#i rose from the grave to make this set

[escelia]

New Sibling Just Dropped

Or Danny gets willingly isekai'd into the DCU and gets a twin out of it.

I know I disappeared from the face of the earth for a bit there, and there's stuff I should probably be updating, but I come baring different stuff this time :D

Just started this for fun, and I have at least one other chapter of it done, but idk how long this bout of inspiration will last, so I'm just rolling with it for now.

@flamingpudding look! i pulled a jason todd and rose from the grave!

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Danny was tired. The kind of tired you felt behind your eyes and in your bones, and weighed heavy with achievement. He was perched on the edge of a building in his ghost form looking over Amity Park with a soft smile as he watched Youngblood run through the park with human children, Cujo playfully on their heels. His galaxy cloak (which had been a coronation gift) billowed around his lap like a gas with stars twinkling inside. 

It had been a few years now since he took up the Crown of Fire and became High King of the Infinite Realms, and while he had accomplished many things since then, graduating from high school wasn't something on that list. It sucked that he wouldn't get to walk across the stage with Sam and Tucker, but in the face of all he'd been able to do for both Amity and the Infinite Realms, it was worth it. They coexisted now. There was still trouble every now and then, but Danny had helped the ghosts who insisted on staying in Amity Park find a place in their city where they could thrive.

Youngblood watched over the children of the city, Box Ghost started a box recycling center, Lunch Lady started a program to get food to families that couldn't afford it, and Pointdexter started reporting bullying at the school since he was already there. 

On the Realms' side, Danny shut down Walker's prison. Since it was his lair, he couldn't take it away from him completely, but it no longer housed the many ghosts the warden had considered "rule breakers." He'd given Walker a new set of rules to enforce and essentially took him under his wing as a royal soldier, kept under the close watch of Fight Knight, who'd defected from Pariah Dark so fast after his defeat that it was laughable. 

He'd done something similar with Skulker, though he was a harder case to crack. Unlike Walker, who was happy as long as he had a set of rules to enforce, Skulker wanted to keep hunting. He'd been recruited forcefully by Walker and Fright Knight after they caught him on his way to fight Danny again.

All in all, everything had begun to run smoothly now. The fatigue weighing on him reminded him that it had been hard to accomplish, and continuing to lead his double life hadn't made it any less exhausting. A cold breath rushed through his chest as he felt a familiar presence slide up next to him. 

"You didn't time out," Danny pointed out without looking to face the ghost beside him. Clockwork hummed in acknowledgment.

"Sometimes it's pleasant to watch time flow in person." It was Danny's turn to hum at him. 

"How are you feeling?" The Ancient asked thoughtfully. The younger ghost tilted his head pensively. 

"It's hard to say. I'm tired, but I'm happy. And also sad..." he paused to gather his thoughts. "I feel like I've done everything I needed to."

But not everything he wanted to do. 

"Go on," Clockwork pressed. The teenager did turn his head now to make a face at his mentor. If the guy knew how he felt and what he was going to say, why would he say it out loud? But the other just arched a brow at him and waited.

"Fine," he pouted. "I've spent so much time and energy finding places for everyone here. The GIW are gone, my parents stopped hunting ghosts, Jazz got into the psychology program at Stanford, Sam and Tucker are graduating today... I helped make that happen, I know I did! But they're moving on without me. They're growing up and I don't feel like I am."  

'I don't feel like I'm ready.'

Danny stopped to take a breath and wipe away the icy tears gathering in his eyes. He felt stupid for crying over it. He was 17 for Ancients' sake! Jazz would have told him he grew up too fast, but he still felt like a child. He had no idea what he was doing! And yet! And yet... he felt...

"But you also feel ancient, right? Like you've been around too long and seen too much?" Clockwork said as though he were reading from a script. Danny sulked. Stupid time ghost with his dumb Time Stream TV or whatever. 

"Yeah..."

"All Ancients feel that way. Though you may be feeling unbalanced in more ways than one because of how young you died and the fact you are half human."

"What do you mean?" Danny turned his whole body to face him now, tucking his knees under his chin and circling his arms around them. His cloak moved with him in inky black wisps and settled around him again like clouds of galaxies. 

Clockworks form shifted to that of a child.

"You feel young because you died young. However, it is the nature of humans to grow and change. While you may have died at 14, your childhood died before that. You yearn to grow and learn, while also being an incredibly powerful Ancient."

He supposed that made sense. He recalled all the years cleaning the lab before the portal had even been built, and the fighting and neglect (Jazz's words, not his) that spawned his disdain of Christmas even longer before. He wanted to go back to school. He wanted a reason to love Christmas. He wanted pets and family dinners that didn't come alive. He wanted to grow up properly.

"But you still want to help people," the ghost said as though Danny had been talking out loud or having his mind read. 

"I hate it when you do that," Danny complained. Clockwork just smiled smugly.

"I know." He laughed at the glare Danny threw him. 

"I have a proposition for you," the older ghost began. Danny perked up in intrigue. "I know of another earth dimension with some problems that need to be addressed. Your role as High King puts you in a position to be helpful."

"Their problem has to do with the Realms?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. Ectoplasm from the Realms is pooling into what are referred to on their planet as Lazarus Pits. They are both helpful and harmful as they do not dissipate into the air so they continually collect and concentrate emotion, but they do sometimes revive the dead."

Danny grimaced in disgust at the thought of dunking a person into a stagnant pool of contaminated ectoplasm. "That sounds disgusting."

"Quite," Clockwork agreed. 

"So what's your proposition?"

"Well, if it is agreeable to you, I would like to de-age your physical form and place you with a family that's had dealings with the Pits firsthand. I've found them to be quite charming." 

"Ah, so you want me to go in undercover?" Danny couldn't help but roll his eyes a little. It wasn't a half bad idea. He could try his hand at childhood again and still get to handle his duties as King Phantom. Leading a double life again would be easy enough, it was just stepping from one role into another. 

"Not at all." Clockwork smiled knowingly. Danny was officially suspicious of his ghost guardian. "This planet has had all kinds of dealings with the occult, and even humans with superpowers isn't that unusual. While I would advise against telling anyone you are a king right away, you are in fact just that: a king. You may do what you wish." 

For an ancient and wise time ghost, Danny thought Clockwork was really shit at hiding his expressions. Though he tried to keep the grin off his face, Danny could clearly see the twitching of his lips and gleam in his eyes that promised the old man was scheming. 

But to get his childhood back. Or, at least a semblance of one... it deserved consideration. Danny looked back out at the cityscape again. Sam and Tucker... they were down there graduating from high school without him. He'd been the one to encourage them to pull away from Team Phantom activities to zero in on their studies, but he didn't regret it. Sam wanted to major in environmental science and Tucker wanted to go to MIT and he just didn't fit into those plans. After Jazz left for Stanford, his parents often forgot he was still there. He'd managed to convince them to study ghosts properly instead of hunting them, and with a little help from the "friendly ghost King Phantom" they were given a place to start. They dove into their research with the same excitement and fervor they'd had all their lives. Which of course meant he went days, sometimes weeks, without seeing them emerge from the lab. It was easy enough to slip past them to the portal while they were distracted. 

The point was that he'd started to feel his anchor to this city, to this realm, start to dissipate as the people who kept him there started to break away from him. He still loved them, wanted to protect them, but they were safe and happy now. He felt fulfilled in his task of protecting them, but there was a buzzing beneath his skin to do more. 

Danny took a deep and controlled breath. He didn't need it in his ghost form, but it felt good to feel his lungs stretch to fullness. 

"When would I start?" He asked finally. The straight face Clockwork had been trying to keep, and he really was so bad at it, finally broke into a wide grin. 

"Right now. Everything is already in place and your duties in the Realms will be taken care of in your absence." 

Danny smiled softly at his guardian. Clockwork sure had a funny way of showing it, but he cared so deeply for the boy next to him that when Danny responded with a bad pun, he couldn't even be annoyed. 

"Well, no time like the present!" He winked.

Clockwork chuckled, and with a flash of light, he sent Danny on his way. 

The more time the older ghost spent with his young ward, the more he appreciated him. The Danny he’d come to know was nothing like the Danny’s from other worlds he’d encountered while trying to prevent Dan from existing. His Danny was now truly one of a kind. None of the others, not even the ones that eventually turned into Dan, had been Ancients. There would never be another Danny like him, and every universe was adjusting to include him should he ever decide to visit them. He had a place in any world, should he choose, but Clockwork knew he was needed most in the one he’d sent him to. It would be truly entertaining to watch the young Ancient settle into his role there, and Clockwork was actually finding himself looking forward to it.

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

It was dark and quiet a long while before Danny opened his eyes. And when he did open them it got really loud and really bright really fast. It belatedly occurred to him that he should have asked like a billion more questions before agreeing to be iseaki’d into a different dimension to join a family he knew literally nothing about. 

There was shouting before someone in what looked like a ninja cult uniform shoved a knife into his hand and pushed him in the path of a person in a different uniform. The man in front of him was dressed in blue and black and wearing a mask that covered his eyes, but Danny could see the surprised shape of his mouth before it morphed into something like anger. And then he was being lunged at.

He shrieked as he dodged out of the way. Not his most graceful save, but whatever. His voice was a bit shrill and his center of gravity felt way off. He must have actually been de-aged! He wondered how old he was now. He still felt light on his feet thanks to his ghost half which felt blessedly intact. But the other guy was fast and he ducked into a roll just in time to dodge whatever weapon he was holding. This guy meant business, but he had no idea why he was trying to kill him. 

‘Great, thanks Grandfather Clock for throwing me right back into the good ol’ days,’ he thought sarcastically. Nobody had attacked him for no good reason like that since Walker and Fright caught Skulker mid hunt for the very last time. 

What he now saw was a baton swung down from overhead and Danny knew he wouldn't dodge it in time, so he caught it with the flat of the blade that had been shoved into his hands.

“Wait! Why are we fighting?” Danny yelled, panicked as the guy pushed more force into it. The man's face twisted into something like confusion for a moment and he backed off just the tiniest bit before the scuffing of shoes to his right had him looking over just in time to see another guy in a mask, this time in red, rushing at him. He threw his hands up in surrender. 

“Wait!” He shrieked before he was absolutely bodied sideways into the ground. 

Why was he doing this? He was half ghost, he could have just gone intangible and disappeared. He didn't have to be body slammed into the ground. Wasn't he a child now? Did that guy in red actually just slam a whole child into the ground? 

“Red, hold on! This one's different!” 

“What do you mean?” The guy Red asked. He was still pinning Danny to the ground.

“Yeah, what do you mean?” Danny asked breathlessly, then whimpered, “Someone please tell me what's going on!” 

The one hovering over him must have seen something on his face that convinced him to not try and kill him anymore, because he grabbed him by the collar and started dragging him along. 

“We'll take him in for questioning. Don't let Robin see him.”

“Who's Robin?!”

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

It had been a long, arduous, and confusing journey from wherever they were to… well, wherever they were now. They'd blindfolded him for the transport so he still had no idea what was going on. He had learned that the guy with batons was Nightwing, and Red was actually Red Robin. The one they called Robin was a feral looking thing with swords, he was very small and stabby. Then there was Batman, and he totally threw off the whole bird theme but was easily the most intimidating. And that was all he knew so far. He'd been restrained at an interrogation table. 

Danny groaned and knocked his forehead onto the table. He really, really wished he'd asked Clockwork more questions. He'd at least been able to catch a glimpse of himself in the glass behind Batman. He looked like he was eleven or twelve again, which was not as young as he'd been expecting, but much more preferable than being a literal toddler. The group of people he’d been brought in by seemed to be heroes. They were all incredibly weary of him, but hadn’t gone out of their way to harm him since his capture. Though it was hard to call it a capture when there wasn’t a chase involved. 

“How old are you?” Batman asked suddenly. His voice was low and rough and somehow Danny could tell it didn't sound like that naturally. 

“Um, maybe eleven or twelve?” Danny replied carefully, picking up his head from the table and having the decency to look a little embarrassed. 

“And what's your name?” He looked like he was expecting something.

“My name is Danny, sir.” 

“Hmm…” 

It was quiet and awkward for a long moment.

“Why are you different from the other clones?” 

“Yeeeaaah, I'm not a clone.” Danny absolutely did not jump when the brute slammed the file folder shut in front of him. 

“We'll see what your DNA results have to say about that,” he said confidently before turning to leave, his cape dramatically flaring out behind him.

Sheesh, and he thought he’d had a flair for the dramatics.

‘Okay, time for some assessment,’ Danny thought to himself as he looked around the small closed room. It was soundproofed incredibly well. While he didn’t have super crazy hearing, it was enhanced by his ghost half, and combined with his other sharp senses, it tended to help him gather more information than others could. The most he could hear outside the room was a quiet hum of activity and nothing discernible. Still, he needed to decide how much he would say to these people. How much truth did he want to weave into his tale? These people clearly already had their own assumptions about him in mind, and while there was absolutely nothing wrong with being a clone, he knew he didn’t have what it took to keep up an act like that for long, which would just end up being awkward for everyone. 

He also would not be telling them about his status as Ghost King, per Clockwork’s suggestion. His captors seemed like the uptight sort, and revealing that he was a big, scary ghost monarch didn’t seem like it’d go over well. Telling them he was a halfa would probably get them off his back over the clone thing, at least. He went over the list in his head.

He was a halfa from another dimension, so he couldn’t be a clone.

He had no plans of fighting with anyone unless absolutely necessary. 

He did not have a way back to his other dimension. 

His name was Danny, and he didn’t have a family anymore.

He did not know why he was in the middle of whatever fight he woke up in. 

No, he didn’t know those people.

Danny must’ve been lost in thought for quite a while because his thoughts were interrupted by Batman bursting back through the door. The man’s demeanor had changed completely and he whipped off his cowl to reveal disheveled dark hair, blue eyes, and an expression of absolute heartbreak that accompanied his shuddering breaths. With the mask off, he reminded Danny a lot of his father. 

Batman searched his face and, much like Red Robin had before, seemed to notice something there. 

“She did it twice,” he muttered to himself. “Two of them this whole time and she didn’t tell me about either of them,” he said through gritted teeth. His frown deepened. Danny copied his frown. 

“Hey, are you okay?”

He still had no idea what was going on.

[bountydroid]

Darlin' pt 2

pt 1 / pt3

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x f!reader (right now there is nothing romantic, maybe in the future I am undecided.)

Description: Where the reader arguably makes the stupidest decision of her life, following a ghoul who obviously doesn't want her there.

TW: Talk of physical abuse and bad parenting

I stayed there on my knees in the mud for some time. Stunned at the events that just transpired. I had nowhere to go, my wrists were still bound, and I had no weapon. I was truly fucked. I slowly rose to my feet as I looked around. The ghoul took one of the men's guns and Slim's was far too heavy for me to carry. I stumbled my way to the grave to look down inside. Honcho wasn't moving, and if I crawled down in there to get his gun there was no way I was getting out again. I sighed. I thought back to the ghoul. He was my only chance, but he didn't want my help.

I sighed again as I looked down at the chicken before untying her and setting her free. "At least one of us can be free," I said smiling to her before she ran off. 

I stood there in the dark weighing my options when my eyes fell to the tracks in the mud. Maybe if I stick close to him, I'll be okay? At least until we reach a town. I would stay out of his way. Ideally, he wouldn't even know I was there. 

"You are insane," I said to myself before I started following the tracks in front of me, grabbing Slim's bag on my way past him.

After about a day I was exhausted. I had no idea if I was going in the right direction anymore, I was no tracker and I lost his prints a long time ago. I stopped and bent over, pressing my palms to my knees while trying to catch my breath when I heard a gun cock behind me.

"Now why would you be following me?" The ghoul said behind me. "You must be a special kind of stupid."

I couldn't help the exhausted laugh that bubbled in my throat as I slowly stood up. "I must be. If you killed me right now, it wouldn't make a difference. I'll die on my own anyway." I said still facing away from him, feeling defeated.

There was a long moment of silence before I finally looked behind me. There was no hint of emotion on the ghoul's face.

"Let me follow you until we reach a settlement. I'll stay out of your way. I won't ask you for anything. Please." I begged.

At this, he looked down at my still bound wrists and then back up at my sad face. He sighed as he holstered his gun. "Come here then girl," he said, waving me over. 

I tripped over my feet hurrying over to the man, raising my wrists as he took out his knife and cut me free. "Thank you, sir."

At this, it was his turn to laugh. "Sir? Well I'll be damned you are probably the only person left on this godforsaken planet with some manners."

I smiled up at him, I thought maybe he wasn't so scary after all.

"You will be completely silent. No complaining. If you annoy me, I will turn that pretty ass into jerky. Got it?" He said with a serious look on his face.

"Right. I can do that." I whispered looking down at my feet, feeling stupid. 

We walked until it was far too dark to continue. I silently collected firewood as he put his bag down on the ground. As I made my way to our makeshift camp I stood in front of him with my arms full of sticks.

"What?" He barked out, obviously annoyed. 

"Nothin'" I responded quickly before shuffling away from him embarrassed. 

I tried my best to arrange the wood before pulling the flint out of the bag I took off of Slim. A small fire started and I smiled. I was cold from all the mud plastered to the front of me and was relieved to feel the warmth of the fire. I looked over at the ghoul to see him leaning up against a tree with his hat covering his face. I hummed happily as I thought about the arrangement we came up with, although I couldn't help but want to talk to him, the walk has been incredibly boring. 

After a while of warming up by the fire, I got comfortable and drifted off to sleep.

-

I woke with a start. I looked around confused before I realized there was a boot in my side. I looked up at the ghoul hovering above me. "Get up darlin'." He said before walking away. "Time to move."

I quickly jumped up and grabbed my bag before running after him. This was the routine for days. I had honestly lost track of how long I had been following the ghoul. The silent marches from sun up to sun down were starting to get to me. I felt like I was going crazy.

"If my memory serves me well. I can be rid of you by tomorrow morning." He said with a sour tone.

"Okay," I responded quickly. I wanted to say as little as possible so he doesn't make true to his threat.

He looked back at me for a second as he continued to walk. "How did you get yourself into this mess anyway?"

I hesitated to answer, remembering he told me to stay silent. I looked up at him to see him scoff and turn away again. 

"I ran away from home. Was on my own for a while before I ran into those idiots. They found me while I was sleeping, I had no chance to escape until you killed them."

"Ran away from home?" He repeated back at me. "That was stupid."

"Well, I'd rather be eaten by a ghoul than continue to be beaten by my father," I responded curtly.

He laughed at this. "Getting feisty aren't we darlin'?"

"Sorry," I responded. "I shouldn't have said that."

"No, you shouldn't have." He said with a tone that I couldn't quite figure out. 

We walked in silence for what felt like forever, I tried to keep track of time by looking up at the sun but it was a cloudy, cold day. I couldn't help but start to shiver. My feet started to ache terribly, I wanted to ask for a break but I bit my tongue. No complaining had been one of his rules. I didn't want to push my luck with him. 

"Stop." He said abruptly, pulling me from my thoughts. 

"Wha-" I asked confused.

"Quiet." He interrupted as his hand slowly wrapped around his gun and turned towards me. 

Before I had a chance to react the barrel of his gun was next to my face and he shot a round off. 

I cried out as my ears rang painfully and I fell to the ground in shock. He said something to me, but I couldn't hear a thing. I held my head as I watched him walk behind me towards a man, dead on the ground. He rummaged through the dead man's pockets, pulling out a couple of caps before walking back towards me. 

"A fiend." I thought to myself.

