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monthofsick · 1 year

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The longest Night

Nov(emeto)ber 2022, Day 30: 5 + 1

OCs: Jamal, Nikita

The title fits quite well because this actually is my longest story so far and I just spent the entire night finishing it. It's already early morning of December 1st where I live, but I hope it still counts as an entry. There are a lot of themes and tropes I love in this one and the relationship between Jamal and Nikita evolves even more. It's late/early, I'm tired and time was ticking, so proof reading had to be done a bit quicker. Hopefully, there aren't too many mistakes and you can still enjoy it!

TW: Vomit, illness, mild scat

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A hesitant knock on the door disrupted Jamal's sleep. He woke up with a jolt and was instantly hit by a jab in the neck. Had he fallen asleep at his desk again? Jamal grimaced and rubbed his stiff muscles. The shorter days and cloudy skies drained his energy. Sooner or later, Jamal would get used to the changes in sunlight exposure and weather and the autumn fatigue would wear off. Until then, he had a hard time getting things done.

"Hello?" An insecure voice, followed by some more tapping. Jamal had only been half aware of the sound that had ripped him out of a rather bizarre dream. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and cleared his throat to sound more awake.

"I'm here!" Rotating his head to get a little crack out of his nape, Jamal got up and rushed to the door. A stocky young man with brown curls and dark eyes was waiting outside, staring at Jamal like he was surprised by him stepping out of his own dorm room. Jamal knew that his name was Karl and that he lived on the same floor. They didn't share any courses, but they sometimes chatted while brushing their teeth in the morning. It wasn't that Jamal could write a psychological evaluation of his fellow student, but he definitely hadn't seen that concerned and insecure expression on his face before.

"Hey, I hope I'm not bothering you, but I'm a bit worried right now and I didn't really know who to turn to."

"Yeah, sure." Jamal was confused. Karl had two of his closest friends in the rooms right next to him. He and Jamal got along well, but they weren't confidants. "Wanna come in?"

"Ah, no, you should come along." Karl pointed his thumb in the direction of the community bathroom. "You're close with Nikita, aren't you? I mean, the guy doesn't have a lot of friends and he made it pretty clear that he wanted me to, uhm, leave, so…"

"Wait, what's wrong with Nikita?" Jamal was suddenly wide awake. "Is he sick?"

"I don't know exactly, he didn't want to tell me." Karl rubbed his palms nervously. "He locked himself in a toilet for at least two hours."

"Fuck. I'm coming with you."

It actually was the other way around – Jamal storming down the corridor with huge steps, Karl tagging along. The bathroom was empty, as usual at this time of day. It was a bright and nicely renovated area with small toilet rooms instead of cubicles with a gap at the bottom. At least a bit more privacy in a place they had to share with everyone else on the floor.

Jamal took a deep breath and knocked on the only door that was shut tight.

"Hey, it's me", he announced himself. "Can you let me in, Nik?"

There was a moment of silence. A weird, strained noise. And then, to Jamal's relief, the door was opened slowly and Nikita peeked out. He looked like death warmed over. Nikita was always pale, but right now his complexion resembled a sickly green. Quickly, before Karl could see the blonde in this miserable state, Jamal slipped in and locked the door behind him again.

"How do you know?" Nikita's voice was cold as ice, but his lips trembled slightly.

"Karl told me." Undeterred by his friend's standoffish demeanor, Jamal put both hands on Nikita's shoulders. His entire body shivered so hard that Jamal was surprised he could stand at all. "I'm glad he did. You look like absolute shit. Now stop giving me the evil eye and tell me what's wrong."

It was obvious that Nikita struggled with himself. He was all about control and he still had a hard time showing any kind of vulnerability, even towards Jamal. In the end, Nikita's body made the choice for him as his knees gave in. Gladly, Jamal had trained his fast responses well and he caught Nikita with both arms before he collapsed. Holding him close, Jamal got down on the floor and brushed some sweaty strands of light hair out of Nikita's forehead.

"Don't worry, I got you." Jamal felt the heat radiating from Nikita's body, his unsteady breath and damp skin. There was no question wether he was sick, only what exactly he suffered from. "Come on, Nick, just let me know what's bothering you. I'll do what I can to help you."

"I… I suddenly felt so sick." Nikita exhaled and it seemed like all of his strength and defiance left his body with his breath. He sank against Jamal's chest and held on to his shirt with one hand. "I was fine after lunch, but then it got so bad I had to leave during class."

"Did you have to throw up? Or lost it from the other end?"

"Nope, not at all." A humorless laugh escaped Nikita's lips. "I thought I would, guess why I made a run for the restroom. Been waiting for it ever since. It feels like it's coming up every second, but it doesn't. Fuck me."

"God, Nik. I wish I had known earlier." Jamal hugged Nikita for a moment. He had often joked about Nikita's claims that he never puked. It was the reason they had bonded in the first place. That night in the locker room when Jamal had found Nikita, dead drunk and sick to his stomach, but unable to purge the poison. Even in this highly intoxicated state, Nikita had needed Jamal's assistance to vomit. Maybe it was a process his body struggled with for whatever reason. Or Nikita had conditioned himself to hold it in at all costs.

With a husky moan, Nikita squirmed in Jamal's arms. The blonde clutched his stomach like he wanted to rip out the pain with bare hands. His face contorted with a silent retch. It looked absolutely excrutiating.

"We gotta get that stuff out of you." Jamal grabbed Nikita's shoulders again and straightened him up just enough to look him in the eyes. "Do you want me to help you?"

Nikita hesitated. Then he flinched and moaned, probably because of another cramp. He let out a defeated sigh and nodded weakly.

"Guess I don't have much of a choice. It can't be worse than this."

"Trust me, it will be a huge relief." Putting on his most encouraging smile, Jamal moved Nikita closer to the toilet. "Come on, let's get it over with."

Visibly reluctant, Nikita got on his knees and bent over the bowl. Jamal leaned over Nikita's arched back, putting one hand on his rumbling stomach, the other one on his chin. Nikita tensed in his grip.

"Try to relax, Nik." Jamal touched Nikita's lips with two fingers, asking to be let in. For a second, it seemed like Nikita would back out, but then he opened his mouth. Jamal rubbed Nikita's belly in gentle circle, feeling it bubble like overboiling water. When Nikita eased up a bit, Jamal let his fingers slide in. As soon as he touched the slick surface of the tongue, it tried to push him out again. Undaunted by the counterattack, Jamal moved along Nikita's palate until he reached the back of his tongue, then held it down. It was enough to trigger a first gag.

Nikita's head bobbed back to escape the nauseating procedure, but Jamal had a firm grip on his chin. A drip of viscous saliva ran down Jamal's hand. That was a good sign. Nikita's body took protective measures against the impending storm tide of gastric acid.

"I know this is bad, but I promise it won't take long", Jamal reassured Nikita as he went in deeper. A violent retch shook Nikita's body as Jamal's fingers slipped down his throat. Jamal felt the muscles tightening around his fingers. He gently moved back and forth, ignoring the teeth that dug into the back of his hand and the drool that kept on flowing over his skin. Nikita retched helplessly, his stomach contracting harshly with every heave. Jamal pushed against his abdomen in sync with the convulsions, firmly pressing in and upwards. "You're almost there, Nik, just let it happen."

Nikita choked wetly. His back tensed and curved even more, pushing against Jamal who mimicked his posture, hugging him from behind. It was a weirdly intimate moment, being so close to each other in this deeply private and vulnerable situation. Jamal kept on stroking the back of Nikita's throat, his slight moves inducing frantic spasms. Nikita's face was flushed and tears ran from his eyes with each gag Jamal forced out of him. He was close.

Speeding up his tiny movements, Jamal rubbed against Nikita's uvula. The blonde jerked forward with another throaty heave, causing Jamal's fingers to thrust in even deeper. Every single muscle in Nikita's body seemed to tighten up and cramp all at once until suddenly, a surge of hot liquid gushed over Jamal's hand.

"There you go, get it all out." Jamal let his fingertips stroke down Nikita's tongue as he pulled back, eliciting another retch from him. Before Jamal had a chance to get his hand out of the way, Nikita puked up a much bigger surge of orange mush. Jamal felt the thick, warm fluid and a few chunks slide over his skin and he had to swallow a gag himself. Yes, it was gross, but he couldn't let it show when Nikita had finally let down his guard.

Lurching dangerously close to the vomit-spattered bowl, Nikita gurgled up more of his meal. The color and texture looked disturbingly close to pumpkin soup, probably what had been on the cafeteria's menu today. It splashed back and coated the white ceramic walls in pureed Hokkaido. Jamal pulled Nikita even closer to prevent him from dunking into the rising lake of barf. With only one clean hand at his disposal, Jamal stroked Nikita's hitching chest with his thumb while he held him up.

Bigger orange lumps fell out of Nikita's mouth and plopped heavily into the puke below. He coughed and spat several times before he slackened in Jamal's grip.

"You did great", Jamal smiled and sat up, pulling Nikita with him. The blonde looked even worse than before, eyes half closed, his face reddish and covered in sweat, tears and vomit. Jamal wiped off the mess, then cautiously leaned Nikita into a corner to keep him stable and upright. He flushed and cleaned the toilet, then thoroughly washed the sticky throw-up from his hand. Finally, he returned to Nikita. "Feeling better?"

Nikita nodded faintly. It was enough for Jamal to decide upon a change of location. It was about time his friend could snuggle into his own bed instead of lying on the cold restroom floor.

