#hidden ember/vegas itself? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pikapeppa · 1 year

Text

Kotaloy Celebration Week, Day #4: Rude

Day 4 prompts: wild/dangerous/feral, or ravenous/desperate/“I can’t get enough of you”. I'm a smut goblin so I used them all. 😂👹

The whole piece is ~12k words; only an excerpt is here. Read the rest on AO3.

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

Kotallo landed his Sunwing on the tower of the tallest ruin north of Hidden Ember, then dismounted and stretched as he surveyed the landscape.

It was early afternoon: a blazingly sunny day, as usual. From this height, he could see straight across the ruins of old Las Vegas to Hidden Ember itself. The settlement’s immense holograms weren’t visible yet because of the height of the sun, but Kotallo didn’t mind; he wasn’t here to admire the Visions of the Desert today.

He was here for her. He was here to enjoy a few stolen hours of Aloy’s time between his duties and her own, and he couldn’t wait for her to arrive.

He unhitched his bedroll and a saddlebag from his Sunwing, then fondly patted its neck before making his way down the stairs that led from the tower’s roof to the inside of the tower itself. This ruin was shaped almost like a Tenakth guardtower: its tall slender base was topped with a large shelter that was open on all sides and topped with the roof where his Sunwing was roosting now. Aloy had told him that this shelter used to have floor-to-ceiling windows to protect the Old Ones from the elements, which Kotallo thought was strange; it was common knowledge that fresh air was essential for keeping the lungs healthy and strong, so he wasn’t sure why the Old Ones would have wanted to seal themselves into a shelter with no way to access the open air.

In any case, there were no windows now, and a welcome breeze was blowing through the shelter and wicking some of the sweat from his skin. The roof overhead provided a blessed reprieve from the sun, and the interior of this shelter was dotted with tables and chairs, as well as an empty space on the floor that was wide enough for Kotallo’s spread-out bedroll.

He surveyed the inside of the shelter with satisfaction. Aloy’s suggestion had been a good one; this was an excellent place for a long-awaited afternoon tryst.

At the mere thought of a tryst with Aloy, his cock began to stiffen. He tsked quietly at himself. “Have some restraint,” he muttered, and he started rolling out the bedroll.

In truth, he was quite close to the end of his restraint. He hadn’t masturbated for almost a week now, all because he’d foolishly agreed to a cheeky challenge from Aloy.

It had all started with an innocuous comment on her part while they’d been chatting via the Focus a week ago; Aloy had remarked that she was going to wear her Lowland armour when she went to help Alva with something out at Legacy’s Landfall.

“Hm,” Kotallo said.

“What?” she said. “You don’t think it’s a good idea?”

“I have… concerns about the idea.”

“Oh? What are your concerns?”

“That the Quen may break their necks upon your arrival at Landfall’s Legacy.”

“Break their necks? Why would they break their necks?”

“From whipping around too quickly to stare at you as you pass them by.”

For a moment, she was silent. Then she scoffed. “You are not serious.”

He huffed in amusement, and she let out an incredulous laugh. “Okay. Who are you, and what have you done with Kotallo? Did Drakka body-swap with you or something?”

“Body-swap?” he said. “What does that mean?”

“It’s a thing that happened in some ancient vids,” Aloy said. “Beta and Alva told me about it. Two characters would switch bodies so they had to learn what it was like to live each other’s lives.”

He was confused. “They did this on purpose?”

“No. I don’t think so, at least. From what I understand, it was usually because of some strange magical reason. Alva said it was a… ‘trope’? Anyway, we’re going off-topic.”

He smirked. “The topic being what, exactly?”

“The fact that you just used the lamest pick-up line on me,” she said. “Tell me the truth, did Drakka put you up to that? Have you been spending too much time at Scalding Spear recently?”

He grunted. “I’m offended that you think I couldn’t come up with such a remark on my own.”

“I don’t think it’s something you should be offended about,” she said dryly.

“Hm,” he said, amused. “In any case, my point was this: that backless Lowland armour makes you look even more attractive than you already are. You may find your mission with Alva interrupted by endless Quen propositions if you wear that armour among them.”

She clicked her tongue. “You make it sound like it’s unusual for me to be propositioned by random strangers while I’m just trying to get things done.”

“Fair enough,” he conceded. “Then I rescind my concerns. Wear your Lowland armour with my blessings.”

“Thanks,” she said, in a tone that reminded him fondly of her sweetest and most acidic smile.

He smiled faintly as he settled back on his bedroll and folded his arm behind his head. “I will imagine you fondly in that armour when you set out for Landfall’s Legacy.”

“You will, huh?”

“Yes. I miss that armour.”

“You miss it?”

“I do. I only had the privilege of stripping it off of you twice before.”

She let out another little laugh. “Fire and spit.”

“What?”

“You’re really, um…” She lowered her voice. “You’re really horny tonight, huh?”

She wasn’t wrong; his cock was hard from the memory of Aloy wearing that backless Lowland top of hers. But he was in the mood to taunt her tonight. “What makes you think that?”

“You’re being really, um, forward,” she said.

“I am always forward with you,” he pointed out.

“I know,” she said. “But you’re more… I don’t know.”

She sounded a little shy now, a little coy, and it softened his mood just slightly. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No, it’s not that,” she said quickly. “It’s just, um…” She trailed off.

“What’s the matter?” he said gently.

She was silent for a long second. Then she let her breath out in a sigh. “It’s hard to take when I don’t know when I’ll see you next.”

His heart squeezed with fondness. “We have done this before, Aloy. We will be together soon enough.”

“It might be more than a week, based on what Alva’s telling me about this data she wants to find,” she warned.

“Then I will wait more than a week,” he said simply. “This waiting is worth it when you are the reward.”

She let out another soft exhale: a slightly-shaky one that sent another swell of heat to his cock. “Okay. You’re right. Okay. Wait, when you say you’ll wait… what do you mean, you’ll wait?”

He was a little confused. “I mean just that. I’ll wait for you for as long as it takes for you to return.”

“Oh,” she said. “Yeah, okay. I thought you meant… something else. Never mind.”

“What did you think I meant?”

“I thought you meant you weren’t going to…” She lowered her voice again. “That you weren’t going to masturbate until we saw each other again.”

He huffed in amusement. “That is not what I meant, no.”

“No, of course. Right.”

Her tone was curled with humour now, which piqued his curiosity. “What are you thinking now?”

“You won’t like it,” she said.