Instead of saying anything he offered me his gloved hand. I hesitantly took it and let him pull me back to my feet. He mumbled something but I couldn't hear it. Not long after this, we made camp again.

-

The next day, I slowed down a lot, but we were very close to town. I was beyond exhausted and barely had any will to keep going. The distance was growing between us before he finally stopped and whipped around, visibly annoyed. 

"Walk faster. Remember what I said about annoying me darlin'." He barked at me. 

I stared at him quietly before saying. "Why not just leave me behind, then?"

"Don't tempt me." He grumbled as he roughly grabbed my arm and started dragging me along. 

A few minutes later we reached a small settlement. We got a couple of strange looks as he continued to drag me by my arm before finally letting go as soon as he set eyes on a "doctors" office. I just stood there. Unsure what to do now. I was in town, albeit a small one. There were only three buildings and a couple of food stalls. I could do whatever I wanted. I couldn't follow him anymore, that was for certain. I heard a commotion from inside the office, but it wasn't my problem anymore. I slowly wandered away eyeing up the food stands. Dog meat wasn't appetizing, but I hadn't had real food in days. I rummaged around Slim's pack before I found enough caps to buy myself a meal. 

I hummed happily as I finished my food, I hadn't realized how hungry I was.

"Well, aren't you a pretty thing?" A man slurred behind me. "How much for your time?"

"I am not a prostitute." I scoffed as I turned around to face him.

"Free then?" He smiled menacingly as he grabbed ahold of me. His grip was so tight that I could feel my arm bruising.

Without thinking I drove the empty skewer in my hand into the man's eye and ran. I heard yelling behind me, but I kept running mindlessly. Before I realized what I was doing, I ran right into the arms of the ghoul as he was exiting the doctor's office. 

"What in the hell?" He exclaimed, shocked by my actions before he looked up to see the man following me with blood running down his face. 

"That bitch belongs to you? She must be some kind of freak to be with a ghoul." He growled angrily.

I buried my face into the ghoul's chest, afraid to look at his face. I desperately hoped he would take mercy on me once again.

"Well, darlin' you do have some bite to ya." The ghoul laughed while eyeing up the man standing in front of him. 

"Give me the girl and get gone." The man spit out.

"Well, that just won't do." The ghoul responded while smirking, obviously amused. "Get behind me darlin'," he whispered quietly as he stared down the thug.

I quickly did as I was told before I heard some more shots ring off, before I knew it, the whole town turned into a shoot-off. I dropped to the ground and crawled into the doctor's office hiding behind the counter next to a very dead doctor.

"What the hell?" I mumbled to myself looking over at him, wondering what had transpired between him and the ghoul.

I stayed there until I heard a familiar voice yell out. "Anyone else wanna try me? That was fun, but I am itching for a REAL challenge." Only to get silence in return.

I peeked my head around the counter before finally getting up to my feet and shuffling to the doorway. Before I could stick my head out, the ghoul appeared in front of me. 

"Thank you," I said smiling shyly up at him.

He stared down at me for a moment before saying, "Come on then. I need to get going if I am going to catch that bounty and Filly ain't far."

"I am coming with you?" I questioned, trying to hide the relief on my face. 

"Well, you obviously can't be trusted on your own. Can ya darlin'?" He responded slyly.

"Oh thank you so much. You won't regret this!" I said to him as I grabbed ahold of his sleeve. 

He stared down at my fist before looking back up into my eyes. I could see the hesitation on his face. Little did I know, this was the most human contact he had had in a long time, and it stirred something deep within him. 

An odd friendship had formed between us, and neither of us knew how to feel about it.

tag list: @msrawog

[ihaveabuckyproblem]

He Had It Comin’ | D.D.

Summary: Daryl once told the group that Merle wasn’t a r@pist, but no one could deny the way Merle looked at you.

-

Warnings: fem reader, sexual harassment, attempted r@pe, protective!Daryl, villain!Merle, set in Alexandria, (we’re just gonna act like Merle never died), death threats, triggering threats, crying, guns, pinning, etc.

-

You were groggy, things all confusing and hazy in your awakening state. The sunlight barely creeped through the curtains as they failed to cover all of the window, allowing the golden rays to shine into your face. The urge the open your eyes got the best of you, so you did, and immediately groaned when you were blinded by the sunlight.

After a couple more seconds, you were coherent. You didn’t have to turn to see that Daryl was sleeping peacefully beside you. He had one arm propped under his head, a force of habit he never was able to break away from. His other arm was holding onto you, feeling as though someone was about to pull you away from him at any given moment and he’d never see you again. It always amazed you how strong he was, even while he slept.

Moments like these brought a small smile to your lips as you wished you could stay here in this moment forever. Nothing brought you more peace, you were the safest you’ve been since the world fell and the dead rose.

You could feel Daryl’s steadily paced breaths warming your neck, his face nuzzled into it. You knew you’d have to get up soon, but everything in you was telling you not too. To stay here, wearing nothing but Daryl’s t-shirt and a pair of underwear, while your lover slept next to you as if there wasn’t a world outside of your shared room.

Suddenly, your peaceful thoughts and blissful mood were interrupted as your bedroom door is quite literally slammed open. You felt Daryl’s body tense immediately as you both shut up, Daryl’s hand already reaching for the knife under his pillow.

“Rise and shine!” As if seeing Merle standing there wasn’t enough, his voice rang loudly throughout the once quiet room. Immediately, Daryl relaxed, but rolled his eyes.

“Get outta here, man.” Daryl raised his voice at his older brother, throwing his hands up.

You hadn’t taken your eyes off the older Dixon. And he sure as hell hadn’t taken his eyes off you either, the way your bare legs looked exposed like that mind his eyes have no shame. You shuddered in disgust, immediately throwing the blanket over your body.

Daryl caught onto his brother’s creeping eyes and stood up out of bed, stomping over to Merle.

“Stop bargin’ in ‘ere, asshole. Yer creepin’ her out.” He growled at him, spitting his words out like venom. Merle smirked, finally tearing his gaze off you and looked at his little brother.

“I can’t help but look when my sweet baby brother got himself a nice piece of ass hanging around.” Merle spoke without shame. This made Daryl’s blood boil, he pushed Merle back and out of the room before slamming the door back shut. All you could hear was Merle’s descending laughter as he walked away.

You wanted to be shocked, like you didn’t expect it. Like this wasn’t normal. But, truth be told, Merle’s behavior towards you has always been that way. No matter how many times Daryl threatened to smash his skull in or take off his other hand, Merle said and did as he pleased when he pleased.

“‘M sorry bout him, he’s an ass.” Daryl muttered the last part to himself as he walked towards his dresser, intent on getting ready for the day.

“I think it was a mistake to let him move into the basement.” You muttered, letting your dislike for Merle seep into your tone.

Daryl didn’t say anything because he knew you were right. He hates the way Merle speaks to you, it isn’t okay and it makes you uncomfortable, and that’s enough for him to want to send Merle to an early grave. But, Merle was blood, the last family Daryl had.

“I’ll talk to ‘em.” Daryl reassures, sending you a “I promise” look.

~

Hours had passed and you hadn’t seen Daryl since this morning. After getting dressed and ready for the day, you parted and went your separate ways. Daryl had been positioned with Rick today on supply runs while you were on training with the kids.

The day was going great, the kids were going through their training wonderfully. Even Adam, the little boy who is scared of his own shadow, did wonderful knife work. It made you proud seeing how far they’ve come.

All that pride washed out of your system when you felt another presence. You didn’t move, standing there with your hands on your hips, observing the children. You felt uneasy, as if prying eyes were on you. And they were.

Merle had been passing by the training grounds when he spotted you. You have no idea how long he’d been there, just watching, eyes glued to your ass. He sexualized you worse than any man ever had and it was disgusting. You were a big girl and you knew how to fend for yourself, but having to fight against the living is the scariest thing you ever had to do.

As long as Merle kept his distance, you didn’t care. You knew how jealous he was that Daryl had you and he didn’t, but that wasn’t your problem. He needed to learn respect.

All of a sudden, you felt a quick pressure on your backside, causing you to stumble forward.

Did someone just smack my ass?

You whipped around faster than you could imagine only to be met with the serious yet mischievous stare of Merle. He had that uneasy smirk plastered on his face that sent chills down our spine.

Oh, your blood was boiling. The nerve he had to put his hands on you, his brother’s woman. You could hear the kids still continuing on with their training, oblivious to the creep in the area, but all you could see was red.

“Now, that’s a nice piece of-“ before you could let him finish his sentence, you reared back your first in seconds, giving it all your force as you felt your knuckles come in contact with his cheekbone.

Merle was on the ground in seconds, looking at you with pure shock. You didn’t hear the children practicing anymore, so you knew you had eyes on you. Your senses came back to you and that’s when you looked down at your red knuckles, instantly getting hit with the sharp pains throbbing in your hand. You gripped your wrist and hissed.

“You bitch!” Merle hollered, making your head snap up.

“Watch your tone or I’ll rock your shit again,” you snapped at him, coming down from your adrenaline high, “Get out of here. They’re just kids, they don’t need to see anything else.”

You didn’t give him the time of day to respond before you turned your back on him and walked away. He gathered himself and left, but not without griping and complaining, muttering a bunch of curses and threats under his breath.

An hour later and you couldn’t bear the pain in your hand, your fear is that it was broken. You made up some lame excuse and told the kids that training was done for the day. You made sure they all put their knives back into their holsters and told them all what a good job they did. After the last child made their way home, you realized the sun was on its way to setting. Letting out a sign, you gently grabbing your wrist, keeping your hand steady as you walked to Carol’s home.

-

“This looks bad, Y/N.” Carol said softly, having a delicate hold on your injured hand. You winced, trying to bite your tongue from the pain.

“You should see the other guy.” You joked, only, it didn’t come off as humorous as you hoped. Carol was quick to look at you, concerned, before reaching for her medical kit.

“This is from a fight?” She asked.

You scoffed at how funny that sounded to you. It was better than your joke.

“It was less of a fight and more of a promise.” You spoke truthfully. Not keeping the truth any longer, you informed Carol of what happened. She was upset for you, to say the least. Carol was your best friend outside from Daryl, so she already knew of your worries when it came to Merle. She didn’t like him either but she was always worrying about you living in the same house as him.

“Are you gonna tell Daryl?” She asked, putting the last piece of gauze tape on your wrapped hand.

Daryl.

You forgot about the fact that you would have to tell Daryl. He would question your hand… and you never lie to each other. It was an unspoken rule and brutal honesty was a big factor in your relationship.

You bit your lip nervously, how do you tell your boyfriend that his brother smacked your ass? Your thoughts became overwhelming, Daryl loves his brother. But he also loves you. What if he thinks you’re making him chose?

You mentally laughed to yourself at how ridiculous that sounds. After Carol finished your hand, you looked out the window, seeing nothing but the deep setting sun. All the light was almost drained from the sky, you could tell the moon was about to make its appearance.

Thanking Carol, you bid your goodbyes, knowing Daryl was probably home. After leaving Carol’s house, you tried not to think about the situation. It wasn’t worth the stress… Merle wasn’t worth the stress.

It wasn’t long before you reached you and Daryl’s home. The lights were off, meaning no one else was home. You sighed, dragging your feet up the stairs. He must be somewhere with Rick unpacking whatever supplies they brought back. You smiled to yourself thinking about the man you love.

You made your way into the house, kicking off your boots at the door. It was dark in the house, but there was enough moonlight coming in through the windows that you could make your way around. Your body felt so tired and your hand was starting to throb again. Why did you have to strike him with your most useful hand?

You shook it off and deposited your holster belt on the kitchen counter. The weight off your hips was relieving. You arched your back, giving it a good stretch.

Then, you felt something cold pressed against your head. Your body tenses almost instantly, your heart rate speeding up in seconds. You knew what that was. Anyone in Alexandria would recognize the feeling of a gun pressed to the back of their head.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Merle mocked, his voice flooding your ears.

For fucks sake.

“Bet that hand feels just about as good as my face, doesn’t it, honey?” He chuckled, taking a step closer. You closed your eyes and took and big breath in and out- you couldn’t show him your fear.

“What do you want, Merle?” You seethed. You were eyeing your holster belt that was only a couple feet away that held your knife.

“You know what I want baby.” His voice was low and hungry, now pressing himself against your back. As if you weren’t tense before, you were stiff as a door now. He moved the gun to press to the side of your head, grabbing your hip hard. Your winced in pain at the feeling of his fingers digging into your hip, but he had other plans than just that. He grabbed you by the back of your neck and slammed your body down onto the counter, making you bend over it as sharp groan leaving your lips.

This was happening. This was really happening. The sudden realization of the situation you were in made a wave of fear come crashing over you. All the jokes, the comments, the stares… This is what he was thinking about? Forcing himself on you over the counter?

No. This can’t happen, you weren’t gonna let this happen. Merle was ripping off your shirt when you came to your senses. This was enough for you to throw your head backwards and into his mouth, making him holler in pain. To your surprise, he even dropped the gun.

You stood up and wasted no time, you didn’t even look at him, you just bolted. You ran towards the door, but couldn’t even twist the handle before you were ripped away from it. You screamed in protest, but your vocal cords gave out when you felt a hard hit to your head.

You were pulled to your feet by your hair before being punched in the face again, immediately falling back down to the floor. You cried out in pain, kicking and screaming, refusing to go down without a fight.

“Go to hell!” You scream, spitting a large wad of saliva into Merle’s eyes. He jerked back and let you go, dropping you so he could wipe his eyes. You scrambled to your feet, but tripped over his large boot that he stuck out in front of you. Your body hit the floor hard and you landed on your already injured hand, causing a scream to ripple through your throat. You were silenced by a kick to the stomach, your eyes widening as the wind was knocked out of you, sending you into a coughing fit.

Having had enough of your resisting, Merle knelt down between your legs, flipping you on your back as he pulls you closer by your legs. You cry and try to fight back, but the harsh blows you endured did a number on your body.

Merle had his hands on the zipper of your jeans when the front door opened and shut. Both of your heads snapped to the doorway the same time Daryl looked up to see what was taking place.

Your face was bloody, your lip busted and your forehead gashed. You looked like you had been crying as you wheezed, still fighting for air. Your shirt was nowhere to be seen and your stomach was red, looking abused. You didn’t say anything, you couldn’t say anything, your eyes said enough as they pleaded for help.

When Daryl finally laid his eyes upon his big brother, he was blinded with rage. All the color drained from his surroundings as all he saw was red. Merle didn’t look sorry, or guilty, or ashamed of what he was attempting to do- only disappointed that he didn’t finish the job.

Daryl didn’t utter a word as he took 3 big strides and rocked his fist into Merle’s jaw. There was so much force behind the punch that it made your body jerk.

Merle was pleading with his little brother, but Daryl didn’t care. No one lays a hand on his woman, no one lays their hand on you, and lives to see the next day.

Even through the tears in your eyes, you could see the blood bath Daryl was making of Merle’s face. With every colliding notion of Daryl’s fist to his brother’s face, Daryl would grunt, but never uttered a word. He never threatened Merle, never asked why, he simply wanted him dead.

And Daryl did just that. Daryl beat Merle until Merle stopped pleading, moving, and breathing. You looked on as Daryl stood over his dead brother’s body.

At the realization that Merle was dead, you finally broke. Your body shook in sobs and you covered your chest with your arms, holding yourself as you cried. The love of your life just killed his brother- and you felt guilty.

“Shit, Y/N-“ Daryl bolted over to you, kneeling down to your level. He pulled your body into his lap, holding you close.

“I’m sorry- I’m so sorry Daryl.” You choked out, avoiding the lifeless body on the floor just a few feet away.

“Yer sorry?” Daryl questioned, “Y/N, he was hurtin’ ya.”

“He was your brother-“

“I don’t give a damn.” Daryl said sternly. You grew quiet at his words. Daryl gently cupped your face in his hands, making you look him in the eye.

“Yer the only one I care ‘bout. He had it comin’.”

Daryl reassuring words left your mind at ease, but, you were still shaken up. You and Daryl sat there for god only knows how long as you held onto him and cried. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear and held you tight. He promised himself to never let you go.

~

[shadowlali]

pink roses - part 1

COD AU - Phillip Graves x fem!reader

[18+] wc: 2.9 k summary: Commander Graves takes an interest in one of General Shepherd’s assistants. Part 2 | masterlist

warnings: NSFW, MWII spoilers, not-canon, no use of Y/N, not too many descriptions of the reader, reader can be picked up by Graves, age gap (f!reader in her 20s and Graves is in his 40s), mentions of alcohol, slightly aggressive!Graves, derogatory pet names (slut), fingering, public sex, unprotected sex, creampie, some proofreading 

You don’t believe the news when you first hear them. Commander Phillip Graves betraying the 141? Betraying his country to cover up a mission gone wrong? It doesn’t sound like him. As the most trusted PMC for the government, he visited General Shepherd and the other officials quite frequently.

You're one of the few assistants working for General Shepherd and know how much everyone respects Commander Graves. As for General Shepherd, as long as you stay out of the General’s way when he's having one of his many outbursts, you find this job to be… just okay. 

Commander Graves is charming but most importantly respectful to all the staff. He greets everyone whenever he comes in for meetings and thanks all the assistants for their help in setting up presentations. You've slowly developed a crush on him after working amongst other officials who are more interested in cheating on their wives than getting to know your first name.

The glances and lingering touches when handing Commander Graves a cup of coffee or a pen only make your heart flutter. You try to stay professional and not let your crush show. It's probably how he acts with everyone else.

But, eventually one of the assistants teases you about how he seeks you out specifically whenever he visits. How he asks where you are when you're busy with other tasks and can’t greet him upon arrival. So, when he drops off a metal tin of chocolate cookies at your desk while you're alone, your heart does that little flutter again. 

“Thought you’d like these. Just came back from a trip and the box reminded me of you,” he says in a low voice. 

“Oh wow – thank you Commander! This is so thoughtful, but I can’t accept this,” you manage to stammer out.

It's a surprise and such a nice gesture. However, with you being the youngest here and still new, you don't want any rumors to spread.

“I think we know each other enough for you to call me Phillip. And, I’m not taking no for an answer.” With that, he shoots you a small wink and walks away.  

You call out to him, but he walks right into the double doors of the conference room. As you look over the metal box, you can’t help but blush. There's an intricate design of pink and purple roses painted on the box.

Once you open it, there are stacks of chocolate cookies also in a flower petal design. It's thoughtful and confusing. You love roses. There are a few flower pens on your desk and a few trinkets in pink. You also love chocolate.

You snap out of your thoughts once you hear one of the other assistants return to their desk. They're complaining about General Shepherd again, this time he yelled at them for being incompetent. He's in a bad mood today.

You realize how wrong this can be for your job. Even if you like Phillip — no, Commander Graves – you can’t act on those feelings. You’ve only been working here for a few months and are still considered new. How will your actions seem to your superiors?

Sure, the other assistants have only kind things to say about Commander Graves. Even if they poke fun at his crush on you, they let you know it isn’t common for him to do that. You'd been promoted to this job because of how trustworthy and hardworking you are.

The day isn’t over and there are still many reports to get through. The metal tin is placed neatly in the bottom drawer of your desk and you focus on work the rest of the day. 

The parking garage is mostly quiet while you walk towards your car. As you reach your car and click the unlock button, a tall, lean body walks around it. The fluorescent lights do nothing to wash out Commander Graves’ blondish hair and bright, blue eyes. His hands are in his pockets and he smiles once you get closer. 

