#it happened at nightmare inn

[weirdlookindog]

It Happened at Nightmare Inn (Una vela para el diablo, 1973) & Things from the Grave (Children Shouldn't Play with Dead Things, 1972) Double Feature

[minisinmedia]

Lone Fleming as Helen Miller wearing super short brown short shorts in It Happened at Nightmare Inn (AKA: A Candle for the Devil) (1973)

[flashfuckingflesh]

Blind, EVIL, Undead Templar Knights Hunt for a Bite to Eat! "Tombs of the Blind Dead" reviewed! (Synapse / Special Edition 2-DiscBlu-ray)

“Tombs of the Blind Dead” 2-Disc Blu-ray Available for Purchase Here! Maria, Betty and Roger take a train across the Spanish countryside to see the landscape sights.  When Maria feels like a third wheel stuck in between Betty and Roger’s flirtations, she jumps off the moving train, leaving her friends aboard, and camping out under the ruins of an old countryside Church.  There’s only one…

[haverwood]

Una vela para el diablo Eugenio Martín Spain, 1973 ★★★ I liked it!

It grew on me, after some pretty uneventful early minutes.

But see, context is everything: this movie was released during the final years of Franco in power, so they were daring to do and show more stuff. Pretty risqué, if you ask me.

So this is where extreme repression and maligned righteousness will get you. Now you know.

[cultfaction]

Preview- A Candle For The Devil (Bluray)

Preview- A Candle For The Devil (Bluray)

In a Psycho (1960) inspired thriller from Spanish director Eugenio Martino (Horror Express), Laura Barkley (Judy Geeson) is dragged into a mystery when she arrives at a remote hotel to find her sister missing. Pretty soon more guests, who fall foul of the hoteliers and their draconian religious judgements, find themselves on the missing persons list and the plot moves quickly into a horror of…

[imxnotxhere]

Azriel Fic Recs

** Updated 03/07/2024 **

A collection of amazing fics I think everyone should read. Also an appreciation for the writers that carry this fandom on their back.

One Shots:

@azrielhours

soft spot - smut, fluff - "Azriel is very particular about his lovers; typically hard-hearted women chosen so they don’t develop an emotional attachment. Reader is one of these lovers, except she’s the sweetest and cheeriest on his roster. This causes Az to begin breaking his rules about intimacy, especially when she unwittingly ends up at his home for work one evening and spends the night."

take care - fluff - "There Was only One Bed trope, reader and Az stay at an Inn overnight, they take care of each other."

i want you to rest - fluff - 10/10 comfort fic - "Reader has a nightmare while on a mission w the boys. Azriel comes to the rescue, brings her to his room to comfort her. She doesn’t want to sleep so he stays with her through the night."

lessons on relief - smut - "Azriel is the last of the boys to lose his virginity"

tight enough - fluff - "Reader needs help tightening her corset and no one's around to help but Azriel."

captured - fluff - "The camera has been invented and Azriel takes up a hobby of capturing reader, proving how pretty she can be."

@tadpolesonalgae

unchained - smut

stockholm syndrome - smut, dark!az - please check the warnings before reading!

birthday girl - fluff

dreamy - smut

@azsazz

the caress of murder and moonlight - smut, rhys x azriel x reader - "Rhysand and Azriel are having a secret meeting out in the woods. Upon hearing your scream, the race to save you, and you thank them in the only way you know how."

after hours - smut, modern au, office au - "You and Az work in the same office and you've been crushing on each other for quite some time. Late at the office one night, he decides to do something about it."

body and soul - vamp!az au, smut - recommend checking the other parts

dirty work - smut

leisurely - fluff

@azrielbrainrot

i'll be here - fluff - "You feel a little out of place at a celebration in the House of Wind and a certain Shadowsinger comes to the rescue."

such a perfect place to start - fluff - "Something happens that has you questioning the nature of your relationship with the shadowsinger."

maybe we could be the start of something - fluff, modern au, band au - Your friends invite you to a bar and you could never imagine who you'd meet there."

darling i'd wait for you even if you didn't ask me to - fluff, modern au, band au - "You have a really bad day and Azriel is there to help you through it."

you take me higher - smut - "What happens when you run into Azriel at a bar after a long mission?"

loose lips and big feelings - fluff - "Azriel gets a little drunk and you take care of him."

the right time - fluff - "Azriel wakes up with a massive hangover and the girl of his dreams sitting in his kitchen."

when prayers fall on deaf ears - angst - "For the first time in his life, Azriel is not ready to accept death."

all over my skin - smut - "You find yourself in an empty room between the High Lord and the Shadowsinger."

sweet somethings - fluff - "You help Azriel put on a necklace and almost get lost in his eyes."