He quirked a brow. “Tell me what you were thinking, Aloy.”

He heard a soft huff of laughter. “I was thinking of a challenge, but… no, you won’t like it.”

A challenge? he thought with interest. “Tell me the challenge.”

“Okay, fine, but just remember that you asked for it,” she said. “I challenge you not to masturbate until we see each other again.”

He blinked. “Until—? But we don’t know how long that will be.”

“I know,” she said. “I told you you wouldn’t like it.”

He glanced down at his hard cock with some dismay. He’d been planning to masturbate as soon as they finished their Focus call. Then Aloy spoke again. “It’s okay. It’s a difficult challenge, so you don’t have to accept it.”

He frowned. “Are you calling my warrior’s honour into question?”

“No, of course not.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Your tone would say otherwise.”

She laughed again: a soft, husky laugh that sent a fresh wave of heat through his blood. “Uh-huh. Well, I can’t force you to accept a challenge, so—”

“I accept your challenge,” he interrupted.

“Wait, really?” she exclaimed.

“Yes,” he said firmly. “Which means that you are now bound to the same challenge. Do you accept?”

“Do I—? I mean, yeah, sure. I don’t think it’ll be difficult for me.”

He grunted. She really was trying to goad him. “Not difficult? You think this will be easy?”

“I kind of do, yeah. I already haven’t — I mean, it’s already been a few days for me. I don’t think it’ll be hard for me to hold off for another week or more.”

“Good for you,” he retorted. “Then be certain that you do not imagine how hard I am right now as I imagine you in that Lowland armour of yours.”

She laughed again: a distinctly breathless laugh. “You and the Lowland armour.”

“No, you” he said. “You in that Lowland armour while I slowly strip you out of it. While I slowly push your legs apart so I can see exactly what I will be rewarding myself with when this challenge is through.”

She huffed. “You’re… such a piece of work.”

“I could say the same for you.”

She tsked. “I’m going to sleep now.”

“As will I,” he said. Then he purposely lowered his voice to a growly register that he knew she liked. “Be careful not to dream of my tongue between your legs, licking up all of those sweet juices until you’re begging me to mark you as mine.”

She exhaled again — that sweet exhale of desire. “Bye, Kotallo,” she said roughly, and she was gone.

And so began a week during which he and Aloy mutually tortured each other via their Focuses every night. Their nightly calls started off innocently enough, but their conversations were so thick and taut with the knowledge of Aloy’s carnal challenge that they inevitably segued into what he and Aloy dubbed ‘suggestive talk’: taunting suggestions of what they would do with each other when they were finally together again. There was one night when he could have sworn that she was touching herself while he described how deeply he was going to sink his fingers inside of her when they were reunited, but she’d sworn that she wasn’t, and he had no choice but to believe her.

In retrospect, this was a foolish challenge: one where neither of them had any way of proving that they’d stuck to the terms. They could only take each other at their word that they’d adhered to the rules of the challenge. But a challenge was worth nothing if a soldier’s code of honour couldn’t be assumed, and Kotallo stubbornly adhered to that honour, even as his appetite for Aloy grew hotter and greedier with every passing day.

And now, here they were: on the cusp of finally being reunited, and on breaking the dam of stubbornness and soldiers’ honour that had stopped each of them from finding their pleasure despite the exquisite torture they’d inflicted on each other via their Focuses this week. Kotallo was ready, his cock rock-hard with a lust that had been denied for far too long as he awaited a call from Aloy telling him that she was on her way.

He tried to distract himself as he waited. He smoothed out his bedroll, and he used a length of bandage-cloth and some water to wipe some of the desks and chairs clean. But he couldn’t deny the fact that he was cleaning the furniture in case Aloy wanted to be fucked on it. By the time the shelter was sufficiently tidy and readied for a tryst, Aloy still hadn’t called, and Kotallo was getting impatient.

Keep your restraint, he told himself harshly. He pulled off his chestplate so the desert breeze could cool his sweat, then smoothed his palm over his hair. He needed to be patient and disciplined for just a little while longer. When Aloy arrived, he could finally unleash all of his pent-up frustration and desire, but until then, he needed to keep his Ten-forsaken restraint.

He sat on his bedroll and opened his holo display to search for something to look at. He opened all sorts of files: holos of Metal versus Meat, Quen recipes that Alva had transcribed, data about HEPHAESTUS that Beta and Sylens had uploaded over the past couple of weeks. He even tried listening to Concrete Beach Party at a loud volume, since it was effective at pulling his attention away from his burning muscles when he was working out. But nothing he found was able to keep his attention. His mind kept returning to Aloy, to his memories of her voice, her teasing words as she taunted him through the Focus by forcing him to imagine the things she would do to him if they were together—

He stood up from the bedroll and began to pace. Be patient and calm, he scolded himself. Hold on to your discipline for just a little while longer. He just hoped she would call him soon to say she was on her way, or he was going to snap when she arrived. Oh, was he ever going to snap: he was going to sink his fingers into her hair and pull her head back and bite her throat, or he was going to push her down on the bedroll and bury his face between her legs, or… by the Ten, if she didn’t call him soon, he was going to meet her on the roof when she arrived and start stripping her before she could even get inside of this shelter. He would stand up there on the roof under the brilliant sun, baring her cream-and-golden skin so he could stare at her and touch her and lick her until she was sobbing his name…

The Ten fucking save him from himself, his cock was throbbing. He exhaled hard and punched his metal fist into his palm to distract himself as he paced around. Be patient, Kotallo, he thought. You need to keep this hunger in check.

For just a little while longer, he needed to be fucking patient.

Read the rest here on AO3!

#kotaloy celebration week #kotaloy #aloy/kotallo #aloy x kotallo #kotallo #kotallo/aloy #kotallo x aloy #pikapeppa writes

14 notes · View notes

boundforhiveswaphell · 4 years

Text

The Campfire Song Except Without the Song Part; A Tender Pseudoreligious Story

Artemis, my lovely dnd pc, regales her party with the Tabaxi creation myth, which also happens to be Homestuck fanfiction.

In other words, a short story written about an evening around the campfire involving my group's DnD party. All characters mentioned are original excluding the four beta kids, obviously! So, no. This isn't the beta kids playing DnD, sorry to get your hopes up. Many thanks to my lovely, lovely beta reader, Nym_P_Pseudo on Ao3! And so, I humbly present.... a Work.

This can also be found here on Ao3 - if you wanna check out my other, non-homestuck stories!

