#barely getting time to process them before she succumbs to a similar fate and just ughh

[randomsnakesimp]

Okay. I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna take the leap and say: Phobos is the victim (sorta).

Quick disclaimer: I am going to abuse plot holes and cartoon logic for my cause in a very nitpicky way. If you dislike that, I can completely understand, and I hope this warning will save you a lot of reading.

Also, this won't go into just headcanon territory, I'll put those in a separate post. Everything here I'll try to keep based on actual information from the comics and what I made of them.

That said...

Let's take a look at this scene:

(for a quick translation of the important part, the mother says: "No, Phobos, Meridian is meant for your sister. That's the law. The crown is hers.)

What we can see here are a few very important things:

1. Phobos is at most 5 years older than Elyon.

2. The name "Phobos" is not an edgy nickname he gave himself. Five-year-olds don't go around calling themselves Phobos. So his parents, for some reason, gave him that name.

3. His mother is very adamant about him not even touching the crown and reminding him of his sisters' birthright.

So, after establishing what I would call more or less facts, what else can, relatively savely, be deduced here?

- Since Elyon never noticed anything weird about herself, she can't have aged slower than earth children. So neither can Phobos. This would mean that, as she was kidnapped after her mothers death as a baby, he would have been five. So, he either tried his best to rule at age five, or the council we see as Elyon rules stepped in for him for a while

- this would then mean two things: we need an explanation as to why Miriadel, Alborn and Galgheita fled explicitly from Phobos (I'll give my explanation a bit further down) and second, Phobos' reign of terror wasn't even thirteen years, and a lot of that time he was a child/teen and could not even have been mature enough to rule.

- This also means that Kandrakar pulled up the veil when Phobos was at most five, likely younger, and that the so called "Seal of Phobos" also existed at that time, as both the veil and the seal are seen in the flashback depicting Elyons abduction. For Kandrakar, this, too, I will try to explain soon, but as for the seal, I find it most plausible that the theory @ror-witch used in their fanfiction, of the seal being a royal heirloom and named after each ruler, is true.

- His and his mother's relationship was neither as bad as some assumptions go, but neither was it that good, probably, or at least it wasn't in his perception. See how his memory is of her cradling the baby the entire time and talking more about his sisters birthright than about what he has/can do? Yes, it's only a short memory, but I think it's clear that it's a summary of what he remembers of his mother.

- Phobos desire to rule Meridian does not stem from something deeply sinister, but rather from a childish spite. Five year old Phobos probably just wanted the crown cause it looked nice and shiny, and he was fabulous even back then, but after his mothers words, he sulked and decided to show her. That's his motivation.

So, now let's go a bit further and look at some other things we can deduce from the rest of the comics:

- Phobos has a huge dungeon, a wall of roses that turn people into more roses if they touch it and his plan for the annihilation of Meridian is "Well, Cedric and I hide in the castle and...we'll see". He hates the people of Meridian, but he doesn't seem to have it in him to directly attack anyone until Elyon is there and even here, when he has her knocked out in their duel or locked up as Endarno, he isn't unnecessarily cruel. He's not evil in nature, he's more of a very dangerous child throwing tantrums. ( Cedric is kinda similar, and they both start losing it toward the coronation, but I sincerely believe that before that, there would have been a chance for them to come around )

- The only person he ever tortures or even hurts directly is Cedric. Because one, he likes Cedric and so gets more extreme emotions around him, and two, Cedric never says anything, and just plays it of afterwards, so I don't know if he even fully realizes what he's doing, like a child hitting someone. If Cedric ever just said "Stop it, you're hurting me", Phobos would probably need an entire week to process that input.

- Phobos is VERY reclusive, and he doesn't want anyone to have even pictures of him, and while that could be a God complex, I get some highly insecure vibes out of it, in a vulnerable narcissist kinda way, in that he is massively overcompensating. I gotta admit, though, that I cannot put my finger on why, so maybe take this with a grain of salt and decide for yourself if you agree.

- Kandrakar never orders the guardians to help Meridian in any way, just to make sure nothing oozes out. They likely pulled up the veil for their own protection, so Phobos wouldn't be able to spread far enough to become a real danger, rather than to protect innocent people, as clearly the Meridian people mean shit to them

- while the guards are widely feared in Meridian, Cedric seems to be viewed as... not very frightening or important, as some random merchant feels comfortable clinging to his cape (and rightfully so, apparently, as Cedric just tells him to piss off and doesn't care any further). This further leads me to believe that Cedric is rather unhealthy devoted to Phobos and his tantrums while their shitty ass reign leaves a lot of free space for unsuited people to become guards and tyranize the people.

- the King and Queen seem to have died in rapid succession, and shortly after the scene shown above, yet she looks perfectly healthy in that scene.

Now, what do I make of all this?

I believe the line of events to be as follows:

I don't think Phobos traveling back in time is a viable theory for mainly two reasons: I think his mother would be less chill around him if she saw/heard about his reign herself, and I believe that it would have been mentioned somewhere along the way if that were the case. Instead, what I believe happened is that the oracle had a vague vision of Phobos nearly taking over Kandrakar. Deciding in their random mood swings that today was a day of action, they had the people of Meridian informed that the next male born to a queen would become a dangerous tyrant, pulled up a veil and set their guardians to make sure nothing oozed out.

The veil, of course, made the people of Meridian feel trapped and a horror of the unborn prince who would ruin their lives spread.

So, when Weira gave birth to that prince, a full blown panic spread, so much so that she, in a fit of hysterical emotion, named him after that boust of panic. Of course, people tried to kill the prince basically from the moment he was born, and he was met with barely concealed resentment.

Soon after, Weira and her husband died - whether they were killed, or fell ill, or died in an accident, I have no idea, but I wouldn't completely rule out an assassination either aimed at Phobos and accidentally hitting them or the strain making at least one of them fall terminally ill.