@serpentandlily

no going back- angst - "Azriel has been your mate, your husband, your love for centuries. But a certain Archeron sister has him questioning your relationship after all this time. You soon find out that there are simply things that can not be unsaid or undone. And sometimes, there are things you can’t come back from."

the shadowsinger's secret - "After years spent trying to befriend the shadowsinger to no avail, you are finally ready to give up after accidentally overhearing him speak poorly of you. But when a gossip session exposes a life-changing secret, you realize you can’t let go of Azriel just yet."

birds of a feather - angst - "Azriel had been your closest friend, made from the very same things as you—birds of a feather, as they say. But you were not the girl he chose to fall in love with. So all you could do was love your mate in the shadows until the day you died."

we should stick together - angst - "Azriel deals with the aftermath of losing his mate."

@illyrianbitch

death and his reaper - angst - "After suffering a devastating injury in battle, Azriel finds himself on the brink of life and death where he meets you, The Mother's reaper."

winner - "You and Azriel are both sore losers. But when you cheat in a game of cards, winning takes on a whole new meaning."

@fever-fluff

take my hand - angst, fluff - "Azriel really wants to hold your hand, but he's afraid that he'll hold it too tight."

@florencemtrash

he feels safe with you - "Azriel's sleeping habits begin to worry you, but after a conversation with Cassian, you realize you've misinterpreted the entire situation."

@utterlyazriel

let me keep you company - "You're studying in Velaris and a certain Shadowsinger catches your eyes in more than one way. It takes a while to realise the shadow keeping you company means more than you expect."

@prythianpages

i've been waiting for you - "Azriel finally meets the one he's been longing for. His mate."

be safe - fluff - "You are on your way to Day Court when Azriel stops you. After the two of you fall victim to Cassian's and Mor's teasing, Azriel realizes why he can't just let you go."

@leafsandstarlight

forced revelations - fluff - "While on a mission with Azriel, reader is tricked by a creature into revealing that her feelings for the Shadowsinger go beyond mere friendship."

bad idea, right? - smut - "You stopped sleeping together months ago, but when Azriel invites you back to his place after seeing you at Rita's you just know you're going to fall right back into his bed."

@writingcroissant

just a little crush - fluff - "Everyone secretly longs for Azriel, but Azriel only longs for her."

hands - smut - "Azriel has really nice hands. And he knows how to use them, too."

@safetypinxtales

lonely with you - angst, fluff - "it seems like everyone's found their mates, except you. On a sleepless night you turn to your friend, in hopes that being alone, together, will feel slightly less lonely."

@acourtofmenandthirst

love you in the dark - angst (really heavy on the angst)

@milswrites

somewhere only we know - angst - "Azriel comes to visit you for the first time in a while."

sweetened dreams - smut - "Having access to the people of Velaris' dreams was a gift you did not take for granted. Having access to your mate's heated dreams? Absolutely delicious."

@azrielscrown

innocence - smut, fluff

@gothicbabydollz

azriel x archeron!sister!reader - smut

@honeybeefae

desperate times - smut - "While tending to Elain's garden you come across a mysterious flower with an even more mysterious pollen. As the effects of it start to hit you, you have to fend for yourself to get the edge off...or do you?"

@writingsbychlo

be yours - fluff - "you ask azriel how it's possible he's still single."

@lalacliffthorne

idiot - smut - "a fight gets out of hand, and suddenly, everything´s turned upside down"

Series:

@azsazz

cupid's chokehold - fluff, angst - this is such an interesting concept - "You are a Cupid, a nearly extinct creature of Prythian. When you get caught trying to shoot Elain with your arrow, well, it's a little hard to explain what you're trying to do."

@illyrianbitch

an education in malice - smut - "With the sharp tongue of your notorious family, you are Azriel's most tantalizing challenge yet. It only takes one small meeting before you both realize that the line between hate and desire is dangerously thin."

@azrielbrainrot

moonlit shadows - "When tasked to find the once famed Temple of the Moon Goddess, Azriel only expected to find old, forgotten ruins if anything at all. He could have never imagined that not only would he find a temple but also someone who would change his life forever."