“Hi, Commander –” 

“Phillip, remember? Call me Phillip,” he interrupts you, taking your work bag out of your hands and placing it inside your now opened trunk. 

“We’re at work and you're kind of my superior. I can’t call you by your first name.”

Your stomach does a flip as you watch the muscles in his arm ripple once he closes the trunk of the car. 

“We’re done with work for the day. Calling me by my first name is fine,” he responds with a teasing smile. 

“Okay… if you say so? Was there something you needed from me?” You're a bit confused as to why he's waiting for you. 

“Well tonight is my last night in the country for a while. I thought I’d invite you out to dinner,” he continues with the same smile. 

“That’s really nice of you, sir, but I don’t think that would be a good idea. Plus, wouldn’t you want to spend your last night some other way?”  

“Once again, I won’t take no for an answer. And, I’m spending my last night here how I want to. By hopefully taking you out to dinner?”

His voice lifts at the end and he begins a slow walk backwards towards a lifted truck that you hadn’t noticed until now.

He opens the passenger door and motions you in. You hold your small purse to your side as your mind races. There might be consequences, it was all you could think about earlier today. But, he's here for one more night.

The way they have spent months planning this mission, it could probably be a while until you see Phillip again. Maybe all you need is this one night out with him. One night where you don’t have to think about anything work related, one night where you can give in to your mutual attraction and even fuck him out of your system.

Eventually you’ll part ways and when he comes back from his mission, neither of you will be affected and you can both continue as if nothing happened. 

“Atta’ girl.” Phillip says once you walk towards the passenger seat. His hand is warm as he helps you climb onto his truck. 

The truck smells like clean cologne and soft, leather seats. The passenger side door closes, you click the lock button for your own car, and he then gets into the driver’s seat. Phillip shoots you one more smile before putting the car in drive.

He's taking you to one of his favorite restaurants in the city. You've heard of it before, but haven’t had the chance to try it out. It's a short drive that you both spend in nice, comfortable silence. Nothing but the low music coming in from the radio and the sounds of the city around.

Like a true gentleman, he opens the passenger door once he parks and places a firm hand on the small of your back for the short walk into the restaurant. The hostess immediately recognizes him and you are both taken to a booth in the back of the restaurant.

The dim lighting and rounded booth provides much needed privacy. Phillip orders for the both of you, after asking if it's alright with you, and you sip on the red wine brought by one of the waiters. 

Phillip is first to break the silence, ”You know, I’ve been wanting this to happen for a while now.” 

“Us out together?” you ask. 

“Us by ourselves, without the pressure of missions or professionalism,” Phillip responds, placing his arm upon the back of the booth where you sit. 

“ Comman- Phillip,” you start, ”I’ve been wanting this too.” You leave it at that. You don’t bring up how you were nervous because of your job. 

And just like that, the rest of the night flies by. You ask Phillip how he got the small scar on his face and he explains how a drone exploded in front of him while trying to take it down in close range. By a true miracle, he walked away with nothing more than a pounding headache and the small wound on his face. 

“I was dumb back then, impulsive," he explains. 

“That’s not you anymore?” you tease. 

“No. Now, I know exactly what I’m doing and exactly what I want.” He gently strokes the back of your hand with his thumb. 

Your breath constricts and a warmth shoots right between your legs. “I uh, I agree. I think I know what I want too.” 

Except, you're a lot more impulsive. So you reach over and place your hands on the collar of his shirt, pull him in, and planted a searing kiss to his mouth. His hand reaches up to wrap around the back of your neck while the other draw you in by the waist.

Phillip’s lips are soft and firm on yours. You let out a small moan once he nips your bottom lip. You return the action and hear him groan against your mouth. His tongue slips between your lips and mold so perfectly to your own.

His hand on your waist travels up until it rests right underneath your breast. You feel his fingers trail over your breast until he lightly flicks your nipple. You suck his tongue a little too harshly from the surprise and he breaks away from the kiss. 

“We’re secluded but still too public, doll. As much as I want to have you now, I think it's best we leave.” Phillip breathes the words on your neck. 

He quickly calls the waiter over, pays the bill, and in no time you're hand in hand walking out the door. The truck is parked only a few blocks down, but you have an ache between your legs that needs to be dealt with now.

A thrill goes up your spine when you pass by an empty alleyway. While the city is alive, even at this late hour, the alleyway is luckily empty. 

“Phillip, please. In here, now," you whine, tugging his hand to walk deeper into the seclusion. 

“Doll, we’re almost to the car. You sure?” he lets out an incredulous laugh. 

“Yes, now," you whisper once your back hits the brick wall and your purse drops to the floor. 

It feels rough against your sensitive skin, your thin wrap dress only doing so much to cover your back. Phillip pulls you in for another kiss and wraps his hands around your waist, grinding his hips into yours. 

“So naughty, baby. Can’t even wait till we get somewhere private," he whispers as he peppers kisses along your neck.

“You don’t care if someone sees us,” he asks while picking you to wrap your legs around his waist, ”or do you want someone to see us, hm?”

You can’t deny that the thought of someone stumbling past your intimate but very public act doesn’t excite you and make your hips grind harder on his jeans. 

“So sweet and innocent at work. Who would’ve thought you’d turn out to be such a little slut.” His words are harsh, but they only make the pulsing inside of you stronger. 

“Yes, I’m your little slut,” you whine. 

He makes quick work of his belt buckle and presses against your wet panties. With quick fingers your panties are ripped off, placed in his pocket, and his long fingers swipe repeatedly over your swollen clit.

You dig your fingers into his shoulders as you shudder from his movements. He gathers wetness from your entrance and trails up once more to your clit. 

“Please, Commander, please fuck me,” you cry out impatiently. 

His head snaps up at the mention of his title, and he roughly bites your bottom lip. Two of his fingers enter you in a single stroke and you clench down hard at the sensation. He pulls them out slowly a few times until you've adjusted and then picks up the speed.

“Commander, huh? You gonna’ come on your Commander’s fingers?” he mocks back. “Are you going to make a mess on my hand and jeans, baby?” 

His fingers keep curving upwards, hitting the lush spot inside of you. 

“Yeah, I’m gonna cum –” 

“Yeah, what?” he interrupts. 

“Yes, Commander!”

You scream as your orgasm pulses throughout your body. You can do nothing except hide your face between his neck and clench on his still moving fingers. You feel wetness splash your inner thighs. 

Once your body has relaxed, Phillip wastes no time in sliding into you. You realize how important your last orgasm was because your stretched around him so intensely. 

“Little slut had an orgasm, let’s see if we can get another," he grunts with a low voice.  

You moan in response as he thrusts in and out in long strokes. Phillip starts off slow, getting used to the feel of you. His hands grip the back of your thighs a little tighter as he speeds up. Simultaneous moans fill the otherwise quiet alleyway. 

“So fucking beautiful and wet for me,” Phillip moans. 

You lean your forehead on his and stare into his eyes, ”You feel so good Commander. So hard inside of me.”

His strokes become rough and sloppy with your words. Phillip hits the sweet spot inside of you and you whimper from the contact. Despite already having come, you feel another orgasm quickly approaching.

Your hips grind down on him, meeting each of his trusts. The stickiness between your thighs only making it easier for him. 

“Are you going to cum inside of me, Commander? Are you going to fill me up?”

You aren’t sure where the need for him to finish inside of you came from. All you know is that you want it. 

“Little slut, is that what you want? Right inside of you?” his voice once again mocking you. Phillip’s finger swipes over your clit while the other hand grips your thigh, ”I want another orgasm from you, doll.” 

You feel completely surrounded by him as your back presses hard against the brick wall while Phillip pounds you from the front. As if a balloon of pressure pops inside of you, you once again feel electricity shoot throughout your body.

You hide your moans in the curve of his neck before hearing him whimper and a rush of warmth shoot deep inside of you. He's relentless in his thrusts, as if making sure his cum will stay deep inside of you. He slows down to short strokes and small groans, not caring how sensitive he or you are.

Your arms wrap tightly around his upper shoulders, basking in the heat of your combined bodies until he finally stop. You aren’t sure how long it's been until he lightly grabs your chin to look at you.

“You okay, doll? Does it hurt anywhere?” he asks gently. 

“A little tired and sore but I think I’m good," you reply back, your voice just above a whisper. 

He unwraps your legs from his waist and cleans you up with your own ripped panties. He places them back into his pocket, after promising to buy you another pair. He fixes your dress and picks up your discarded purse, “Let’s get out of here. I think a warm shower would do us good.” 

After he fixes his clothes and makes sure you're fine to finish the walk back to the truck, you both end up back at your apartment. Like promised, there is a few more sessions in the shower where you show him just how much you appreciate his gift from earlier that day.

When you wake the next morning, you know he won’t be there anymore since he had to leave early. You don’t expect to receive a bouquet of baby pink roses and an expensive lingerie set with a note that simply states “I’ll be back soon - Phillip.” Your original plan of fucking him out of your system falls apart. He was kind and sweet and exactly what you wanted. So you wait and wait.  

Until you hear the news. Phillip Graves and General Shepherd have made a huge, tactical mistake. One moment General Shepherd was going through one of his usual outbursts and the next day he's nowhere to be found. Officials ransacked General Shepherd’s office and all of the laptops of his assistants are taken to be reviewed for any information on his whereabouts.

You try calling Phillip on the phone number he left you but the number is now disconnected. Eventually, reports of his death pop up. Your world crashes all around you as the entire office scrambles for any type of answer on what happened. A new interim General is placed and you continue your work.

After a few months pass by, you do your best to move on from the pain of Phillip’s loss and of his betrayal. You arrive at your apartment after a late night out with friends. You aren’t going to let the feelings consume you. After taking off your heels by the door, you walk into the kitchen to grab a cup of water. Once you turn back around to the table you let out a scream. 

“Hey, doll,” Phillip says, a bouquet of pink roses placed on the table he sat at.

[pricesbeltbuckle]

hii could i get a 🌟Spicy 🌟 graves fic for Valentines?

Valentine's Day - Phillip Graves

Pairing: Phillip Graves x Fem!Reader MDNI 18+

Warnings: Humilation Kink,Marriage Kink?,Breeding Kink,P in V no condom,Oral F receiving,Daddy Kink,Handcuffs,Aftercare.

It was valentines day, one of your favorite days of the year. Now that you met Phill at least! Every year he never fails to surprise you with something special. A trip to paris, A relaxed day at home with some…Activities (You had to call off work the next morning).

So when you came home from work to a trail of rose petals on the floor and a dimly lit house with only candles providing light…? You weren’t exactly surprised. You giggled as you followed the rose petals to the living room to see a beautifully set up area with graves standing in the middle holding something.

“Darlin’! Happy Valentine's Day, beautiful.” “Mmm, Happy Valentine's Day My love.” You responded while taking a hand he held out to you to pull you closer. “This isn’t the gift sweetie, look at your hands.” And with that you looked down and saw…A ring box?

“Huh-?” And then it hit you as soon as he got down on one knee. You covered your mouth as he took the ring box from you, he started to speak.

“Darling, all these years I’ve gotten to know you have been the best years of my life. I couldn’t imagine my days or my life without you…Everytime I’m away from you I can’t breathe. You’re the reason I wake up everyday. Would you do me the honor of being my wife?”

You got teary eyed, as you nodded a yes as he slipped the ring onto your finger. He then stood up and held you in a long bear hug as he smothered you in kisses all over. “Oh, you don’t think my gift ends here do you?” He said smugly as he picked you up by your ass, that was definitely gonna leave a mark but that’s an issue for later. 

He opened your bedroom door and basically threw you onto the bed and let you take in the view of the also very nicely decorated room. Rose petals on the bed, lit candles, and were those red fuzzy handcuffs-?

“Don’t look for too long darlin’ I have other plans for you.” He said in a now low manner as he dragged you to the edge of the bed where he was standing as he took off his shirt and you took off yours. 

He then sloppily kissed you all over as he traced his fingers down to the waistband of your pants and practically ripped them off along with your panties which were already soaked, he watched as you disconnected your mouth to lowly moan as he traced his fingers over your weeping hole.

“All this f’me baby? I haven’t even touched you yet, needy girl. Need daddy's fingers?” He noticed how your body ached and squirmed for him after he said such simple words. 

“Mm, that’s not an answer baby c'mon tell me how needy you are.” You nodded at him with begging eyes,  “I’m a needy girl f’you please just fuck me already’ need it!!”

He chuckled darkly at your words as he pumped two fingers inside your hole stretching you out, his fingers were thick and calloused and let's not forget long. You whined and moaned as you tried to muffle your sounds by leaning back on the bed and covering your face with a pillow, he did not like that.

“Get that stupid thing off your face darlin’ I wanna hear all the pretty noises you make f’me.” And of course you listened, you didn’t wanna be punished, did you? And then he picked up your body and moved you close to the bed frame as he took the handcuffs and hovered above you.

“Relax Dove, just gonna cuff these pretty hands to the bed frame so they don’t get in daddys way, alright?” You nodded as he cuffed your hands to the bed frame, not too tight but tight enough to not let you get loose. Then he started getting to work, removing his fingers as he lowered his whole body to your swollen clit. 

“Aw she looks so needy, you need my tongue don’t you?” You were too dazed to even comment on the fact he was literally speaking to your pussy, so you just let him. He then wrapped his arms around your thighs and picked up your lower half and started lapping his tongue like it was his last meal. He was sucking and making the most lewd sounds while doing so, you could hear him grumbling into your cunt and the wet sounds his mouth was making was borderline pornographic.

“Phi-I-M’gonna!” And he just smirked while flattening his tongue and letting you release all your sweet cum into his mouth, and he swallowed it. He then sat back up and checked your wrists to see small marks that’ll probably be there for awhile, but you looked so pretty, so helpless..Why ruin it?

He started to pump his already erect length as he slid it into your soaking hole, you moaned out loudly at every inch that filled you so well. He groaned out as he felt your gummy and tight walls clench around his girthy cock.

“Fuckk-Sweetheart you’re still so tight.” He lowered his upper half to whisper into your ear as he started to thrust after letting you accommodate to his size. He thrusted slowly but deep hitting all the right spots, you moaned out his name as your back arched he bit your ear lobe and whispered things to you.

“That’s it baby, taking me soo well..There you go you want me to go deeper don’t you? My dirty girl.” You moaned as your walls clenched around him, indicating you were extremely close he picked up his pace and your tits bounced a bit at the pace change.

“I’m gonna-fuckk-Fill this tight little cunt with my babies. Want me to fill you up?” You nodded as you felt a knot in your stomach become untied and you heard white noise as he came inside you. You laid there lazily now just realizing he came inside of you.

“Don’t worry baby, gonna make sure this takes just relax.” “What…?” “Shhh…Just let me do what I need to do baby..” He cooed in your ear as he took his softened cock out and replaced it with two fingers as his other hands undid the handcuffs.

After about 2 minutes he took his fingers out as he laid down next to you and laid you on top of him. He played with your hair and rubbed your back until you fell asleep, he couldn’t imagine anyone else to be his wife and he was glad he made the decision to propose. The best Valentine's day so far.

Tags:

[lendeah]

My first fanfic post! Hope you enjoy it, and feel free to share any requests💌

THE GRAVE SCENE™️

Summary: You know the summary😈 A reimagining of the infamous grave scene.

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Tav

Word count: 4.9k

Warnings: + 18, NSFW, dom!Astarion

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ

The morning after the battle with Cazador, the heaviness in my limbs felt like weights, my muscles aching and sore from the physical exertion of the fight. But it was the weight on my heart that was truly crushing, each beat feeling like a burden too heavy to bear. Astarion wasn't in the camp, as he had rushed out after killing his former master, needing to be alone to process the turmoil within him. The image of his primal screams as he repeatedly buried the blade into Cazador's chest was burned into my brain, haunting me with every breath. As I watched helplessly with my companions, Astarion was torn apart piece by piece, both physically and emotionally. I knew that sound would haunt me in my worst nightmares for years to come.

At that moment, my fingers longed to reach out and comfort him, but deep down I knew it would be more for my own benefit than his. So I remained still, my hand held tightly by Shadowheart's as I had to witness to the man I loved being ripped appart. I didn't shed a tear when Astarion screamed at me in rage and pain, didn't cry when he refused to come back to camp that night. But as soon as the moon rose high in the sky and everyone else fell asleep with somber looks in their eyes, I allowed myself to finally break down.

I sobbed and screamed into my pillow, releasing all of the pent-up emotions that threatened to consume me. My heart felt heavy with grief and guilt. I had been so caught up in trying to protect everyone and defeating Cazador, as well as our other enemies that I didn't realize how much Astarion was struggling with his past. I should have paid more attention, should have reached out to him sooner. His hunger for power was no secret to me, but as he begged and cried in front of me, I almost caved. Even though I stood by my decision of not helping him ascend, a part of me felt guilty for taking the choice away from him, much like how Cazador had done.

The sun had long since set and another day had passed, but still I remained in bed, cocooned in my sheets with only the sound of my own sobs to keep me company. The weight of the world seemed to press down on me as I lay there, until with a heavy sigh, I finally mustered the strength to sit up. With trembling hands, I wiped away my tears. It was time to face Astarion, to offer him whatever comfort and support he needed. Even if it meant braving his anger or facing his rejection.

The darkness of the night surrounds me as I step out of my tent, the moon casting a pale light across the campsite. I can see Astarion's tent in the distance, a small flicker of light coming from inside. The only sound is the soft crunching of leaves and twigs under my feet as I make my way across the place. My hands tremble slightly as I reach out to pull back the flap of Astarion's tent. When I take my first step inside, I notice it is lit by a single flickering lantern, casting shadows on the canvas walls. The dim light revealed the scattered remnants of broken objects, and in the center of it all, I can see Astarion sitting cross-legged on a bedroll, his eyes red and puffy from crying.

At first, I think he hasn't noticed me, but then he turns to me with a wistful expression "I should probably start getting used to the shadows again. Who knows how long I have left in the sun?" He says, his voice rough. The thought tightens my chest and I resist the urge to reach out and hold him

"Don't say that" I reply softly "we could still find a way to control the tadpole."

I take a seat beside him on the bedroll, being careful not to startle him.

"Maybe, but even if I could control it, it's a dangerous game. I'd spend every day waiting for something to go wrong." He says, his eyes filled with sorrow. "For the tadpole to find some new trick, reassert itself, and make me a slave again. Maybe never seeing the sun again is just the price of freedom." he finishes, his voice cracking with emotion. Seeing him so broken shatters my heart into a million pieces.

"I'll be with you either way." I reach out slowly, my fingers trembling as I grasp his hands, trying to convey my feelings through touch. "I hope you know that," I whisper, my voice barely above a breath.

He looks at me, his face softening as he takes in my expression. His guarded walls seem to crumble, revealing a vulnerability I hadn't seen before.

"I think I do." He says, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth ",assuming we survive, of course. Because a horrible death is always just around the corner with you." His lips curl up into a mischievous smile and his eyes sparkle with amusement. I can't help but grin back at him. His hand gently squeezes mine, sending a reassuring warmth through my fingers. We sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, enjoying each other's company.

But then, his face takes on a more serious tone. "There's... something I'd like to show you, if that's all right? Something out in the city."

I frown "What is it?"

"Something I haven't shown anyone else." he says with a shy secretive smile.

"Oh, how mysterious" I reply teasingly "Fine, I'll come," I say, making sure to play up my casual indifference.