Smoke danced before them, ember and ash swirling in the summer air. Rancorous laughter merged with the crash of distant waves, the crackle of fire and the shifting of feet providing the backdrop. The evening was alight with fireflies, and the sweet smell of the afternoon’s hunt whirled through the sky in long, lazy arcs.

Khr, the party’s resident Gnoll, was doubled over in laughter. His sickle was embedded in the earth beside him, forgotten in the evening’s relative peace. His laugh was unmistakable - a high-pitched keening giggle that rebounded off the trees. His dark claws were sunk into his knee-fur, and his mouth was agape as he struggled to breathe. Bella, a diminutive figure chuckled beside him. Her elfin features beamed with pride behind the curtain of dark hair, a clear indication that she was the source of his laughter.

“And what would you two be up to?” inquired Vega, her tone joking and light. Her robes glimmered with magic, fine craftsmanship showing even in the dim lighting. A quarterstaff rested beside her, also pulsing with power. Her face was unwrinkled and child-like - but when she smiled, her eyes showed depth beyond their years.

“Nothing!” barked Khr and Bella, near in perfect synchronization. They looked at each other and burst into yet more giggles, even louder than before. Artemis snorted as she tended the fire, feeding another log into its base. She turned to the pair to find them both practically rolling in the dirt, Khr’s tail thumping the ground.

“Sisters help me,” muttered Artemis, lips curled in a grin made menacing by her fangs. Her catlike eyes blinked slowly as she surveyed the group. They were a rag-tag bunch, for sure, but they were certainly capable enough when it came to the adventuring business. She was proud of each of them in turn and loved them as she would her own blood.

“Artemis, I thought you only had brothers?” It was Foofy, the puppet’s, high, comical voice that broke her reverie.

Artemis’s creme-colored face looked up from the fire in confusion. Did pupp… not know who the sisters were? “Y’know,” she began, speaking slowly and deliberately as if to a child. “The Jade and Violet Sisters?”

“The fucking what?” Merlin, a brooding young prince, had joined in on the conversation - ever the eavesdropper.

“I - the Sisters! Life and death, the giver and ender? Y’know, the important ones?”

“Let me restate since you didn’t understand the first time - The fucking what?”

The party had gone eerily silent, Khr and Bella stopping their childish antics to watch the imminent conflict. Judging by their perplexed expressions, it seemed that no one else knew what she was talking about, either. Her mother would be having a conniption in the face of so many pagans.

Artemis was still not entirely sure if her companions were playing a joke on her, but she prepared to educate the gaggle of heathens regardless. She quietly called upon a lifetime of her mother’s adages and stories, harkening back to her days as a helpless whelp being told tales of the strings that shaped the very world. A silent prayer formed on her lips to the Violet Sister, to spare the heretics before her.

She let out the breath she was holding and opened her eyes.

“Would you like me to tell you?”

“Maybe,” came Khr’s grating voice, still breathless from his earlier hysterics. “Is this one of your father’s weird Dragonborn things?”

“No!” huffed Artemis. “It’s Catfolk history. I learned both as a cub.”

“What are you, anyway?” Foofy’s pitchy tone again. Artemis chuckled softly.

“We’ve been over this, Foof. My mother’s Tabaxi, and my dad’s Dragonborn.” Foofy sat in thought for a moment before nodding sagely, as if in understanding. Artemis shook her head in fondness.

“So,” she continued. “Do you lot want to hear the story?”

Seven bright pairs of eyes captured in varying degrees of interest stared back. Foofy was the first to answer with an enthusiastic nod and a cry of “yes!”.

Gracefully pulling herself off of the pine-soaked earth, Artemis rose to her full height. It was for dramatism, of course - she would have towered over her companions even while sitting.

“This world,” she began, “was once a wide and white nothingness. Bright, inescapable, and unfathomable.” Artemis’ voice mimicked her mother’s famous story-telling cadence, though she withheld a majority of the dramatic flair. It was a low, sweet tone, like honey trickling from a spoon.

“The desire to create - that which we all feel - and to leave one’s mark on the world. The hunger to know and to understand the world in which we live. The void, empty as it was, still felt this need, this innate desire. It is from this grandest, ceaseless emotion that Heat and Clockwork willed himself into existence.” Fire blazed behind her eyes, and the scarlet of her scales seemed to glow brighter in the dying ember’s light.

“It was a fiery blaze of desire, passion, and want. The universe willed itself to create, and Brother Crimson was to be its first creation.

“Born of invention itself, his destiny would be as such. He was the antithesis of the blank void around him, dark and fire-fueled, his burning red eyes like hot coals. His life’s work would be to build from the space before him, a task whose monotony was comforting.

“Lord Time created this, the first world, in a symphony of molten rock and flame. It was here, at the center of this feverish landscape that the Forge was created - the workshop of the gods.”

“Yes, yes, that’s all well and good,” drawled Steve, the party’s quip-hurling bard, “But I was under the assumption we were learning about a few familial goddesses, not some red cherry-scented loser!” If his words weren’t enough to set Artemis off, his languid, careless posture certainly was. He was sprawled across a wide log next to Vega, lying with his stomach to the skies. His back was a half-circle against the ground, curled in what must have been the most uncomfortable position possible.

Artemis ignored the barb, instead choosing to reprimand her friend using a most motherly tone. “Sit your sorry excuse for an ass up before you ruin your back, Stephen. You’ll be sore in the morning if you fall asleep like that!”

Maybe not a motherly tone, but it got the point across.

“The Forge,” she continued, eyeing Steve with an unveiled challenge, “would become Heat and Clockwork’s playground, an endless molten landscape with which to smelt his creations, and to flaunt his prowess as a skilled smith of rhyme.” Her expression shifted back to the flickering eyes and bright smile of a well-meaning zealot.

“Hold on, hold on!” Maxwell’s lilting voice interrupted. “You lost me at Brother Crimson. Who is he? I thought it was Heat and Clockwork?”

Artemis’ whiskers twitched in poorly concealed amusement. “They are the same, Max. Lord Time, Knight of the Forge, Ascendant’s Anger, et cetera. It’s all the same, dear.” Though her expression seemed annoyed, her tone was light and full of affection. “Any other questions?” The cleric murmured a soft “no” in response.

“The Knight’s hands carefully crafted the First Being, his finest creation. All was perfection, from the soft feline face to the fur that rippled down her back. Satisfied with his work, Brother Crimson stood back and proudly surveyed it. The fires around him grew dim, no longer needed to smelt and shape.