@pellucid-constellations

i laugh like me again, she laughs like you - angst - "Azriel would give anything to hold you one more time."

of oblivious minds - fluff - "You're positive Azriel is in love with Elain. It seems so obvious. But Cassian is laughing at you and suddenly nothing makes quite so much sense anymore."

@utterlyazriel

how long have i searched for you? an eternity my love - fluff - "azriel finds his mate in the most inopportune time and he convinces himself you haven't sought him out for good reason. he couldn't be more wrong."

@tadpolesonalgae

i can't bring myself to hate you - angst, smut (only one chapter for now at least) - this fic is my roman empire, literally obsessed with this. prepare for the pain and to kind of want to hit azriel over the head

eat you up - smut, dark!az - please check the warnings at the beginning! if you're ever in a mood for dark!az this is the perfect remedy (stockholm syndrome is a sort of epilogue? for this)

teeth and talons - smut, demon!az - "you’re accused of witchcraft and sacrificed to the shadow creatures, only to be saved by their ruler who’s suspiciously in sudden need of a bride…"

@leafsandstarlight

inadvertently yours - "As Eris Vanserra’s most trusted spy, you‘ve found yourself spending a surprising amount of time with the Night Court’s Spymaster. When your rendezvous with Azriel is discovered by High Lord Beron, the only way to protect the alliance is to pretend that you and Azriel are madly in love."

annual visit - fluff, smut - human reader, modern(?) au - "Each year on Halloween, Azriel visits the mortal lands with his friends to partake in the human debauchery that occurs. When he meets reader at a local bar, he can't take his eyes off her no matter how hard he tries."

@acourtofwhatthefuck

bluebird - fluff, angst

studious part 2 - smut

@lalacliffthorne

bat boys roommates - fluff, modern roommates au

Drabbles:

@gothicbabydollz

az spitting in your mouth - smut

@princess-tulip-writes

az pleasuring his mate with truthteller - smut

@fieldofdaisiies

azriel... - fluff, smut

azriel's hands - fluff, smut

@grandlinedreams

drabble - fluff, suggestive

[kagamesayu]

laois x reader

c/w . gn!reader reader, fluff wc: 375 a/n . this himbo has my heart in a tight grip reblogs and comments appreciated ✧*.

laois who is your beloved boyfriend and dungeon partner. your rock and your reason for adventuring.

you'd met when looking for a party to join. the moment he set his eyes on you it was like something awakened in him.

he'd done everything he could to get you on his party, and subsequently by his side.

you'd been so enamoured by him and his quirkiness that you agreed.

and the rest is history.

laois who almost always has one hand on the handle of his sword and the other in yours. his thumb writes his name into your skin, and he wishes it was there permanently.

definitely the type to have your name tattooed on him - probably on his wrist so when he fights he remembers you're with him.

laois who kisses you good morning and good night. who kisses you as a greeting and goodbye. who kisses you for...any reason really.

he just loves it - loves kissing you.

loves the soft pecks that reassure each other that you're okay, loves the long loving kisses you share when you sneak off, and he especially loves the messy, wet make-outs that he can only periodically indulge in when he knows that you, him and the party are safe.

laois who - after every encounter - looks for you and asks whether you're okay.

yes, he should care for the entire party, but he can't help the deep carnal need to make sure you are safe first.

you are special and precious to him, and though everyone revives, he refuses to see - and even let - you die.

he let it happen once and watching the life leave your eyes is something he will always see in his darkest of nightmares. the fear and agony on your face, right before you'd been impaled and taken away from him.

never again.

laois who spends almost all his free time out of dungeons with you. you're usually seen hand in hand in either hanging out in your shared rooms in inns or in libraries reading about monsters.

you have your own notebook about monsters, with personal little doodles and facts.

when laois first brought up the idea, he was worried you'd think it'd be boring. he was taken aback when you agreed with as much enthusiasm as you did.

he was even more surprised when you showed how eager you were in helping him.

he thinks he fell even more in love that day.

[vixstarria]

A night at the inn (part 1)

A night of relaxation at the inn. Inspired by a cursed screenshot of Astarion looking loopy, drunk and high.   

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, tbc in part 2

Comfort, fluff, humour, banter, goes from very silly to very horny 

Bits that are definitely not canon that were written solely for my (and hopefully your) amusement. 

TW: It’s all very much in jest, but maybe give this one a skip if you’re struggling with any kind of substance addiction.  

Approximately 2,000 words 

AO3

“Don't be ridiculous, these silly druidic herbs have absolutely no effect on me, vampires have a natural immunity. Pass me the pipe again, I’ll prove it,” Astarion giggled uncontrollably.  