We step out of the tent and into the night, as he silently takes me along the city, and I let myself be guided into the dark streets of Baldur's Gate. The city is alive, even though it's around midnight, streets buzzling with the sounds of merchants haggling, people drinking, and horses trotting. It's a stark contrast to the darkness and sadness that had filled the tent just moments ago.

He takes me through narrow alleyways and side streets, navigating through the crowds with ease, as if he has made this way many times before. Finally, we come to a halt in front of the metal fence doors of a... Cemetery?

His usual playful demeanor is gone. I can feel the weight of each step, every breath I take as I follow him deeper into the eerie silence of the place. The moonlight casts a ghostly glow upon the rows of tombstones, echoing through the stillness of the night. The graveyard is appropriately silent - there isn't a proverbial soul around.

I raise an eyebrow, looking at Astarion with confusion and skepticism "A little stereotypical, don't you think?" I joke, breaking the silence.

"Perhaps, but some things are classics for a reason." he replies.

As we walk through the space between graves, I can feel the weight of death around us. We stop in front of a worn tombstone, looking really neglected. My heart drops, as I comprehend the reason why we are here. I watch Astarion as he kneels down and wipes away the layers of dust and dirt, revealing the name more clearly. Astarion Ancunín.

"Nearly two hundred years and I never came back." he says, his voice heavy with emotion. "Not since the night I woke up down there. I had to punch a hole in the coffin and claw my way through six feet of dirt. Then when I finally broke the surface, retching up dirt and congealed blood, Cazador was waiting. From that day on I was his." His face contorts as he recalls the memory. "Until today." He ends, in a whisper.

I slowly place a hand on his shoulder, trying to offer some sort of comfort. "You were never his. Whatever he had, he took it by force" I say, looking deep into his red eyes.

"Maybe, but he did take it. There is almost nothing left of the person I was. Just a name on a rock" He adds with sorrow. "For nearly two centuries I stalked the Streets like a ghost while the person I was lays here, dead and buried. Now I need to figure out who I am, what I want." A small smile plays on his lips as he meets my gaze, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"And, what do you want?" I ask, my heart fluttering with excitement.

He stays silent for a few seconds, and then

"You... I want you." he finally confesses, his voice raw with vulnerability. Another moment of silence follows "You were by my side through all of this. Through and pain and missery. You were patient. You cared. You trusted me when that an objectively stupid thing to do." He pauses, swallowing hard before continuing. "I feel safe with you. Seen. And whatever the future holds for me, I don't want to lose that."

My chest constricts at his words, my eyes watering a little. I had always felt a strong connection with Astarion, but hearing him express his feelings so openly and honestly makes my heart swell. Astarion's face is illuminated by the moonlight, his red eyes sparkling with emotion and his lips turned up in a small smile.

"You won 't." I whisper, my voice laced with determination. "Whatever comes next, I've got you." I say, as my hand reaches out to cup Astarion's cheek, feeling the soft edges of his skin.

"Thank you" he says softly, and after a beat, he looks at the gravestone again "Well, I should probably fix this"

The metal glints in the moonlight as he carefully carves a new date on the stone, marking the beginning of a new chapter in his life. Astarion kneels over the damp, musty earth, his eyes focused on the gravestone in front of him. The moonlight casts a soft glow on his face, emphasizing the lines of determination and sorrow etched into his features. As the vampire gets silently lost in his thoughts, I am struck with an idea, a simple yet touching gesture. I search around until I find what I'm looking for, and I pick a small flower from the ground. I slowly kneel next to him, and place it gently on the grave, adding a splash of color to the otherwise shadowy scene.

A small smile spreads across his face when he notices, "Cute" he says, the word rolling off his tongue like a caress. With a sigh, he follows "I've been dead on the ground for long enough. It's time to try living again" He turns his body to me, reaching for my hands and holding them tightly in his. "With everything that life has to offer"

My heart stutters at the implication of his words.

"Meaning...?" I ask, trying to sound coy. A mischievous smirk plays on his lips as he leans in closer and whispers,

"If a night of passion is on offer, I could be persuaded" His words send shivers down my spine, and I laugh, feeling a surge of desire mixed with anticipation.

"Sounds good to me" I whisper back, my voice filled with playful allure.

He brings a hand to my cheek, stroking it lightly, "You know, I didn't care for you when we first met. But I do now. Being with you is about more than lust or manipulating you into a tactical alliance." He pauses, steady gaze locked onto mine. "I love you." he breathes "I love this. And I want it all"

My heart is about to burst out of my chest, tears threatening to flow out of my eyes. There is only one thing I want in that moment, as I lean in slowly, my lips meeting his in a soft kiss.

"I love you too" I confess against his mouth. The moon shines down on us as Astarion's lips press against mine. It is a gentle kiss, filled with love and longing. I reach back, running my fingers through his white strands. My heart swells with emotion as I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to me. Astarion's hands move down to my waist, pulling me even closer as our bodies melt together in the cool night air.

Our kiss intensifies, becoming more passionate and urgent. Astarion's tongue dances with mine, exploring every inch of my mouth. I moan into the kiss, feeling pure pleasure coursing through my body. Then, he lays back for a moment, and looks at me with a fire in his eyes I have never seen before. With a wicked smile, he pushes me down onto the dirt of his own grave, and my eyebrows shoot up in surprise. His red orbs flash with raw desire as he hovers above me. Astarion's lips descend upon mine again, my fingers finding their way into his curls again, his skin warm against my own.

The moon casts its silvery glow over us, illuminating our passion in the eerie quiet of the cemetery. Every sensation heightened, every touch more intimate, as we surrendered to the ecstasy of the night.

As Astarion's lips trail down my neck, and I shiver with desire, my heart pounding erratically. He kisses my neck, my collarbone, my chest - wherever he can reach, with slow, deliberate moves. He slowly pulls away, staring into my eyes with a fierce intensity, as his hand trails down my cheek, his fingers tracing the line of my jaw. Suddenly, I am aware of how long it has been since our last encounter, when he asked me to keep things non-sexual for some time.

"Are you sure about this?" I whisper , concern lacing my words "We don't have to rush it if you are still not ready".

His eyes darken at my words.

"I'm more sure than ever," he replies, voice barely above a breath. With that, he leans in again, his lips crashing into mine. I can feel the urgency in it, the hunger that courses his body as he claims me.

With nimble fingers, Astarion swiftly undresses me as if it were an art form. My heart races with anticipation as his eyes drink in every inch of me.

He lowers his lips to my neck, trailing soft kisses down my throat to my collarbone. I tangle my fingers in his hair, silently begging for more. But instead of his usual fangs piercing my skin in hunger, he showers me with gentle kisses, each one making me shudder. My skin prickles with goosebumps as Astarion's fingertips trace over every inch of my exposed flesh, sending sparks of pleasure coursing through me.

Astarion's lips trail down my chest, his hands exploring every curve and dip of my body. I can't hold back the moans that escape my lips as he kisses and nips at every sensitive spot he finds. He looks up at me from the spot between my legs, and I swear it's the most sensual sight I've seen in my life: his lips swollen and glistening with the taste of mine, his hair tousled and his cheeks flushed with passion.

"My god, you are breathtaking" I say under my breath.

He chuckles, warm breath brushing against my inner thighs. "I'm well aware".

And then he dives in. His tongue darts out to taste me, lingering on my most sensitive spots, swirling and teasing me to the point of insanity. I arch my back, trying to push deeper into his mouth as the pleasure builds, my heart pounding in my chest. I moan his name, the sound lost in the cemetery's silence. My body trembles with the pleasure, my muscles tensing and then relaxing, over and over again. I can feel Astarion's hands on my thighs, his fingers slowly massaging the insides of my legs.

"Astarion," I breathe, my voice barely audible over my own gasps and moans. "I need more."

He looks up at me, his eyes filled with passion and hunger. His lips curl into a smirk.

"How do we ask?" he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

With a wicked grin, Astarion lowers his head again, his lips brushing against me, tasting me, teasing me. I shiver with anticipation, my body responding to his every touch. I grip the dirt beneath me, as my heart pounds hard in my chest.

"P-please" I cry out.

Astarion's lips curve into a smirk at my plea, his fingers trailing down my thighs as he continues to kiss and nip at my skin, but not where I want him most. "Please what, my dear?" he asks in a low voice, his breath hot against my skin.

I bite my lip, trying to catch my breath as I struggle to form coherent words. "I...I want..." I stammer.

And then, he thrusts two fingers inside me. I cry out, my body jerking in response. Astarion's fingers move in and out of me, his thumb pressing against my clit in a slow, rhythmic motion.

"You meant this, right?" He asks, his voice low and husky. I can only bring my hands to his hair and give it a sharp tug in response. At this, Astarion lets out a low groan, his mouth working harder. His fingers continue to move inside me, his pace increasing as my body responds to his touch. I can feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge, my mind consumed with nothing but pleasure.

I arch my back, pressing myself against him, wanting more of him. Astarion's free hand moves up to cup my breast, teasingly pulling at my nipple and squeezing it as he continues to thrust his fingers inside of me. The combination of sensations is almost too much for me to handle, my head going dizzy and vision blurry. I can feel him everywhere.

"Please," I beg again, my voice hoarse with desire.

Astarion pulls his fingers out of me and I whimper at the loss of contact. But before I can protest, he guides me into a sitting position and kneels in front of me, slowly getting out of his clothes. I take my time to admire his lithe body, the planes of the muscles decorating his chest and stomach. He gazes up at me with darkening eyes before leaning in to kiss me passionately.

His hands roam over my body while our tongues dance together in a heated frenzy. I can taste myself on his lips and it only adds to the intensity of the moment.

He pulls me into his lap, and when I lower my gaze, I see that I wasn't the only one affected by his ministrations. His arousal is evident against my thigh, and a shiver runs through me at the thought of what's to come.

My hands glide over his strong shoulders, running to his back, feeling the ripple of his muscles and the scars beneath his skin as he continues to explore every inch of my body. His breath hitches, latching his mouth to my neck and sucking hard. Then, he reaches my breasts, taking one of them into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the hardened nipple while massaging the other with his hand. I moan loudly at the sensation, arching my back to offer more of myself to him. Astarion's hand travels down my stomach and between my legs as he continues to suck and tease at my hardened nub. His fingers trace over my folds before delving inside once more.

I gasp at the feeling, pleasure coursing through me as he sets a steady pace with his fingers. His mouth now moves to my other breast, giving it just as much attention while still pleasuring me below. The combination is almost too much for me to handle and body trembles with ecstasy as Astarion brings me closer and closer to release.

But just when I think I can't take it anymore, he removes both his mouth and fingers from me. When I look back at him, his eyes are hooded with lust, and he has a devilish smile over his lips, showing his canines.

I whimper "Stop teasing".

Astarion chuckles at my plea, his eyes dark with desire. "But teasing you is so much fun," he says, his voice husky.

I pout at him, but deep down I know I am enjoying every moment of this game between us.

"Fine" he says finally "No more teasing", and he smirks again. Then he grabs my body effortlessly and turns me into his gravestone on my hands and knees. "Hold on tight, sweetheart," he commands with a mischievous glint in his eye. Goosebumps spread across my entire body, but I can't decipher if they are from excitement or fear. As I place my hands on the tomb, I feel the coolness of the stone against my skin, it's rough edges. I lay my eyes on the new carvings, the name in it, a bittersweet irony washes over me as I realize that this place, where he took his last breath, is now a site of new beginnings and life, and the profanation of his tomb doing nothing but stir me on.

I feel him position himself behind me, his hands roughly grabbing my hips and pulling me back against him. The tip of his erection presses against my entrance, and I can't help but shiver in anticipation.

I feel him leaning above my body "Are you ready?" he whispers in my ear, his breath sending shivers down my spine.

"Yes," I breathe, my voice barely audible. I'm still trembling with desire, but I'm ready for him.

With one swift movement, Astarion thrusts inside me, filling me completely. My breath catches in my throat as he fills me with his thickness, and I moan out loud in pleasure and pain. He pulls out almost all the way, then thrusts back in, deep and hard. My hands grip onto the gravestone, my nails digging into it as I try to hold on to something, anything, to ground myself.

"Harder," I plead, my voice shaky.

Astarion obliges, his thrusts becoming faster and harder.

"You like that, don't you?" He groans.

I can feel every inch of him inside me, stretching me and filling me completely. Astarion's hands move from my hips to my breasts, squeezing and massaging them roughly. I arch my back, pushing myself against him as he hits just the right spot inside me and I whine loudly. Astarion's pace starts to become erratic, his breathing heavy against my neck. His hand reaches between my legs again, massaging my clit as he continues to thrust inside me like crazy. The combination is mind-blowing and I can feel myself feeling so close to ecstasy. By now, I'm sure I am drooling over the ground beneath, but I can't bring myself to care.

"Come for me," Astarion growls, his voice low and commanding.

With his words pushing me over the edge, I explode in a wave of pleasure, screaming his name as I ride out my orgasm. Wave after wave of  pleasure courses through my body, making me shake like crazy, and I know if I wasn't grabbing the stone, I would be on the floor by now.  Astarion's hands are caressing my back as I come down from my high, and I feel him hard inside of me still. For a second, I think this is going to be it, but Astarion isn't finished yet. He eases himself out of me, his touch gentle as he lays my body down on the cool dirt beneath us. His lips meet mine once again, but this time the urgency is mixed with tenderness and a hint of vulnerability. Astarion pulls away slightly, his breath ragged as he stares into my eyes, his while curls tickling my face.

"You're mine," he growls, his voice barely a whisper.

I look into his eyes, filled with love and passion, and I know without a doubt that I am his. I smile up at him, reaching to stroke his face.

"Yes, I am" I say, my voice just as soft.

He slowly pushes inside me once more, grunting and keeping our eyes locked. My body is sensitive after my first orgasm, and I let out a hiss in response.

"Say it" he grunts "say that you are mine".

My breath catches as Astarion continues to thrusts into me, the overwhelming sensations of pleasure overcoming any lingering sense of sensitivity.

"I am yours," I pant, my voice filled with devotion and longing. A slow smile spreads across Astarion's face, and he leans down to capture my lips in a passionate kiss. He then lowers his mouth and sucks hard on the skin below my ear, and I know I will arrive bruised at the camp. The thought of our companions knowing should ashame me, but it only excites me. Being marked as his.

"Mine" he repeats, and with a feral growl, Astarion thrusts into me with renewed vigor.

My body responds, arching and undulating beneath him, my nails dig deep into the flesh of his back, marking him as mine as well. He grabs my hands, intertwining our fingers as we move together in perfect harmony. His movements become slow and deliberate, the moment turned intimate.

"I love you," I whisper, my voice hoarse from the intensity of everything.

Astarion's eyes lock onto mine, and I see the depth of his love and devotion for me there. "I love you, too," he says. Astarion's movements become more desperate as he chases his own release, but never breaking eye contact with me, like he wanted to memorize every detail of my face, to etch it into his memory forever.

As he feels himself nearing his climax, he reaches down and grabs the back of my thighs, pulling me even closer to him and teasing where our bodies are connected. The sensation of his rough hands on my skin sends hard shivers of pleasure up my spine.

"Look at me," he commands, his voice gruff with desire. "Look at your master".

The word makes something primal awakens in me, leaving me dizzy with desire, as I look up to meet his gaze. Astarion's eyes are locked onto mine as he drives himself deeper inside me, our bodies rhythmically colliding with a loud smacking noise that fills the silence of the graveyard.

"I love you," he groans once again, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

I can feel my own climax building, my body responding to his every thrust. The sensation of being filled by Astarion, knowing that he is mine and I am his, is unlike anything else in the world.

"Come for me, darling," he groans, his eyes never leaving mine.

With one final push, I feel myself shattering into a thousand pieces, my orgasm washing over me like a tidal wave. I cry out his name, my voice echoing through the ancient ruins around us. Astarion's own climax hits him like a freight train, his body convulsing as he pours himself into me. I feel his seed filling me, and a wave of warmth washes my body as I revel in the sensation.

For a moment, I simply lay there, basking in the afterglow and the feel of his sweaty body pressed against mine. Then, slowly, I gently run my fingers through his hair, smiling tenderly at him. He trails soft kisses over my shoulder, leaving goosebumps over my skin.

"I'm yours," I whispered, my voice barely above a whisper. "Forever."

Astarion shows a delighted smile that radiated from deep within him, and he pulls me close.

"Thank you" He whispers hoarsely.

I furrow my brows and look up at him. "What for?"

He looks down, and I think I see a hint of embarrassment color his cheeks "For being with me, despite everything." he says "For loving me even if I'm nothing more than a spawn"

I give a soft kiss to the skin below his throat "I don't love you for your power, Astarion" I say softly "or your beauty or your abilities. I love you for you, because you deserve to be loved"

He seems to get a little emotional at that, but only holds me closer to his body and keeps caressing my back.

After a few minutes in comfortable silence, he leans down and whispers in my ear, breath warm against my skin. "I didn't know you could be so obedient"

I turn my head to look at him, a mischievous smile forming on my lips. "I didn't know you liked me being obedient," I reply, teasingly.

Astarion chuckles and pulls back slightly to look me in the eyes. "Oh, sweetheart," he says with a smirk. "There are so many things you don't know about me."

Without warning, Astarion pulls out of me slowly, and with a satisfied grin, he helps me to sit up and leans in to kiss me tenderly.

"As much as I enjoyed this new begginings graveyard fretting, this place is giving me the creeps" He says, looking around at the dark and eerie background. "Let's go home”

We gather our clothes and begin to dress, but not before we take a moment to relish in the warmth and safety that we found in each other. As we walk away from the ancient ruins, hand in hand, we can't help but smile and think to ourselves that maybe, just maybe, we found more than just a new beginning in the depths of that old, dark place.

[icyg4l]

PAC: How to Improve Your Relationship With Your Mother Figure

Hello beautiful people. Today is Mother’s Day and I want to wish all of the mothers out there a Happy Mother’s Day. Whether your mother is alive, dead or far away, I want to dedicate this reading to those who wish to have better relationships with their mothers. You don’t have to have a strained relationship with your mother to relate to this topic. You could simply just want to keep the bond that you have already. And lastly, I want to dedicate this Mother’s Day to the mothers in Haiti, Congo, Palestine, Sudan, Tigray and unfortunately many more. If you have any crowdfunding links that need to be boosted/donated to regarding mothers/families in these countries, please do not hesitate to direct me to them. Without further ado, please select the photo that resonates with you.

Top Left-to-Bottom Right: (Pile 1-6)

Pile One: I feel like this pile has a close relationship with their mother overall. You seem to be at peace with where you are with her, but things could get even better. I feel like something that could help you and your mother get along even more is helping her around the house. She likes for the floors to be swept and mopped, towels to be folded, dishes to be washed. Your mother may be a neat freak but it’s nothing that can’t be taken care of. I also feel like buying your mother things that she would use on a daily basis could be something that improves your relationship. For example, if your mother really likes makeup, get her a lip gloss set. If she likes flowers, buy her a vase and some flowers so that she can smell the roses. It’s the thought that counts. And lastly, I feel like making your mom look good is going to improve your relationship. Not only does being a good representation of her name make her look good, but actually adding onto her beauty will strengthen your relationship. If you’re into makeup, do your mom’s makeup. If you’re into hair, do her hair. If she wants a new pair of shoes, get her that pair of shoes. This is only if you’re able to though. Don’t break the bank trying to please your mama. 