Either the people rioted and Phobos' magic panic reaction or the leftover loyal guard was enough to fight them back, or the people succumbed to their fate at this point, slumping into the state of despair seen throughout the comics. But in the end, five year old Phobos had to be handed the throne. I assume the council still had some say at this point, but he did manage to get all pictures of him destroyed - this order was likely due to the fact that they were mostly caricatures.

So he grew up with the very volatile combination of a shitton of power and no one able to tell him if he was being stupid on one hand, and feeling unloved and unwanted on the other. He withdrew, likely also due to countless assassination attempts or things he perceived as such, and went into a negative feedback loop of being unable to mature and take responsibility, therefore being a shit ruler, therefore being hated, therefore having no one to help him, therefore being unable to face and grow from his mistakes, rinse and repeat.

So, Meridian was plunged into chaos, yet he seemed fine more or less just sitting in the new playroom he made for himself in the gardens, sporadically giving out an order or two and having generally no idea about anything that didn't directly concern him.

Enter Elyon. Now, she send him of the rails, as she was a danger to his lifestyle AND a reminder of all the sentiments he'd be drowning in alcohol if he wasn't too much of a recluse and education denier to know of that option. He doesn't even try. He just lets Cedric, the one person he trusts, handle her, like everything else, and somewhat plays along sometimes, when he feels like it. This is where he passes the point of no return and starts actually trying to kill people, culminating in him creating an army to wipe out Meridian. I still believe that even at this point, in his head, what he's doing is just throwing a nice toy out the window just so his sister won't have it.

[gwynposting]

All Along the Watchtower (Ch. 1)

This story takes place after the “All Along the Watchtower” ending of Cyberpunk 2077, so spoilers ahead.

NSFW fic, but not centered on smut.

If you prefer reading on AO3, click here.

Silence hung over the camp, draped upon the nomads like dewed grass on a summer morning - naught but the gentle sound of air rustling through the bushes disturbed the encampment. The merry sounds of laughter and companionship drifting ever so slowly over the evening, fading away as one by one the members of the Aldecados said their farewells and returned to the seclusion of their tents.

V stood on the porch to her makeshift abode, leaning against a metal railing that had seen far too many summers, slowly weathered down through corrosive sandstorms. She felt the cold metal of a small container in her hands, running her fingers along the ornaments that adorned it. V gave a practiced flick, unlatching the cigarette case and allowing it to unfold. A few of Evelyn’s original cigarettes still remained. On more than one occasion, V had eyed those nicotine sticks, overwhelmed with the stresses of Night City that seemed to perpetually weigh down on her. Though, she wasn’t sure if that was her or Johnny that constantly itched for their chemical release. But she always felt like she couldn’t disturb them, in a way. Whether it was for hers or Judy’s sake, she didn’t really know. She would only pass Judy along the occasional smoke when she asked.

The creaking whine of buckling metal sheets prodded the gentle serenity of the cloudless night awake. V need not even turn her head before a knowing warmth crept about her waist, pulling her close, allowing her entire backside to be pulled into Judy’s caress. The sudden heat of Judy’s breath passing along her ear and neck sent a wave of ease through V. The muscles she had not even realized were taught began to slacken and the pestering thoughts that clouded her mind cleared.

Neither of the pair were quite sure how long they stood there, nor did they care. They were both free, truly free. Free of the accursed city that had claimed so many of their loved ones, the corruption and greed and hatred consuming them all. For the first time, they felt complete.

Judy’s voice, dancing soft whispers against V’s ears, sent shivers to her core, “I still never get used to how different the sky is all the way out here.” V followed Judy’s gaze upwards to the night sky.

“Looking up at it, I just get the overwhelming feeling to lie on our roof and get lost in the cosmos with you in my arms, wasting our nights away,” V mused, nuzzling her cheek against Judy’s.

“Makin’ up for lost time eh?” Judy joked.

“Something like that,” V muttered back, a smile across her lips. “It still blows my mind that something this amazing has eluded me my entire life.”

“Didja not get much starlight before you dove into Night City?” Judy questioned.

“Nah,” V replied, “the light pollution from NC was too intense, even out where the Nomads set up. Best we could see were the major stars and constellations,” she paused, “on a clear day, at least.”

“Makes me feel special,” Judy floated back, “to experience it all. Together.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” V replied.  

The pair stood by each others’ sides, pointing out particularly pretty stars or interesting shapes in the night sky. Each sparkling speck was given its own little personality and ecosystem, and they giggled and laughed at all the crazy alternate worlds that could possibly exist out there in the vast expanse of space.

“Hey, you see that big cluster of stuff right there?” V pointed to a particularly dense region of what she assumed were stars, “what do you think their story is?”

But her only response was the telltale slump of a Judy succumbing to the vestiges of exhaustion. Judy gingerly tugged the material of V’s long sleeve shirt, a silent request that V met. “Of course, hun,” V met Judy’s drooped eyes, half lidded, half clinging to the presence of her partner. Without another word, V placed a hand upon Judy’s back, and one in the cradle of her knees, scooping her up in a careful embrace. Judy’s fingers found purchase in V’s shirt, not so much for support, but to just feel more of this overwhelming being that she was blessed to have in her life.

Just as easily as she’d been picked up, Judy was placed down in bed. Each moment’s pass, Judy could feel the sleep take root, with every breath she felt herself sink lower and lower into comforting sleep, the soothing gaze of V’s eyes the only thing keeping her afloat. She looked up expectantly as V slid in beside her, bringing up their blankets to enclose them both. Judy could feel her guards slipping once more, overridden by the warmth of V’s presence.

“I…” she felt herself hesitating for the first time that night. Something caught her breath, her chest refused to give life to the words that wrestled within her heart. But before she could resolve the tension, V silenced her with pillowy lips, “Goodnight, Judy.”

***

Vulnerability, trust.