“Just hold on to it, friend, I don’t think anyone else will benefit from it,” replied Halsin. 

You, Astarion, Halsin, Karlach and Shadowheart were gathered in one of the inn’s rooms.  

Gale and Wyll were off doing whatever people who didn’t like having fun did. Possibly playing chess or reciting poetry to each other. And Lae’zel had had one look at your gathering before chk’ing, saying that someone competent needed to keep a cool head, and stalking off. 

You and Astarion were sitting crosswise on one of the beds, you nestled between his legs, your back against his chest. Shadowheart lounged on the opposite bed, with Karlach and Halsin settling on the floor between the beds.  

A scattering of glasses and opened bottles surrounded you, and a light haze hung in the air. Tadpoles, vampire lords, demons and gods could all wait until tomorrow. Tonight, for all you cared, all was well in your world.   

Earlier, Halsin had laid out an assortment of herbs, most of which you couldn’t name, and busied himself with mixing them in varying proportions and stuffing them into several smoking implements. Karlach had declined, saying there was no point and that she would stick to grog. You and Shadowheart partook in Halsin's ‘herbalist mastery' together with the druid. And now, to everyone's disbelief and amusement, so did Astarion. 

“What in the hells is in this?!” Astarion tittered, leaning back against the wall, his eyes shut and an idiotic smile on his face. You couldn’t look at him, lest it set off yet another chain reaction of giggling. 

“Part of it is moonflower, which mostly serves as an amplifier,” Halsin answered, cautiously. 

“And? What else?” You wondered whether whatever it was might help Astarion with his nightmares. The scent of the herb was vaguely familiar, but you couldn’t quite place what it was.  

“Wait! I want to guess.” Shadowheart leaned over to whisper to Halsin. He shook his head at her suggestions. Once he whispered back to her with the correct answer she collapsed on the bed with a guffaw. “Oh gods... So it is official.” 

“Halsin...” Astarion croaked. “Halsin, I will stab you... What did you give me?!” 

“I had a hunch, but it was intended as a joke – I didn’t really think it would do anything.” Halsin almost sounded apologetic.  

“Well, spill the beans, what is he smoking that’s so damned funny?! Vampire dust? Cow dung? Some kind of goblin foot fungus?” Karlach was also growing impatient.  

Halsin shook his head, laughing.  

“It’s catnip,” Shadowheart managed, still doubled over. “He’s losing his mind on catnip!” 

Once Astarion regained his ability to speak coherently, you couldn’t get him to shut up.  

Astarion hardly ever took lead in group conversations. He tended to stay on the outskirts of discussions, albeit always ready with a quip or observation. You wondered if his newfound loquaciousness was a glimpse of what he might have been like some 200 years ago. 

It helped that Karlach was bombarding him with questions about vampirism, which he was ordinarily reserved about.  

“So what happens if you consume normal food? Can you drink?” she asked. 

“Well... Kind of..? Although I think the tadpole has had some additional influence. I can drink liquids without becoming ill, as long as it’s not too much. They tend to taste vile or like nothing at all, or not have any effect on me. Coffee smells amazing but tastes like dirt, for example. But potions work, somehow,” he rambled. “Solids are a complete disaster though”. He refused to elaborate.  

“And the wine?” she persisted.  

“Red wine is palatable,” he said, swirling some in a glass that he held in his hand. “But if you want better than ‘palatable’ you really need something of good quality.” 

“You’re just a snob,” you interjected. 

“That may be so, but this is about having something called standards, darling, I’ll teach you about them someday”, he said with a kiss to your temple, as you elbowed him. “But there are ways of going around poor wine.” 

Astarion took your hand in his, pressing his lips against it. 

“May I?”  

Once he had your approval, he carefully punctured the tip of your ring finger with a fang. You idly mused about how completely unfazed you had become by having your skin pierced, as he dripped some of your blood into his wine. 

“Now stir.” He licked the drops of wine from your finger once you were done, and had a sip from his glass. “Like adding honey to tea... Now it’s delectable.” 

“Freaks,” said Karlach, lovingly.  

The conversation moved to him debating wines from various regions with Shadowheart, a subject they were both perhaps unsurprisingly well-versed in.  

“How kind of Lady Shar to leave you such detailed knowledge of something that truly matters, when wiping out so many other memories,” he observed.  

Eventually, the topic changed to Karlach’s years in the Hells, and what it had been like to set just about everything she touched ablaze until Dammon’s recent assistance.  