If your mother is not here on this Earth, then please go all out with her grave. She wants you to decorate her grave/headstone with flowers. Clean the headstone. Wear her necklaces, bracelets and adornments. She wants you to talk about her highly. She wants you to not forget where you came from. You are wise and positive, so please continue to do what you do. Just because she is gone does not mean anything should change. She wants you to listen to your gut. If you have a little sibling, please don’t let them do anything stupid even though they can be prideful. I feel like she’s very big on morals and discipline so don’t think she isn’t clocking you from the afterlife because she is. Lastly, please speak of yourself highly. You have half of her genes and she does not appreciate it when you disrespect the physical features that you two share. Have some respect for those who have come before you. 

Cards Used: Queen of Cups, Justice, The Star, 6 of Wands, The Magician, Ace of Discs.

extras: joanne the scammer. 2016 era of youtube. mother-daughter days. only child. donuts.

Pile Two: I feel like you all have a tumultuous relationship with your mother. It feels like you’re a rebel and you do not like to follow the rules. You and your mother could never see eye-to-eye once you turned a certain age. Perhaps, it was around age 12? I feel like you and your mother need to consider counseling. It would help a lot to have a mediator with the two of you. This energy is like an episode of Maury or Steve Wilkos. I think that you may be LGBTQ+ as well. Your mother may not completely accept this part of you. Now usually, I am against the whole “They’re from a different time stance” but your mom feels out of reach to you. I am literally seeing two people on opposite sides of a grassy land. One person is reaching for the other but the other person is minding their business. She wants to understand you but her bossiness can get in the way. I say to just be patient with her. I feel like one thing that you can do is invite her to a place that you frequent often for fun just so she can get a taste of what you do everyday. I am channeling this movie called ‘The Aggressives’. One of the mascs’ mother was so convinced that she would end up with a man but that obviously wasn’t the case. By the end, she just ended up accepting her daughter for who she is. You two are definitely on opposite sides of the spectrum. I feel like another thing that you could do is play video games with her, which is weird? This can help build teamwork amongst you two, thus forming a better bond in the end. 

If your mother is deceased, I feel like you should be taking more risks. Stop giving a fuck about the rules and just live your life. There is nothing wrong with changing up your routine. Your mother could have been a rebel or even someone who led a revolution. Your mother wants you to walk away from what you once knew. Deep inside, you are someone who is capable of making great changes just as she did. I feel like your mother just wants you to embrace the inner youth inside of you. You’re too rigid. It’s affecting the way that you live. You have too much couth. It’s okay to play and let loose a little bit. She will still love you just the same as she did when she was alive if you change. Overall, embrace change babe! Dye your hair a different color. Take a spontaneous trip. Go to that concert. Please just do something! Get out of freeze mode!

Cards Used: The Fool, 6 of Swords, The Hermit (RX), 5 of Swords, Queen of Swords, 7 of Discs, Wheel of Fortune, The Hierophant (RX).

extras:  minor headaches. igor (2019). odd future fan. beast. the bear (2022). absent father.

Pile Three: I feel like you have this certain image of your mother in your head. You think that she is perfect but she is not, my dear. There are certain things that she has been through/experienced that she hasn’t even told you about. You do not know her the way you think you do. She has stories for days. She is not an angel. I feel like you need to get to know your mother. She is an interesting character. Ask her about her life story. Ask her about the experiences that have shaped her into the woman that she is today. You need to take her off of the pedestal that you have put her on. Take a step into reality, boo. I think that doing stuff like going out by the water or going fishing will help you guys bond to understand each other better. Yes, she used to change your diapers but if someone walked up to you and asked what your mother figure’s favorite color was, would you be able to answer it? It’s time to change that. I feel like traveling with your mother, whether it’s a road trip or by plane will help as well. I am channeling the movie Tammy (2014) with Melissa McCarthy. I recommend you watch this movie. Don’t underestimate your mother anymore!

If your mother is deceased, I feel like she wants you to know that she looks back on memories between the two of you fondly. I think she may have passed when you were too young to remember or it was before you hit puberty. You should ask the people who knew her best about what she was like, how she felt about motherhood, how she felt about you, etc. She does not regret anything in her lifetime. That says a lot about how she lived her life. If you have access to these, find any diaries, photos, old clothes, etc and put them in a place where no one can find them. If you find some old clothes, wear them and don’t let anyone else do that. Your mother wants you to be on the straight and narrow path though. Even though you may not know her like the back of your hand, she’s been watching you grow into the person that you are today from a place that you cannot see. But she will not judge if you stray away from this path, she understands what it’s like to be young and dumb. Overall, your mother just wants what is best for you.

Cards Used: 6 of Swords, Temperance, 3 of Wands, 7 of Swords (RX), King of Cups.

extras: beaver. morehouse college. air out your grievances. gummy bear song. sepia filter.

Pile Four: Stop hanging out with your significant other so much! You need to learn how to balance between familial obligations and romantic obligations. I feel like this is really the only thing that is getting in between you and your mother’s relationship. I feel like this pile listens to Jhene Aiko a lot. I am channeling Never Call Me. I think your mom would show up to your s/o’s house unannounced with a bunch of people behind her if you don’t keep in contact with her regularly. She does not play about you at all. It’s not really an overbearing thing. I think she just doesn’t want you to go down the path that she went down with your father. So speak up or face the consequences, love. I also think that you should hear her out when it comes to certain advice especially if it has something to do with a car. Maybe you let your s/o borrow your car too much or you let your car battery almost die or something? In this case, mother knows best. She’s not a chip on your shoulder. Just listen!

If your mother is deceased, I feel like she may have died around the same time as your father figure. She also could have died at the same time as your father figure. Your father could have been the reason she died. She wants you to be independent. Learn how to change your own tires. Take up some gym classes/self-defense classes. Don’t be willfully clueless. She also wants you to not be anyone’s ride or die. This may be the reason why she passed away. I feel like you’ve heard countless versions of how your mother chose to live her life, it isn’t completely true. Don’t believe the hype. One day, you will come across the full story. Definitely be single until you are ready to marry. Your mother could have been rushed to marry. She does not want to see you get taken advantage of like she was. Don’t hesitate to dedicate an altar to her. She wants to talk to you. She may have even popped up in your dreams before. 

Cards Used: 6 of Discs (RX), Ace of Swords, 2 of Wands, The High Priestess, The Devil, Two of Cups, Queen of Wands.

extras: gang culture. setup. grooming. pirates. shoddy apartment. purple bandana.

Pile Five: Have you ever considered getting plastic surgery so that you would look different from your mother? I am specifically getting an eyelift, nose job, butt implants, etc. I am channeling the energy of Blac Chyna and Tokyo Toni. I think that you and your mom have a toxic relationship. One day you’re good. The next day you’re fighting to be heard by her. You two could have physically fought before. What I am hearing is “Everyone has a story”. I feel like your guides want you to take into consideration her backstory. Get a little psychological here. Why does she act the way that she acts? Was she abandoned as a child? How does this play into how she treats you now? I am seeing a therapist writing in their notebook as we speak. I feel like she operates out of a lack mindset and you have outgrown that. I think that there was some type of falling out between her and your father figure. Maybe she was the side chick? Maybe she was taken advantage of at a young age? Maybe it was both. Honestly, this pile is very different from the others. You are being asked to pour into yourself. You need to put your foot down and let her know that you will be choosing the higher road. She will respect you more if you do that. I also think that you just simply need to start taking more time for yourself. You do not exist to be your mother’s punching bag. You are a human being. This pile is very different. You need to protect your peace babe.

If your mother is deceased, I feel like you guys could have argued before she died. I think that she was warning you about a particular behavior. Maybe she was telling you not to follow in your father’s footsteps and you chose not to listen. Maybe you snuck off somewhere you weren’t supposed to? Your mother did not want to control you. She just had some feelings about the choices you were making. But you make the bed that you lay in so there’s nothing that she could have done about it. I feel like you need to forgive yourself. Free yourself of the burden of your mother’s death. You cannot control fate. You need to learn how to accept certain circumstances for what they are. You can change the present moment and make things right today! It’s all about what you choose to do. No matter what though, your mother still has love for you. She forgave you a long time ago, almost as soon as she transitioned. It’s time for you to make peace with yourself, love. Take control of your future and accountability for your actions (or lack thereof). 

Cards Used: The Emperor, 9 of Cups, Prince of Discs, The Moon, 5 of Wands, Ace of Cups, 7 of Swords, Judgment, The High Priestess. 

extras:  living vicariously. narcissist. getting high. sobbing uncontrollably. asthma attack. ambush.

Pile Six: You are not a child anymore, Pile Six. Your mother is willing to talk to you about uncomfortable topics now. You’re an adult. Treat yourself as such. I think that drinking wine with your mother and having a conversation will help you guys get along better. Day drinking, wine tasting, etc will help you guys bond in a more mature way. I feel like you and your mom could be friends if you were not mother and child. You have to see the world through an adult’s eyes now. I feel like gossiping with your mom can be beneficial for your relationship, especially if it’s about old family tea. You can be in the know now, lol. I also think that paying for dinner/lunch could be a great way to prove your maturity. Honestly, your mom just wants you to grow up. You’re there but not quite. Be the butterfly that you’re meant to be. Lowkey, you might want to start saving to move out. She’s not going to kick you out or anything but you’re going to start feeling differently about the environment that you’re in. 

If your mother is deceased, please keep her updated on the latest family/friend drama lol. I feel like your mother may have had a boyfriend before she passed. I don’t know if he moved on or not but she approves of the lady he’s with now. Your mother could have had problems with conceiving/conceived at a young age. This plays into why she treated you like gold. You guys could have acted more like siblings rather than mother and child. It’s also possible that your mother could have passed at a young age (you could actually be older than your mother right now). Whatever the case may be, I feel like she wants you to finish the path that she was set to be on. Continue to honor her legacy. She could have been on the way to pursuing a degree, you should do the same but actually complete the journey. I am channeling the energy of Whitney Houston. Your mother is very animated to be honest. She wants you to embrace that energy/side of yourself. It’s in you, lol. And lastly, don’t try to hide being your mother’s child. You don’t have to be exactly like her but you are her partially. You are your own person but you just so happen to take after her mannerisms, looks, etc lol. There is nothing wrong with that. Don’t fight it. 

Cards Used: Queen of Discs, The Sun, 6 of Cups (RX), Princess of Discs (RX), 3 of Cups, The Lovers.

extras:  esperanza/hope. j. cole. popeye spinach. t-boz. slow jamz. 2004-2005. senior in college.

[writingoddess1125]

Okay since Corazon is dead, sadly, and he will never get to see his child grow, do you think reader will take them to his grave and told stories ( mostly about how clumsy he was) to their kid?

Heart of Gold

Ready to Cry! You've been Warned

⚠️ Warnings ⚠️ Sad Topics, Character Death, Bittersweet.

If you Like Click Here! <-

"Mami! Mami!" Your 6 year old daughter called out to you, running ahead as she smiled back at you proudly- it seemed a 20 minute hike didnt slow her down as much as it did you.

Dulce looked more like him everyday- it would be difficult to hide her once she got older... his big goofy smile, The Mess of blonde hair that seemed impossible to tame besides a beanie you put her in.

With a on her lips she continued to trudge through the snow, not letting the winter weather denture her it seemed. She hated to miss the weekly visits to her father..

It was another few minutes of walking before you reached it- The beautiful open clearing that had a single headstone surrounded by clear untouched snow besides two bare rose bushes on either side of the grave. It looked truly sorrowful during the winter and made the reality harder-

During the spring the clearing was filled with pink bleeding heart flowers and the rose bushes would blood, making it feel like Corazon was near by and next to you. Youd had planted it all when your daughter was one and the since bloomed just around her birthday- You'd said it was a gift from her father.

Dulce rushed forward, Sitting right infront of the stone. Uncaring of the cold as she started her normal routine. Clearing the snow off the stone while chatting away.

"Hace Frío.. don't worry! All the snow gone soon" Dulce said cheerfully, finishing wiping the snow as you took a seat. Pulling out candles to light, however pausing when you saw something to the left of the stone. Picking it up it was a fresh pack of unopened cigarettes- the same brand Corazon uses to smoke.. setting it down I front as you decided to leave the offering someone had clearly left your partner-

Dulce helped you light the candles and set out some of the things your brought, a cherry cake and a bottle of the liquor he liked. Once everything was set you sighed content.

"Can you tell me about him?" Dulce asked, always asking this when you two visited and wanting a new story about him.

"Yes my darling- Well He Acted very tough" You said with a giggle, choosing your words carefully.

"See- Your father had the act of a big tough guy, but if you scratched the surface you saw how much of a Goofy sweet man he was. Biggest heart too"

Dulce smiled widely, her attention fully on you as you spun your tale. Talking about the time Corazon had taken you out on a date, trying to be smooth and woo you over as he reached over to wrap a arm around you- however his lit cigarette catching the feathers of his coat and setting him ablaze. Dulce laughing as you described the child like scream he had as he tossed the coat to the ground and rapidly stopped on it like a mad man-

Or when he tried to walk towards you in a 'attractive' way- long strands and -but his long giraffe like legs seemed to not catch up as he face planted hard right before you cracking a tooth and givibg you a bit cheesy smile as you helped him up.

You had Dulce laughing and smiling for half an hour as you told her new and exciting tales of her father. After a while she had to take a moment to catch her breath- you as well. Dulce looking to the stone, as a serious look went over her eyes- Biting her lip a bit hesitantly.

"..Mamí... how did papa.. leave?" She asked softly, you frowning softly at her words.

"That is something even I'd like to know.." You said softly, looking at the gravestone of your lover. You had so many questions yourself... who would kill him? Who had brought him back? Had he intended to leave you and Dulce the way he had?

You wish at times as well it had been you who had brought him back, placing his tombstone- but more then anything you were greatful for whoever it was.. They had brought him home. Your hand reaching out and touching the icy stone with a gentle hand.

Dulce sees you do this, reaching out herself to touch the stone- her tiny fingers flinching at the coldness of it all. She stared for a moment, before reaching into her pockets clumsily-

"Mira, Papa, hice esto para ti- I made it in school" Dulce said softly as she set the now unfolded peice of construction paper down on the gravestone using the full box of cigarettes to pin it so it didn't fly away. There a crayon drawing of three stick figure people standing in the snow- Dulce in the middle holding your hand to the left and to her right a rendering of her father. She had never seen him- but you had told her what he looked like and even showed the single photo you had of him.

The stick figure man having a big red smile, a pink hat and the black feather coat- which looked like your daughter had done squiggles on his shoulder but that just made it sweeter. However what made your eyes misty was the big yellow heart on his chest and the blue halo around his pink hat.

"I hope you like it- Mamí says you had a heart of gold, I couldnt find gold so I hope yellow is okay?" Dulce said softly, beginning to talk about what she did to color it and make it pretty just for him. Speaking to the stone like he was truly there sitting infront of her, saying how she fell when she went to find a pink crayon since another kid took it and so on.

You bit your lip to hold back tears at this, The ache in your heart at the sight and you gently bowed you head to keep your daughter from seeing.

After a moment of silence you reached over, having finally been able to hold back your tears. Reaching over you pat your daughters back-

"Let's head back sugar" You say softly, Your little girl nodding as her nose wad starting to turn red. Scooping her up in your arms you turned away from the stone. Beginning the long walk back to your home-

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

How about Rollo meeting Ortho in the interaction?

ROLLO ONII-SAMA ERA??????? ????? ????? ??? ?? ? ????????? ???? 👀 (Gotta love how even the most uptight characters have sort of a soft spot for Ortho…) I shared some of the ideas expressed in this interaction in this previous post, if you want to check that out!

This very long interaction is “just strangers meeting for the very first time” since the request was non-specific. I do plan on releasing more in-depth Ignihyde and Rollo interaction headcanons later, so please look forward to that!

***WARNING: there are massive spoilers for Glorious Masquerade in this interaction.***

***CONTENT WARNING: depiction of a panic attack.***

Like Fire, Hellfire.

Late.

He was running late.

One thing had led into another, and that after-class chat with Professor Trein had spiraled into a longer-than-intended discussion on magically binding contracts. The older man was, Rollo found, poised and intellectual—a wise choice for an instructor. More than that, there was a warmness behind his austere presentation, something grandfatherly, kind, and comforting.

Rollo had been enchanted, and the time had slipped by so easily. Only when the sky was painted in hues of rose, tangerine, and gold did he realize the afternoon had bled into sunset.

He cleared his throat. "Pardon me, Mozus-sensei. It has been a very enlightening conversation, but I have other matters I must tend to."

"Of course. It was wonderful getting to speak with you one-on-one." Trein stroked the fur of a plump black and white cat nestled in his lap as he spoke. A familiar, Rollo ventured, careful to not let the disgust seep into his expression.

"Then I will see you tomorrow." He bowed, turning on his heel to exit. Just as Rollo was to cross the threshold, Trein called out to him.

"Flamme."

He stopped, looking over his shoulder. "Yes?"

Trein rested his hand. The setting sun poured in from an unobscured window, coloring the room in the shades of a dying day. He released what was on his mind.

"I want you to know that you are able to come to me whenever you wish. If you are lost or need guidance, academic or otherwise, I would be more than happy to assist. Your circumstances being as they are…" Trein shook his head. "I worry about you, the same as I do for each and every one of my students."

Rollo found himself frowning. He let the lie upon his lips go.

"Thank you, sir. However, your concern won't be necessary. I have taken the time to properly reflect on my actions since the masquerade.”

"... Very well, I won't push further. Have a good evening."

"Yes, you as well."

Rollo stepped out into the hallway. His past still clung to him like a shroud, trailing behind him like a wedding veil. It would follow him to his very grave.

He was not lost—he was certain of where his destiny would end, and it was wreathed with the flames of vengeance.

At this time of the day, hellish red washed over corridors devoid of students. With everything empty and painted the same shade, the campus appeared monotonous—each hall the same as the last. Hadn’t he already passed this classroom a few minutes ago? Was he seeing things, or was Night Raven College turning into a glorified maze?

It was strange—first, he had been late. Now he here he was, lost. It was unlike him to be in such circumstances. Had he stepped into a wonderland where everything was the opposite and logic was topsy-turvy?

Should I turn back and return from the way I came? He wondered whether it would save him time or waste even more.

Something flickered in the corner of his field of vision. His eyes instinctively darted to it. Whatever it was, it was blue in color, emitting a soft halo of light. It was at the end of the hall, too far away to make out any concrete details.

What is that…?

Rollo’s feet moved on their own, compelled to follow the mysterious blue glow. At first, they were set in a comfortable walk—but his pace grew brisker and brisker as he approached. Walk to jog to sprint.

He didn't know why, but he was desperate to catch up to it. Rollo was a man possessed, a moth drawn to a flame. Every bone, every muscle, every drop of blood screamed at him: you must.

The blue sharpened, coming into focus. Taking form, assuming a body. From behind, Rollo could tell it was a young boy, his feet low to the ground but not quite touching it.

An otherworldly apparition, floating.

His heart caught in his throat. His breath hitched, then stilled. Fear had seized his throat, preventing the air from escaping him.

No. No, it can't be. Impossible.

Rollo's hand shot out, expecting to meet the air, to faze though the boy in blue. But his skin met something solid, and a bolt of ice raced down his spin upon contact.

Liquid welled in his eyes. Searing.

Don’t leave me. Don’t disappear right before me. Not again.

His pulse quickened, his stomach twisting.

The breath he had been holding was released, shakily expelled like a horrible secret.

"Brother...!"

Then Rollo saw him in full. The composition of it was all wrong. He had the same wide, curious eyes—but his hair was set aflame, and the ghostly pallor of his face was framed in an odd mask. His mouth was obscured from view, and where there should have been a heart was an eerie blue fire.