Shivering and exhausted, Nikita was sitting on his bed, blanket pullet up to his chin. He had his own electric kettle in his room, so Jamal poured him a cup of ginger tea. Curled up in himself, Nikita took small sips while staring into the void. Jamal sat down next to him.

"How y're holding up?", he asked, stroking Nikita's head.

"I don't know. Still nauseous." Nikita bit his lip. "It's okay, you can go now. I'm going to sleep anyways, I'm done with this day."

"No way, I'm not gonna leave you alone."

"…and that's how you're gonna get yourself sick." With a grim expression, Nikita carefully drank from the steaming hot beverage, then put it away on the nightstand. "I'm not a kid. I can take care of myself."

"So what. Maybe it's just food poisoning." Jamal shrugged and leaned back. "I'm going nowhere. Bed's big enough for both of us. By the way, I pretty much pulled the puke out of your stomach with my bare hands. If this is contagious, I've probably caught it already."

"Whatever. Don't complain if I say I told you so." Nikita tried to act unmoved, but only a moment later, he froze, eyes slightly widened. "Hand me a bucket."

"Damn it." Jamal jolted up. He wasn't sure if Nikita would actually throw up on his own this time, but he didn't want to find out the hard – or rather, soft and mushy way. The fact that Nikita cupped his mouth with one hand definitely wasn't a good sign. "Try to hold it in!"

With a big leap, Jamal plunged towards the desk and grabbed the trash can. Immediately back on his feet, he spun around and got back to Nikita with two strides. He placed the bin under Nikita's lap, just in time before a spurt of amber liquid burst from the blonde's lips. Jamal held Nikita's head in place while he gagged up mouthful after mouthful of runny vomit. It hit the scrunched up paper and wrappers with a crinkling sound.

"Tea didn't want to stay down, mh?" Every last bit of color drained from Nikita's face as he burped up a slimy mixture of ginger brew and bile. For a while, Nikita kept on hanging over the trash bin, eyes closed, mouth open, long strands of drool clinging to his lip. Jamal watched him closely. "Think you're done?"

After a few more seconds, Nikita spat out and replied with a nod. Jamal got a paper tissue from a box on the desk, then wiped off Nikita's mouth. Fortunately, there was a trash bag in the bin that he could take out easily and knot up on top to seal away the sour odor. Good thing Nikita was such a tidy person. Jamal put in another bag and placed the bucket next to the bed.

"Gonna get rid of this, try to rest."

Nikita growled something unintelligable before he sank back into his pillow and pulled the covers all the way up. When Jamal returned, Nikita already slept deeply and soundly. Jamal slowly lay down behind him. It was a tight fit on the matress, but at least Jamal was sure he would notice if Nikita got sick again. He cuddled up to his friend and it wasn't long before he dozed off.

When Jamal opened his eyes again, it was almost dark in the room. He wasn't sure what had woken him up – a movement? A noise? Nikita was still huddled against him, breathing calmly, but something wasn't right. It was the unmistakable stench of partly digested and fermented food, mixed with bile and stomach acid. Jamal pushed himself up to assess the situation. Nikita had vomited in his sleep. A heap of brownish-orange chunks piled up right next to his mouth, part if it smeared on his cheek.

With a quiet sigh, Jamal rolled out of bed. Armed with the entire box of tissues, he picked up the soggy mass. At least it was mostly solids – it actually looked a lot like thick baby food with some bigger lumps. As gently as possible, Jamal cleaned the sick from Nikita's skin. It hadn't been long since Nikita had thrown up, the puke hadn't dried yet and could easily be wiped away. Jamal was conflicted. Nikita's barf mountain had left a stain on the pillowcase, but it seemed rather superficial. Leaving Nikita on a dirty cushion obviously wasn't an ideal solution. If it meant that he didn't need to be disturbed and could sleep through the night, it still seemed like the better option.

Jamal took off his shirt and placed it in front of Nikita's face. It covered the wet spot and offered extra layers of protection if Nikita expelled more of his stomach contents. Weird how Jamal's hands-on assistance seemed to have pulled a plug. Now the vomit had literally spilled out of Nikita on its own. It was probably better for him.

Nikita looked so different while he was asleep, almost peaceful. Jamal wondered if it was cold were Nikita came from. It would have fit him. Everything about him was so light – his hair, his skin, even his eyelashes. He belonged in the snow. Absentmindedly, Jamal watched Nikita for a little while until a yawn reminded him that a good night's rest wouldn't hurt him either. He made himself comfortable again and hoped that both of them would be awakened by the sun in the morning.

Actually, it was a thud that ended Jamal's slumber this time. The dull noise was startling enough to drown any sleepiness in adrenaline. Jamal looked up and found the bed next to him empty. Nikita was nowhere to be seen. Anxiously, Jamal raised himself – and discovered Nikita lying behind the bed. So the source of the mysterious sound had been Nikita's body hitting the floor.

Jamal jumped out of bed and helped Nikita into a sitting position.

"What the fuck are you doing?" The words sounded way more accusatory than Jamal had intended. Nikita looked up with a frown.

"How does it look like to you?" As Jamal didn't answer, Nikita pursed his lips. "I wanted to go the bathroom because what else would I do right now?"

"Have you noticed the bucket right next to your bed? You should have, you've used it before."

"Oh come on, do I really have to explain?" Nikita attempted to get up on his own, but he lacked the strength in his legs. There was a feverish gleam in his eyes.

"You should have still woken me up", Jamal sighed, put both arms around Nikita and lifted him up.

"I don't need you to wipe my ass", Nikita grumbled and tried not to lean on Jamal too heavily.

"Trust me, you need a whole lot more than that if you don't even make it to the toilet." Just to be safe, Jamal grabbed the trash bin with his free hand. "Why are you so stubborn?"

"I'm not." Nikita turned his head to the side, but Jamal still noticed a tinge of red on his cheeks. It stood out against his pallid face. Maybe he was actually way more embarrassed than sulky. Didn't change the fact that he was an idiot.

Jamal put his arm around Nikita's upper body to support him if he should stumble again. After a few steps, Nikita gave up his futile resistance and sank against Jamal. By the time they entered the bathroom, he was bent double, holding his stomach and moving along with a weird shuffle. He probably had to clutch his butt cheeks tightly to prevent an accident. Still, he tried to push Jamal away as they entered the toilet room.

"You wait outside. No discussion." As urgent as matters were, Nikita didn't move a single inch further.

"Hey, I'm not gonna judge you." Jamal's voice was much softer than before. "And I really don't want you to go through this alone."

"No way", Nikita groaned and snatched the bucket from Jamal's hand.

"Fine. But don't lock the door, I need to get to you if you pass out or something." With a deep sigh, Jamal closed the door behind Nikita and leaned against one of the sinks. Of course, Nikita had a right to privacy. Maybe he had pushed him too much. He just wished Nikita would understand that there was no need to be ashamed. He was sick, he couldn't help it. If he felt better once he had relieved himself, it was all that mattered.

Through the closed door, Jamal heard Nikita moan, followed by a splatter. A retch, then even more splatter. Jamal winced in sympathy. Good thing Nikita had a receptacle on both ends. Judging from the sounds, he emptied himself quite forcefully in either direction. The groans and gags and sighs he produced left no doubt that he was in pain. Jamal wanted to hug him and hold up the bin for him and rub his back or his stomach, but he knew his presence would only make things worse for Nikita. He had to loosen up and let everything flow out of him freely, which he wouldn't do while someone was watching him.

After what seemed like forever, Jamal heard the toilet flush. There was the patter of liquid hitting liquid, then a second flush. Unsteady steps approached the door and finally, it was pushed open. Nikita's face had turned green, lips slightly parted, legs trembling. He didn't seem to notice that there was still viscid vomit dripping from his chin.

"Come here, Nik." Jamal pulled the shivering blonde into a close embrace, even if it meant to get some puke on his chest. Jamal had cursed Nikita's thick skull not too long ago, but he couldn't be mad at him. The poor guy felt horribly sick and it hurt to see him suffer like this. Jamal stroked back Nikita's hair and placed a kiss on his forehead. He didn't even think twice about it. "You're doing great. Now let's get you cleaned up and back to bed."

With the smallest of steps, Jamal guided Nikita to one of the basins and washed his face. Then he made sure to wipe off the stains from his own skin. Even though Nikita had apparently emptied the bucket into the toilet, the trash bag was still blotted with sick, so Jamal discarded it. He pulled Nikita closer to hold him upright before they slowly made their way back to Nikita's room. It worried Jamal how quiet his friend had become. Suddenly, he almost wished for some snarky remark.

It was the same procedure as before – Jamal tucked Nikita in and put a new bag in the bin. Then he crawled under the covers and hugged Nikita from behind.

"Is it a little better?", he asked, hoping for at least some kind of answer. "Think you can sleep?"

Nikita nodded and moved even closer. A faint smile flitted across Jamal's face. He waited for Nikita's breath to slow down until he closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift off as well.

Pale morning light seeped in through the fogged up window as Jamal was alarmed by a sudden motion. He blinked in confusion, still drowsy, and saw Nikita bending over his side of the bed. A silent curse left Jamal's lips, then he scrambled to his knees. He put a hand on Nikita's forehead to get his hair out of the way and keep him over the bucket. With the other hand, he began to rub his heaving back.

The spasmodic convulsions of his muscles forces long, agonized retches out of Nikita. They sounded harsh enough to chafe his throat sore. Eventually, the empty gagging turned wet, then productive. Beige vomit burbled from Nikita's mouth and landed in the trash bin with a wet, thick plop.