It was difficult to get used to the feeling again after everything fell apart the first time. To be trusted, to trust. To open yourself up to someone and have them share every piece of themselves with you. A piece of V died that day, when the Arasoka tower job fell through. She had never realized how much she had needed that closeness, how much she had missed it, until she began falling for Judy. The relic gave her a good distraction to ignore the incessant despair and loneliness. Every day she would wake up in one of the most populous cities on earth yet experience such soul-crushing isolation. It gave her a task to do, it was a matter of life and death. Nothing else mattered besides tracking down Hellman, or Hanako, or Evelyn. But her time with Judy cracked that facade.

And in her time in the Badlands helping the Aldecados, she couldn’t help feel jealous at times. The gnawing vice of self-doubt and isolation constantly weighed on her when she saw their family, albeit dysfunctional at times, together. Every night she would go to sleep questioning her own decision to leave her tribe, beaten back by the guilt of ‘losing’ the loved ones she’s made in Night City had she never made the journey.

Even now, as Judy lay next to her, wrapped up in her arms, she couldn’t help the fleeting thoughts that pinged the back of her head - someone close to you meant vulnerability, someone the bastards can take from you, or get to you through, someone for you to lose once more. It was a viscous feeling to wrestle with - live a miserable life of isolation yet remain safe from traumatic loss? Or open yourself to someone dear to you, but risk losing everything once more and fall even further into the black pit of despair that Night City lays out before you. Or even worse, lose yourself and leave them behind to suffer that miserable fate.

But even still, the thoughts were just that, fleeting. She did not care to entertain the thought of living life on the road without Judy, or anyone for that matter. She considered herself the luckiest person in Night City that she happened to be paired with Jackie Welles that fateful job, and now she considered herself infinitely more so now that she felt like she had a true family again, even if it meant dealing with Deshawn and Arasaka in the process. The loss of good people like Jackie, Saul, or Evelyn weighed down heavily upon V, but the lucky part about family is that they’re always going to be there to help share the burden.

V carefully ran each finger of her lover through her own. If she were still, V could detect the faint beat of Judy’s heart pumping blood to her finger tip, the rhythmic thump like a faint echo.

“I wish we could stay like this all day,” Judy called out softly, her voice laced with the gravely undertones of a night-owl caught in the morning.

V brought her lips against the bare shoulder before her, lingering, not wanting to break contact. “Hope I didn’t disturb your beauty sleep,” she said with similar exhaustion.

“Oh no, I’m a beut 24/7,” Judy instead took V’s hand in hers, bringing them to her lips and placing a kiss upon them.

“Oh yeah?” V’s lips curled up into a smile, “must explain why I can’t keep my hands off you.”

Judy lifted V’s arm up, just enough to allow her to maneuver, before flipping over to face V. Once again, she was caught off guard by her beauty, and it sent butterflies through her core merely gazing up into the half-lidded eyes of her lover. The feeling amplified as V brought a hand to her forehead, brushing aside the bedtime mess of a hairdo behind her ear.

“Y’know,” Judy began, “a little birdy told me it’s someone’s birthday.”

V rose an inquisitive eyebrow, “Oh yeah? And who’s that.”

Judy looked up at her with innocent eyes, “Oh, Misty and I have been talking lately~”

“Misty eh, she knows how much I don’t like to celebrate it. You haven’t been getting any ideas in that pretty head of yours have you?”

Judy looked off to the side, a cheeky grin on her face, “before I say anything else, I’d like to formally implicate Panam as well.”

“Tsk tsk, already placing blame. What am I going to do with you,” V said, climbing on top of Judy, pinning her arms to either side. Her hair fell gracefully over her face.

“Do what you must,” Judy said in a dramatic voice, “I have already won.”

“Later,” V closed the distance and placed a tender kiss on Judy’s lips, “let’s go and grab some breakfast mm?”

“Aww, you’re no fun,” Judy whined.

“I said later, not never,” V smirked, “c’mon.”

***

A dry heat radiated out from the fire pit, a bastion of warmth pushing against the encroaching cool of the desert evening. The mood was quiet, disturbed only by the crackling of wood and the melodious strings of the guitar. The familiar weight of Judy’s head rested upon V’s shoulders. Judy closed her eyes and listened closely, her ear pressed against V’s skin, to feel the soothing rumble of V’s hummed melody. Together they swayed, it had been a perfect day for V, a day with family.

She saw Panam get up and move next to her, a glowing smile upon her face. “Now I know you don’t like doing stuff for your birthday, but we all wanted to give you something. As thanks for being such an important part of our family.”

“Ah jeez, I don’t know what to say,” V replied with a nervous chuckle.

“It was Judy’s idea, I just sort-of ran with it.” Panam smirked.

“Sounds about right,” V chuckled.

Panam reached back into her pocket and pulled out a small shard, thrusting it forward.

“What’s this?” V questioned, reaching out and taking it.

“You’ll see,” Panam replied.

V placed the chip in her slot and the files began uploading.

She felt Judy take her right hand in hers. The chip displayed an image - no, a video. Viktor. Working in his shop.

“Hey V!” his familiar voice filled her ears, as if she were standing right there next to him. “How’s life out there in the desert? You gettin’ some sun, some fresh air in those lungs? Don’t forget to get yourself a checkup every once and a while. Any dust or dirt gets under that insulation, you’re done. ‘Course, decent ripper’s harder to find out there than a four-star hotel. So actually - how ‘bout you just stop by when you’re back in the city, hm? Think I could swing a little discount for an old regular like you… ‘Till next time V.”

V hadn’t realized until after his message came to a close that she was already bawling - tears streaming down her face, clutching Judy’s hand tightly. God, she had missed Viktor. He had been there for her every single step of the way, through all the good but especially all the bad. She chuckled through shaky breath, that’s just the kind of message bashful ol’ Vik would send too.

But soon after the message closed, another appeared. It was Mama Welles. Then after her, Mitch, then Judy, then Misty. All people who had been so influential in her struggles through Night City. As Misty’s message, proclaiming a wonderful life ahead, came to a close, V was a complete mess. Her friends held her close, Panam leaning on her left shoulder and Judy her right. They gave her time to work through all the complex emotions she was going through. “I’m so lucky,” she stuttered through her breaths, “to have all of you.”