His body, too, was not natural. Metal, with strange segmentations in the limbs. A low hum of electricity. Decidedly unhuman.

Rollo’s heart sank, his fragile hope shattering.

It's not him.

“Uwah!” the boy in blue cried, startled.

Of course, Rollo realized. Why wouldn’t he be caught off-guard? He had just charged at the boy and suddenly grabbed him. Rollo let his arm drop and bowed deeply.

“I apologize for the fright. I… mistook you for someone else.”

“Oh, that’s why!” The boy in blue seemed to smile reassuringly from behind his mouth visor. “Don’t worry. It’s common for humans to make optical identification errors.”

“Erm, yes.” Rollo wove his hands together. It did nothing to relax his hammering heart, his creased brows. “Do excuse me for the disruption. I’ll be on my way now.”

The boy tilted his head. Rollo shivered—it was as though the child was peering straight into his soul. Big doe eyes full of life. Warm like a little candle. It was uncanny how familiar this boy was.

Candid, pure.

It’s almost like he has returned to me.

His chest twinged, and he faltered with his departure.

“… Mister, your vital signs all read abnormal. Body temperature, pulse, respiration rate, blood pressure, even the level of perspiration.” His tone turned concerned. “Are you feeling unwell?”

“I am fine.”

He didn’t look convinced. Rollo wasn’t sure if he believed his own lie either.

“You’re not wearing a Night Raven College uniform,” the boy noted. “You must be a visitor then! Let me escort you to the nurse’s office. You will receive the care you need there.”

“I assure you, I’m not in need of their services.”

He blinked. “… Feedback acknowledged. If you refuse to go, then I can’t exactly force you to.”

The boy hovered in a circle around Rollo, extending his arms out toward him. “I can still help you get to your destination though—wherever that may be! Just let me know and I’ll calculate the most efficient route for you.”

“What…”

Rollo reeled at the sight of him flying—on his feet, and without a broom! The boy spoke so strangely for his age as well as well, talking of biometrics and mathematics as easily as a child might discuss their favorite toy. But the way he stared back at him…

The eager expression, hands outstretched.

“Onii-sama!”

The hurt in his chest intensified, a new bloom of pain taking root in his head. An ash-covered memory was lit ablaze again.

Smoke in his lungs, singed flesh in his nose, and tears stinging his eyes. The scream of a burning child ringing in his ears.

Pain, a searing knife against his skin.

“H-Help me… HELP ME…!!”

Rollo took a trembling step back. He didn’t realize it, but he had started to shake all over, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. His eyes were alert, paranoid.

The air too thin to sate his screeching lungs. The world closing in, blanketed in curtains of smoke. Coals at his feet, fire rising.

“N-No, I… I…!!”

His hands flew to his head, clawing at his skin, his hair. Everything suddenly felt too uncomfortable, too hot—

“Mister!!”

Rollo felt arms being thrown around him. An encircling, kind embrace. He looked down to find the strange child hugging him tightly. Smiling softly, angelically.

“… It’ll be okay," the boy said, his voice as tender as the touch of a feather. "There, there. Everything will be okay."

The flames froze, as did the fuel that fed them. Rollo stiffened, reality seeping through to him. His body, unsure of how to react.

He slowly lowered his hands from his face, properly looked the child in the eyes. They seemed to pulsate hypnotically, projecting soothing shades: gold, amber, honey.

"I'm here for you," the boy continued. "See? I'm here.”

He was. Rollo knew his gaze, his touch. The warmth he had long since renounced, been deprived of.

“Focus on me. That’s right, just like that. Breathe slowly. Let’s do it together, okay? In, out. In, out…”

Huff, huff, huff.

Rollo was not so much as breathing as he was gulping and spitting up pockets of air. He was a dehydrated man tasting sweet water on the verge of death, then vomiting on the luxury of it.

The boy nodded understandingly in spite of his shaky efforts. “Just like that! You’re doing great.”

Huff, huff.

His body moved more on instinct than on command. Taking in air and returning it, a process set on autopilot. Each breath increasingly more stable than the last.

A warm hand rubbing the area between is shoulder blades. Wordlessly easing him through it.

“… How are you feeling now?”

Those few simple words dispelled the last of the suffocating heat. His emotions tempered, cooling, and finding ground once more. What was left was fizzling frustration and knotted confusion.

Huff…

Rollo released the last of his breath.

He struggled to speak. “I... I don’t understand. Why are you…”

He pulled away, but kept his hands on Rollo's shoulders. “I detected heart palpitations and other abnormal biological fluctuations. Altogether, they indicated that you were experiencing something akin to a trauma response. You looked so sad and scared. I initiated the only protocol in my memory bank that suited the scenario."

“You…” Rollo hesitated. “You did that for a complete stranger?”

“Hehe. Did my comfort protocol work?” He gave a happy twirl midair. "I'm glad that you're feeling better, even if just a little!"

Rollo watched him in silence, guilt stirring in the pit of his stomach. When he touched his cheek, he found it slightly damp. Renegade tears that had slipped free and dribbled down.

Pathetic—after all these years, he hadn’t become any stronger at all, still crumbled when he reminiscenced. Old, aching memories forever branded into him. Memories that continued to hurt him, even to this very day.

He clutched a hand over his heart.

And yet this boy…

Protectiveness swelled up.

“You,” Rollo spoke up at last, “why are you wandering on campus grounds unsupervised? Are you not aware that this is a dangerous location for youths like yourself?”

“I’m here to pick up my big brother!” he replied, beaming proudly. “Nii-san had a big exam today, plus a club meeting. It should be over by now, so we’re going to meet up and then have a family fun night!”

“How… thrilling for you.” Rollo offered a tight-lipped smile. “My word, this elder brother of yours sounds highly irresponsible if he’s leaving a child of your age unchaperoned. It should be the older sibling’s responsibility to look out for the younger, not the other way around.”

“Huh? That’s usually how it is for us, though. Nii-san forgets to take care of himself when he’s not reminded!” He sighed, shoulders slumping. “Nii-san stays up late gaming, snacks instead of having real meals, and rarely leaves his room.”

“That’s absolutely abhorrent,” Rollo seethed, his rage returning to him. “What sort of example is he setting for you?”

Red prickled the edges of his vision. How dare that so-called brother burden this poor, sweet boy and allow him to wander around a mage-infested school? For that, Rollo would put him to the stake.

“That’s it, it’s settled! I will accompany you and ensure that you find your way home safely. Furthermore, when you reunite with your brother, I will be sure to give this man a piece of my mind.”

“Eeeeeeeh?!” Shock lit up the boy’s face. “This is the first time anyone’s ever wanted to meet nii-san so passionately!”

For all the wrong reasons, he recognized—still, there was a fragment of hope in the circumstances. Potential friendship to be found in the confrontation. He clung to that possibility.

"Well... okay, if you really want to. Nii-san might be a little more than surprised to see you, but it's a good chance to him to meet new people."

"Fufufu, that's correct. It would do him some good to become acquainted with—" A thought dawned on him. "Ah, forgive me. I forgot to ask for your name earlier. Please, may I know it?”

“Me? I’m Ortho! Ortho Shroud.”

Shroud.

The surname (unfortunately) conjured up a familiar face. Pale completion, cobalt lips, irises in piercing yellow, blazing blue fire for hair. A man that retreated from the light, spitting words as sharp as his jagged teeth.

Rollo grimaced. How had he not seen the resemblance sooner? Blinded by emotions, he ventured with a subtle scoff.

“What’s your name, mister?” Ortho asked, peering up at him.

"I am..." Rollo stopped himself. A swarm of unanswered questions fought for his attention, each wanting to be the first to be let out.

Shroud’s brother is no longer with us. How is it possible that he is standing here before me? What has happened to his body? Why is it metal? Surely they’re beyond normal prosthetics. He’s floating like some unorthodox apparition…

One inquiry won out in the end.

Has he told Ortho about me?

What would happen to the boy’s faith, his joy, once the introduction was uttered? The idea summoned a great deal of discomfort, twisting painfully like a knife plunged into Rollo’s guts. Guilt pooling.

He fell silent.

“… Never mind that. My identity is unimportant, for I am a mere visitor to this prestigious school. You may continue calling me ‘mister’ as you were.”

“Roger that! Let’s get going then. Nii-san’s waiting!”

Ortho flew ahead, the guiding light in a world dyed a hellish hue of red. Rollo followed at a safe distance, but never let the boy out of his sight—but he never drew too close either.

Why did you do that? Rollo rebuked himself. You've done no wrong. You have nothing to be ashamed of, no reason to feel any guilt. You are in the right. Why mask the truth?

He squeezed his eyes shut.

That night, atop the bell tower...

"Do you think your brother would have wanted this?! Idia had demanded. “Would he be happy... seeing you do this to the city—to the world—in his name...?"

I am without sin. I am righteous, Rollo told himself. A prayer, a staunch affirmation. Of my virtue, I am justly proud.

“Hurry up, mister!” Ortho called to him. The boy’s voice snapped him back, and Rollo smiled in spite of himself.

“… Of course. I am coming.”

This happiness, he knew, would not last forever. Spells always broke before the strike of midnight.

He had to relish these fleeting yet magical moments while they lasted.

[yrbladie]

—﹒୨` TELL ME GOODBYE (part 1/?)

˖ ࣪ summary. in which they're gone, but you call them one last time to hear their voice. but instead of the silent beeps and the voicemail message, you hear his quiet breathing. or in which you get one last chance to say goodbye.

˖ ࣪ characters. diluc, kaeya.

( warnings ) around 1k words. angst. gn!reader. heavy mentions of death (his). kind of modern setting since it has phones. mentions of living together (diluc). non-fluent writer

( a/n ) this is based on a book called "you've reached sam" and on a personal experience. also i'm not 100% sure if i should make a series out of this or not, i just had this idea randomly after reading the book and relating to it. and i kind of wrote this in a rush after an entire night awake so... if there is anything confusing or any mistakes, i'm sorry. and yes, i know it's small but i'm starting back slow :')

It had already been a year since your life had completely fallen apart, ever since your lover's passing. You kept wondering if you had made a mistake somewhere down the line or if your life had simply always been this dull.

Though time had completely stopped for you, the outside kept moving on, only precious memories remaining, like flames that spring to life one last time before being completely diminished to ashes.

Before, it was common to joke that you'd never be able to spend even a moment without his presence by your side, but who would've thought? Now, you'd have to spend an entire lifetime without him.

You, above everyone, knew how unfair destiny could be. But of all people, did it have to be him?

It's almost as if things hadn't changed much.

Your reserved seat in the tavern is still there, but this time it's Charles who greets you every time, a compassionate look in his eyes. And you don't know why — actually, you do — but you always find yourself waiting for him. Waiting until the moment you'll hear the door to Angel's Share open, and this time, surely, this time it'll be him. And you'd smile at him like you always did, and ask "where have you been? I've been waiting for you all this time!". But for some reason, you can't imagine what his answer would be anymore.

You always look for him everywhere you go, his red hair in the middle of the crowd, standing out like a rose in a field of lilies. Back then, no matter how much you tried to surprise him from behind, he'd turn around and greet you, like he was able to find you anywhere. He always did.

You always find yourself waiting for him to come back from wherever he is — even if you know where he is. Besides his father, in the cemetery next to the church.

On his birthday, his grave was filled with flowers of all kinds, and on most days, there was a single Small Lamp Grass that you'd change every few times. Sometimes, Kaeya would add a pink carnation to the pile on the days you couldn't go visit Diluc.

It was by no means a lonely and abandoned place there. And if you could be honest with yourself, you'd even say that spending your entire day besides his grave was better than to come home to a empty house. The place in which your voice echoed to nothingness and the silence was unbearable. The future, so meticulously planned together, now mocking you from a distance, out of reach.

Walking from room to room, you find bits of Diluc everywhere, your voice barely above a whisper as you try to connect all the pieces back together. As you try to remember how it felt to have him there. And you can't. You realize, with a coldness in your chest and a choked up sigh, that the human mind could be something so fragile.

So instead of dwelling on a life that no longer exists, surrounded by the shadows of a presence forever gone, you call him, just like you used to do. And for a single moment, it feels like you're back to the past. During the days where Diluc would never let it ring more than twice before answering.

And it seems like it rings forever as you wait for the usual voicemail to start playing, his casual voice saying that he'd call again later if it was something important. But this time, you're greeted by silence. And you're about to start wondering if your phone had glitched, before a familiar voice greets you again.

"(Name)?"

And maybe, you've really gone insane after all this time. Because it was still his voice, in the same way he used to say your name, although now he whispered, almost as if he couldn't believe it himself. Even if this was all a dream, just the fact you could hear him say your name again was a blessing in itself.

So you whisper back, "I'm here".

You can't help but feel like you've been there before. More times than you'd like to admit. It was like people around you were always doomed to disaster, so much so that it made you wonder whether you were somehow cursed.

"Well, then maybe we should be cursed together." Was Kaeya's lighthearted answer to your worries. Although he had quite the charming smirk at the time, you knew he was being serious.

Kaeya was someone that spoke about forever as if he was talking about the weather. In the way he joked about never leaving no matter what happened, and making promises under the stars.

In the end, you won the bet that neither of you chose to participate, the one you didn't even know you were part of. A bet with fate. It was like it was a cruel and twisted joke from destiny itself. To show you that indeed, your 'curse' would always be your downfall. Because no matter how many times you'd been there before, watching yet another loved one being buried, you still never expected it.

A fool's hopeless dreams. Like a firefly chasing a shooting star. Always looking up for the brighter days only to end up in the rainiest ones.

You had always loved rain. But now all your flowers where withering and your plant pots were overflowing, because as much as water can nurture, it can also destroy when it has nowhere else to go.

Mourning sometimes led people to the strangest places. Some would start swearing they could hear their loved one voice calling for them in their home, in the street. Some would even see them. And you couldn't help but wish this paranoia to yourself, because ever since Kaeya was gone, there was a simple and unending cycle of silence. No matter how much time you wasted waiting for something to happen during the late nights awake, you were never blessed by his faint presence again, created by a mind affected by delusions.

And so, with trembling hands you decided to dial Kaeya's number again. Like it had been on instinct, a habit too difficult to let go of. You heard the familiar ringtone as you took comfort in it. Slowly trying to delude yourself that things were still the same, that Kaeya was somewhere simply busy with work and he would call you back in a few minutes.

But the call was unexpectedly picked up. You wondered whether someone else already had his number, and you couldn't help but be angry, because how could they? But it wasn't their fault. Instead, you decided to speak as if it was Kaeya there, on the other side.

"Why?" You asked. Why did you have to leave? Why did you accept to go on that trip? Why didn't you stay when I asked you to? There were many questions you wished to ask, but knew you'd probably never hear the answer to.

"Uh… shouldn't I have picked up?"

The other person in the line suddenly says, their voice cheerful and so painfully familiar. You wondered if there was anyone else in the world that could have his voice, and now that you paid attention to it, you could hear his calm breathing through the phone, the same one that you used to hear when you'd call each other late at night only to sleep 'together'.

It seemed almost impossible to be him, but this time you wished to fool yourself just a little bit.

"Kaeya?"

And you can swear you hear his quiet chuckle, the one he always did when you said something silly.

"Yes, it's me."

[incorrect-mtg]

Flavor Text Highlights Bonus - The Theriad

The Theriad is an in-universe epic that exists in Theros, an equivalent to the Illiad. Here are the cards and flavor texts for it, over three sets (with a line break because it's 15 cards and a lot of text:

It was in fields of grain, not fields of battle, that the Champion learned to bear the yoke of duty to the gods. She worked the land long before she was called on to defend it.

The girl who would become the Champion of the Sun hacked furiously at the practice dummy. At last she stopped, breathing heavily, and looked up at her instructor. "So much anger," said the centaur. "I will teach you the ways of war, child. But first you must make peace with yourself."

"Poets speak of your unrivaled speed," the Champion said to the assembled centaurs, "but it is plain to see that your true strength lies in your unwavering loyalty to one another."

After the Battle of Pharagax Bridge, the Champion spent many months among the leonin of Oreskos. She found that they were quick to take offense, not because they were thin-skinned, but because they were always eager for a fight.

On the fourth day they passed through a forest of immense stacked stones. Althemone, youngest of the companions, called these pillars the work of a god, but the Champion knew better. She quickened her pace.

Khestes the Adamant, the Champion's closest ally among the centaurs, took one stone to his shoulder and another to his flank. He held his stride and his aim, and let fly the arrow that killed the giant Grinthax.

The Champion armed herself to face the cyclops, heedless of her companions' despair. "How will you defeat it with only one spear?" asked young Althemone. The Champion raised her weapon. "It has but one eye."

The Champion and the philosopher Olexa returned from the opposing camp at dusk. Behind them, the enemy raised sail and departed, breaking the siege. When asked what the two had done, the Champion replied, "We spoke to them."

The Champion and her companions marched through the night, but the battle was over before they arrived. In the middle of the carnage sat a solitary minotaur, lost in what seemed to the Champion to be thought.

With spear held high, the Champion came to meet Thyrogog of the Ashlands, who wore the old king's skin as a cloak and fed on the flesh of innocents. The foul minotaur raised the great axe called Goremaster and charged.

You have led us to triumph over the forces of Mogis!" said Brygus the Brave, clapping the Champion on the back. The Champion wiped the sweat and blood from her brow. "I count eight graves," she said. "Too many to call this a victory."

At sunrise, the Champion and her companions awoke to find their supplies gone and Brygus, their sentry, dead. Carefully arranged piles of ornamental shells gave a clear warning: go no further.

The hulk rose from the sea and loomed over the Champion. Pinned beneath the twisting, rotted planks of wood was the body of Kaliaros, the helmsman of her former crew, and beside him the captain, Photine.

The Champion stood alone between the horde of the Returned and the shrine to Karametra, cutting down scores among hundreds. She would have been overcome if not for the aid of the temple guardians whom Karametra awakened.

The great hart stood like a statue, its hide painted gold by the dawn. The Champion laid down her weapons and stepped forward within an arm's length of the beast. The hart, sacred to Heliod and bathed in the god's own light, bowed to the Champion, marking her as the Chosen of the Sun God.

[sarcastic--metaphor]

Vampire!Simon AU

I'm not going to call this a Part 1 to an overarching fic or anything. This is more like a rough proof of concept to see if I'm really willing to devote more time to this AU over my toxic yuri butchblegum/Star!Marcy AU. (Bc i wanna write both but I have to start managing my time better)

Basically:

Simon found Marcy but got turned into a vampire before he went fully mad

Marcy is still the Star

Simon has been forced to act as the Vampire King's advisor for 1000 years

he finds and wants to save baby Finn

Word count: ~1700

+++

The Vampire King seldom hunted his own meals anymore. True, when he was a thousand years younger, he adored the hunt. He savored the screams and the pleading. Listening for the rush of spilled blood and the dwindling voices. But he was a true king now, he had a castle and a legion at his disposal. His ward. And nowadays, he quite enjoyed his food being delivered fresh at his feet. 

Perhaps it was because he could no longer enjoy the hunt with his court. Over the years, he lost his jester, his advisors. All of his inner circle save for his dearest Star. 

And his Temperance. 

As he heard the lesser vampire drones come in with that night’s catch, his daughter drifted in from one of the many tunnels overhead his throne. Her fangs glinted in the low light. 

“I wonder what’s for dinner.”

“I told them to bring you some women,” the King said. He knew his daughter was partial to the company and blood of females. 