"Yeah, that's it, you're a pro by now." Jamal continued with the back rubs, feeling Nikita's muscles tense and jerk under his fingers. It was a good thing he was holding up the blonde's head, considering how heavy it rested on his hand. Nikita had puked up his guts and he still couldn't stop, no wonder he was at the end of his rope. "It's okay, Nik, get it all out. I won't let you fall, you can let yourself go and just vomit it up."

Nikita sank into Jamal's grip. To make sure he stayed in place and got his cramping abdomen away from the mattress, Jamal put his other arm around Nikita and supported him at the chest. Nikita's eyes were barely open as he spewed murky liquid and soggy globs. It wasn't much that came up, but it was honestly astounding that he had left anything inside of him he could eat backwards. The gags turned into coughs until Nikita choked up some finely shredded pieces of what might have been carrots. The next retches squeezed nothing but measly spatters of bile out of Nikita's wrung out stomach. Finally, the heaves turned into pants.

Careful not to put pressure on his belly, Jamal pulled Nikita back on the mattress. The blonde looked so drained that Jamal expected him to instantly fall asleep again, but Nikita rolled over and buried his face against Jamal's shoulder. Jamal held him tight and let his fingers run through the fine blond hair.

"Shhh, I'm here, I won't leave you alone", he soothed Nikita. "You'll be better soon, you'll be okay, this will be over before you know it."

Nikita didn't say a word, he just clung to Jamal like he was his lifeline. His back hitched with convulsive gasps, but he didn't make a sound, so Jamal wasn't sure if he was crying. Jamal cradled Nikita ever so softly, stroking his back and his head until his friend relaxed in his arms. This time, Jamal didn't turn him around. So what if Nikita threw up on his neck, there was no way he would let him go right now. Cuddled up snuggly, they finally slept without a rude awakening.

It was almost noon when Jamal woke up again. He lay still and kept Nikita in an embrace until the blonde began to move. Bleary eyed, Nikita looked up and broke into a yawn. He still had an ashen complexion and cracked lips, but the expression of constant nausea had turned into exhaustion.

"Is it just me or are you looking a little more alive?", Jamal smiled and brushed Nikita's cheek.

"It's been worse." Nikita shrugged, then wrinkled his nose. "The bucket's still filled, isn't it?"

"Yup, filled and fermented for a couple of hours. I'll get rid of it."

With a slight reluctance, Jamal left the bed and disposed of the congealed mass of puke. He put in a new trashbag and made fresh tea. Nikita actually managed to drink half of the cup and keep it down, which was definitely an improvement. Jamal sat down next to him, leaning back against the wall behind the headrest.

"You better stay in bed today", he said with a glance at Nikita. "It's been a lot for you."

"Yeah… I guess." The blonde looked tired enough to fall asleep again in an instant.

"No objections? That's unusua-aaaahhhhhhhhhrrrrrlllll." Interrupted mid-sentence, Jamal projectile vomited all over the blanket and his bare chest. Nikita stared at him, wide-eyed. Jamal was completely flabbergasted himself. There had been no warning – no nausea, no buildup, no drooling or retching. The sludgy brown flood had just shot out of him with a sudden explosion. Quick-witted in spite of his shock, Nikita grabbed the bucket and pushed it under Jamal's face. Utterly confused, Jamal didn't understand why Nikita would do such a thing until another massive gush of puke spurted out of his mouth, filling up a quarter of the bin in one fell swoop.

A hand stroked up and down Jamal's back as he gurgled up a chunky stew that barely resembled the beef stir fry he had eaten for lunch the day before. As his retches became harder, shaking Jamal's body with abrupt jolts, he worked up a thicker mash of rice, meat shreds and bits of broccoli that slipped over his tongue and plunged into the vomit lake below him. Some of them drowned instantly, some stayed on the surface, covered in a glistening sheen. Just seconds later, Jamal's stomach churned again and pushed up more of the lumpy gloop. Several more gags followed, but they remained unproductive.

"I didn't think it would happen so quickly", Nikita sighed and wiped Jamal's face with one of the paper tissues from the box that was still placed on the nightstand. Groaning, Jamal lifted his head.

"Don't say it", he croaked, throat sore from the forceful expulsion of his stomach contents.

"I…"

"Nik, no."

"…told you so." Nikita put the dangerously full bucket away and went on to clean the puke from Jamal's chest. "And I'm glad you didn't listen."

"I might change my mind in the next few hours, but so am I." Jamal forced a strained smile. "By the way, sorry for barfing all over your bed."

"I guess that's fair when you caught it from me. And you got most of it on the covers, so it's easier to clean up."

"But you're still sick!"

"Yeah, but I'm much better already, so stop worrying." Nikita stroked over Jamal's head. "You know what? I'll get rid of the mess and then we switch to your room and get cozy. Agreed?"

"Mhm", Jamal muttered and closed his eyes. He wasn't sure how much time he head until the next wave, not even on which end it would come out. It would be a long day after a long night and Jamal dreaded what lay ahead. But for some reason, he was still happy. Maybe he had been the bigger idiot all along.

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Archive of our own: Up all night to get Bucky

tumblr: birdnamedenza

#submission #tw vomit #tw emeto #tw scat #nov(emeto)ber 2022 #novemetober 2022 #2022 day31 #prompt: 5 + 1 #fandom: original characters #birdnamedenza #i am /so/ sorry for posting this so late #i missed the notification on this or i would've posted sooner TT_TT #anyway this is one of my favorite fics ever #i will be rereading it regularly :D #nikita and jamal are so adorable together <3

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danzainosolitude · 2 years

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TikTok is literally the worst platform for children to be on. At least Twitter and tumblr don’t have thousands of underage users blindly parroting whatever the internet finds most problematic this week. As someone who’s been in several children dominated communities this heavily applies to fandoms, It’s crazy how the immediate response of children with platforms when seeing nsfw is to share it to their also underage audience.

#literally no one wanted to censor ao3 before fandom TikTok got their hands on it #this one goes out to the dangonronpa fandom #wild how you send a bunch a people to read a nasty fic and more fics like that pop up🤗#everyone go learn how to use the ao3 filtering system please #anyways it’s kind of suspicious that those kind of fics aren’t popular before they’re shared on TikTok #like where are you getting these #this post was inspired by me remembering the kokichi scat necrophillia fic

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giveamadeuschohisownmovie · 1 year

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So, I watched “RRR” a second time, this time with my family and my girlfriend. It was a pretty fun viewing party, but the funniest observation that night was that during the scene where Ram was working out despite being starved by the British, my cousin compared the background music to Jack Black’s scat singing.

Example of what she thought the background music sounded like:

youtube

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lesbian-trash001 · 2 months

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How the falsettos tumblr fandom feels after making the most meaningless drama ever.

#i am NOT talking about the scat fic or the incest fix or anything like that #but fr guys i think at a certain point of nothing new happening in a fandom #everyone gets bored and takes everything too seriously #like its a serious musical #but you can still have your silly little headcanon!#do i dare tag this falsettos?#falsettos

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yandere-daydreams · 2 months

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Emergency Commissions For Gaza 🍉🇵🇸

Status: Closed.

What We're Doing:

For the next few weeks, I'll be accepting donations of $15 or more to any of the families attempting to flee Gaza or the purchase of a 30 day eSim as payment for one-shots, drabbles, and headcanons with a maximum length of 1500 words. To get yours, just sent me a screenshot of your receipt/confirmation of your donation and your prompt through either my DMs or my inbox - as long as there's proof of your donation, it counts.

Rules:

~Character/Reader pairings only. OCs, monster, and folklore creatures count as characters.

~My hard limits still apply. No p*dophilia, piss/scat (omorashi is fine), snuff, necro, or incest (step/pseudo is fine). Other than that, go wild.

~Feel free to ask if you have any questions. I'm more than willing to be the rules for good cause.

And, while this isn't a strict 'rule', please be considerate. I am a student with a full-time job outside of this, so short/broader prompts are greatly appreciated.

Fandoms:

♥ Genshin Impact.

♥ Twisted Wonderland.

♥ Obey Me: One Master To Rule Them All.

♥ Degrees of Lewdity

♥ Jujutsu Kaisen.

♥ Demon Slayer.

♥ Hunter x Hunter.

♥ Spy x Family.

♥ Haikyuu!!

♥ Boku No Hero Academia.

♥ OCs, Monsters, Folklore Figures

Again, if you have any questions, please ask. My DMs and inbox are always open.

#personal #yandere #jujutsu kaisen #twisted wonderland #genshin impact #demon slayer #boku no hero academia #commissions

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markster666 · 3 months

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INTRODUCTION / MASTERLIST - MARKSTER666 (18+) ♡

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Hello everyone! I'm a 20 year old psychology student with a love for writing. Welcome to my one and only writing (and shitposting) account. I have a hard time sticking with one fandom, but I mostly write reader inserts being paired with canon characters. I do take requests as well! Please check my bio to confirm that requests are open.

A lot of my content involves mature subjects and I strongly advise anyone under the age of 18 to steer clear from my profile.

