saying yes to Marc as well and even to the third alter, whomever he may be. They’re a packaged deal.

A big grin spread across Steven’s handsome face as he went to place the ring on your finger. Before both of you embraced, few knew of how great of a kisser your shy boyfriend - fiancé - was. This kiss easily took the cake, it was full of passion, devotion, and promise.

“You’ve made me the happiest man alive,” He mumbles into the crook of your neck and you just smile into his his neck “I love you so much, darling.”

The rest of the evening passed in a daze as Steven just started at you with doe eyes. He was endlessly adorable and charming and unbelievable gorgeous.

“Steven, let’s go home.”

The morning sun glinted off the blue stone around your ring finger as you rolled over just to find the bed empty. You sighed to yourself as you found a set of lounge wear before gathered up the clothes that were scattered on the floor. You couldn’t help the but smile as the memories of the previous night filled your head and your heart.

When you reached the kitchen you couldn’t help but smirked when you saw Marc’s T-shirt and Jean clad figure. Steven may be keen to hide himself behind too big clothes but mark was the opposite as he usually preferred his clothes snugger.

“Enjoying the view, sweetheart?” He cheekily inquired in that deep slightly-Chicago accented voice as he turned slightly in profile so he would slightly see the pink rise to your cheeks.

Everyday it amazed you how different they where - not that you didn’t expect it. Steven was awkward and somewhat shy while Marc was confident and intense. Their personalities weren’t the only stark difference you have come to know.

“Always.” You cheekily respond as he playfully shakes his head.

He turned to completely face you as his dark chocolate orbs met your (eye color) ones “I’m glad you’re not disappointed.”

You round the kitchen island so that your face-to-face with him “When have I ever been disappointed to see you?”

“This is a special time for…”

You cut him off as you step closer “all of us…a packaged deal, remember?” He wraps a strong arm around you and pulls you in for a kiss that is full of promise and relief.

Suddenly the smell of something burning reaches your nostrils “shit!” He curses when he realizes breakfast is burning. You give him a peck on the cheek as he releases you.

Something catches the corner or your eye and you turn curiously towards it. Your eyes soften as a smile spreads across your face when you spot the bouquet of red roses sitting on the counter. You look to Marc thinking they must be from him as you snatch the small card from its holder.

Don’t believe everything you hear.

I’ll see you soon, mi amore.

The signature looked like it read “Jake Lockley”. You drop the card as realization reaches your mind - the mysterious third alter!

Once Marc finishes preparing breakfast he turns to see why you’ve become so quiet. He nearly runs to your side when he sees the paleness of your features “baby, what’s…,” he stops short as he spots the card on the counter and quickly picks it up to scan it.

‘Marc! What’s are we going to do?!’ Steven is so frantic Marc can barely think.

You’re not afraid of Jake, apprehensive yes but not afraid. You’ve see monsters and as far as you knew Jake wasn’t one. If he was he’s had ample opportunities to show such. The color had quickly returned to your features as you took a calming breath.

“Y/N?” Marc’s chocolate brown eyes were fixed on you, his voice laced with concern.

“I’m fine,” you assure him “I wasn’t expecting it…that’s all.”

“Sausage? Bacon?” You question eyeing the spread before you and knowing of Marc’s Jewish heritage.

“Turkey,” he clarifies before pulling you into a sweet kiss and pulling out your chair. Breakfast was delicious and much to Marc’s amusement you ate more than your share “where do you put it all?”

After breakfast Marc was insistent on joining you in the shower despite having already showered himself. He now had you with your chest pinned against the cool tile as he devoured your neck and shoulder, his hand griped your hips as he ground his hard length against you.

“You like that don’t you, baby?” He breathed into your ear his breath hitched as you ground against him “Shit! You’re such a tease!”

“Marc…” your body ached for him as you turned your head and he eagerly consumed your mouth with his.

“I know honey,” he breathed as he he slid one hand between your bodies as he adjusted himself so that he could enter “you are so perfect,” he groaned as he steadily entered you and he only paused when he heard your sharp in take of breath as your core stretched around him.

Marc soon had you pressed tightly against him as you met his rhythmic pace and you could feel the familiar coil in your stomach as his calloused fingers came into contact with your sensitive perl “that’s it…baby…come for me.” He had you seeing stars as you came around him and you could tell that he was close himself as his rhythm faltered as his mouth sought yours.

Marc had been unusually quiet all day and by the far off look that graced his brown eyes you could tell he was lost in thought as he rubbed a palm up and down your bare legs that where resting across his lap. He only made eye contact when you went to move.