“With a smile as bright as the heavens-jewel, the Knight of the Forge breathed into his creation, giving life from himself to the beast before him. Though he blew and blew, the statue did not - could not - move. Its empty eyes seemed to mock his disheartened visage.

“Tears of sputtering, flaming rock rolled down his stony cheeks. He tried again and again, forming new husks as quickly as he destroyed them. The Pyre found that no creation of his would breathe. Thus, his passion rendered into bitterness, and the fires of his purpose grew cold. He was alone in this vast world, without a means to escape.”

The group was still and silent. Artemis’ voice swept over them like an enrapturing spell.

“His despair was so great, and so vast, that from it formed the first Sister. The Jade Sister, Frost and Frogs, stood before him in all her radiant glory. Her hair was long, dark, and tangled, an ever-moving sea of creatures and landscapes. It was full of beastly things and lilypads alike, a cacophony of creation. She had three eyes that glowed green as grass, bloody and beautiful in all that they saw. Her teeth were sharp as needles, stained with the raven-wine of those who would come after. She was splendid. She was beautiful.”

“She was life itself.”

“Okay, gayass.” Khr, ever the instigator, called to her across the circle. Artemis rolled her eyes and suppressed a chuckle.

“The Jade Sister,” she continued, “reached out to her Brother. Shaking, unsure, he took her hands in his - and the world went green. A verdant, endless green. Viridian and emerald as far as one could dream.

“And lying, hidden, at the center of this green expanse lay a secret. That which Brother Crimson had so desired to produce - life.” The forest around them seemed to sing a hymn of agreement as she spoke. The branches of the looming pines shifted and creaked, whispering the name of their creator.

“Heat and Clockwork dried his tears and filled his lungs with feral joy - he knew in his heart that his creations would no longer be lifeless. Though the world was devoid except for them, the Crimson Brother would scream and cry for all the void to hear that he was no longer alone. Touched by his display, the Fern Mother held his hands in her own, gripping so tightly that her claws coaxed the wound-sea from his veins.

“Locked in an embrace, the Siblings danced upon the newly lush ground. With each step they took, a forest was brought to seed. With each note they sang, a field was grown to fruition. Before his Sister’s birth, the Blind Son thought he had known happiness - but as he leapt and twirled with the Witch he came to understand that it was nothing in the face of her smile.”

Khr hurled another jest, louder this time, but much the same.

“I have a girlfriend at home, Khr,” Artemis admonished. “I’ve no reason to go chasing after goddesses.” Bella let loose a mocking “Oooh!” in response, and he elbowed her with an embarrassed chuckle.

“And so,” she continued, “The two waltzed their way to the heart of the earth, where the Forge lay empty.

“Frost and Frogs, all gleaming teeth, placed her hands onto the First Being. At her touch, it awoke - its ears and tail began to twitch, filled with the life that surrounded the Jade Sister. It bounced and leaped and jumped. The Siblings danced with their creation, their happiness burning brighter than the Forge could ever hope to be.

“It was from this immense jubilation that the Cobalt Brother was born. His siblings’ bliss was so powerful, so potent that it spat forth the god of Wind and Shade. Born of laughter, harlequin god, bringing joy to those who would gamble and hope.” As she spoke, the wind around them stirred, ruffling Artemis’ fur and scattering the lingering smoke from the now cooling embers.

“His visage is porcelain and pale; his eyes drip with black blood, thick with stars like the night sky. Like his sister, he is always smiling, though his teeth are far less terrifying than the Fern Mother’s maw. His arms are uncountable and many - each unseen and unknowable. In his left-most arm, he carries a hammer with which to shape the world. In his right-most, a mask, its face obscured. It is said that with it, he can assume the shape of any creature he should so choose.”

“What the fuck…” muttered Merlin.

“The fuck indeed!” Artemis laughed. “The Trickster is the god of curses and profanity, in addition to his other domains.”

“A god for cursing, hm? I need one of those…”

Artemis let a brief silence hang and then continued. “As they walked, the Motley Jester’s thoughts turned to mischief - born of laughter, he was predisposed. A dark grin festered behind his eyes - and with one swing of his hammer, the Son of the Tempest brought forth a mighty gale to set the world spinning.”

“The Heir’s joke completed, his siblings fell to the earth below as it began to spin beneath them. Slowly, but it did - they watched as the sun above them moved slowly to their West. Their creation was spinning, much to their chagrin - but they loved each other, and could not stay mad at their youngest Brother. They continued their walk to the Forge, excited to show the Motley Jester their playground.”

“Upon their arrival, he turned his attention to the First Being - now a stumbling, walking beast. Its claws were sharp as daggers, its fur dense as earth. A single entity, born of metal and fire, of life and verdance. The Trickster produced his signature leer, and wrest a mask from the void into one of his many arms. It was a perfect mockery of the creature's face, fine as silver and smooth as bone. Ensuring his Siblings were preoccupied with other parts of the Forge, Brother Cobalt fitted the mask upon the First Being’s face.

“It was from this perfect mask of porcelain that the First Being felt - was given the ability to form bonds, to experience emotions, just as its creators had done.” Artemis’ claws gleamed in the moonlight as she spoke, a deadly reflection of the First Being she described.

“The Siblings hollered with delight at their creation’s fate, a sweet song with which it joined in harmony. It was a joyous night, and the lush earth, spinning, living, and beautifully cratered, seemed to pulse with excitement. From the rich earth below, the Witch pulled woven cords to the surface. Her brothers wrapped them around rocks and trees, pulling them taut. It was then, the three Siblings acting in harmony, that the first Song was played.” Had any of her audience not been so enraptured with her words, they would have heard the dulcet tones of a soft-spoken tune in the distance.

“The Trickster played strings with his hammer by his side, striking deep notes in a flurry of exhilaration. His sister’s tones were more muted, though just as excitable. She plucked the strings with her long, clawed hands - careful not to tear them. The eldest brother, though slow to join his family, plucked and sang a melody. It was brash and loud, a flurry of notes that was perfect to the ear.

“From each string plucked, from each note coaxed, a new being was born unto the world. It is said that the songs made that day were the purest expressions of music, unmatched by any performer.” Vega gave Steve a warning look, to deter him from making an expected pompous comment regarding his playing skill.