MASTERLIST:

Last Updated: 2/29/24

Total Works: 22

Hazbin Hotel:

SFW:

Alastor:

Every Thought, You. (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Alastor Reacting To Stereotypical Activist Gen Zer

NSFW:

Alastor:

Breeding B*tch (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Tentacles (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Cleanliness Is Next To - Oh Wait. (Alastor x Fem!OC RP Thread)

Good To Be Back On The Air! (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Kinktober Day #1: Dry Humping (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Kinktober Day #2: Face F*cking (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Kinktober Day #3: Begging (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Kinktober Day #4: Masturbation (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Kinktober Day #5: Daddy Kink (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Kinktober Day #6: Overstimulation (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Kinktober Day #7: Praising (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Kinktober Day #8: Sound Kink (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Kinktober Day #9: Mirror Sex (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Kinktober Day #10: Orgasm Control (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Kinktober Day #11: Face Sitting (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Kinktober Day #12: Lingerie Kink (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Kinktober Day #13: Deep Throating (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Kinktober Day #14: Roleplay (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Kinktober Day #15: Food Play (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Kinktober Day #16: Car Sex (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Kinktober Day #17: Toys (Alastor x Fem!Reader) Kinktober Day #18: Uniform Kink (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Kinktober Day #19: Morning Sex (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Kinktober Day #21: Unprotected Sex (Alastor x Fem!Reader) -I skipped #20-

Anybody (over the age of 18) is welcome to show up in my dms and chat with me or put in a request! I don't bite.

It is NOT guaranteed that I will do your request nor is it guaranteed that I will do it quickly. I get writing blocks sometimes or I just genuinely can’t think of a good plot for your scenario yet but I’ll try my best.

SMUT / NSFW REQUESTS ARE ONLY CONSIDERED / ACCEPTED IF YOU HAVE CONFIRMATION THAT YOU'RE AN ADULT ON YOUR PROFILE. THANK YOU.

I have a pretty screwed up mind and will write about a lot so really, throw a prompt at me lol. I will also NOT do oc x oc, character x character, and character x oc.

FANDOMS

Helluva Boss

Hazbin Hotel

Five Night's At Freddy's

Harry Potter

South Park

SAW

WILL NOT WRITE (LIMITS):

P*dophilia

Scat / Pee / Vomit play

Female on Male Domination

N*crophilia

(If you have a taboo topic you want me to write about but I don't have it listed, feel free to ask!)

Vore

Thank you so much for visiting my blog and I hope I can hear from some of you soon!

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#intro post #blog intro #introductory post #pinned intro #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel #fanfictions #fanfic authors #smut writing #x reader #masterlist #18+ only #18+ content #18+ blog #18+ account #minors dni #sexy content #10/10 would recommend #SoundCloud

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monthofsick · 1 year

Text

Thanks, I hate it

Nov(emeto)ber 2022, Day 7: Enemy to Caretaker

OCs: Tiago, Hunter

This is my first time writing an actual asshole caretaker who doubles as a very biased narrator. I feel a tad guilty for picking Tiago again, but it all came together so naturally. Even though this is written from a very subjective point of view, I also simply love to make seemingly perfect people sick.

TW: Vomit, mild scat/both ends, mean caretaker

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

Hunter Calaway was perfect.

He had the face of an ancient demigod – big, expressive eyes, sensual lips and cheekbones you could cut paper with. His curls were naturally defined, he was tall and athletic (kind of a given, considering he was the college’s basketball MVP) and he had flawless caramel skin. He also had heterochromia, because of course he had. A real life Gary Stu like him needed his special eyes. It was like people from all around the globe had come together to create an ultimate winner in the genetic lottery.

Tiago hated him with a passion.

Maybe he was a tiny bit biased because of the whole Diamond issue. Diamond was the campus goddess, head cheerleader and pride of the debate club. Tiago had a crush on her since junior high, but who did she end up with? The Great Hunter himself. Because he was such a kind‑hearted gentleman who loved to spend his free time doing voluntary work.

As if it couldn’t get any worse, both Hunter and Tiago had been assigned to represent the basketball team at New Student’s Day. They had to conceptualize a banner, create a flyer and come up with fun activities to attract new talents. Tiago had felt honored to be picked for the job… until he realized that a) he had to work together with his personal nemesis and b) they had only been chosen because no one else had volunteered for the task. Now he had to invest his free time while constantly fighting the urge to display his aversion.

Today was especially frustrating. They hadn’t agreed on how to translate the team’s logo into a banner yet. Tiago wanted to focus on the colors for a more clean and modern look, Hunter wanted their Rottweiler mascot front and center. It didn’t help that Mr. Perfect wasn’t his usual upbeat and diplomatic self this afternoon.

„See, they’re basically kids“, he explained in a disgustingly patient tone. „We need something to stand out from the crowd and catch their eyes.“

„Okay, but we don’t want them to think they took the wrong turn to elementary school.“

„But everyone loves our Rottie! Go, Rotties, go!“ Hunter’s face lit up for a moment. „Wait, I just had the best idea ever. You know that I help out in an animal shelter? We could bring an actual Rottweiler, they have a total sweetheart right now. It would be an audience magnet and bring awareness to adopting pets.“

„Everyone and their grandma knows that you volunteer for any good cause known to mankind.“ Tiago exhaled audibly. „That’s because you’re bringing it up like every ten seconds.“

„That is so not true.“ The smile on Hunter’s lips faded as quickly as it had appeared. „Can we just stick to the topic, please? I made a suggestion, you can give your opinion on it. This is not about me.“

„Isn’t it always about you?“, Tiago growled. He knew perfectly well that it was immature and irrelevant, but this entire conversation was oh so typical. Of course, Hunter never had bad intentions. How dare he accuse him of such profanity?

„Look, I know you have a problem with me. I don’t know why because I don’t have a problem with you, but can we still try to make this work?“

„Stop being such a fucking saint.“ Tiago rolled his eyes. „You know what? Just bring the dog. If it tears out some kid’s throat, at least we get all the attention. Can we go back to the actual issue now and sketch a draft of the design each of us has in mind? Because that might actually help with the decision.“

„Fine. At least it means we don’t have to talk for a while.“ That was probably the most hostile thing Hunter had ever said. Tiago was genuinely surprised. Maybe he had hurt Mr. Perfect’s feelings by insinuating that he could be anything but altruistic.

Without wasting further thoughts, Tiago grabbed some pens from the art supplies they had been given. He focused on bringing his vision alive – something not even Hunter could top. Every once in a while, he heard a low rumble, but didn’t pay much attention to it. Only when it grew louder he realized that the source of the noise was his unwanted teammate. Tiago couldn’t hide a broad grin.

„Wait, are you so on edge today because you are hangry?“

„No, I’m not.“ Upon closer inspection, Hunter’s unfamiliar grumpiness wasn’t the only thing that seemed off about him. His complexion was oddly dull and there was a frown line between his eyebrows. Plus he had barely started with his drawing. „Can we just… not talk about this right now?“

„About what? Your bowel sounds?“ Tiago chuckled. „Yeah, I bet that wouldn’t make the girls as wet as you normally do.“

„I don’t care, I’m taken.“ Hunter placed a hand on his abdomen as if that would help to reduce the noise pollution.

„Oh, guess what, I noticed.“ If Tiago hadn’t known better, he could have sworn that Hunter had said that on purpose, just to rub a little more salt into the open wound. „But hey, with that impressive growls, you could do a pretty decent Rottweiler impersonation yourself.“

„That’s not even funny.“ Hunter turned his head, but Tiago still saw his throat bobbing rapidly. Then there was the sickly skin tone and tiny drops of sweat forming on Hunter’s forehead. His stomach rumbles now resembled rolling thunder and Hunter’s hand on his belly skipped like the muscles below were convulsing spasmodically.

Suddenly, Tiago had a terrible suspicion.

„Don’t tell me you’re about to puke.“

„Why did you have to – huuuarrck – say that?“ Something between a very sickly burp and a jerky retch escaped Hunter’s mouth. He immediately pressed it shut again, swallowing audibly several times.

„I swear to God, if you barf on our documents, I shove the stuff right back down your throat.“

„Can you please shut up about it?“ Hunter’s lips curled into a nauseated frown while his broad shoulders abruptly hitched with a hiccup. „I… I think something was off with the chicken breast I had this morning.“

„Who eats chicken breast for breakfast?“ Tiago let out an irritated sigh. „Wait, why are you staring at me like this? You’re a grown ass man, can’t you just go to the fucking toilet all by yourself?“

„See, I know you can’t stand me, but… I really don’t feel good right now and I don’t think I would make it.“

Under any other circumstances, Tiago would have probably enjoyed the miserable expression on Hunter’s face. Desperately trying to keep his stomach contents down wasn’t a good look on him. Too bad the idiot had decided to project some kind of imaginary duty of care on Tiago.

„And how exactly is that my problem?“ Tiago became increasingly annoyed by the entire situation. „Do you want me to carry you to the restroom bridal style or what?“

„You could at least lend me a hand!“

„This is a joke, right?“ The almost pleading expression in Hunter’s sad puppy dog eyes was enough of an answer. Tiago huffed, but he eventually decided that helping his teammate up was the lesser evil compared to him hurling all over the table. Begrudgingly, he put his arm around Hunter’s upper body and pulled a disgusted face as the guy leaned on him while they walked. „You better hold it in until we get there.“

„Mhm.“ It wasn’t exactly reassuring that Hunter didn’t even dare to open his mouth for an answer. His body spoke a pretty clear language anyways. Tiago felt Hunter’s shirt sticking to his sweaty back, which was nasty enough. Being way too close to Hunter for Tiago’s own comfort, he noticed every contraction of his muscles, every subdued retch and cramp. Hunter’s stomach sounded like water that was about to boil over – no wonder he was still clutching it tightly. His trained body heaved with a sloppy burp. „Oh God… that tasted like chicken.“

„Pretty sure everything tastes like chicken“, Tiago grinned. Hunter didn’t seem to share his sense of humor, because the very next second, his hand flew up to his lips and his cheeks bulged out. Tiago instantly withdrew his arm and scrambled backwards. “Swallow it down! Or puke on the floor and clean up later, I don’t even care as long as you don’t get it on me.“

Hunter frantically shook his head, then turned around and dashed towards the next trashcan. He hit the ground, hugged the bin like a lifeline and spewed a majestic cascade of milky vomit into the container. Hunter’s assumption had probably been correct – the white flood he barfed up so generously definitely contained chunks of white meat.