“Could you do me a favour and hold my hand in yours for a moment?” said Astarion, leaning towards and holding out a hand to Karlach.  

“I haven’t done this in so long this still makes me nervous, you know,” she said, taking his hand in both of hers. “Sorry if I lose my cool and burn you.” 

“I’m sure I’ve had worse,” he replied humourlessly. “...That should do it,” he said after a short while. “Gods, you really do run like a furnace.” You wondered where this was going.  

“Now could everyone look away? I’m about to do something disgustingly sentimental.” 

Immediately, four pairs of eyes including your own were locked on him.  

“Voyeuristic pricks...” he sighed. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

He ran the back of his fingers delicately down your cheek before cupping it in his hand. It was warm, almost hot, as you nuzzled into it.  

“Well isn’t that cute,” Shadowheart remarked into her glass of wine.  

Astarion wasn’t always cold to the touch, not exactly. He became warmer after drinking blood. His body was heated by sunshine on sunny days, just like anything else. And after spending some time under blankets with you he felt almost cozy to snuggle against. But he’s never radiated heat the way the hand against your cheek did now.  

“It doesn’t feel like you,” you mustered, looking into his eyes. He gave you a wistful smile.  

“...If there is any other bodypart you’d like me to warm up for Tav’s benefit, do fuck off before you even ask,” said Karlach, breaking the brief silence that had descended onto the room, and the tender moment was gone, overtaken by yet another uproar of laughter. 

Things quieted down as the evening wore on. 

“I wonder what Lae’zel is doing,” said Shadowheart, who had been silently gazing off into space and occasionally blowing smoke rings for the past while. “Probably something infuriating.” 

“You should go tell her how utterly unimpressed you are with her,” goaded Astarion. 

“I should... I will,” she said, suddenly getting up, determination writ on her face, exiting the room with a surprisingly steady step. 

Karlach sighed. 

“I better go look after her and make sure they don’t need to be taken apart. ...Or that no one else does, if they don’t.” She followed Shadowheart.  

“Nature calls,” said Halsin, also getting up. “And I don’t think anyone’s fed Scratch and the owlbear cub.” 

It was just you and Astarion, who had been grazing your neck with his fangs with increasing impatience. 

“Do it,” you said as soon as the door shut behind Halsin. Instantly, you felt an icy chill in your neck and released a small moan as he bit down, drawing your blood, his hands roaming your body.  

“I’ve been thinking of nothing else for hours,” he breathed hoarsely, once he had his fill. Having a miniscule amount of your blood in his wine and then being unable to sate himself more thoroughly would have been the ultimate tease for him. He really did not think that through, per usual.  

You could have offered him your wrist at some point, your companions had witnessed that on numerous occasions. But you knew you both wanted something more intimate. And private.  

You sank onto the bed with Astarion on top of you, as he continued to lick at the puncture wounds, to get them to stop bleeding.  

“Think Halsin’s coming back?” you murmured.  

“Of course he is. Haven’t you seen how he’s been looking at us?” He wedged his hips between your legs as he continued to suck and lick at your neck, more slowly now.  

"Oh, has he been looking at us in some particular way?” you feigned ignorance. Astarion raised his head briefly to shoot you a look that said ‘oh please’.  

“Do you want him..?” He rolled his hips deliciously into yours as he asked that.  

“Stop teasing,” you whispered. You knew he wasn’t going to let you do anything with the erection you felt pressed against you. 

“Never. Do you want him?” He gave you a mischievous look.  

“I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Sorry darling, I’ll try to do a better job at explaining.” He raised himself back up, his face hovering just above yours. “Do you want to feel his hot, hard cock pumping in and out of you, while I watch?” He studied your reaction closely. “Oh you would like that, wouldn’t you..?” 

“Astarion-” It wasn’t easy to make you blush, but somehow he always found a way when he wanted to.   

“Shh love, I already know everything you’re going to say.” Astarion raised his voice in pitch (resulting in something that definitely DID NOT sound anything like you) and returned to your neck, planting a kiss further down with each sentence: “’I love you, Astarion. I only want you, Astarion. I don’t think you’re ready for this, Astarion. You’re going to regret this, Astarion.’” 

“How about, ‘you’re intoxicated, Astarion’?” 

“Barely,” he scoffed. “It’s worn off.” He tugged at your blouse’s lacing with his teeth. 

“Or maybe it’s ‘no, I don’t want that, Astarion’,” you lied.  