“Nah V,” came Judy’s smooth voice, “we’re lucky to have you .” She kissed V’s cheek and whispered, “Happy birthday babe.”

“Thanks, Judy. Thanks Panam, just…” she paused, “thank you every single one of you,” she looked around the bonfire circle at the other Aldecados.

And there Judy and V sat, letting the bonfire slowly wane over the hour as the others slowly began to return to their tents for a night’s sleep. Not a word was said, they didn’t need to. It wasn’t until the dying light of the fire dwindled to gentle cinders in ash did V finally break the silence, “I couldn’t have asked for a better gift.”

“I know,” Judy replied, “nothing better than family.” She allowed the silence to linger, “Though, I did have one more thing. From me to you.”

“Judy,” V whined, “you’ve already done so much for me today, you really didn’t need to.”

“Hush now,” Judy shushed, removing herself from V’s shoulder and standing up, holding V’s hand. “Come with me.”

V stood, her legs aching from inaction, and followed Judy’s lead back to their room. It was dimly lit, with colorful mood lights giving her eyes a gentle embrace. V knew where this was going, “Don’t remember seeing a bow wrapped around you.”

Judy let out a little chuckle, “Pssh. Later.” She pointed to the bed, “Sit, I got something for you.”

V obediently did as she was told, taking off her boots and tossing them to the side, getting comfortable. “You know how in my message, just then, I was talking about how I’m bad talking about my feelings?”

“Yeah..” V said.

“Well, after I recorded that, I came up with something that maybe can help you understand. It seems so obvious lookin’ back.”

V tilted her head in curiosity, before Judy pulled out the braindance headset. Then, it clicked.

“I uh, went and scrolled something for you. I went through to make sure nothing went wrong with the recording, but I didn’t edit anything. So, what’s in there is what’s in here,” she poked at her chest.

“Judy… I don’t know what to say,” V said.

“Heh. Apparently neither did I, which is why I wanted to do this.” Judy sat herself besides V and handed her the headset. “I’ll be here the entire time, if you want to do this.”

“Of course, Judy. This means so much to me.” V put the headset on and leaned back on the mattress as Judy looked over her. When she looked up at Judy, she noticed some of the classic tells she gave off when she was nervous - her bottom lip caught between her teeth, the rhythmic tap of her foot, a hand continuously sweeping through her hair. V outstretched a hand to Judy, who readily took it in her own.

V started up the BD, and instantly the lights began their sequence, whisking her away.

She was a bit disoriented, but she felt something very familiar to what she had before. She was in bed, warmth clutching her, surrounding her. She felt the light tickle of breath against the nape of her neck. But it ran deeper than that, it was more than physical. She felt things, familiar, but different. She felt… free. Safe. Loved. Like she would be protected from every problem in the world, as if she had finally escaped the tangled and matted web that controlled her for so long. And then she turned around.

And she saw V, and her heart fluttered. Her breath hitched, her pulse quickened. She caught the bottom of her lip between her teeth. It was as if she fell in love again each time she looked upon V’s face, her face. She felt a thousand different emotions at once, part of her wanted to jump V’s bones, and the other simply wanted to gaze upon her striking features for hours.

This moment was perfect. She was perfect, and she didn’t want to ever let go.

And then, it was over. V felt herself come out of the trance. She was back in her own shoes, a bit disoriented. Judy was looking down upon her, nervous as ever, grasping her hand.

V removed the headset and surged forward, embracing Judy in a passionate kiss.

“I love you,” Judy whispered, a pleading request.

“I fucking love you too,” V replied, taking Judy once more. Judy was hers, and she was Judy’s. Their lips were like fire, emblazoned with passion. Each kiss along each others’ lips and jaw leaving smouldering marks of love. They breathed and moaned out as they found purchase upon one another as hands began to roam across each others’ bodies. Nothing could fulfill the desire each other felt, so they grasped and clutched for more and more .

Without breaking their kiss, V scooped Judy up and placed her down on the bed, straddling her. Judy instantly wrapped her legs around V and brought her close. V leaned in and found the crook of Judy’s neck. Judy moaned out and held V there, urging her to never let go. But V had other plans, unclasping the straps over Judy’s favorite suspenders and rolling them off. Then followed her shirt straps, slowly unfurling until Judy’s chest lay bare, her excitement visible. Judy looked up to V, pleading with her eyes.

“God,” V muttered under her breath, “you’re so fucking hot.”

Judy’s flustered smile turned into a gasp as V took a nipple in her mouth, her fingers capturing the other. Judy shot a hand through V’s hair, more as a handhold than a guiding hand. V would be taking the reins for now, and Judy would be putty in her hands. Each soft mewling and gasp for air sent electricity through V’s core. She wanted more.

Every inch she descended down brought more sounds prowling out of Judy. As she reached the end of Judy’s expanse, where skin met clothing once more, she looked up to Judy. She was going to get her way.

She was met with a wordless request for more - Judy’s face was lined with desperation. But V wanted to hear how much she needed it, how much she wanted to be taken then and there. A wordless response was given to a silent request, as V looked up with a knowing smirk and raised eyebrow.

“Please,” was all Judy could muster, drawn out with longing.

“We both know you can do better than that, babe.”

“God V, fucking please.” Judy cried out as V teased a passing hand over her crotch.

“Good girl,” V cooed. She carefully unfurled Judy’s overalls, bit by bit exposing Judy’s tender skin to the air, revealing goosebumps.

V lazily placed kisses along each inch of skin. As she reached Judy’s pelvis, she began to feel the excitement and needy response as Judy began to push into V to get more than V’s oh-so-gentle contact. But V saw it fit to torture the poor women.

V had to hold herself back from going straight for Judy’s sex. As much as she wanted it, right now she wanted to see Judy become unraveled under her, to watch her become needy and desperate for release. Instead, V began to work around Judy’s inner thighs, oh so cheekily dancing around the throbbing wetness. The eruption of eager moans were music to her ears as she continued. But she didn’t stop there, V began to move away and travel further down.