„Woah, that smells horrendous!“ Tiago imitated a productive retch, only to be answered with the exact same sound bubbling out of Hunter’s throat, followed by a surge of liquid hitting the plastic trashbag. If only Diamond could see her adored boyfriend like that. She probably wouldn’t feel like kissing him after watching lumpy chicken hash gushing from his mouth.

„G-guess how it tastes“, Hunter coughed, then lurched towards the trashcan again, curdled gruel bursting from his lips. Tiago rolled his eyes and turned away. Why, of all people, was he cursed to be surrounded by morons with pathetically weak stomachs? He wasn’t even a caring person. Was it really too much to ask for to enjoy his life without random jackasses losing their lunch left and right? It was bad enough when it happened to his lightweight friends, but infinitely worse when it was Hunter who was puking up his guts right in front of him. And ew, the stench!

„I suppose you don’t need a trip to the bathroom anymore?“ Tiago turned to leave. „Because I’m really not keen on watching you blowing chunks any longer.“

„Still… need to go“, Hunter croaked, then arched his back as a garbled retch forced a rather pathetic drizzle of sick out of him. He wiped his luscious lips and stumbled back on his feet. Tiago raised both hands in defense as the aesthetically pleasing puke machine tried to approach him again.

„Stay away from me, you fucking reek.“ Tiago scrunched his nose. „If it’s absolutely necessary, I’ll catch you if you fall. But there’s no way you’re gonna get your barf slime hand on me right now.“

„Do you have to be such an asshole about it?“, Hunter moaned. „I didn’t ask for this, you know?“

„Neither did I“, Tiago replied unmoved. Hunter pouted and wrapped both arms around his belly. His hunched over gait gave an insight into the turmoil troubling his intestines. The greenish hue on his face made him look almost comically sick. Had he really expected Tiago to affectionally rub his muscular back and whisper soothing words into his ear? Was it so hard to understand that Tiago didn’t want to be anywhere near the guy when he still looked like the rest of his spoiled breakfast would erupt from his mouth any second?

Miraculously, Hunter made it to the restroom without spilling his insides again. He shambled into one of the stalls, door closing behind him.

„Okay, I paid my due, now I’m out.“ Tiago’s daily requirement of revolting sounds and odors was easily covered. „Enjoy yourself!“

„W-wait!“ Hunter’s raspy voice sounded begging. „I… I need a bucket, like, ASAP.“

„Are you fucking serious?“ Tiago stopped in the doorway. „You’re in front of a toilet, what the hell do you need a bucket for?“

„I’m sitting on the toilet!“, Hunter groaned. „Dude, I’m dead serious, I can feel it coming up - huuuarrrg.“

„Don’t tell me you’re doing a number two as well.“ Torn between repulsion and a nagging sense of obligation, Tiago rushed towards the sinks. The trash bin was mounted at the wall, so he just removed the bag inside. Tiago returned hastily and squinted as he opened the bathroom stall door. For the sake of his own sanity, he tried hard not to take in the cursed image of Hunter sitting on the porcelaine throne with his pants down, cheeks puffed behind the fingers sealing his lips. „Take this, it’s all you’re gonna get.“

Hunter frantically opened up the trash bag, then writhed as he brought up watery chicken fricassee. It didn’t help that the plastic was translucent, granting Tiago a great view of the vomit fountain shooting out of Hunter’s mouth, drowning the crumpled paper towels at the bottom. The spasmodic pulses of Hunter‘s stomach muscles were enough to set the purging process in full motion. Hunter curled up while his body forcefully emptied itself from both ends.

„Oh my God, that is disgusting“, Tiago pressed out with a muffled gag. He sure had an iron stomach, but the unbearable stench and the sopping wet gargles were getting to him. Just as he was about to leave, a diabolical idea crossed his mind. Innocent enough, he glanced back over his shoulder. „Do you want me to call Diamond? I’m sure she would give you some tender loving care.“

Hunter looked up, gooey sick dripping from his lips. He nodded feebly.

„You… would actually do that for me? That… that would be great… thanks.“

Thanks? The guy was so naive. Did Hunter really think a classy woman like Diamond would lust after him ever again once she saw him in such a pathetic state, spraying stinking slurry from his back and front?

„Sure thing. Don’t worry about it, just get it all out!“

„Thank you, really… I appreciate it“, Hunter groaned unsuspectingly before he was struck by another retch.

Tiago strove to keep his composure while he finally left the fetid cesspool that had been a college restroom not so long ago. Just like he had promised, he immediately called Diamond and informed her about her lover’s predicament. He really hammed it up and emphazised how desperately sick Hunter was and how urgently he needed the solace of her presence. After Tiago hung up, he strolled down the hallway in a much brighter mood. Diamond was in for a major disenchantment when it came to her gorgeous, sexy and charming boyfriend.

Unless she wouldn’t mind.

Unless she would actually take care of him. Hug him tight, rub his cramping belly, hold the bag for him while he threw up. Pat his back, wipe his mouth, kiss his sweaty forehead and reassure him that he would be alright. Guide him home once he had emptied himself and snuggle up on the couch to make him feel safe and loved. But that wasn’t very likely, was it?

Tiago brushed the thought aside and spent the rest of the day distracting himself from these dreadful mental images. At least now he knew for sure that Hunter Calaway was anything but perfect.

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

Archive of our own: Up all night to get Bucky

tumblr: birdnamedenza

#submission #tw vomit #tw emeto #tw scat #fandom: original characters #prompt: enemy to caretaker #2022 day7 #nov(emeto)ber 2022 #novemetober 2022 #birdnamedenza #'I also simply love to make seemingly perfect people sick' ugh sameeeeee #i'm weak for 'on the ground puking in a trash can' too this is getting ridiculous #i really freaking love your fics my dude #anyway @tiago who hurt you my dude chill tf out

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queers-gambit · 4 months

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The Battle Above the God’s Eye

part one: Sands of Time

prompt: decades after the Stepstones, it's his turn to be rescued.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 6.3k+

note: i'm not the happiest with this piece, so i'll most definitely (probably) write an alternative when the time comes and the show does the Battle. y'all know me by now, you know i love me a good ol' reader-insert and i didn't want to wait years to publish some kind of sequel so here we are.

warnings: reader isn't explicitly a Targaryen but we had to make this work and i'm burnt the fuck out. so fuck it, dragon rider reader. cursing, books spoilers, violence, imagination required, maybe Red Priestess reader, mention of more Little Birds (let author live), toxic family (duh), heavily encouraged imagination, depictions of death, angst, some hurt and comfort i think ? missing warnings 'cause wonky brain goin' wonky.

"There's rumor, Mistress, of a dragon the color of night," the hooded figure informed. "It nests in the Ruins of Ancient Valyria, seen by farmers and countryfolk; they say his wings beat like thunder. It's a colossal shadow they fear to engage, but after hearing your ransom, they reported it."

You hummed as you took a sip of scalding tea, finding comfort in the heat, musing, "I've been to the Ruins myself on two seperate excursions, I promise you, friend, there is no dragon that nests there."

"It's come from the East, a new beast in the sky."

"I require proof if I am to pay the ransom."

The man with a hood over his head reached for his rucksack and rummaged, a moment later, placing two items on the polished mahogany table between you both. One was unmistakably a dragon's tooth, and when you examined it, there was still clotted blood on the root - assuring it was a fresh pull. The second was a large black scale that weighed at least a dagger's worth.

You smirked, "This is promising. Where in the Ruins has it been seen? Who procured these artifacts?"

You discussed specifics with the man for an hour, offering him a hefty finder's fee after getting the name of the village the man had gathered his own information from. It was a messy journey from there; leaving the home you had made in the decades since the Stepstones to head for what was probably another dead end in Ancient Valyria. You were something akin to a magistrate, the people saw you as a figurehead, a leader; their person of authority who they were all too happy to follow.

Your village flourished, growing in size, number, popularity, and strength by the passing day. The people seemed happy, wealth flowing from exports and trade, and apparently, a few cartographers have begun the process of updating a few maps to add your village's name to history.

Much had changed in your time away from your Rogue Dragon Prince, but you knew that was all coming to an end soon. Your Lord of Light had shown you much in your flames, one of which was a repeating image of you, mounted atop a dragon all your own, soaring over the Narrow Sea with distinct purpose. You weren't a Targaryen, but your religious devotion seemingly gave you the ability to walk amongst beasts and their flames.

Exploring Ancient Valyria took over a year on foot.

You had plenty of encounters with the Stone Men, but all met their merciful demise - those left after that steered clear of you and your Valyrian Steel sword. Around the ruins of the ancient volcano that hadn't erupted since The Doom, you found a graveyard of goat, sheep, and cattle bones. There were bigger skeletons of aquatic creatures, something you found incredibly fascinating - what fully grown dragon went deep diving?

Soon, you found scat. For those who don't spend time in the wilderness or who are simply unfamiliar with the term, "scat" refers to waste produced by wild animals. Yeah, you're reading correctly, after you found the plethora of skeletons, you found dragon shit.