“The Forge was alight with sparks and laughter, and the Siblings’ bonds grew stronger as they worked beside one another.” Her expression grew dark. “But - they worked too quickly. The world they had created was only so big, after all. And as they built a thousand creatures, they began to fill and fill the space that was left. They crowded the land, clawing at each other. Their claws and teeth, built for singing and creating, had become tools of violence.

“It was the screaming that alerted the Siblings to their creation’s plight. Screaming, endless screaming as they fought for space. The Siblings looked upon their earth in horror, in fear, of what they had done. Their world was suffering for their foolishness.

“Heat and Clockwork, the eldest of the three, knew what must be done. The other two, in the hearts, knew as well - though neither the Witch nor the Heir could bring themselves to do it.

“Foolish children that they were, their creations had not been designed to die - they could not kill each other. Their gods had cursed them to an endless cycle of suffering.” She paused, looking into her companion’s eyes.

“Brother Cobalt would eventually decide their course of action. He looked into Heat and Clockwork’s scarlet-red eyes as he summoned a gust of air to smother the flames of his Brother’s Forge. The rich earth around them grew cold and empty, the blissful heat that emanated from the planet’s core now gone. The creatures stilled, the air devoid of the warmth that kept them moving.” Like the creatures she described, Artemis’ movements slowed and halted as she spoke, coming to a standstill.

“The Siblings made a pact, there in the cold and silent Forge. They would not meet again, under any circumstance. Their love for each other was too strong - they would be unable to resist creating more things to fill the earth. Though the Jade Sister, giver of life, had tried to revoke it from her creations, she quickly discovered she was only able to give life, not take it away. Resolute in their decision, the Siblings, weary and heart-broken, pulled themselves away to the farthest corners of the earth.

“Time passed. The Siblings grew restless. Lonely, locked away by themselves for their selfishness. A deep sadness ran through them, and as a result, into the remains of their creations. For the first time in eons, the Forge sat empty, it’s bellows long since cold and forgotten. Lord Time tinkered by himself in his endless stone castles, building things that could not fulfill him. Space’s Beldam performed a joyless dance for the depleted world around her, it’s once vibrant colors dulled. Her footsteps no longer brought forth life - they left trails of a withering blight in their path. Breath’s Scion, the gleeful god, was the saddest of the three. He could not truly understand why they had separated, just that he was now alone.” Her eyes were cold. She was glad for the silence of the night around them.

“Frost and Frogs, born from an abundance of loneliness, collapsed onto the earth she had so loved. Her voice warbled from her vicious mouth, a sad, keening sound. It was high and sweet, carrying easily to the other Siblings. Hearing her mournful call, both Brothers joined her in the sound. It was a feral instinct, deep and instilled. And though they were leagues apart, their song was harmonious, clear as day.” The woods around her seemed to stop. Each member of her party stood in slack-jawed enchantment at her words.

“It is from this hopeless, despair-driven sound that the Violet Sister was born. Called from the same white void as her siblings, she was thrown forth from the emptiness. From her head sprout a pair of long, needle-thin horns. Her lavender skin is marked and scratched, places where her ebony-black blood drips in slow, rhythmic steps. Black twines of a shadow substance beyond mortal comprehension twist from her skin, enveloping her in an unknowable darkness of tentacles. She is the blind goddess, the Empty one, ruler of the creatures that lurk below, the end of life and the bringer of death.” Artemis took a breath. “She is the goddess of Light and Rain.”

“Piss!” cursed Steve, eyes wide with poorly masked fear. “You named this - this monster Light and Rain? What kind of a name is that?”

No longer content to let him disrespect her deities, Artemis squared her shoulders, bringing her up to her full height. The tallest of the party, Artemis was a fearsome sight. Her eyes and scales gleamed a menacing red in the firelight. When she pulled her lips back to reveal honed, gleaming teeth, it was enough to make anyone not used to her promptly shit their breeches.

“Light and Rain is the goddess of the unseen, the otherworldly, and the unknown,” Artemis’ steel-sure voice was the only sound that could be heard over Steve’s ragged breathing. “I will make the place I dump your sorry excuse for a corpse very unknown if you call her a monster again.”

Vega snickered from her comfortable place on the log. Anyone who had met Artemis for half a second knew she’d never actually act on that threat, especially not to Steve - the dorky kid she treated like one of her younger brothers. Despite the clear emptiness of her threat, it was enough to make Steve back down with a few mumbled apologies. Mollified, Artemis turned her gaze back to the rest of the party. She was close enough to the story’s end now that she was unconcerned with Steve’s ill-mannered words.

“Light and Rain, newly born into the dying world, cast her soothing gaze across the fractured land before her. Though she was young, her knowledge was vast. The Grim Seer gathered her elder siblings into her arms, pulling them together once more.

“Though Heat and Clockwork’s furnace-bound eyes burned through her, she continued. Though the needle-fine teeth of Frost and Frogs sunk into her skin, she persisted. Though Wind and Shade’s star-strewn tears burned like acid, she pursued. They held each other in an expression of the purest love, reunited and whole.

“The four held each other, crying. They sensed that with this newest addition, they were complete. Their struggle was over. No words needed to be spoken as they parted, smiles bittersweet and tears drying away. They looked at one another, then to Light and Rain. They knew what must be done.

“The Violet Sister’s horns crackled with dark, purple energy - and then with a flash of light as bright as their void, the world was clean. Her claws had flashed across the earth, quick as lightning. The First Beings were free of their chains of ill-begotten immortality. Light’s Mistress had granted their creations a most peculiar, but needed gift - the gift of death.” A light smile played on her lips. She was thoroughly enjoying the shocked faces of her party.

“It was known as the Scratch - it was the beginnings of our universe. Now mortal, the creations found peace in themselves - and the Siblings found peace in each other. And so, our world was born. The Catfolk, the First Beings, were the first to speak to their creators, spreading this truth to the other races.”

Artemis’s words were interrupted by an enormous yawn from none other than Khr - his arms stretched to the sky, claws curling inwards. “Sorry…” he murmured, eyes threatening to close.

“Well then,” chuckled Artemis. “I believe we’ll call it a night here.”

“What, no! We have to know more!” whined Merlin, now suddenly interested in the mythos.

“Later, dear. Save it for the next campfire.” Her smile was genuine, and her eyes kind to reflect it. “You need to go to bed. We've got work to do tomorrow!” With that, the magic dissipated. It was clear the evening’s entertainment was over. She tutted and shushed her companions as she ushered them to their tents, wishing them a restful sleep. As she snuffed out the last of the fire with a kick of dirt, she chuckled to herself. Maybe her mother would be proud - stop calling her a heathen for not wanting to listen to the same tired stories.