“Nooo,” Judy whimpered, reaching out after V’s descending head, finding nothing.

“Oh?” V cooed with a knowing smile, “is there something you needed?”

“Fuck, V,” Judy vented.

“Well yes, that’s the idea.”

“ Please ,” Judy responded more forcefully than the last time, “I need this. Please.”

“Now how can I say no to that,” V quickly returned back and began rolling down Judy’s pair of cotton panties, no longer wanting to waste any more time on teasing or foreplay. With them finally loose and discarded, V placed a loving kiss at the sole of Judy’s feet before returning.

V brought her tongue along Judy’s sex. Judy gasped out and immediately found purchase within V’s soft locks. V sent shockwaves through Judy’s body with each brushing pass of her tongue over Judy’s clit. Judy’s toes crinkled and unfurled as she tried to comprehend the pleasure coursing through her body, her legs writhed left and right. With every second she desired more, needed more. Her motions began to reflect the base hunger that surged through her as she began to grind back into V’s waiting maw.

Judy’s rut continued until she felt herself reach the tipping point, and her entire body flexed and ached as she came unraveled, her hips arching up, seeking every single ounce of pressure possible against V’s deft tongue. V eased Judy through her through her orgasm, letting her partner use her almost as a toy, letting her grind and push against her as her body convulsed.

Soon after, Judy began to relax and collapsed back onto the mattress. Beads of sweat lined her body, slowly rising and falling to the tune of her slowing breath. She brought a hand and swept it through the hair that had begun sticking to her forehead. She looked down to a smiling V.

“I will never get tired of seeing that,” V cooed, running a hand along her messy jawline, wiping it dry, before crawling up Judy’s exhausted body and looking her in the eyes. Judy bridged the distance and immediately pressed her lips against V’s. The two embraced for what felt like hours, allowing the emotional high last for as long as possible until their kiss became slow and methodical. Judy accented their embrace as she caught V’s bottom lip in her teeth, before slowly moving away. V let out a small whimper, attempting to follow Judy’s retreat, but she was pushed back up by Judy’s hand.

“Time for the birthday girl to get some love, hmm?” Judy smirked. With a smooth motion, she rotated them both so that Judy was on top. “I think you’re a little overdressed,” she smirked. Judy began by stripping V’s shirt, and gave her left nipple a small love bite before traversing down to her skintight pants.

“What have we here,” Judy cooed as she pressed a hand against the prominent bulge of V’s cock, aching against the straining fabric, “it feels so angry~”

“It’s cause you were such a tease today,” V gasped, thinking back to the sneaky flashes and glancing touches Judy subjected her to throughout the day.

“Revenge for this morning,” Judy replied smoothly. But now was no time for prolonged torture, they both knew what they needed. Judy deftly unzipped V’s jeans, and helped her shimmy out of their tight embrace.

V’s cock stood rigid at attention, pulsing with need and want. Normally Judy would like to have spent a good while making V desperate for her before finally giving in, but neither of them could stand to wait a single second more. Judy carefully straddled V’s hip and aligned her cock before making her descent. Both exhaled deep, low growls as Judy sheathed herself to the hilt.

V’s hands began to roam across Judy’s hips, letting her fingers squeeze down and grab, making slow pushes and pulls that sent electricity through her cock. Judy gently collapsed on V and took her lips against hers once more. Together they maintained a slow and steady grind, their passionate kiss only to be interrupted by sudden moans and gasps of pleasure, as each brought the other closer and closer to the edge.

With each slow thrust, they began to get increasingly impatient, as each began to feel the edge draw near. V’s hips became less and less disciplined and Judy responded in turn. Their rhythm became disjointed and out of sync, fueled by sheer desperation, until Judy pushed down one last time and came undone. She gasped and her entire body tensed up, bringing V along with her. Together they unraveled, sweeping each other in their arms and bracing themselves through the electricity that seemed to pass through each others’ bodies. Judy moans were muffled in the crook of V’s neck as V deposited her seed with short but powerful thrusts.

They remained in each other's embrace, their skin flushed red and their hearts racing. V could not help the tears that formed in her eyes. Before she could blink or swipe them away, Judy noticed and looked down with worry. V closed her eyes and shook her head with a smile on her face, understanding the worry in Judy’s eyes. “I’m okay, Judy. I just fucking love you, is all.”

Judy let out a silent laugh, a light-hearted exhale of relief, “I love you, V,” she said, before leaning down once more to press her lips against V’s.

[asilverjackal]

ok, ya’ll wanted it.

–1982, BEDFORD-STUYVESANT.