The Star giggled in delight as the drones came in, pairs of them carrying their captured prey and dropping them before their masters.

Three men, two women. A fine enough meal. 

The Vampire King rose from his throne, stretching his maw wide to flex his jaw. The humans shook and cried in their fears. Some prayed, some closed their eyes. It made no difference in the end. They’d been exhausted or injured from the hunt and knew their fates were sealed. 

Then the most foul sound imaginable cut through the air. 

The King hissed, eyes narrowing. It seemed he was mistaken. There was a small lump on the ground among the humans, a dirtied blanket writhing in a slow, grotesque fashion. His attention shifted to the dozen or so minions who brought him dinner. 

“I told you you could eat those little things out there, but you can’t bring them in here! It’s already making such a ruckus.”

The drones quaked as much as the food, shivering as they hovered above the humans and pleaded for forgiveness. The King had half a mind to slay a few to set an example, but his shoulders stiffened at the sound of incoming footsteps. 

His feline ears flattened against his skull as he let out a sharp growl. 

“Dad?” Star asked. 

“Quickly, baby girl,” he said, pointing at the lump on the floor, “Eat that wretched thing, he’s coming!”

She understood without another word. The Star dashed for the humans, scattering them and making them scream. But they were not her targets yet. Instead, she grabbed the baby and peeled the blanket back, fangs bared. 

Too late. 

The King turned to spot Temperance appear at the base of the steps to his left. He seemed out of breath, clutching the entryway as he adjusted his glasses. Damn it all, he had heard the cries from a distance and came running. 

“Star!” he said. 

Her shoulders slumped as she retracted her fangs. “Temperance. Come on, let me have this one. It’s giving Dad a headache.”

Temperance approached The Star, smoothing over his pure white hair as he examined the bundle in her arms. She allowed him, as the King knew she would. 

Temperance took the infant from her and cradled it in his arms. He already had that look on his face, that expression of pure pity. He always had such a soft spot for human children. 

It was a blessing long ago, that compassion. It was what saved The Star from an early grave. But there was no place for it here, now. And they all knew it. 

Temperance looked to the King, lips parted. 

He held up a hand and his sole surviving advisor fell quiet. The baby still bellowed. The Vampire King pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He didn’t want to argue like the last time. Temperance was mostly a man of reason, so he tried to appeal to that part of him. 

“It won’t survive long, you know this,” he said quietly. As great and terrible as he was, it gave the King no pleasure to see the pinched expression on his advisor’s face. 

“They’ll fare better this time.” Temperance said. “I’ve learned from my past mistakes.”

That didn’t say much. Disease, malnutrition, and the stray, hungry minion had ended each and every one of Temperance’s past wards. They just didn’t have the protection that the king, the most absolute authority, had given to his own daughter, though Temperance was loath to admit this. 

The King regarded his advisor. “How long has it been since your last pet?”

Temperance said, averting his gaze, “About a hundred years.”

He was jostling the little thing now. Rocking it. At least it was growing a little more silent. 

And wasn’t that the thing about Temperance? 

His endless patience, his endless devotion?

The Vampire King had praised it so highly in the past. 

“Dad,” The Star said. She drifted over to him and put her hand on his shoulder, “Let him try again.”

He scoffed, surprising even himself. “You of all people want a human infant in the hive?”

She grimaced. “Not really. But it’d mean a lot to him.”

“Please,” Temperance said. He was holding that little thing so close to his chest, his heart. As if he were already fond of it. He asked, “Haven’t I served you well all these years?”

The King sighed. Temperance was a good caretaker. He taught The Star to read and write, and helped take care of her for the past thousand years. 

It was true that while Temperance has always been painfully sentimental, he had been good to them.

“Very well,” the Vampire King said. He pointed at Temperance. “Keep the child. But I don’t want to hear it cry.”

Relief flooded Temperance’s face, making him seem much younger than he was. He exhaled softly and bowed. 

“Thank you, my lord.”

“However,” the King said. 

In half a second, he’d crossed the gap between himself and Temperance. His advisor hardly flinched. 

The Vampire King said, “I am not scared of some little blood bag. But humans are savage things. It’ll grow up to be a nuisance without proper discipline. And the moment it so much as threatens The Star,” he took Temperance’s chin in his clawed hand and forced him to meet his King’s eye, “the moment it ever threatens you, I will rip its throat out. Do you understand, Temperance?”

“Yes, I do,” Temperance said, a resigned look in his eyes. “Thank you.”

He began to leave, that child almost quiet now. 

“You won’t stay for dinner?” Star asked. 

He paused at the bottom of the steps and smiled over his shoulder. “I’m not really hungry.”

Typical. He never ate from live meals, only the bottled stuff. Well, not that it mattered much to the King. More for him and his baby girl. 

+++

Temperance fled up the stairs before he could hear the crush of bones and the ripping sound of flesh being cleaved. After a millennium, it still made him sick. 

The baby in his arms began to warble a fresh bout of cries. 

“No, no. Hush, now,” Temperance whispered. He knew what he needed to do. 

He stopped by his library only briefly, just to pick up a tattered red scarf from a box beneath his desk. Away from the eyes of the vampire drones and the rest of the court, he sated his hunger by sucking the red from the fabric. 

A small hand pawed at the air before landing on the now-white scarf, bunching it up in one little fist. 

“Oh, you want it?” Temperance asked. He let the baby hold it as he continued on his way. His wing of the vampiric castle consisted of a sprawling, multistory library, his private baths, his bedchambers, and one small adjoining room that hadn’t been used in a hundred years. 

But everything was as he left it. The minions kept it clean of dust for him as per his request, but they didn’t move or touch anything. 

Temperance sat in the rocking chair by the crib, undoing the baby’s dirtied blanket to reveal the little body within. 

“Oh!”

The baby’s face was ruddy from his bout of crying. But he was chubby and healthy. No motley coloring to the skin, no signs of injury or infection. What was even more fascinating, however, was his white hat. Despite the lack of distinct eyes or a nose, the little ears were emblematic of an animal. Perhaps a dog or a bear. 

It’d been a while since he’d seen a human with an animal hat, he thought this tradition died out a century or two ago. Many vampires nowadays, even the most simple-minded and animalistic ones, knew how to circumvent an animal hat.  Temperance took off the baby’s hat and turned it inside out. 

And yes, there on the inner brim was a handsewn name. 

“Finn,” he said aloud. “Is that you, baby Finn?”

He smiled, replacing the child’s hat and watching his curious eyes wander the room. 

Then it dawned upon him. He felt a terrible weight upon his chest, a crippling guilt. 

“Oh… you poor thing.”

If Finn had a name sewn into his hat, it must have meant he came from someone who remembered the old ways of humans. Someone still in tune with human culture. 

His culture. Temperance’s chest ached. 

None of the adults that were brought in with the child tried to fight for him. Perhaps he didn’t belong to any of them, that he was taken from his true parents. If they were even alive, that was.  

“I’m sorry,” Temperance said, “I’m so sorry.”

He wrapped Finn in the white scarf and held him close. 

“Listen to me, Finn.” he said gently, “I’m going to take good care of you, I promise.”

Finn cooed and popped his lips. Simon laughed softly despite himself. He knew he was weak in comparison to the other vampiric royals. But he was even more so when it came to children. 

“My name is Temperance, but you can call me Simon.” 

[neverchecking]

NSFW Alphabet- Four

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He's pretty good, all things considered! So, I like to write Four as one solid conscious until he splits, so saying that, like he's smart. He knows what he's doing. He's a little disoriented after he cums, but after a moment he's up and on the move. He also has a set routine but it's more because he likes the order he does things. He doesn't mean to, it just happens.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On himself? Honestly? His biceps. And I will take this to my fucking grave, but I, honest to God, whole-heartedly believe that this man has biceps of fucking iron. Have you seen a blacksmith's build? they have arms. And you know what? So does Four. So, his biceps are his favorite because they are also my favorite.

On his partner? He'll try to save face and say personality but this man screams thigh man. He loves thighs because he's face to face with them. Like adores them with his whole heart. When you sit down and they transform into plump pillows? He's in love. He loves squishing them and moving the flesh around in his grasp, but he fucking loves them.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

*Looks around side to side before leaning in* This man, right here? You can try to tell me otherwise, but I won't believe you. Fucking loves cumming inside of you. He knows he's not tall, and he knows he's not the most outwardly intimidating, but holy shit does it give him a rush to know that no one else has the privilege of marking you so intimately. It drives him nutty, especially if you just go on your day like that. Like he can't sit still knowing you're there, pretty legs crossed because if they're not you're going to drip on the seat.

Just the thought has him hard.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Would love to fuck you in a skirt. There I said it. He would love to wear a silky skirt, bend you over the mattress and just destroy you. This man is both the biggest dom and hardest switch imo, but put him in a skirt and there's no question. Just <four in a skirt3

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

None. Zero, zilch, nada. People never took him seriously enough with his height. Plus with smithing and his adventure he never really thought about it. Maybe I'm projecting, but I like to think of Four as a Demisexual (Source: I am a demisexual) so he didn't really have a sex drive until meeting someone he really liked.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary. All the way, call him a traditionalist but he loves the eye contact and the fact that his height doesn't matter. Also, maybe, just maybe, he likes the domesticity of it all. He loves the idea of making you his perfect little house spouse. Even if you don't want it <3 Man i forget I'm a yandere blog so often it's not even funny.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He can appreciate good joke. Of course, he's not gonna go looking to make one, but if you're visibly stressed, he'll crack a small one. Anything to make you smile, really. If you want to make a joke, he'll humor you of course as well.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Very well groomed, one of the best. It's a little lighter than the hair on his head, but exceptionally fine. He keeps it well trimmed and washed. Again, it's not because he's crazy about neatness it mostly just feels better for him.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He can be very romantic, but, honestly, he doesn't have the chance to be as romantic as he wants to be. After being in the forge, he's tired and smells and while he wants to woo you, he just can't. Of course, that won't stop him from treating you like royalty, but there won't be any rose petals or candles.

Side bar, Four absolutely makes you one of those metal flowers. Yk the ones?

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Probably a little more common than the rest of the Links, but its mostly because every time he thinks about you, especially if his thoughts wander, he gets hard and he can't get back to his work until his frustrations have been let out. Only reason really, if he had time, he'd rather fuck you in a nice quickie, but unfortunately that isn't realistic.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He's got a thing for bondage. So okay, hear me out, he's a blacksmith right? Who works with metal right? So he probably can make chains right? surely you guys see where i'm going with this right? He likes BDSM purely because he loves seeing you bound in the chains he makes.

I think he's also got a bit of breeding kink. This goes back to part C, but it awakens something in him that's so primal. It just drives him insane and makes his nerves buzz because it's such an intimate way of claiming you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He's not picky. Not in the SLIGHTEST. Y'all have probably fucked in his forge. He's a man on a busy schedule, so he's taking what he can get when he can get it. He'll fuck in the bedroom, on the kitchen counter, on the living room floor, in the forge, behind a tree in the forest, under the rushing waters of a river, he's down for anything.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Anything. But something about having a significant other that works as well? Like not actual work, no, no he won't allow his most precious jewel to ever risk that, but things like cooking, cleaning, even writing blueprints or something for weapons you've had ideas about and want him to make-- because you aren't allowed to work in the forge it's too dangerous for you're perfect hands. That especially just drives him crazy because having a competent partner is just so attractive to him.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Sounding. If you don't know what that is, perfect. Don't look it up. If you do, I'm sorry for your loss. He doesn't like the idea of it, wants nothing near there, it's just like the biggest turn off to him. Shudders just thinking about it.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Contrary to the other Links I've written, he prefers receiving. Just having his spouse on their knees while he's perfecting some plan or blueprint or polishing something, sucking him off while he works? Goddess, it's his favorite pastime. Just thinking about it has him palming himself until he can get to you.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on his mood, but most of the time it's fast and rough. He likes the thrill it gives him and the adrenaline rush. Plus, the fact that it renders you absolutely brain dead and mindless, just a hole for him to use is an added bonus.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Loves them. Adores them. He does 'em pretty often too because, like I said, they fit into his schedule the easiest. He's one of the only Links with a stable job so he does have a routine and schedule to stick to, meaning Quickies are perfect for him. He gets to remind you of how much he loves you and thinks about you and how much your very aura has intoxicated him.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Loves them. So, here's the thing. Four is STILL a Link. He still loves the adventure, the thrill, the adrenaline. So the risks? The one that have him pausing, balls deep with a hand over your mouth to keep you from crying out? Get him so riled up he can't explain it because it just makes him that much more horny. Like, he is humping at you like a dog all while trying to keep himself quiet and you as well.

So yeah, he likes the risk.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Not the most, I'll be fair. Like I said, he's got a job, he's a blue collar man-- or the Hyrule equivalent-- and he's a hard working man. So he doesn't have all the energy in the world, but the energy he does have is put to good use, don't worry. He's a man who can't go for six rounds, but the rounds he does go has you feeling like he did.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Like I said, he likes chains. He's probably got a few spreader bars as well. Things made of metal you know? Maybe a few plugs he fiddled with. So he does have a few. And Four is the man who doesn't view toys as competition, no, no, they are his friends. His companions. His teammates. Everything needed to make you feel good. And that's all that matters to him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He doesn't have time to tease. He'd love to, and on days he has off he spends hours between your legs until you're a sobbing, pleading mess for him, but on the more regular days? Of course he does foreplay, but he doesn't have time for the slow traces of skin or small pinches of flesh.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's a whiner, but he hides it. But if you pull his head out from where he hides it in your shoulder? He's a whimpering mess, crying because you feel so good and at some point he becomes so sex drunk that it's all he can think about. And when that happens he can't help but cry for you <3

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He loves domesticity. Every part of it and I will fucking go down with this. He loves the idea of having his perfect little house spouse who's willing and waiting for his cock at any given moment. Who cares for the house, cooking and cleaning, while he goes to work to provide for both of them. He loves having a partner with intellect, of course, but having a partner be a house spouse while also putting their brain to good use? Oh he's feral.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Stealing this from Bea so thanks-

4.4 inches. Good sized balls, went over his hair already. Probably has a nice vein running up the underside of it that makes him just shatter when you run your tongue along it. Has him reaching for your hair just to stuff your mouth full.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Pretty high but also not all if you know what i mean? Like when he has the time and energy he is all over you, you can't even go to the bathroom without him loudly complaining about how he misses you in his arms. On the other hand, when its been a long day, he likes just letting you cockwarm him like a good little slut <3

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He loves falling asleep with you because it's something so domestic to him (See W). He loves spooning you and burying his face into your hair, or chest, depending if you wanna be big spoon or lil spoon, and just feeling your chest slow as your breathing evens out. It's pure bliss to him and reminds him of why exactly he worships you.

Not that he ever needed a reason.

[comfortless]

syl you can not casually mention blacksmith König and leave it at that!

sighing… ok, yes, i will talk about blacksmith! König more..! ^^

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. violence, physical/emotional abuse, descriptions of injury, death, angst, marriage on the gallows au.

Before König, there was his father, his father’s father and so on. Hardened men who were left to rot on the outskirts of the little village: sharpen blades, birth something from slabs of iron and silver. The work was tedious, but never dull. Scrape, burn, turn and roll- over and over until the smoke rose from the pit to sting at his eyes. Birth by fire wasn’t only in myths of dragons and phoenixes; he witnessed it each time he held pure malice in his hands as his hammer struck. Nothing became something, deadly and cruel. Day and night his life and lungs were filled to brimming with hellfire.

Accidents happen, naturally. No matter how careful he’s been, there’s nothing to keep the flame from entirely taking back after giving so much.

König’s father lost a finger while mentoring him.

His blue eyes were fixed on the man’s callused hand as the freshly smithed blade sliced through the digit like it was little more than a dollop of honey, no blood. There had been nothing but the crack of bone carved cleanly through, then the wet sizzle of meat cooking as it fell into the pit.

His father had screeched like a starved demon then, a barrage of insults tossed his son’s way like little more than passing pleasantries: oaf, useless cur, bitch.

König hadn’t been concerned, he sat on the stone bench looking up at his father and told him so, that he was fine: it had been cauterized, cleansed by the fire.

König lost the same finger that day.

His mother had fallen ill sometime last winter. The last memory he had of her was the look of frailty on her face, how her skin felt so cold and yet she lie dampened with sweat.

The dogs and buzzards had gotten to her grave, but it wasn’t them he felt any of the fire’s malice for.

Just his father.

The villagers didn’t know what became of the blacksmith, but König could recall it every night; how even with his dying breath he had only thought to curse his only son.

So, he wears the hood of the last executioner now, and the people shy away. They don’t like the look of death unless they can participate in it as a divined audience.

The dogs are never hungry, there’s illness all throughout the valley, and sometimes it only shines through in shimmering eyes while the villagers stare and giggle at the next withering soul led to the gallows.

König knows he should be there; like mother and father, his bones should be shared between panting mouths and blood-stained beaks. Sometimes the boars come sniffing too, and he’s always hated them, maybe even more than the birds. They’re ugly and sturdy, squealing and snarling like his father.

The villagers looked at the boars, though, because they were useful. Their eyes were hungry and happy each night the men set out on a hunt, unaware that their sons and daughters lurked in the bellies of the very beasts they starved for.

It’s cold even during the summer months in his shack.

There are blankets, a kitchen, a hearth, but it’s empty. The winter makes its wastelands each coming year, envious of how he can accomplish such with fire instead of ice. He doesn’t need to clean. The ash blackens the wood, cleanses all. One day, maybe, it would scrub him too.

The fire is a womb, but it’s never birthed anything truly alive. Not until her. A wildfire swept the field where travelers had gathered. With their supplies reduced to the very cinders König had come to adore, the surviving members sweep right into this cursed place like it’s a holy temple.

And the fire gave her to him.

König doesn’t know where this woman came to settle from; she isn’t like the other villagers, not even the travelers with their items and skills for selling. There’s still life in her eyes. He watches her as she wanders down the street with a smile on her face, one that speaks of a kindness that not a single one of these people deserves.

She introduces herself to them too, without a title to her name, and all at once any interest fades as the ghosts wander away from her.

His mother used to force him into the church when she was still alive.

She would take him by the hand as he lumbered after her, sticking out amongst the crowd of parishioners who would sing their hymns and stare at him with contempt behind their eyes. He hated going, but he did it for his mother; father was much too busy to spend his time with her and her fantasies. But König learned of angels there, fragile feathered things, all eyes and wings that wouldn’t stand a chance against a blade.

He didn’t think delicate things could be holy until her sweet, gentle smile is cast upon him.

This lady walks right up to him, doesn’t bat an eye at his hood when her lips curl up as she introduces herself. She doesn’t mind the sack of weapons thrown over his shoulder to take to the marketplace— the swords, the daggers, none of it. Her eyes don’t even glance their way; she looks only to him.

Women like this don’t want their homes and beds covered in ash, cinder in place of incense, fire instead of honey. But still she smiles while he says nothing.

König isn’t the only man who’s heart she steals, either.

The village is all gray, smoke and rot except where she walks. Flowers spring up for the coming spring, the deer and foxes are calling out for mates, and it’s all because of her— everyone must know it.

The farmer’s son brings her fresh fruit and whispers into her ear while they pass by his shack on a stroll. The man’s arm curls around her waist so naturally that König can only be reminded of the way that dagger sank between his fathers fingers, tore off a bit of him to feed back to hungry flame. If there were any god above he knew right then that it wouldn’t want him to allow that to happen to her. Not to an angel.