As she padded back to her tent, Artemis was treated with the passing conversation from another party member’s shelter. Though the voice was muffled, it’s high cadence could belong to none other than Bella.

“Catfolk are badass!”

#dnd #homestuck #oc #original works #original work #mythos #religion #fantasy #fantasy religion #world building #homestuck fanfiction #fanfiction

2 notes · View notes

ussjellyfish · 6 years

Text

the masks of Zorro (or five times Regina was Zorro)

because she was. That’s how it went.

Many thanks to @holdouttrout, who is the best fish with a pair of pom-poms.

Regina loves the Zorro story and dresses as the bandit to escape her prison in Leopold's castle. In the newly united realms, she's Zorro once again but Zorro is Lily's father.

What does that mean?

(fluffy dragon queen with some friendship with Snow and some Alice/Robin, as they are adorable)

also on ao3

Coronation -

Regina pulls her into the far corner of the room, behind heavy purple tapestries. She’s always had a talent for finding these hidden niches of castles. Maleficent smiles at her for a moment, then drops into a deep curtsey.

“Your Majesty.”

“Stop that.”

“Oh no, dear, I would never want to be the object of the Good Queen’s ire.”

“Stay down there and you will be.”

Mal tilts her head up and smirks. “I thought you liked it when I worked my way up from the floor.”

Regina rolls her eyes but the hint of pink in her cheeks suggests she does remember. “Are you here to tease?”

Rising to meet Regina’s eyes, Mal strokes Regina’s cheek. “I don’t know, you brought me here.”

“Well, you told my sister Zorro was Lily’s father.” Capturing Mal’s hand, she holds it in both of her own. “Zorro? Really?”

“You were wearing a mask the last time we--”

“Yes, yes, but-” Regina’s voice deepens, “she’s going to keep looking for Zorro. She can’t leave anything alone.”

Leaning close to her so that Regina’s pinned between her and the wall, Mal takes a moment just to breath in the scent of her. Curse after curse, Regina disappears, but she returns, and she always smells so delicious.

Regina catches her waist. “Or Henry, he loves a mystery.”

Mal kisses her cheek, just forward of her ear. “Zorro has never been found, that’s part of her appeal.”

Shivering, Regina sighs. “She could find you tonight.”

“Oh?”

“It’ll be hours before i can get away from this but if you’re patient--” Regina kisses her, pressing their lips together as she stands on her tiptoes.

She’d wait decades. Centuries. “All the castles of all the realms are here now, even mine. I believe Zorro knows exactly how to break in.”

Laughing, Regina strokes her waist, her fingers like embers through Mal’s dress. “Will she need to climb the tower?”

“Magic would be fine.”

Regina grabs her hands, turning her so Mal’s up against the wall before she kisses her again, hot and demanding. “Good. You might be patient...Zorro is not.”

The promise of later sends heat racing beneath her skin. Regina traces the letter Z on Mal’s breast, marking her. It leaves no visible trace, but it burns all the same.

2. Bedtime -

Daddy only sat on her bed next to her when it had been a very hard day and Mother was very cross. She wasn't sure what she'd done, just that it wasn't ladylike. (That was always the problem). Daddy would say that it wasn't her fault, that it was the kingdom or economics or other words that Regina was still struggling to put meanings too.

Mother did not want to be poor again.

Daddy didn't know what it was like to be poor. Mother constantly said he had no idea. He'd never missed a meal.

Regina lost her rights to dinner several times a month if she wasn't careful. She'd gotten to eat tonight because she hadn't been that bad, but Mother was angry. Her eyes were cold. Regina must have done something.

Daddy pulls her close to him and opens the book. "Tonight, I want to read you one of my favorite stories, from my kingdom. It's a myth, which means it might not be true, but what's important is that it's a good story. Full of heroism and hope, and a mysterious girl in a mask."

"A mask?"

"She has to hide her identity so no one knows that she is the lady of the realm."

"Why can't they know she's the lady?"

"Because she does very un-ladylike things."

"Does she get in trouble?"

"You'll have to listen to find out." He clears his throat and begins, "Once, not so very long ago, in the kingdom by the sea, there lived a wealthy nobleman, Don Diego de la Vega, and his only daughter, Elena. By day, Elena was a proper lady. She could dance and sing, write poetry and play several musical instruments, but by night she would wear a mask and sneak out of the estate, righting the many wrongs done to her people by a cruel and unjust king."

"She snuck out of her home?" Regina asked, staring wide-eyed at the illustration of a young woman wearing a black mask over the top of her face. She looked so wild and free. Her hair was even curly and messy, the way Mother hated.

"She did, under cover of darkness."

"Why? Didn't she get in trouble?"

"Keep listening to the story, and we shall find out."

3. Midnight -

As the queen, she rarely left the castle. On some special occasions she traveled with her husband (though he preferred the company of his precious Snow White). Most weeks could pass without her outside the walls, sometimes months.

Her prison was polite. Her servants tended her perceived needs (not what she actually wanted, heaven forbid she experience that particular pleasure). Pleasure was as distant as freedom. She'd perfected the art of distance with Leopold. She could go days without the touch of anyone but her maid, weeks without a caress, even an empty one.

That night she caught herself, looking too long into the fire, imagining how it would feel on her skin.

She had to escape, just for a night, a moment.

Donning the black leather and the mask made her as invisible she kept her own loathing of this wretched castle. The guards are laughable anyway, but sneaking past them without magic makes her heart beat faster.

She needs that. The rushing in her ears reminds her she's alive. She matters. The king ignores her and Snow treats her as another trick pony, but she can scale the walls with a whip and a rope, slip into the stable and steal Rocinante right from under their noses.

Then she's free, riding through the darkness, depending on his eyes, with just the wind and the stars. Rocinante knows the way as well as she does, but he avoids the castle itself and heads for the the stable. He can smell the dragon and nothing will convince him that doesn't mean death.

Mal jokes that she hasn't eaten many horses (too stringy), but that does not convince him. She leaves him here, removing his saddle and wiping him down. He'll be well fed, upwind of the castle.

The great, heavy castle door will open for her, sense her magic and let her in because Mal likes that better than guards and butlers. The few she'll allow as visitors have magic, so that's an easy enough spell.

However, it doesn't fit with the masked bandit mystique to walk through the front door. It's foolish, unladylike, distinctly un-royal, and Regina can hear her mother's disapproval as she aims the whip upwards. Mal's castle is old, and the stones are sturdy. Regina's whip sings upwards in the darkness and she climbs, fingers finding familiar holds on the cold stone.