So, you knew you were closer than before. But the fucker still alluded you to the point you felt insane circling the Ruins.

You located about three different potential caverns, investigating them all with caution, but finding them all empty. Feeling exhausted from the months of searching, you claimed one of the caves as your own; hunting for a meal after gathering adequate fire wood. You listened to the untamed wilds of Valyria as you ate whatever you roasted, trying to distinguish familiar sounds of an approaching dragon.

Or perhaps even a distant one!

You'd take any sign!

It'd been weeks since you found the dragon droppings, no other signs appearing. You would search new areas for days, then return to your cave for rest; feeling disconnected from reality the longer you lingered in the ruined empire. You wondering what your village was doing, you were curious if the young woman, Ferona, had a baby boy or girl, if they had erected the new buildings you left blueprints for in an effort to create opportunist housing and houses of worship - as your people had requested.

How did the krill and shrimp season fair? What weddings happened this past spring? How was the irrigation system holding up?

Weeks drug by slowly. Weeks turned to longer months. Two years, you spent in that Gods forsaken ruin of a city - but couldn't find it in you to abandon your search.

Your Lord of Light had yet to send word, yet set your heart ablaze every time you "decided" to go home. You stared into the flames every night, desperate for any indication you were on the right path, but nothing was seen - nothing was said - nothing was shown to you. Until one night, during a torrential downpour and thunderous storm, you were shivering, drenched to your core, fighting the wind to let you keep your flames alive.

And there, in the dying, flickering warmth, you saw it. With wide, unblinking eyes, you stared into the flames harder; unsure how long you remained in the tranquil state before a particularly strong gust of wind nearly pushed you face-first into the embers. You gasped, looking around as the smoke nearly choked you as it filled the cave; stumbling out into the rain as you coughed and patted your chest. Stumbling slightly from malnourishment and delirium, you leaned on the outer shell of your "home", panting with relief before there came a screech so fearsome, you were then cowering into the wall with fear.

You dropped to your knees, huddled into the rock formation; the ground trembling as something enormous touched down. You gasped when through the haze of sideways rain, two nostrils flared and heaved thick plumes of smoke; reddened from the ignited flames deep within an invisible chest. You flattened against the wall, four taloned paws striking the ground and causing it to crack, quake, and tremble. With the fleeting clouds, you used the moon's light to distinguish the beast that loomed closer to you; over you; and then, in your face.

A long, blackened snout nearly pressed into your chest; fabric of your tunic caught in the razor sharp teeth. You had faced death, you had faced beasts, you had faced hacking axes and swinging swords. You had faced the wrath of the Queen Alysanne's court, the rumors of the common folk, and judgment from both man and God. But nothing was like this moment: a wild dragon staring you down, sniffing your chest and stomach, debating if it should just open it's mouth and eat you whole yet or not.

Thankfully, it chose an alternative route.

You're not fully sure how it happened, but you dedicated two years to finding this terrible beasty, and yet, it only took about 6 weeks to bond with the (obviously) young thing. Time with your Dragon Prince proved most useful, creating a bond so secure, you were beginning to wonder if someone deep in your bloodline had mated with a Targaryen. It was natural, the way you both became accustomed to one another; living together on a carbon-dated land long doomed.

The lessons from Daemon came flying back to you. You practiced your High Valyrian, laughing when you obviously got a word or two wrong because the dragon would snort at you. In the light, she was still the color of the night, but her scales were dusted the same gold as her eyes. She was impressive, she was huge in size but nowhere near Vhagar. In fact, you'd wager she had outgrew Caraxes - the only dragon you had true experience with.

Speaking of Caraxes, you were on the shores of Old Valyria, debating how you were going to convince your new companion to join you back "home" in the village, when suddenly, your beast gave a defensive growl.

Looking to the skyline, you spotted the distant dragon and frowned. This dragon wasn't the color of flames like Caraxes was, no, instead, it was a murky blob in the sky with two wings. You offered calming words to your dragon in her native language, not sensing danger, but your beast was unhappy leaving you in the open. Her tail curled around you to corral you back into her body as the muddy brown dragon landed with a thunderous shake a respectable distance away.

Your name was begged by the rider descending from who you recognized as a wild dragon by the name of Sheepstealer.

"Nettles? That you, love?" You asked in skepticism, managing out of your dragon's grasp. "What're you doing here? You all right?"

"I needed to find you," she panted. "I-I need you help - it's all - it's all gone wrong! Please!"

"What's wrong? The fuck's happened?"

"Do you know nothing, Auntie!? Do you know nothing of the war!?"

Your eyes rolled, "Watch that tone with me, girl. The Dance of Dragons is of no concern of mine, it had barely started when I came here."

"Well - it's your concern now," she insisted. "You took me under your wing - you helped raise me in a village you built from the ground, despite not ever needing to - "

"Your mother was a dear friend of mine," you cut her off sharply. "She was kind to me when I came back to Essos, let me stay with her and your father. When I set out on my own, she was always a friendly face, and when my settlement was established..."

"She came to you for help after getting pregnant with me," Nettles nodded. "You've told me this before."

"Then you should know better by now that I owed your mother more than my life, so, raising you was the least I could've done. A life for a life."

"And as such, you let me go into the world with stories filling my head of a handsome Dragon Prince that saved you from the Crabfeeder!" You scoffed at her words, ready to argue, but she rushed, "He's in trouble, Auntie."

You paused, finding no lie in the girl's eye. Slowly, you asked, "Come again?"

"I found him, Mistress," she nodded. "After I got back to Westeros, I found your Prince Daemon - the ones from the stories! He's... He's brutish and harsh, they call him Rogue, but he was kind to me when I told him I knew you. When he heard your name, Lady, he just - he insisted on keeping me close. He protected me, even against his wife - Princess Rhaenyra."

Your head cocked, "Hmm... He usually did have a taste for younger flesh. I'm not surprised he took to you - "

"No, no, no, Mistress, not like that," she insisted desperately. "He was kind, educational - similar to a mentor."

"I see."

"He needs your help."

"Prince Daemon does not need rescuing, he is no damsel."

"He searches for Prince Aemond," she informed, making you lift your chin slightly. Though lost in the wild of Valyria the past two years, you were still well versed in the affairs of King's Landing; staying updated, curtesy of your Lord, the Lord of Light: R'hllor. In your village, you were known to pay for any accurate information - eventually hiring your own spies to relay trustworthy information from around surrounding cities and villages. Nettles was one of your Little Birds.

You sighed, "And? What of it - Aemond killed Lucerys, did he not? Since he married his niece, her children are now his step-children, right? Daemon is within his rights to want some form of vengeance - it's war, Nettie, it's never fair to anybody.

"He will not survive this, you don't understand! It's horrible, Mistress, please, he-he-he's deranged. Mad with grief, lost to his wife's useless fucking war. It'll be the death of him, Auntie, please!" She paused, seeing you just stare back at her; so she begged again, "Please!"

You nodded, "What do you want me to do, Nettie? Hmm?"

"You've told me those stories! I remember them well! You always said he came back for you, saved you from The Crabfeeder," she reminded, making you stiffen. "Does he not deserve the same? Or at least a chance? Rhaenyra will not help, she'll kill him herself I fear, but you can - you can help!"

You nodded, "I will consult the flames - "

"I am telling you - "

"I have heard you, girl!" You snapped, glaring at your Little Bird. "But there are greater forces at work than what you know, I cannot just so willfully trust the word of a child before flying off across the Narrow Sea. Allow me my time with my Lord, I will have an answer for you." Turning from her, you gathered whatever materials you could; setting it up in a small teepee before stepping back.

In High Valyrian, you gave your command. From over your shoulder, your beasty opened her mouth and shot a single flame at the structure.

On your knees, you muttered repeatedly; chanting, summoning your Lord of Light to come to you now in a great hour of need. And He did. Through the flames, you saw what R'hllor wanted to show you: the two Princes engaged in a brutally epic fight that would claim them both in the end...

Unless you left right that moment, as your Lord commanded.

"Make yourself safe, Nettles, go back home," you told her in a rush, catching the pouch of Gold Dragons she tossed you when you sprung into action - and for the first time, mounted your dragon. Like your minds were connected, the Great Shadow took to the sky - leaving Nettles and Sheepstealer behind, and you'd never see either again.

You remained high in the sky, being a blob to the naked eye should any dare to stare at the sun.

You only paused to let the Great Shadow dive into the Narrow Sea for a meal; surfacing with creatures in her jaws as you swam an exhausting broad stroke. Was it terrifying to swim in the open water? Absolutely, but your dragon seemingly kept any threats at bay. When she was satisfied with her meal, the Great Shadow scooped you onto her back and relaunched into the air again to continue your flight for Westeros. You both dried in the air.

The trip was draining.

It was grueling on you both.

Yet when you saw the distant shore, you couldn't help the spike of relief in your heart and veins.

Once in Westeros, you were forced to ground yourselves in the open area of the Stormlands because you needed to know where to go since Nettles hadn't been sure where to send you specifically. Using the usual thunderstorm as cover, you had to separate from the Great Shadow; leaving her in the dark as you ventured to the closest village.

With the pouch of Gold Dragons Nettles gave you, you paid for information that you needed. You were told all the nitty gritty details about the Dance of the Dragons that you've missed, understanding what (Nettles and) the Lord of Light had been trying to tell you for years: the Black Queen would be Prince Daemon's death.

The time had come for you to return his favor from the Stepstones. If this worked the way you wanted it to, you wouldn't be his first, second, nor third wife, but his fourth and final. You knew what you had to do.