“I’m gonna call him,” he suddenly spoke as you shifted your legs off of his lap.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he respond with a sigh “I’m doing it right this time…I want us to be a family. You know. If we have kids they should know their grandpa.” You simply smiled at him as he pulled you close to bury his nose into your hair.

#marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #marvel moon knight #mcu fanfic #mcu #moon knight fan fiction #the sun & the moon #moon knight

[fawnhoards]

a collection of in-character dialogue from the balance arc of the adventure zone podcast. this is part one, taken from here there be gerblins, moonlighting i / ii / iii, murder on the rockport limited, and lunar interlude i. to be used as sentence starters. as per usual, feel free to change pronouns or whatever you see fit.

　❝ hey, let’s search these fools. ❞

　❝ no, i like my plan. ❞

　❝ now they definitely know we’re here. ❞

　❝ i’m foolhardy, but i’m not stupid. ❞

　❝ i’m still chilling out here, if anyone’s curious. ❞

　❝ excellent. well, i trust your judgment. ❞

　❝ hello, friend! hail and well met! ❞

　❝ we’ve taken a wrong turn. ❞

　❝ how dangerous are you? how dangerous are we talking? ❞

　❝ you are making me… extremely uncomfortable. ❞

　❝ …well, tits. ❞

　❝ yeah, fuck that guy. for real, though. ❞

　❝ are you sure you don’t want any tea? ❞

　❝ can i play with your dog? ❞

　❝ what the hell are you talking about? ❞

　❝ it would look super bad if i just, like, died. ❞

　❝ well, i’m not like every dwarf you know. ❞

　❝ so far so good by me. ❞

　❝ i love riddles. ❞

　❝ oh, your voice is like a song… ❞

　❝ you’re super wrong. you’re, like, super duper wrong. ❞

　❝ i might need your help still, come with me. ❞

　❝ kind of a weird question, kind of a weird request. ❞

　❝ dooon’t test me. had a reeeal long day. ❞

　❝ i’m not going to lie, this is super above your pay grade. ❞

　❝ when did you wake up? ❞

　❝ bring it on, tough guy. ❞

　❝ roll to chill. chill check. ❞

　❝ you guys are gonna love what happens next. ❞

　❝ you guys ready for stuff to get weird? ❞

　❝ i am but a simple idiot wizard. ❞

　❝ oh, don’t sell yourself short. ❞

　❝ that was very kind of you. thank you for doing that. ❞

　❝ congratulations are in order. ❞

　❝ i just want a dog. ❞

　❝ no dogs are allowed on the moon. ❞

　❝ any other non-terrible questions? ❞

　❝ what are you wearing? ❞

　❝ dibs! ❞

　❝ you don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here. ❞

　❝ if you do that, you’ll definitely die. ❞

　❝ i thought i’d feel more excited. that was just kind of sad. ❞

　❝ how far away is your house? ❞

　❝ i am just so charmed by you. ❞

　❝ i’d like to sit on your lap and rest here a little bit. ❞

　❝ okay, well, this was a great talk. ❞

　❝ but my whole body is a weapon. ❞

　❝ tell me all about it, stud! ❞

　❝ a witch kissed me and cursed me. ❞

　❝ smell ya later. ❞

　❝ hey, man, are you alright? ❞

　❝ first of all, do you need anything? ❞

　❝ i’m just trying to chase my bliss. ❞

　❝ there’s nowhere i’d rather be than here, my man. ❞

　❝ for right now, i’m gonna get my grub on. ❞

　❝ okay, that’s not cool, man. ❞

　❝ what’s the skinny, kid? ❞

　❝ i am the world’s greatest detective. ❞

　❝ there’s prying eyes and prying ears! ❞

　❝ fine, i’ll come. ❞

　❝ high fives all around! ❞

　❝ oh, no, absolutely not. ❞

　❝ that hurt a lot! ❞

　❝ are you interrogating me? ❞

　❝ do you want a cup of coffee? ❞

　❝ daddy needs his special magic juice. ❞

　❝ you are impossible to talk to. ❞

　❝ i’m a shitty wizard. ❞

　❝ it doesn’t seem like the right time or place for that. ❞

　❝ i’ll pinky swear! ❞

　❝ you’ve been doing a surprisingly good job! ❞

　❝ oof, that’s a biiig ask. ❞

　❝ i’ve found that not killing is pretty easy. ❞

　❝ bad news, compadres. this place is magic as hell. ❞

　❝ i’m out! ❞

　❝ that’s exactly right. it would confirm my suspicion. ❞

　❝ i have a moment of lucidity and i don’t want to waste it. ❞

　❝ i would sooner die! ❞

　❝ let’s hear your theory, little man. ❞

　❝ don’t touch my stuff. ❞

　❝ have a little bit of faith in humanity. ❞

　❝ what if i get bored? ❞

　❝ what the fuck? ❞

　❝ i hate you all so much. ❞

　❝ absolutely… not. probably. ❞