Maleficent has her back to the balcony. Her skin steams in the candlight of her bedroom, and the soft black around her bare shoulders is just her robe. Water traces the skin of her neck, and Regina's fingers could follow those droplets down if they weren't cold and cramped from the climb.

She blows on them, alerting Mal to her presence.

Shutting her eyes, Mal smiles. "You can just use magic, you're quite welcome."

"It's hardly what a masked bandit would do."

"I doubt a bandit would just stand there, letting me stare at myself in the mirror."

"Depends on what she's after."

Turning slowly, Mal lets her robe fall almost open, exposing her bare stomach. "My hoard's deep in the dungeon but I don't know if that's what this bandit is after."

Regina chuckles, unable to drag her eyes up from Mal's nearly naked body. "If I had your hoard, I could buy my own kingdom."

"You might need more than one horse to take it all."

"That would seem to be an oversight on my part." She draws her sword, but sets it aside. "Suppose there's no point in threatening you then."

"I have a few trinkets you could take some baubles, some gold." Mal lets her robe fall from her shoulders and stands before Regina, bare and playful. "If that'll placate you."

Toying with the whip, Regina stalks closer. Letting the leather run over her fingers, she flips it out, wrapping it around Mal's waist like a dragon's tongue. "It might take more than jewels to placate me."

Mal's fingers dig into her shoulders, warm and strong. "I was hoping you'd say that." She leans in, their mouths only a breath away from each other, but she waits, letting Regina take the kiss.

She's a thief, after all. Regina stand on her tiptoes, pulling Mal's head down, her fingers wrapped in her wet hair. She's breathless in a moment, burning. Mal kisses her back, pulling her closer, pressing her skin against Regina's leather.

They break, catching their breath. Mal traces her mask with her fingers. "Maybe you should leave this on."

"Yes?"

"Oh yes."

4. Masquerade -

Regina had never enjoyed the balls she'd thrown as Snow's step-mother. She'd done her duty, planned and and smiled, but Snow knew now that had been farce. The misery she'd ignored as a young woman would be something she'd notice now.

But now Regina's smile is real as she greeted her guests, and the way she laughs has no trace of the old hollowness. This is peace. Regina is their good queen, all grace and power.

And the realms are prosperous and calm, at least, as much as they can be, considering they're sharing borders and territory in a way they never had before. There's so much magic in the enjoined realms that it thrums in the strones enough that even Snow's vaguely aware of it.

Regina's held it together, and Snow knew she would. She's who they needed, and she even seems happy.

Truly happy.

Snow straightens her own mask, white and feathered because she and David are a pair of swans. It made Emma smile, seeing her parents as her namesake, and David keeps joking about the feathers drifting over the ballroom. White is always a color she's felt at home in. Something that suited her.

Regina's in black, which Snow once feared. Black came with her false mourning and never left her, but this black comes with gentleness, with softness. Perhaps it's in her posture, how she holds herself, but this leather holds none of the malice Snow used to know. This costume isn't to intimidate the kingdom, or frighten anyone, but it is specific.

Regina chose this leather, down to the mask around her eyes. It's smooth, devoid of lace or other adornments. Snow's heard the stories that accompany this mask, Zorro is an ol folk hero of the southern regions, the lands where Regina's father was once a prince.

Maybe she misses him tonight, looking over all that they've built, or this outfit reminds her of a simpler time.

Still, something nags at her. Zorro, the sword-wielding bandit. There are more appropriate choices, brighter things that the good queen could have worn. She takes another flute of champagne and watches Regina speak to nobility while the bubbles tickle her tongue. It's not until the silver dress passes Regina, gliding by like a ghost of grey twinkling light, that Snow follows Regina's eyes with her own.

She covets, like a bandit or a thief, she wants something wrapped in grey chiffon.

Snow's distracted when Elsa speaks to her, pulled from her observations to make small talk and she never gets a glimpse of the face in the grey dress. Regina's gone as well, vanished as though swallowed by the mist.

It nags at her, like she's missing some kind of clue, forgetting something small preference, some story Regina told her years ago.

Zorro is famed for vanishing without a trace, and perhaps that's the joke tonight. As queen of all the realms, Regina is least capable of vanishing, most recognizable, most needed. Maybe she enjoys this moment of stolen anonymity. Stealing nothing of material value, but a moment to pursue the woman in grey that she might not have as the good queen.

Snow catches Regina later, standing beside the fountain, laughing while she shares a drink with the woman in grey. From this angle, Snow can see her mask, and the stranger wears the sparkling mask of some kind of fish. Perhaps an eel? Some sea creature Snow can't put her finger on. She's taller than Regina, her blond hair tucked up in an elegant knot of curls. Her bearing is familiar, and after a moment, Regina leaves with her, walking away from the rest of the party.

Something about Zorro tugs at her memories, something she's missing. David slips his hand into hers.

"Looks like Regina's found someone interesting." He kisses her cheek. "Good for her."

"Yes, she seems to be having a wonderful time."

"What?" David turns his smile on her. "What is it?"

"Have you heard Regina read Zorro to Neal?"

David blinks and takes a sip of his champagne while he thinks. "I know she enjoys the story, but I can't say I've paid that much attention."

"I haven't either, but I know she loves the story, and that's her costume."

"She likes it."

"Yes." That's not it though. There's something more to it than Regina's favorite legend. Snow can't remember what.

"She's having a good time. Being the Good Queen of all the realms hasn't worn her out completely."

"I didn't think it would."

"Uh-huh." David wraps his arms around her waist, holding her close. "She's found someone interesting, she's having a magical night. Be happy for her."

Resting her hands on his, she nods. "You're right."

5. Unmasked -

Regina's hands run up her neck, tangle in her hair and pull her closer. There's barely a breath between them; pressed bodice to bodice so every beat of Regina's heart echoes against her chest. Her lips taste of champagne and promises Mal doesn't want to believe in, yet does.

She can't help it.

Regina possesses her, commands her heart in a way that frustrates and enthralls her. Centuries of solitude and now she can't imagine that loneliness again. She strokes Regina's leather mask, smiling as their eyes meet and they pause for air.

"I've captured a bandit."

"Maybe that's part of the game."

Mal traces her fingers along Regina's wrist, then holds it to the wall. "You lull me into a false sense of security, then escape, taking all my jewels?"