She puts on diamond earrings. Salvatore likes her to dress up, after all. Now, Delores’ maternal-stand ins had not only been the occasional aunt who believed in what was essentially conservative wear, but these figures were primarily women such as Bertha Jones, Lorna Howard. Two who a very young Delores knew, on a practical instinctive level, that she had to not aspire to be, but become if she desired to be a woman worthy of respect. Salvatore, however, has a particular taste in which prevents Delores from fully following the image the old women laid out in her youth. What he finds alluring is a shade of red on full lips, a hue so strong that she would have once considered it whorish. For rich perfumes that maintained their fragrance in full strength after the first hour. And for a dress that clung to her figure in the right places, also exposing the right amount of cleavage. While wearing such a thing, it was expected that Delores would appear respectable. The black furred caplet draped over her slim shoulders truly brings forth that sort of look. “Mrs. Lombardi.” Upon the sight of the adult descending from the stairway, Roxanne the babysitter stops her pursuit in making Isabelle squawk and coo. Bashful yet bold, that Southern accent her step-mother scolds her for is laced in her starstruck observation: “y’look like a movie star.” Much to Roxanne’s dismay, ‘Mrs. Lombardi’s’ face does not light up. To an unworldly sixteen-year-old, she looks indifferent responding, “thank you.” This was Salvatore’s taste.   He is no slob, but Delores believes age is doing him well all the same. Despite his upbringing, he holds fondness towards what she deems ‘high art’: stories from foreign cultures, statues where men and women bare it all with no shame have a place in their home, she believes he wants to learn another language, too. Whether he will achieve it or not, she does not know. But all and all, he was looking to life beyond Brooklyn - and yet, he was not truly refined in Delores’ mind. For not only was he ‘the most talkative man she knew,’ but he failed to observe social rules in ways he ought to have. Instead, he approached all matters as though he was a King who ran the entire borough, businesses and all. This is why he would sweep his dark locks back, don a three-piece suit and shamelessly lay his whole palm against the horn. Ignoring Cassie’s pleas to tell Daddy ‘hi,’ Delores bids Roxanne goodbye. Entering the dark evening with one eyebrow higher than the other. “What is your problem?” The question slides off her tongue remarkably smooth. He lifts his hand, gesturing to nothing with a little smile on his lips. As though he didn’t just wake many sleeping babies. “I wanted to make sure you were ready!” “Have I ever been late?” She sits beside him. In a moment of thought, lips pull to the side in a moment of thought. Soon he’s nodding. “I can recall three times!” Love. It’s why this sort of conversation is meaningless in the long term of things. In moments to come, lips will lock, a teasing question will be uttered: “did you miss me?” As if his absence has occurred over hours and days.

“How could I when I knew I was going to see you?” And though her answer is one of blunt honesty, tenderness is attached to each word.  

Sal believes Delores holds obligation to Cassandra and Isabelle, the house has to be cared for in a similar sense as well. And between this and that, nights like these were very essential to him. Delores acknowledges that the areas he enjoys taking her to have changed with age, as well. In the very beginning, there was a focus on fun. But now, Donna Summer’s voice could only be heard on record as more silent settings were traveled to.

In this restaurant, she gathers lettuce and tomato on her fork. Meanwhile, he savors the taste of soft ice cream, his dinner plates have been long-gone. Delores lifts her gaze, sights traveling to her left. As expected, those blue eyes were still on her. “That woman has been looking at me the entire night.” Too good to return a long-term glance, to above it all, she focuses on her business and the remains of the salad before her.

Surely, the young woman is wondering how these two could sit at a booth without the company of four. They dressed although they came from a background with money, yet there had been something so ‘shady’ of such a couple.

Salvatore has no problem making prolonged eye contact with the culprit. A blonde twenty-something, maybe thirty. Her hair has a lot of volume, a lot of body. Shoulder-pads protrude in her own suit. Her own partner is a man, suited and young. Yuppies, he concludes. It’s not enough to witness her surprise at the sight of him gazing her way, Sal is shameless enough to raise his hand in greeting.

And for that Delores hisses low and sharp, “Salvatore!”  

“What?” He knows he’s done wrong, and yet he looks to her with curious eyes. Almost childish, “she’s wondering if you’re real!” What he receives is a hum of disapproval, his innocent demeanor dissolves. “Hey. Look at me.” She’s focused on the leafy greens, “Dolly, look at me.” There’s still no meeting of the eyes, but he goes on to speak carefree, “the service was respectable, the food was good, what else could we want?”

Delores looks at him, but it is a cold gaze he receives. “I want people to mind their own business.”

He smiles, “Forget about them. Get closer to me – c’mere Dolly.” Fork down, she obliges. Scooting close, allowing his arm to fall over her, allowing herself to inhale his cologne. Of course, the twenty-something couple fully in her view range now. They dare not look now even as the interracial pair grows more intimate. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”  

“Like what?”

“Well.” There comes a grunt as he grows more comfortable in his seat, “I’m going over some old ground, that’s all. I told you, what I think I would like-“ think, not certain. “-is a big family.”

“I remember.” Even with a nod, she is also perplexed at the concept. Cassandra was an unexpected pregnancy, Sal wanted Isabelle. And Delores could understand why: she has no fond memories of being an only child. Child birth was unpleasant, though delivering both girls was a smooth process. Yet, from what Delores knows, her own mother passed on through giving birth to her. So even after Cassie, after Belle, succumbing to a similar fate stays in her mind.

“So, if we have more kids.” A pause, he begins to think of a good number, “ten, thirty…”

“Thirty?” She knew he couldn’t have been serious.

“I said big!” He laughs, “But, really Dolly, in the long term of things I don’t want any of our – future girls, or current girls, to wonder why we have different last names.” No breaking eye contact, she feels drawn in – yet intimidated all the same. Her breasts rise, they fall as she watches him fish in his back pocket. Butterflies even come, fluttering in her abdomen. Before she knows it, a box is presented to her. A small silver band inside, “I want you to marry me.”

She stayed in the moment longer than she should have. 

“You hesitated.” “I told you yes.” And this is how their night ends. Sal’s hands on the wheel, looking forward into the night. Delores’ hands in her lap, finger without a ring. The box has returned to Sal’s pocket, and Delores supposes she will never see it again as he said this was all okay. He would get his money back, get something she wanted.

“You told me yes after seven seconds!” “You’re going to sit here and act like I don’t love you or something.” “Look,” He gestures to himself, one hand on the wheel. “I get that you love me. I don’t have doubts about that, Dolly. But do you know what you always do?” She looks to him, eyes squinted and a tone so sharp it could cut: “what do I do?” With a nod to himself, he answers, “you pussyfoot around. That’s what you do.” Had they not been on the road - had Delores not desired to return home to her daughters safe and sound: she would have slapped this man across the face. “Don’t say that to me.” “Well!” A rough shrug, “It’s what you do! We wouldn’t be where we are now if it weren’t for me!” Rather than responding, Delores huffs. Head forward, hands folded. “Like when you didn’t want to meet Aunt Penny.” And yet Sal still speaks, determined to make a point. “What?” “I told you, ‘Dolly, I want you to meet my aunt.’ But! Back then you didn’t even hesitate! You bluntly said no to my face!” His recount is not even slightly exaggerated, Delores had done this. Yet, she had done this for personal reasons that she feels far too embarrassed to disclose. “I’m not the person I was then.” But Delores can admit this. “Ah,” He parks at the curb of their home, “we never really outgrow all our traits.” Her lips part as he unfastens himself and steps out the car. Only thinking that if she had not been blessed with the patience of a saint, if she did not care about Roxanne seeing her employers in a state less than ideal, she would have backhanded him now. However, as he unlocks the door, she ensures he hears her low hiss. “Damn you and your masculine pride.” Sal had to blink. “What?” At this point, Delores had no desire to speak to the teenager in their home. It would be rude of her, Delores felt, but at the same time no obligations bounded her. Therefore, she marches up the stairs in her heels, ignoring the fact she was even greeted. The payment and send-off were left to Sal and his smart mouth.  