　❝ i’m too young to die! ❞

　❝ it’s okay, they’re with me! ❞

　❝ let us be as two ships passing. ❞

　❝ tell it to the bees. ❞

　❝ i can’t believe you’ve done this. ❞

　❝ you better keep that shit in check. ❞

　❝ do y’all wanna get paid or naw? ❞

　❝ this is super, duper, duper illegal. ❞

　❝ are we under attack? ❞

　❝ if you lose, your first child is mine. ❞

　❝ i know you’re wondering, ❛ what’s in it for me? ❜ i’ve already told you this: it is _____. ❞

　❝ i feel like this conversation’s starting to take a turn for the worst, so i’m gonna head out. ❞

　❝ well, strangers aren’t strangers anymore once you’ve talked to them and learned their names. ❞

　❝ i do wish i could help you out in this regard, but i do not think there is anything i can do for you. ❞

　❝ here’s my solution, and i think you’re going to find it very equitable: i’m not going to shoot you with this giant crossbow. ❞

#ask meme #rp meme #sentence starters #rp starters #taz sentence starters

[willowcrowned]

Will boba and fennec be at the birth?

(And will they make more?)

[part one] [part two] [part three] [part four]

while i think a lot of these fills have not quite lined up with the tone of the prompts, this one is, I think, the largest departure yet. at this point i think i probably ought to apologize for how far we've gotten from the story you've envisioned, since as of yet there's no happy ending in sight

She names him Prestor.

He's a tiny, clinging thing—all wild black hair and huge dark eyes and crescent-moon fingernails so small it makes her feel like she's bleeding from her teeth. She feels her heart tear itself apart every time he shifts in her arms, every time he looks up at her terrified, and confused, and so utterly, wonderfully alive.

They get two weeks—Leia gives them two weeks. Two weeks, tucked away far in the Deep Core, where only Jedi or suicidal idiots go. Two weeks, on an unnamed planet, alone in her ship but for the med droid and the baby. Two weeks, watching the sulfur mists go by outside, seeing sunrise after sunset pass and counting down the days.

Two weeks is nothing, of course. Not to a child so young. He won't remember her—won't even know where his name came from—and that's for the best. He'll be a child of the Outer Rim, not a princeling of the Core, and he'll grow up better for it.

Leia gives herself two weeks, and then she hands the baby off to TE-812, and focuses on the relief she feels at the prospect of real sleep, and a real shower, and the tribunal she'll be just in time for. A job she's good at. A chance to rip apart the system that loved her parents—all their finesse, and finery, and Old-Core diplomacy—and then treated their funeral like a cocktail party.

It works, of course. She wasn't cut out to take care of an infant, even with a med droid. Trapped on her ship, with no intelligence to sort through, no strategies to plan—she'd felt like a rancor on a leash, even worked to exhaustion. The thought of work—real work, clever work, useful work—is more than enough to get her moving again.

So she pilots them out of the Deep Core on instinct—the only way to do it, Luke had said, and he'd been right—and sets Prestor in TE-812's arms, and doesn't cry at all.

And when she feels Pres—really feels him, the way she's only ever been able to feel Luke—and then doesn't— When she watches the ship jump into hyperspace, and feels a vast black hole where a second before there had been a burning star— Well, she doesn't cry then either.

She turns around, and hails a transport, and gets back to work.

-

Thousands of light years away, a nondescript ship lands on Tatooine. It has a droid on it, and a baby, which the droid hands into the arms of a waiting Boba Fett.

Around them, the desert is still, and silent, and cold. The day is still far from dawning, and the krayts, and the desert-rats, and the tiny dune bugs haven't yet begun to cry. The child's screams echo in the air, far into the distance until the desert swallows them hole.

Boba Fett cradles the baby with one arm. With the other, he takes a handwritten note—old-fashioned, untraceable.

His name is Prestor, it reads. Keep him safe.

It's the last any of them hears from Leia Organa for eight years.