"What do you know of their whereabouts?" You asked the innkeeper who wiped down the bar you leaned on.

"The Princes?" She asked, tisking right after. "The One Eyed Prince has been burning the Riverlands for almost two weeks now. The Rogue Prince was in Maidenpool but he's called his nephew to meet him at, uh, oh... Oh, bullocks, what's that haunted castle? The one that was torched?"

"Harrenhal?"

She snapped her fingers at you, "That's the one!"

"Fuckin' Hell," you muttered, wiping your eyes. "What's your thinking, love? 'Bout this war?"

She scoffed, rolling her eyes, "Stupidest thing I've endured so far. How silly, the House of the Dragon does not know who rules it, or so says our liege lord. So we must all pay their price in Fire and Blood."

You nodded slowly, "Who do you think holds the better claim t'the Throne?"

"Depends on your views," she muttered, "but in truth, it doesn't matter to me - so long as this all comes to an end. But between us?" She leaned in, glancing around before muttering, "The Bitch Queen would burn us all. Can't say if King Aegon would be much better, but at least we'd know what we were dealing with."

"And if he was another Maegor?"

"Can't be worse than the Black Queen. Hear they call her Maegor with Tits."

You smirked, chuckling lightly, "Thank you, ma'am, for your words." You offered her a few Gold Dragons, repeating, "Harrenhal?"

"Harrenhal," she nodded, accepting the payment. "I do not know if the One Eyed Prince will answer the Rogue Prince's challenge, but that is where he lures Prince Aemond - Harrenhal. Now, how's about a nice bowl of stew? You look drenched, love, and a bit skinny - you been eatin'?"

"Your kindness is refreshing in this shit-for-a-kingdom."

You winked at her and tapped the bar in parting before turning for the door, and into the rain you ventured once more. You didn't notice the cold, your Lord kept you warm and moving; finding the Great Shadow, mounting, and shooting off into the unknown sky again.

It wasn't easy directing a dragon without a saddle nor any stabilizing reins, yet your beast was something of a decently smooth fly. You minimally directed her as you went, but in truth, her instincts directed you both more than anything. When the storm broke, you were soon flying over charred scores of land; homes smoldering and burning, the wind spreading the embers and never letting the fire fully die out.

"The fuck..." You muttered, sitting up straight as you flew through the carnage. "Seven Hells, he burnt it all, didn't he?" You whispered, needing to hold onto the spinal ridges of your dragon to keep balanced. "Gods be good," you gaped at the damage beneath you.

The sun moved into position, getting ready to set when you heard the horrible screams of feuding dragons. You couldn't see Harrenhal yet, but you heard the fight, and then, as the sun began to set, there came flashes of bright firelight that lit the sky to a new level.

It was nearly the shade of daylight with the way the flames danced against the setting sun. You were desperate to get closer, and after directing the Great Shadow over a set of charred rolling hills, you finally had Harrenhal in sight. "Go! Go, please! That's them - we need t'get there!" You begged through a small sob of panic, and if possible, your dragon flew all the faster.

You were so close, yet felt so far.

The air trembled when the pair of dragons, Vhagar and Caraxes, collided in the sky once more. They grappled and snarled and shrieked and blew flames and gnashed their teeth and slashed their talons. You paid no mind to the pregnant woman standing on the shoreline of the lake they fought over, and instead, focused on your task; feeling as if you were moving on pure instinct and adrenaline.

The Great Shadow dove low to the lake's surface as Caraxes and Vhagar came barreling to the ground. It all happened too fast. As the two dragons fell, you saw one man - in black armor - leap from his crimson beast with his Valyrian sword winking in the dying light. Just as his arm extended to pierce Dark Sister into Aemond's blind eye, the dragons were tussling enough to turn over and forced Daemon off their hide.

You gasped as you reacted - no fucking thought to your actions.

As the Great Shadow glided over the surface of the Gods Eye lake, you were leaping off her back to launch into the air; tackling the Rogue Prince hard enough to disrupt his impact on the water's surface. You hit the water all the same, but instead of it being like hitting fresh pavement, it was a softer landing due to the Great Shadow's expert and quick maneuvering.

Two dragons hit the water, three human bodies; sending a wave of water higher than the towers of Harrenhal's fortress. It was a shock to land in something so wet and cold, but your adrenaline was stronger than any feeling of freezing water. Your arms kept an iron-clad lock around Daemon's unconscious waist, surfacing as the lake rippled and churned from impact; turning a seeping red from the open wounds on the dragon sinking into the depths.

Prince Aemond never surfaced, and years from now, he'd be found still chained to Vhagar's saddle with Dark Sister still stabbed through his skull. His Red Witch standing on shore couldn't save him, it appearing that your Lord preferred the Rogue Prince to the One Eyed.

Keeping Daemon afloat was difficult, but to your shock, you were being gently propelled forward to the shore by a fatally injured Caraxes. You encouraged him best you could, trying not to choke on the water splashing around your frantic forms. When you were able, you started heaving and dragging Daemon up the lake's embankment; the crimson dragon crawling out of the lake behind you, slowly, heading towards Harrenhal. You wanted to offer the loyal beast aid or comfort, but you were much too preoccupied with his master that was dead weight in the water's surf.

You trembled as you swiftly hoisted his dragon winged helmet off to leave bobbing in the surf; unhooked his armor, shucking it off him and compressing his chest rapidly - just like a fisherman taught you to do.

"C'mon," you grunted. "C'mon, Daemon, breathe - fucking breathe, damnit! Please, come back to me - don't do this. I just found you again, c'mon, my Prince, breathe. Breathe, Daemon, don't give up - not now, not on us! Don't give up on us, c'mon, my Prince, breathe, w-we finally have our time." Sobs wracked your form. "Breathe, Daemon, please! Please! I'm back - I finally found you, please, my love, breathe!"

You shoved harder into his breast bone with increased ferocity until water came suddenly spewing from his lungs. You heard the Great Shadow land in the near distance, turning Daemon on his side to help him breathe better; choking the water out. You spoke in relief, "There, there you go, c'mon, love, breathe! Thank fucking Gods, you're all right, you're okay, get it out - you're okay, just breathe, my love."

Daemon choked your name in pure disbelief, holding one of your wrists in a vice grip that only briefly concerned you. He panted and relaxed into the embankment, loosening his grip as he turned over to look up at you in shock and wonder. "How is this possible?" He wheezed.

"It's a bit of a long story," you teased softly, caressing his cheek. "Bit of a boring tale, 'M afraid."

"How? How is - how can this be?"

"You needed me," you explained, "thought I'd return the favor since you saved me all those years ago, huh? You got me out of the sea, I got you out of the lake - we're even, yeah?"

He still panted, only staring at you as if he couldn't believe himself. "You've not aged a day," he whispered.

You smiled, petting his cheekbone with your thumb daintly. "You need rest, reprieve, aid," you whispered.

"No, no," he gulped, "not when I just got you back. T-Tell me 's done. Tell me we're done being apart."

"You have a wife still, Daemon. She won't let you go, she wouldn't let us be together."

"Tell me what your flames say."

"Now you trust my flames?"

"When they bring you back to me, yes - oh, fuck yes, I'll believe whatever those fucking flames say. Please, love, for us - consult your flames, tell me what they've said."

You frowned, petting a soaking wet lock of hair from his forehead. Quietly, you whispered, "My Lord showed me what was to pass if I did not come for you... This war, this Dance of Dragons, would claim your life, Daemon. Your wife, your niece... She'll be the end of you, my Prince. You will not survive if you go back to her. Neither of you will survive this... My Lord has shown me that Rhaenyra will meet her end in flames, but following her will cost you your life in water," you glanced at the lake. "Not a death befitting of a Targaryen Prince."

"And now?"

"Now, she will fight her own battles for the first time," you whispered, "and I will return home, and you will make a choice."

He smirked, "We've gone lifetimes apart, like you said before."

"We have."

"I would not go another day," he coughed, wincing in pain. "I do not think I can fight anymore anyways, love. Please... Please."

Daemon never begged. You swallowed harshly, asking him, "No? No more fighting?"

"No," he agreed. "'M so tired, my sweet. I-I can't do this forever," he half-slurred, making you perk up slightly in attention. "Retirement sounds all too appealing now. Rumor will spread that neither Aemond or I lived, it'll be the perfect escape."

You nodded in agreement, flinching when a new voice screeched, "YOU BITCH!"

The pregnant woman you saw on shore stormed towards you, making you chuckle dryly as you had already foreseen this Alys Rivers - pregnant concubine of the One Eyed Prince Aemond and fellow Follower of R'hllor. Alys was unique in the sense that her training was decent enough to ensnare Aemond (it seemed), but not so decent that the Lord yet favored her.

She wasn't more than ten feet from you when the Great Shadow opened her mouth and showered the Red Witch in holy flames; an end she surely did not see coming - not that R'hllor would've showed her. This all caught Daemon's attention, who flinched slightly when he had to turn and look; not expecting the flames nor the beast.

Then his eyes drifted over the land, breathing hitching, and he sat up with a painful groan. "Daemon," you worried, but instead of trying to get him down, you helped him up.

You knew what he saw.

When at Caraxes' side, you helped Daemon lower to his knees at his dragon's head. He whimpered and moaned, belly slashed open, wing torn apart; bleeding out into the cold soil he rested on. The Great Shadow moaned gently in sympathy, lowering herself around you three to let you grieve in peaceful, protective privacy and ease Caraxes to his next life.