Diamond earrings were the first to be removed, then the necklace. She was in the process of removing simpler rings when spotting Salvatore’s reflection at her vanity. “So why are you in a bad mood?” He speaks so curious, it’s a wonder she fails to roll her eyes. “Salvatore, I’m not playing into any more of your little games tonight.” “Hey! I’m just letting you know that Roxy was wondering what was wrong with you.” “Roxy can stay in her place.” Hearing such a apathetic sneer is how Salvatore knows he has pissed her off. Delores is not an aggressive woman – Sal deems her to superbly sweet, but her mouth is full of venom when enraged. The critical thoughts in her mind are released, and even if it does not wound someone: such exposed scorn has you bewildered. He has never seen Delores at a limit in which all her rage is unleashed – part of him doubts she could ever be filled with rage. And again, another part of him does not wish to know if such a part exists. And for that, he desires to calm her down. “Hey, Dolly.” Hands rub at slender shoulders, sliding down to her upper arms. “I’m sorry.” Lips are pressed at the top of her head, she shuts her eyes when he kisses the space between eye and ear. “Damn me. Damn me and my masculine, Italian pride!” “Um-hm.” His descend to the floor is a gradual gesture. A position no other woman, or man, would dare find him in for any context. Below her, he takes slender, dainty hands into his own for a caress. “But you gotta understand this wasn’t a spur of the moment thing. I’ve been thinking of this for a very long time.” He raises her palms, lips pressing against brown knuckles. “I expected a nice dinner.” An ordinary dinner, she means.  “Why are you above this?” She gives no reply, but her stare does not wander or weaken. “I wanted you to have the sort of engagement story that – that you could tell our youngest granddaughter when she’s in need of advice.” Delores finds herself shaking her head in disbelief. But contempt is not in this gesture, his silly nature has charm. “I want you to be my wife. I want you to be Delores Lombardi…” she can hear him utter this among other sweet little declarations. “I’m not above any of this.” Delores finally speaks, “I love you.” A pause, “I want to marry you.” “Then why did you hesitate?” “Because.” Because she thought of change. But now, here in the privacy of her home she is thinking of their wedding, where Italian men and their wives sit. Associates of Salvatore, not her own. She wonders what could that publicity mean, even in a small circle? “I’m scared.” “Of what, Dolly?” He’s looking up, “I know you’re not scared of me. We’re basically married right now. I moved you here. We had Belle. The neighbors know us. But when I look at your pretty hands, I don’t see a ring. And that throws me off.” She watches as he pulls into his pocket: performing an action all too familiar. And before her is the silver band that he slides on her digit himself. Delores finds her breath hitch; her whimper is odd, bursting from her mouth without control. A lover of romance, many of the books she read would conclude with a proposal. But she never imagined what a proposal would be like for her in reality. She refused to lay in bed beside Sal at night, thinking, obsessing when he would show her a ring. Perhaps she did believe herself to be above it – if not excluded from such a gesture. Those she desired in her youth, she never spent time with. She was far too quiet for a bad boy’s taste.  Years would pass, and Delores felt her likely spouse would be far older than her. Age would have him understand her, and her own history with elders would cause her to understand him. And though they would be wed, Delores knew it would in ways – be a marriage based upon circumstance and benefits. Again she feels butterflies, looking down to the man knelt before her. A mere three years older, handsome, he makes her scoff, he makes her roll her eyes. He talks too much and yet, she loves him more than she has loved anyone. And the circumstances of this love terrify her. Still, it’s tears of glee, not sorrow, that slide down her cheeks. “Look at you.” He’s teasing, she feels embarrassed. “You’re beautiful.”  Delores can feel his hand gently stroking at her inner thigh, Salvatore has that access from this position. “Lean back.” She complies.

[asernolonger]

Dreamscape Drabble #2: A Dragoon’s Revenge

(Mun note: Underneath the read more, there is gore, body horror, and blood about. You have been forewarned!)

Still, she was trapped in this bizarre place. And still, she was reliving her memories. Her training had flashed by, as had her ascension through the ranks. Her first few kills as a proper dragoon had also been fleeting, as had the manifestation of what she now knew to be the Echo... but then, that memory came up. When she first met him.

A handsome, playful, kind, truly-noble man. A fellow dragoon, who was only a few years more experienced than her. A fellow lowborn, who only had the good fortune of being employed in the service of a High House before he could end up like Selenie. He was the calm to her raging storm. He didn’t care about the fact she couldn’t read, and he accepted her for who she was. If anything, he was happy to take her reports and write them down for her. 

His name was Ser Rapheal Alexandre. And, for the first time in her life, Selenie knew love. They fought together, they shared meals together, and yes, they’d even slept together a few times. He was the perfect type of man for Selenie.

But it was not meant to be, for the fates were never truly kind, as she would soon discover.

The mission had started off fine. Fend off any threats to a transport of supplies from Tailfeather to Falcon’s Nest. Mere child’s play for the likes of the skilled dragoons. Or so they thought.