#i wrote and rewrote this one like three or four times before i got to this iteration. and not even for style #i kept getting derailed by the effects of a sulfuric planet on sunsets and leia's force abilities and even pres' force abilities #bc he is not. btw. kylo ren #oh and bail organa's middle name is prestor. which i did have to look up for this #prompt game responses #leia organa #boba fett #stars wars #star wars au #jackthunderboltyt

[rionas-path]

Chapter 2.

The Flow of Beginnings

VII. “Of spring rains and summer storms, one could dream eternally. Through growing pains, our trials, and tribulations we all learn To make it through onto the other side and face the Flow’s burn.” Spoke avidly the great Shamaness, gazing o’er fervently At the demigoddess, though counting only a baker’s dozen moons She had eyes that sparked with intrigue and interest like none of her commune. A grand procession was now fully in action. So carefully Planned was the ceremonious reveal of the prophecy.

VIII. “Two silhouettes will merge as their shadows shall intertwine. A raven with two heads, disoriented.” The words usher In the crowd “Its wings still do not listen to one another. The path: one of many roads they’d take.” She made a sign. “But only one, the central one - lined with blood; red and blue. Only it leads towards the temple in the sky!” then withdrew Herself inwards did the Shamaness. In a recline She let out: “Where life and flow blend into a murky line.”

IX. Yet now the Shaman’s eyes turn ‘round, gazing into her own soul. A twitch in her posture, jerks back and forth. Agape now stands before The clan, prepared to proclaim aloud: “Our matriarch is no more! Now flesh and bone, no longer flow, but guided will be this foal Who carries her essence anew!” And then she twists back from vision’s dream. Now lifting the child close, the Shamaness whisper’s a scheme. “Fear not, mistress, your host guided shall be in ways of the ole’ Tribe mothers of our clan! To whom we pay respects and our toll!”

X. In eagerness’s grip, the Chieftain lifts from his throne of bone And hails to his warriors, his trusted warband, with a call To arms: “Prepare your spear-throwers, your Raven wings and stand tall Alongside your brethren as we rejoice! For it’s time for us to hone Our skills of combat, our skills of war!” A yell now spread across The chieftain’s hall. The feathered raven helm he donned with a toss, Then took his seat again. As commotion spread, his child would moan And cry, and the weakened chiefess would her husband’s choice bemoan.

XI. “The struggles of our peoples remain as they fail to make ends meet, Our sacred babe still younger than the twelve moons that lead us, And yet thou call’st upon thy Balthazaran rage and not discuss With me this foolish plan of grandeur! To hast the world at thy feet? Heed the horn’s call, my Ydith’s gift.” The chiefess shook in displeasure And disagreement “Listen to my wisdom at length and at leisure: The Tribe Mothers who come before me all stir and retreat, Now I too am stirred!” Then she shook once more in partial defeat.

XII. Chieftain Audar now grants himself a moment of suspense As he gazes down upon his raven-feathered helm now held In his hands. His gaze then catches his wife, and lastly compelled To glance at his child, before he’d too foretell the coming events: “Though our gift of Ydith’s is still young, our army must convoke And thus, make ready for the time when our child is grown to invoke Her right to lead. To that end our Tribe Mothers stir without pretence! The stir which you have felt; The call to our destiny’s defence.”

XIII. The chiefess scoffed, gave her chief a scornful gaze that pierced through His very essence, then looked aside with absent eyes removed From the world that surrounded them. Her yearning breath disapproved With the storm foretold: “Thou only gazest at thy point of view, To thy pride! Never giving a single thought upon the flow’s touch! Thou’st failed to tend to thy gift, my heart, as each moon’s passage I’m begrudged To give. Let Ríona enjoy her youth without the need to brew More pain in this world.” She hoped her words would finally cut through.

XIV. “And if that my final wish should be in this forlorn Outerworld, So be it!” The chiefess exclaimed as Audar stepped close, Attempting to embrace his wife. He’d noticed her throes Of pain and weakness that would gnaw at her as she twisted and turned In her feeble slumber. Despite her affliction, she’d push her love away “And only now thou would’st tend to me when I express my dismay?” A downpour of tears would stream down her cheeks, as her soul unfurled Before her husband, but still was heedful of what could go unheard.

XV. Chiefess Eleanore now approached the cradle in which the child Was fast asleep. She caressed her daughter’s dark golden hair And collected her head. Clutching the babe close to her fair Skin that now gleamed in the moonlight; the clouds dispersed in a wild Flurry of breezing winds. She made her way towards the egress But before her exit from their quarters, she looked at Audar, caressed His cheek and spoke her final thoughts “Don’t follow and don’t be riled Up if I am late to bed. Thou should’st ponder, perchance reconcile…”

#riona's path #fantasy #dark fantasy #poetry #epic poetry #poem #epic poem #literature #writing

[dyrewrites]

Before Deluca -- man is sorry, but not

Here is where you look at the page number and say, “What the hell, Deluca, I thought this book covered two centuries?”