Leaning in, Regina nips her neck, her mouth hot and tantalizing. "I wouldn't dare."

"So I'm safe with you, dear?" Mal suppresses a shiver, poorly, because Regina grins all the more.

"Maybe your jewels are safe." Regina insinuates her leg a little forward, forcing it between Mal's own and even against the wall, she's hardly trapped. Her skin tight leather gives her all the room to maneuver that Mal's skirts do not.

It's too public a place to ravage her here, and too early to leave the party s they fall back into kissing, deep and hungry. Regina's not riding off into the night, but they press themselves together as if it's the last time they'll be here, like this, for years.

Maybe it's because it's been years.

Centuries. Eons. Time immemorial since they kissed this way.

The throat clearing means nothing. Bells, whistles and trumpets would barely get through her concentration on Regina's tongue in her mouth.

"Auntie Regina?"

Regina continues to kiss her, as if her disguise could hide her a moment longer, the they have to break.

She hates everyone else at this party. Throwing a sleeping curse on the castle will hardly help because so many of the people here are already immune.

"Robin? Do you need something?" Regina slips from her hands, remarkably composed. She's always had that skill, even as a young queen.

Cooling her desire is more difficult, but Mal turns, reaching for her quietest thoughts and the reptilian stillness Lily gets so mad at her for. Beside Regina's niece is her lover, Alice, who will not stop smiling.

"Snow wanted to speak with you."

"But we see you're very busy with affairs of state."

"Quite," Regina straightens her mask, ignoring the jibe. "I'd like you to meet Lady Maleficent of the Northern Reach."

"The dragon," Robin whispers to Aiice, and Mal's probably not supposed to hear but humans whisper so loudly.

Alice's eyes grow wide. "I've read about you."

"All terrifying, I assume."

"The phrase 'mistress of all evil' was used a few times."

Maleficent traces her hand up Regina's neck, just out of sight of the young women. "Good."

Regina presses her lips together, but keeps her face smooth and calm. "She exaggerates, her kingdom is actually very stable."

"It's a dreadful place to live."

"Because of the weather, dear," Regina reminds her, ruining her carefully constructed facade of being a terrible ruler.

"Quite snowy up there?" Alice says, ever curious. Robin keeps staring though, as if she's realized something important.

"Nice costume, Auntie."

"Thank you. I always loved Zorro."

Robin nods. "I remember you reading the story." She grabs Alice's hand tighter, not subtly at all and something passes between them in looks and unsaid words. Something about Zorro?

Well, it wasn't that good of a secret anyway. Anyone with half a brain could figure out Zorro's not a dragon.

"Could you give us a minute?"

"Of course," Regina answers politely, ever gracious.

Maleficent would give them several minutes if it meant she and Regina could continue where they left off but they've been found now. It's only a matter of time before--

"Regina, there you are."

They're truly caught now. Snow White never lets Regina get away with anything fun.

"Did you need something?"

"I need you, naked but for the mask," Maleficent whispers into Regina's ear.

She blushes slight, as she rarely does, and her lips twist. This party will not be over soon enough.

Down the corridor, Alice and Robin's at all secret conversation involves Lily's name and Zelena and a not so secret may have revealed itself. It seems that has been guessed by the size of Alice's eyes, something Regina notices as well. Her fingers slip into Mal's, not to tease, but as a sign of unity.

Snow stares at them both, reading with her eyes. "Enjoying the party?"

"Yes, very much."

"You must have been dancing," Snow observes coyly. "You're all flushed."

"It's warm," Maleficent replies lightly.

"Especially next to a dragon."

Mal and Regina meet Snow's eyes together.

"Quite," Regina says, her fingers still wrapped in Mal's.

"You know, there's this story about Zorro that's been bothering me, because I wasn't sure if it was true, perhaps you'd know, Regina."

"I might."

Alice and Robin draw closer, wanting to listen to whatever Snow has to say.

"In this story, Zorro had a daughter, and couldn't be with her because of something terrible that happened. In fact, Zorro didn't even know about the child until she was grown."

"Sounds very tragic."

"It was." Snow's voice softens, and that's almost an apology. "I can't remember the ending, but I hope it's a happy one."

Mal squeezes Regina's fingers and shifts a little closer. "It might be."

"Everyone deserves a happy ending, right?" Alice pipes up. "We're all finding our family again."

"Maybe not finding with our mouths," Robin mutters but Mal has to smile at that.

She'll find Regina however she can.

"In the story I've heard," Regina finishes, "Zorro finds her daughter, and it's a surprise, of course, but a welcome one. Zorro's had to live a double life for so long, she can't trust that she could be happy, but, she's getting there."

"We all are." Mal kisses her forehead, right above the mask.

"Good!" Snow beams at them both, her hands wrapped together. "I'll let you get back to your dancing."

"And negotiations," Robin adds, winking. "Don't make her fight too hard."

"She enjoys it with me," Mal teases, and the sudden pink on Snow and Robin's faces is worth it.

Alice just grins. "Sounds like fun."

"It's a beginning," Regina says, her eyes liquid through the mask. "I hope it's a happy one."

"It is." They're well past a beginning to their story, but as middle's go, this is a pleasant turn of events. She has Regina again, the world is remade and full of promise and Lily has all the time she needs to get to know both of her mothers.

Mal follows Regina out onto the balcony, looking down over all the realms. "How do you think this story goes?" she asks, her hand still in Regina's.

"I don't know. So many that begin happily end in tragedy that I don't know how to trust this."

"But you'd like to?"

"I need to."

They kiss again, hungry for the promise of each other.

"Me too." Mal traces the leather mask and smirks. "I'm afraid a bandit stole my heart a very long time ago."

"She did?"

"I believe she's kept it safe."

"I didn't think bandits were sentimental."

"This one might have a soft spot for me."

Regina laughs and kisses her cheek. "Perhaps that the case. I guess you'll have to find out." She plays with the whip at her waist, just for a moment and again, the need to be alone with her, far from everyone else is nearly overwhelming. "Maybe I should just kidnap you, so no one else can interrupt."

"I think that's how the story might go."

"Well then."

A flick of Regina's wrist and they're gone, whisked away in smoke to Regina's chambers, where they can finally put that whip to good use. Mal tingles at the thought.

#dragon queen #background curious archer #as they are adorable #snow queen friendship #oh it's nice when writing works out #I miss it #uch silliness and making out and joking about whatever games regina and mal get up to

50 notes · View notes