The heretics weren’t a problem. Neither were the biasts that soon followed. But then, he descended. A direct son of Nidhogg. Ancient, powerful, and far worse than anything they had fought before. A vicious, bloodthirsty, massive dragon by the name of Yilbegan. Midnight scales shielded his body. Crimson eyes shone with magic and rage as he began assaulting the carriage. And when it became obvious that he wouldn’t be so easily fended off, Rapheal made a decision. A decision that shattered Selenie. 

Being superior in rank to her, he ordered her to follow the transport and get it Falcon’s Nest while he stalled the monster of a dragon. She could do nothing but watch in horror as Yilbegan tossed Rapheal skywards, ripping off both of his arms as if they were fragile cloth. And, if that wasn’t enough, he then slammed the maimed dragoon back into the ground, and ripped him to shreds. Then, he devoured the valiant dragoon. And she watched it all. 

She was utterly heartbroken. And now, thoroughly enraged. But she knew his name, and knew his looks. It was time to become the absolute pinnacle of a dragoon, and to use what she now knew was the Echo to track him down and make him pay. And that’s exactly what she did. 

She honed and honed and honed until she was just shy of being on the level of the proper Azure Dragoon. She also personally raided lairs and hideouts to hunt her prey. The visions, though painful whenever they came, guided her further, until she found the son of Nidhogg, prowling for more victims in Dravania all on his lonesome. 

Before, she had been too weak, and forced to complete a mission assigned by the Holy See. But now, she was much stronger, and had no such ball and chain around her ankle.  And he was alone, and she knew he was cocky enough to think he could take her alone. She would kill him, and avenge her beloved.

Feeling more rage than ever before, she leapt from her high perch, spear bared, and impaled Yilbegan in his side, slashing towards his tail. After he roared in agony, he jerked, forcing her off. But the wound was deep enough to make him slow down. And she used that to her advantage-she leapt onto his back, and drove her spear into the base of his neck, leaning into it to force him to the ground, before pulling it out, preparing to clip at least one of his wings. He threw her off again, but this time, he managed a tail swipe, knocking her into a nearby cliff. He then charged at her, grazing her side with a swipe of his claws. She hissed at the pain, but used the closeness to grab around his neck, and swing back onto his back. With a savage, bloodthirsty cry, she dug her spear into the base of his right wing, and ripped through it, severing the appendage. She then reprised on his left wing, and the pain and blood loss was enough to make him fall to his side. She then leapt off his back, came frontward, and snarled at him.

“Time for you to have your heart ripped to pieces, you fucking monster!” 

For the final blow, she slammed her spear into the side of his chest, and ripped it wide open. There was no way he would survive this, and that was enough for her. He would die in agony and misery, just as Rapheal had. She turned to leave, but instead of cries of agony or simply silence, she heard a dark chuckle rumble from the dying dragon.

“Ah, I see... thou wast his beloved... ironic, is it not? Vengeance drives thee, as it does for mine sire... and while thou hath certainly mortally wounded me.... you shall not escape intact!” 

She barely had time to turn back to him before she felt his front claws suddenly seize her in a surprising grip for something on the verge of bleeding to death. He snapped the joints of her helmet, causing it to fall to the ground, and then, he did something Selenie would have never dreamed of.

He forced her face, with mouth open, into his bleeding chest. 

Before she could even react, his blood had begun to make its way down her throat. He laughed.

“Know the sins of thy ancestors, daughter of Ishgard, and be made to repent!” 

She struggled and squirmed, before managing to sever one of his forelegs enough to allow her to escape, though at the cost of her spear breaking apart and becoming embedded in the soon-to-be corpse. She coughed and sputtered, but it was too late for her. Some of Yilbegan’s blood must have made its way down her throat without her realizing it, despite her attempts to spit it out. 

She doubled over in searing agony. Her armor was quickly going from just right to uncomfortably tight as the pain made her grit her teeth and screw her eyes shut. And even unable to see it, she could feel what was happening to her. 

Intense, painful pressure under her nails that built until it ruptured. The warmth of blood trickling down from where the rupture had happened. The tips of her gauntlets had clearly been forced off, and an incessant itching sensation began from her hands. It crawled up her arms, only seeming to avoid her inner and outer elbow, lessening a bit at the shoulders, before making its way over her chest, and down her stomach. The sensation continued down her legs, avoiding the inside of her knees and lessening a bit over the front, with the same happening to her ankles. And then, she once again felt the intense pressure under her toenails, but it was worse, as the greaves were far less easy to shatter.

She screamed as the pressure built, before finally, she heard her greaves snap and shatter, falling from her legs and feet. Her eyes shot open, and Fury fucking preserve, it was far too bright, what was wrong with her eyes, it wasn’t this bright before-but then, pressure built behind her heel, and then, the same rupturing as her hands, followed by that same trickling warmth of her own blood trailing from the points of rupture. 

The worst was yet to come, she would soon discover. The itching made its way towards her back, and there were no words, vulgar or saintly, that could describe the insane, boundless pain that came across her upper back. Something was tearing loose from her back, pressing against her armor, and, eventually, the leather straps binding it gave way. She felt a chill as something wet spread itself from her back, but she barely had time to process that before a similar pressure built at the base of her spine. However, this time, given that her armor had already fallen to the ground, it happened far quicker. And she could feel it... lashing, twitching, damp with what she could only assume to be her own blood...

And then, agony in her skull. Simultaneously, she felt that same tearing on both sides of her head, just above her pointed ears. That sickening warmth dripped onto the tops of her ears, and she felt pain in her mouth. She ended up spitting and spitting...

By the Fury, those were her own teeth! She ran her tongue along the inside of her mouth, feeling sharp fangs instead of teeth. The horror dawned on her as she looked at her exposed nails... or what were now talons. Midnight blue talons. 

Her eyes began to water. She knew now what was on her back, what was lashing about at the base of her spine, and what had torn loose from the sides of her head. In the end, he had won.

She was a monster. A sin against nature. An abomination that could never return home. It was all too much.

Combined with the exhaustion that came with such a brutal, forced transformation, she collapsed on her stomach, and succumbed to the darkness of sleep’s embrace.