Well, maybe you don’t say it that way, but the sentiment is there I’m sure. And the answer is, “I did say that, and it does, but perhaps not in the way you expected.”

I will discuss the centuries we spent in hiding or running, the other creatures we met along the way—be they friend or foe—when and where we finally found peace and what event ultimately led to me writing this book in the first place.

But most of that can honestly be summarized, focusing only on the major events and a few comfortable—but meaningful—moments. Whereas the first year required more detail, as it is paramount to giving context and facilitating the summaries of what is to come. I met and fell in love with a ‘monster’, became one myself, learned to accept it and made choices with him that would haunt us for the following two centuries in that first year—all the while learning of a world outside my own and my place in it.

It needed the space because it was a very big year.

A year we would spend the rest of out at sea, docking only to resupply and quite literally grab a bite. Speed and strength what they were, it took little effort to zip into a town or city and snatch a few people. If we were careful to keep to those no one would miss—vagrants, criminals, the elderly on occasion—we could get in and out without alarming the authorities. Or, more importantly, drawing the eyes of any of our kind that answered to Jacques—turned out most of them remained in France, allowing us the rest of the world to hide in.

If we couldn’t find a port safe enough, we’d fish, for ourselves and the crew. Notably, however, not sharks—though Lucient did punish me for regaling the crew with that tale, as it kept attention on me longer than he cared for.

There were also a few naval battles occurring in open waters, being as there were wars brewing and midway and ending off nearly every shore—we did our best to ignore them but were fired on once or twice in the confusion—which meant shipwrecks...and survivors.

It was a rare treat for a ship full of soldiers to hail us, board us, and demand we aid their efforts. A delicious treat of self-righteous blood that yearned for touch with a depth unknown to simple fish. Guns were a treat as well, and we made certain to keep at least one of the uniformed young men we ‘rescued’—too young, Lucient and I were in agreement on—alive to teach our crew how to use them. He was Greek, which delighted our crew, and we delivered him to a port of his choosing unharmed—again, too young.

But we were stuck at sea, avoidant of towns and cities, even small villages couldn’t be trusted—especially if they had a church, as all maintained connections to the Council. No more dates, no holidays, no spending any time more than necessary on land. Our faces and names had become known, as our fears of that first Hunter’s portraits proved well-founded—and Jacques managed to get more out.

By winter’s first chill, posters of us were up at every port.

We had to wait until night to dock, to hunt, after the crew finished resupplying so we could set sail as soon as we returned—the crew’s faces had fortunately not been shared, nor had the new look of our ship.

La Luna et Soleil—The Moon and Sun; half in Italian, half in French—was what Lucient christened our new ship. It was, of course, not new but it had changed—another gift worked on while we holidayed in Paris. Our favored colors were showcased in every detail, complimented by moon and sun motifs in silver and gold. The outfits we’d all but destroyed—I was able to repair them to a wearable degree—were as a blueprint, but Lucient insisted he hadn’t planned it, or the crew uniforms that matched.

Our bedroom was furnished, rivaling the one we stayed in at the townhouse, and those rooms reeking of peculiar sour scents were refitted for the crew, their scent lost with whatever had been in them—I was never informed. A true galley replaced the storeroom it was before and that monstrous studio was gutted and transformed into a dining hall—all of it’s ‘art’ destroyed.

My favorite addition was attached to the Captain’s cabin, made for me and Lucient to share in our hobbies; A new studio, with a wide window—and thick curtains—and plenty of space to hang sketches and store supplies. Along with my easel and stool were a comfortable chair, a music stand, and Lucient’s violin in a lovely glass case.

We would make use of it often in the coming years...him playing, my sketching—him scolding me for sketching him playing.

La Luna et Soleil became home and haven. To us and our crew, all of whom understood what we were at the end of that last day in Paris. If the sight of mists and eyes weren’t enough, seeing Jacques up close and personal, referring to us in a familiar manner certainly hammered it in.

They didn’t mind much, however they would worry, every now and then, of the sounds they heard and how Lucient glared if they spoke to me too long. An event occurring often as summer cooled into glorious autumn and the crew and I began work trying to learn each other’s languages.

#he is apologizing to me i think #but it ain't working #this book is too big #before deluca #snippet