When the rest of the men, dogs and seraphim sleep, König tears the farmer’s boy in two— split down chest to abdomen and left as food for the pigs, right there in the middle of the field.

He doesn’t pray, he hasn’t since the last time he knelt by his mother’s sickbed, but he closes his eyes and breathes out a wish when he leaves that bloodied dagger at her doorstep.

He doesn’t pray, but he weeps when he rallies the villagers to apprehend her. She cries and fusses, face puffy from sleep and hair a mess. There isn’t a speck of blood on her, but the vultures take her anyway. König didn’t want to see her hurt; when her eyes find his, he turns away.

The day of her execution arrives like a festival ceremony. It’s been some time since the last, the scavengers are hungry, so famished he thinks he can almost hear them lick their teeth. There would be no death today, it’s already been decided. In distant places, a single act of devotion is all it takes to save a life, one that the beasts didn’t have the right to take.

The hunger wasn’t always just for death, but for something… a turn and change like steel in fire.

When the angel is taken to her death, rope dangling from her neck like a lead meant for cattle, he steps forward, parting the crowd with an ease. He’s practiced this a time or two in the smoke already, a lonesome and loathing god in the fog. The others scurry from him, looking up at him with pinched brows and bared teeth as if to goad he take her life instead.

Instead, he only catches her eye, smiles and lowers himself on one knee.

[automaticllamacycle]

giving him head smut? 👀

I had such a blast writing this. It's set in the coffee shop au because of course it is. I hope this is good because I am a bit nervy about posting it !

Content: 18+, this is literally just giving head

Word count: 1440

Matty is on you the second you’re in the door of his apartment. He quickly discards his keys to the floor before pressing you against the door. His lips meet yours, tongue sliding into your mouth.

The kiss is messy. His teeth nibble at your bottom lip, drawing a gasp from you. One of his hands rest at the base of your neck, wrapping around it. The pressure of his fingertips into your skin is light, but it’s enough to make you dizzy. Blood rushes through your veins. You grind your hips into him, desperate for friction. He’s been hard since the minute he pressed you against the door, straining through his jeans.

There’s one thing you haven’t done with him so far. The thought of it has been on your mind for days now. You wanted to make him come with your mouth. Simple as that. You can imagine the way his hands would wrap in your hair. How his head would fall back while groans sound from his throat. Breathless, gravely sounds would leave his mouth as he would struggle not fuck your mouth. His size would gag you easy. You need him. Now.

“Matty,” you break the kiss, breathless. “I want you.” He’s in the middle of taking off his shirt when he responds.

“Let’s go to the bedroom. Been thinking about you being under me all night long.” He smiles, looking you over. Your face is tinged pink, framed by your messy hair. You move your hand to rest over the bulge in his jeans.

“Can I suck you off? Want to make you feel good like you make me feel.” You press your palm into him, and his mouth falls open, moaning at the pressure. The sound is music to your ears.

“You already make me feel good, darling. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” His eyes say a different story, though. His pupils are blown wide. He’s thought about you on your knees for him for months. He’s jacked off to the image of your lips wrapped around him more times than he’d care to admit.

You sink to your knees in front of him, holding eye contact. “I really want to. Been thinking about it a lot. Just don’t know exactly what to do.”

“I’ll talk you through it, yeah? Think you can listen and be a good girl for me?”

“Mhm. Wanna do well.”

“You’ll do perfect.” You stare up at him for a moment before continuing. Your hands reach the button of his jeans, and your eyes look up at him for approval. Matty offers it immediately, nodding his head rapidly in response. When his jeans are on the floor, you’re face to face with the hard length under his boxers. You move without his instructions, mouthing at the spot of precum on his boxers. You press your tongue flat against the fabric, tracing the shape underneath. “Fuck, sweetheart. You’re already a natural.” Matty’s voice croaks out. His breathing becomes more rapid. A flush paints over his chest and cheeks as sweat forms at his brow. He can’t handle the teasing anymore. “Take my cock out.” The phrase is blunt, laced with lust.

You listen, sliding your fingertips underneath the waist band of his boxers to pull them down. Without thinking, you press a kiss to the rose tattoo on his hip. Your lips linger on the skin before you pull back to look at his face, still unsure of yourself.

“What do I do now?” you ask.

“Wrap your hand around it, just like I’ve shown you before.” Your hand moves to collect the precum at his tip before holding the base of his cock, stroking it slowly. “Good girl. Now just use that pretty mouth of yours. Don’t worry about taking me deep. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

Your hand strokes him a few more times before you trace your tongue on the underside of his shaft, circling his tip. “Shit—” Matty sucks in a sharp breath. His gaze locks onto you while you continue to lick at the tip, tongue dipping into the slit.

As you begin to take him further into your mouth, your hair falls all over the place. You ignore it, continuing to sink down on his cock until half of it is in your mouth. Fueled by the strangled sounds coming from his mouth, you start to bob your head slowly, trying not to take too much at once.

“Can I hold you hair for you, love? I promise I won’t force your head down. Just want to see your pretty face.” Matty asks. His lips look nearly raw, likely from trying to hold his moans back.

You remove his cock from your mouth to answer him. Spit falls down your chin, dripping onto your shirt. It’s messy. It takes everything in Matty not to groan at the sight.

“Yeah of course,” your voice breathes out. Matty’s quickly moves his hands to gather your hair into a makeshift ponytail behind your head, keeping it out of the way. Now he can see you clearly. Nothing keeping him from seeing your lips stretched around him. “Am I doing okay? Is there anything else I should be doing?” you ask before you take him in your mouth again.

“You’re doing so good, sweet girl. Perfect for me. But uh—“he pauses, breathless. Words aren’t coming to him easy. “Hollow your cheeks a bit. The suction feels really good.” This time when you sink onto his cock, you hollow in your cheeks as you bob your head, pressing your tongue on the underside of his shaft. “Fuck baby. Just like that shit—“ he moans. He looks down as you take him in. Your lips stretch around his cock, and drool drips out of the side of your mouth. It’s completely erotic. Matty can’t help but tighten his grip on your hair as he tries to commit the image to memory.

You catch him off guard when you don’t continue the shallow bobbing you’ve been doing. Instead, you take his cock as deep into your mouth as possible, gagging when it hits the back of your throat. Matty’s hips jolt forward at the feeling of your throat constricting around him. A loud, raw groan leaves his mouth as his head falls back. His hand as a reflex pushes your head farther down onto him. You shift your eyes upwards, watching as the pleasure engulfs him. He's only holding your head down for a second before he realizes what he’s doing. “Shit sorry, didn’t mean to do that.” He says, snapping his head back down to look into your eyes. You moan around his cock, increasing the speed you take him in your mouth. You alternate between quick bobs of your head and taking him in until you gag.

His deep groans begin to turn into desperate whines as he gets closer to his climax. You can feel the way his cock starts to throb in your mouth. He’s close. He only needs a little bit more. You pay attention to the tip of his cock, hollowing in your cheeks while running your tongue along the base. With your hands, you stroke his shaft. Matty’s hips buck into your mouth, whimpers leaving his mouth. “Baby I’m gonna come—” he manages to say. His hand goes to try and pull your head back so he doesn’t come in your mouth, but you don’t let him. Instead, you let a loud moan leave your throat as you take him into your mouth as far as you can. In an instant, his head falls back as a choked sound leaves his throat, and he spills into your mouth, grinding his hips gently as he rides out the high. You take your mouth off of him when his hips finally slow down. “Fuck, that was good. Such a good girl for me.” Matty says as he runs his hand through your hair lovingly. “Let me get you a cup so you don’t have to swallow—”

Before he can even finish the sentence, you swallow. Almost as if to prove it to him, you open your mouth and stick out your tongue, showing you swallowed every bit of it. His eyes darken at your actions. “No worries. I took care of it.” A smile runs across your face when you see the effect you have on him. Matty leans down and suddenly picks you up in his arms, walking towards the bedroom.

“Come on. Wasn’t joking when I said I wanted to see you under me.”

[championashley]

Alright. I said I would write this and I’m gonna stay true to my word.

I’ve been seeing a lot of takes since The Giggle has come out questioning the potency of 14’s ending. People have been citing multiple different times during the reboot era where the Doctor has “settled down” somewhere, from Darillium, the university in S10, to even Trenzalore. However, I think all of these comparisons are apples to oranges, completely missing the details of each instance and how The Giggle’s ending rebukes all of them. 

So, because I cannot leave an inaccurate take alone, I’m going through every single one of these instances and explain why 14’s ending is different from them, in chronological order.

I’m gonna start with a weird one: S7EP4, The Power of Three. Because it provides a good example of all the things we’re going to be talking about. 

Prior to this episode, long time fans already had a good idea that the Doctor…does not do well in monotonous environments, a truth that is consistent across multiple incarnations.

“I don’t do families.”

“Street corner, two in the morning, getting a taxi home. I’ve never had a life like that.”

“Here you are, Living a life, day after day. The one adventure I could never have.”

“Christmas dinner.” “I don’t do that sort of thing.”

“Oh god I had a terrible nightmare about you two!” [Talking about Amy and Rory having a normal life in Leadworth]

The entirety of The Lodger

“There’s a bigger, scarier adventure waiting for you in there.”

The Power of Three, spells this truth out in bold, montage style marker pen. The Doctor “needs to be busy”. Why, as Amy later asks?

Personally I think this answer varies slightly between regenerations, based on experiences and losses each face goes through. 9 couldn’t imagine a life of peace coming out of a war, a war that he had a major hand in. 10 continues that idea, with the added baggage of losing Rose. 11’s reasoning is a bit subtler: he says to Amy that he is running to things before they go, as if he now understands how short beautiful things last. He’s going from one thing to the next in avoidance of staying to watch things die. 

“And what’s the alternative? Me standing over your grave?”

This doesn’t change by the end of the episode. The Doctor explicitly tells the Ponds that he’s only staying to watch the cubes, and once the threat is gone, he’s already out the door. He only stops because of a potential threat, an idea we will return to in the next example. He even accepts the idea of Amy and Rory wanting to stay behind: “things to do. Worlds to save. Swings to swing on. Look, I know. You both have lives here. beautiful, messy lives. That is what makes you so fabulously human. You don’t want to give them up. I understand.” The Doctor is saying, ‘I know you have lives here, and that I can’t always be a part of that. And that’s ok.’ 

This episode in my opinion is a perfect microcosm of The Doctor regarding this topic, spelling out explicitly why The Doctor can't ever settle down. The Doctor needs to have something to run to because they don't feel secure enough in any place to not allow their altruism outweigh their need to process their trauma. The only thing that could motivate the Doctor to stop, even just for a second, is the promise that their friend(s) will be there too. The next example is the worst-case scenario of this issue.

Trenzalore is an interesting case. When I first heard of it being counted, I immediately shut it down, because Trenzalore was a literal war zone (wars are obviously not a good place for mental health time). But in doing research, there is actually way more baggage contained in this period making it unsuitable for this argument than just that fact. 

Trenzalore was set up to be the Doctor’s final resting place, where they would truly die. It wasn’t the first time a death prophecy had surrounded the Time Lord, and once again, just as with The End of Time, the thing that kills them is, what Davros would later call The Doctor's “greatest indulgence”: compassion. Tasha Leem warns 11 that she will burn the planet upon the possibility of the Time Lords returning, a warning the Doctor takes extremely seriously.

“This planet is protected.”

“Christmas has a new sheriff.”

For 300 years, 11 stayed true to his word. He fought long and hard, for the townspeople and his own. He was celebrated and was loved. But Clara returning with the TARDIS revealed how he really felt about all of it. 

“Everyone gets stuck somewhere eventually.”

“But you didn’t have your TARDIS.” “Well, that made it easier to stay.” 

There’s an unspoken sentiment in these words, echoing 11's philosophy in Power of Three: the Doctor will always want to leave, in this case, to understandably avoid his prophesied death. But he doesn’t, because “Every life I save is a victory”. Their compulsion to help, their innate capacity to help those in need. So often it’s been their greatest strength, but here it’s framed as destructive selflessness. 11 has become so wholly committed to helping others before himself that he’s willing to accept his own death. 

Clara correctly calls this out: “What about your life? Just for once, After all this time, have you not earned the right to think about that?” The Doctor didn’t stay on Trenzalore for himself, he stayed for everyone besides himself. It’s only because Clara gave the Time Lords a proper verbal smackdown that the Doctor managed to survive. Had they not intervened, The Doctor would've suffered and died, once again to protect them, despite already saving them from annihilation in the previous episode, Day of The Doctor. Trenzalore wasn't The Doctor stopping, it was a century-long effort to keep satiating the bottomless survivor's guilt they still carried from The Time War.

Darillium is yet another case of looking like a time the Doctor settled down somewhere on the surface. But the details don’t match that conclusion. The entire thesis of 12 and River’s final conversation was about the fleeting nature of their situation. 

“Times end, River, because they have to. Because there’s no such thing as happily ever after. It’s just a lie we tell ourselves because the truth is so hard.”

The Doctor says this, cries at hearing the Singing Towers, despite already knowing they have 24 years in a night. Because he knows it can’t last. There’s already a deadline on their moment of peace before it’s begun. Eventually River must go to The Library. 

The final quote of the episode punctuates this: “And they lived happily ever after.” Fading away until “happily” remains. Because they didn’t have their “ever after” and they didn’t “live”, because a person can’t entirely experience life to the fullest with a clock hanging over their head. 

While they got their moment of happiness, it was only a moment. 24 years is just a blink of an eye for a Time Lord, and sure enough, we see by the end of “The Return of Doctor Mysterio”, the next chronological episode, 12 is ready to leap back into the fray. Still the same overall Doctor he was before.

The University is an extension of this. We find out that the only reason he has stayed is to guard Missy in the vault. When 12 tries to mindwipe Bill (an eerie parallel to both Donna and Clara), he directly says: “I have no choice, I’m in disguise. I have promises to keep.” Just like with Trenzalore, The Doctor’s altruism has trapped him somewhere he doesn’t actually want to be. The second he hesitates, he immediately runs after Bill, inviting her into the TARDIS and sneaks off to the universe behind Nardole’s back.

So, now that we’ve gone through each past instance, what’s the connection? What’s the key issue(s) that prevented the Doctor from permanently stopping in any of these cases?

The (fear of) loss of their friends, and the Doctor’s own self-loathing. Either out of fear of the march of time, or the chains that their altruistic nature binds them to, The Doctor always runs away from the picket fence life.

Now, let’s look at 14 and how this ending departs from all other examples.

Wild Blue Yonder and The Giggle more prominently explains 14’s origins as a coping mechanism. The reason why 10’s face came back was to retreat to an incarnation that didn’t invoke the loss of The Ponds, Clara, and Bill. The second destruction of Gallifrey and the reveal of The Timeless Child. The Doctor’s avoidance of their trauma has now been made physical, just like how mental stress can often manifest as physical changes or ailments. 

“We stand here now, on the edge of creation, a creation that I devastated, so yes I keep running, of course I keep running!! How am I supposed to look back on that?!”

Already this is a departure from the instances we’ve discussed, because by the very nature of having 10’s face again, it’s forcing the Doctor to ask why. 

“It’s like I'm trying to tell myself something. Like I’m trying to make a point.”

But 14 chooses not to answer it, because answering it means accepting the truth: it’s too much. The trauma can’t be avoided anymore, because The Doctor would always be reminded of what they’re trying to avoid by looking in a reflection. 14 telling Shirley, “I don’t know who I am anymore.” Then asking Donna, “what am I? What am I now?” It’s not because he’s been given a blank slate and doesn’t know what to do with it, like other regeneration stories. In trying to run away again, to bury the trauma and pain, The Doctor has made it more visible than ever, and doesn’t know what to do with that. 

Ironically, the Toymaker causing the bi-generation was the greatest gift he could’ve given the Doctor, because 15 was exactly who 14 needed to see. He’s happy, energetic, full of life and wonder, but also empathetic, understanding and open. He’s the only other person in the entire universe who The Doctor will listen to (well, one person, we’ll get to the other later), because he knows all of the trauma they went through, and yet, made it through ok.

“But you’re fine.”

“I’m fine, because you fix yourself.”

15 is leading by example, their own ‘ghost of Christmas future’ but positive. 14 now has an ideal self to strive towards, a face born from love and empathy. 14 doesn’t have to ground herself out of moral obligation, 15 will now protect the universe. 

But that leaves one question: why Donna? Out of all of the people to settle down with, why her? That’s easy: because she gets it. 

Donna, out of all of the companions the Doctor traveled with, understood the soul behind the legend, because she recognized someone fundamentally similar to herself. One of Donna’s signature character flaws is her horrendously low self esteem: “I’m nothing special.” no one ever listened to her (thanks Sylvia, for at least cleaning up your act later), so she covered up the silence with noise. She held onto whatever indisputable moments of genius she had to drown out the cacophony of voices shutting her up. Wild Blue Yonder explained this perfectly: Donna believes she is both brilliant and stupid at the same time. 

She lives in two contradictory self images at once, and so does The Doctor. The genius and the idiot. The universe’s most fascinating person, and the person who would easily throw away their life for the betterment of others. She’s seen their blinding arrogance/rage (the Racnoss, Jenny) and their crippling self doubt/loneliness, and always met both with empathy and kindness. 

“Doctor! You can stop now!”

“Cause sometimes I think you need someone to stop you.” 

“It won’t stay like that. She’ll help you. We both will.” 

“Is ‘alright’ special Time Lord code for ‘really not alright’ at all?” “Why?” “Cause I’m alright too.”

Donna shouldered the burden of destroying Pompeii, she silently hugged 10 after coming back from Midnight. All because she knew what all of that would feel like in her own life. She didn’t need to know the history of The Doctor and Davros, because she saw her best friend afraid and knew he would want comfort, because she would too.

Even if Dalek Caan manipulated the timelines to get Donna to him, That friendship was completely real to both of them. We saw what Donna was like without the Doctor in Forest of the Dead and Turn Left, and she always felt some level of unhappiness. 15 years removed from them and she still felt as if something was missing. In every future/reality, she always wanted them there. Same for the Doctor too. Within only a few episodes of losing her, 10 started to fall into becoming the “time lord victorious”. 12 looks the way he does because of Donna’s plea to adhere to his name, and save people. Even before 14 came into existence, the Doctor was willing to tell other people how important she was to them, on account of River recognizing Donna by her name: “you’re Donna, Donna Noble.”

Donna didn’t just travel with the Doctor and she wasn’t just friends with them. She completely understood them, their soulmate. Two halves of a greater whole, The DoctorDonna. 14 stayed because there was a more stable incarnation to take his place, and because his best friend would be there alongside him, helping and supporting him through and through. The Doctor stayed because, for the first time in their life, they felt safe. In where they would be staying, and what they would be leaving behind. 

That's why 15 doubling the TARDIS was so significant. In giving 14 her own TARDIS, 15 is allowing his younger self to have what they always removed from the equation: free will. The Doctor can still go anywhere they want, which makes them even more motivated to stay and fix themself. 14 can feel safe staying with Donna, Wilf, Mel, Rose, Shaun, and Sylvia because the option to travel is still there.

And the truly amazing part of all of this is that the TARDIS knew it from the beginning. Was it a coincidence that very soon after 13 regenerated into 14, the TARDIS landed close to where Donna and Rose would be shopping? 

“You didn’t always take me where I wanted to go.” “No, but I always took you where you needed to go.”

The TARDIS brought the Doctor home, and this time, they stayed. Because it was a place where they wanted and needed to be.