The moon was fully in the sky when the crimson bloodwyrm took his final breath with the ebony giant's flames to warm you all. You weren't sure what could be done, but Daemon was pressing a tender kiss to his dragon's head before turning to face you - a lost, confused, vulnerable look coating his features. "Come on, love," you eased gently, helping him to his feet; knowing a few ribs were shattered and probably his clavicle, too.

"Where will we go now?"

"Well, I have somewhere safe for us t'live," you grunted in assurance, wobbling a little under his weight. "But we need rest for tonight. Any ideas?"

"I doubt anyone will venture to Harrenhal this night, should be safe..."

You agreed, and together, you and Daemon settled in the empty castle with the Great Shadow resting on the outskirts of the Keep. She was too big for the interior of the courtyard, so, she was left outside with Caraxes' corpse as you and Daemon settled in the room he had commandeered.

"How is this possible? How can you be here?" He asked, holding your hips as you worked between his spread legs. Daemon had minimal supplies at the ready; hopping up on a work bench to let you care for his injuries and wounds. He watched your every move with a softening look. "I thought I wouldn't ever see you again, that I'd be cursed to only remember you in my dreams. Rhaenyra said I say your name a lot at night, when I sleep."

"I'm really here, Daemon, ease yourself," you offered an assuring grin, tending to the head wounds he obtained from the fight.

"How?"

"Nettles."

"What?"

"Nettles," you repeated with a smirk. "She's one of my Little Birds, Daemon. It was not entirely coincidence she found you..."

"So she said," he frowned. "But how - "

"She told me you needed me," you smiled softly. "And when I consulted the flames, I was shown what could be. I made a decision, I just wanted you safe, no matter what that meant."

"I just want you. Fuck," he seethed, squeezing your hips, "'s been fucking decades since I've even touched you."

"You're delirious," you teased. "Sleep deprived, maybe concussed."

"Perhaps all at once, but I finally have all I've dreamt of. Please," he whispered, "do not deny us longer. I've endured lifetimes - "

"Daemon, being here and now, you know I can't walk away. But we've time t'talk it all out, I need you to let me help your wounds - so sit still."

He nodded, "One thing I do not understand, though - the dragon? How did you...?"

"Spent two years in Valyria, looking for her."

"Why were you there?"

"Searching for a dragon, of course," you smirked. "She's impressive, isn't she? And from her size, I wager she can easily support us both back across the Narrow Sea."

He grit his teeth when you cleaned his open cuts and wounds, wrapping whatever clean cloth you had around the larger wounds; easing him out of his tunic to have better access to the blackened ribs he sported. "Would you tell me?" Daemon whispered some time later.

"Of what?"

"Your life since the Stepstones?"

"Oh," you chuckled, "sweet love, you know it was dreadfully boring without you."

"Doesn't seem it, you being in Valyria two years? That's not heard of, what was it like? How'd you survive? Why go looking for a dragon?"

This lead to you both laying in bed, hands held together, resting, but not sleeping. You just spoke quietly, fingertips tracing idly over each other's faces; sharing in each others lives that the other missed, reminiscing together in fond memories.

When morning broke, you had to move swiftly. Caraxes was left where he laid and after a final parting to the loyal beast and commandeering his saddle, together, you and Daemon mounted the Great Shadow. She wasn't a fan of the restraints, but once you and Daemon were mounted, she did not fuss as it was evident you humans had an easier time with the leather contraption.

"I must confess," Daemon whispered in your ear, using you as an anchor and leaning into your back, "I fear I might feel something akin to guilt for fleeing home."

"That's natural," you assured, "you're leaving family behind, 's never easy."

"There was no winning this war," he admitted, sighing. "I lead so many to their death... Destroyed my family - "

"From what I have heard, this is not your doing," you argued sharply. "That night, when Aemond attacked Lucerys, what were you to do? Leave that kind of atrocity without consequence? No, that is not in the Targaryen's nature. You did not start this war, Daemon."

"But I knew..."

"You knew what?"

"I knew Jace, Luke, and Joffrey were Harwin Strong's, not Laenor Velaryon's. We thought if we married her sons to my daughters, nobody would care much else about lineage - but we were wrong."

"It's okay to be wrong," you promised, leaning your head back to let your forehead rest against his temple. "It's okay to make mistakes or have regret. Tell me, do you wish to return to your wife? I will take you now, no quest - "

"No. No, I do not wish to leave you. This is... This is Rhaenyra's war, I've done my part. I'm free and finally with whom I belong."

"Now it's time to heal," you told him.

"Time to rest," he agreed, squeezing your waist and placing a few kisses to your neck. "This is where I should've been all this time... After the Stepstones, I should've stayed with you, none of this would've come to pass. I regret leaving you everyday - "

"I told you, for us to get here, to this point, now, we had to separate. But look where we are," you smiled back at him, the Great Shadow soaring higher in the sky to keep Westeros at a distance, "we will not be apart again. 'S you and me, love... Until our end, which we will greet together."

Daemon's lips found yours at long last, whispering, "Together," against them before sweeping his tongue against yours.

The port was lovely this time of day, sun high in the sky to give light to the fishermen and vendors hard at work. Sailors made port, calms were being shucked, different Aristocats trying to barter and trade on their journeys abroad. You smiled at the people you passed, grateful to be home after a prolonged absence; arm looped tight with Daemon's as you both strolled the pier.

"It's hard to imagine you've done all this in a lifetime or less," he mused, a hand folded over yours, dressed in the best clothes you could find. "It's s marvel, my sweet," his compliment was sincere.

"Thank you," you whispered, hugging his arm as your skirts swished around your ankles, just tickling your bare feet. "This season's expected to be bountiful," you told him, pointing to the various teams bringing crustaceans, fish, and other sea life in different crates and traps. "I expect there won't be much of an off-season."

He glanced around, "And you don't collect taxes?"

"Why would I?" You scoffed. "We're more dynamic than that. Everyone works for their place, if you wanted to think of it that way. They are not expected to contribute, but the village seems happier that way. Being close knit, helping one another, sharing wealth. No one person has complained, so, I figure it's working so far. Even if it didn't work, I still wouldn't charge them taxes - it'd be like charging them to live. Always seemed silly t'me."

"Morning, Mistress!"

"Morning, Don," you beamed, leading Daemon towards the dock. "How are you, kind sir? Looks as if you've been working all day already."

"Aye, up before the sun," he nodded, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. "Wanted t'thank yah, actually."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, yeah, with that dragon? We're hauling in more ships," he chuckled, and just overhead, the Great Shadow glided over them all to head out to sea to fetch another round of ships. "Gets us out there quick, brings us back when done, 's like a wee bit of an assembly line, ain't it?"

You chuckled, "Sounds like it, friend. Uh, Don, have I introduced you to my husband?"

"Husband?" Don grinned, cocking his head, "No, Mistress, I wasn't aware you even had a suitor. Mariam don't tell me much gossip these days," he snickered, referring to his wife. "It's nice t'meet you," he told Daemon, "name's Don, just Don - no, it ain't short for nothin'."

Daemon smirked some, shaking the man's fishy hand boldly, "A pleasure, Don, Just Don."

"Oh, this one's got a bit uh humor, don't he?" Don laughed lightly. "What's your name, lad?"

"Daemon?" A voice answered for you all, and just above you, a little further on the pier, stood an aged Laenor Velaryon.

"Excuse us, Don," you spoke swiftly, confusion marring your features. He understood or sensed the slight tension, backing off to let you approach the "dead" knight.

"Oh, my - Y/N," Laenor breathed, another aged man at his side with what you assume to be his children. No question could be asked yet as your old friend launched himself into your arms, laughing merrily, giving you a tight squeeze with his still-toned arms. "Oh, the Gods are good for this!" He laughed, rocking you slightly, "Oh, how the Seven bless us."

"You're so dramatic," you laughed back, patting him happily until he pulled back. "But I must confess, I am so fucking confused - what is this? How are you here? I thought you died, Laenor, that's what ever spy reported."

"They should've," he nodded, glancing at Daemon, "but perhaps, the explanation will be better received after some wine?" He caressed your cheek in affection before looking at your husband, nodding, "It's good to see you again, my Prince. Or is it King Consort?"

"Neither, just Daemon," he corrected, your heart soaring a little at the idea that he would abandon his title so easily. Yet you knew, there was nothing to go back to for him.

"Well, how about I introduce my family?"

"Family?" You grinned, seeing him present the others.

"My husband," he gestured, giving his name. "And our kids," he introduced the other three.

"How?" You asked simply.

"We found a Red Priest who was willing to officiate the ceremony," Laenor explained, "and the kids were sired by different mothers, too."

"Whores," the husband smiled.

"Huh," you nodded in impression. "Well, perhaps wine is best to hear that tale, as well?"

"Perhaps," Laenor grinned. "Uh, but first, we should find accommodations - "

"Oh, come off it, you're staying with us," you waved. "Your belongings?"

"This is it," he half-shrugged, you eyeing the few rucksacks around their feet, neck, shoulders... "We heard of the prosperity here, thought it was worth the move."

"How right you are," Daemon answered. "Come, old friend." He picked up a few sacks for the kids and you looped your arm with Laenor's to lead the way. How good it was to have your friend back, your husband at your side, and a functioning, happy village with your placement amongst them most important... Everything you could've wished for, it seemed, came true.

And in your womb, a Dragon Seed was planted; soon to make its announcement known. Truly, a happier ending than you thought deserved - but R'hollr worked mysteriously, blessing those deemed worthy to spread his flames.

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