He chuckled at those words and came back up to whisper in your ear. 

“My love... You’re forgetting I can hear your heartbeat. I can smell your arousal. Every time your breath hitches and your heart speeds up – I know. Any time blood suddenly rushes somewhere in your body – I know...”  

“That is an entirely unfair advantage,” you protested. 

“Yes, having a lover that anticipates your every need and reads you like a book is so, so tragically unfair, your poor, poor thing...” 

“And also it’s not what you said, it’s how you said it!” you continued. 

“Porridge,” Astarion whispered in his most seductive voice, grinding against you. “The philosophy and theory of divination, volume four. A bulging coin purse. Gale’s purple pajamas. ...Nope, nothing.” Astarion smirked, and continued in a more normal voice, stilling. “Now let’s try... You dripping wet and begging us both for mercy before the night is over.” He grinned wryly as you let out an involuntary whimper. “I thought so...” 

“You’ve told me yourself, you don’t want to share me with anyone,” you persisted.  

“It’s your heart I can’t bear to share. And he’s a wood elf,” Astarion said dismissively. “He may as well be a walking penis, who would get emotionally involved with that?” 

“You did not just call our honourable companion, the esteemed archdruid of the Emerald Grove a walking penis!” you hissed, choking on laughter, covering his mouth with your hand.  

“A giant phallus on legs,” Astarion mumbled stubbornly against your palm, licking it.  

You heard footsteps approaching the door.  

“Do you really want this?” you whispered, angling Astarion’s face to make him look you in the eyes, and releasing his mouth. “Be serious for a second.” 

“I want this,” he said, holding your gaze. “I really want this. As long as you do too.” 

The door opened, and you both turned your heads to regard the tall, broad figure that paused in the entryway, leaning against the doorframe.  

“Is it company or privacy you desire?” 

~~~~~

Part 2

More of my chaos gremlins

AO3

[kikker-oma]

I made a small fic for this piece of art you did bc it stuck me with emotion and I couldn’t resist

the art:

Time walked through the inn hallways, carrying a glass of water for the traveller, who had succumbed to magic exhaustion and was resting peacefully for the time being. He heard a keening sob, and then a sniffle and paused, the water splashing slightly from the abrupt stop. He followed the sound to the room where the sailor, the smithy, and the captain were staying. Worriedly, he knocked on the door with his free hand. “What?” Came a worn, small voice and the old man’s heart stuttered. 

“Can I come in?”

“I—“ A hiccup. “Yeah.”

He turned the knob and opened the door, stepping inside and examining the room, seeing the familiar blue tunic of the sailor’s and recognizing Wind, sitting on one of the bed’s with his legs dangling on the ground. He met Wind’s eyes and saw the tears and softened, closing the door shut as quietly as he could. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Time approached the kid slowly.

When all he got was a barely bit back sob he sat down next to the sailor and noticed he was clutching a telescope tightly to his chest, so tightly his knuckles were white. He didn’t press, merely laid a hand on his shoulder. And Wind looked back at the old man with streams of tears falling down his cheeks and dripping down his chin, his eyebrows pressed and he released his tense grip on the telescope holding it up slightly. “Y’know—sometimes I stay up…A-and I think about what she went through.”

She. Time held his breath, wondering who this girl was but also finding himself nearly at tears seeing and hearing this. Wind hiccuped again. “And—I th-think that.”

A sob tore its way out of the kid’s mouth and Time uttered something softly, a reassurance. Wind continued anyway. “It r-really should’ve been me.”

“No. I don’t know what happened, but you don’t deserve whatever was so bad that she went through.”

“My s-sister, she was kidnapped. She was only six years old—“ Wind gasped. “And she has nightmares of her time in a cell. I would’ve been able to handle it, old man. It should’ve been me.” 

And didn’t that make Time’s heart ache more than ever. He hugged the kid. “She’s safe now, right?” 

“W-well yeah…”

“Because you rescued her. Who would’ve been there to save you had you been in her stead?” 

He got no reply, just a muffled hiccup. Time wiped the kid’s tears away. “We can’t change the past. And no matter what your mind may tell you, even though your sister has gone through a lot, she still has you, right? You’re both still alive.” 

He wasn’t expecting a response. He wasn’t expecting anything from the poor kid right now. 

Kids. These are just kids.

Time waited patiently, keeping the sailor company as he took in what was just said and continued to cry, until Wind spoke, saying, “This telescope is my sister’s. She let me borrow it, before she…Y’know got kidnapped but when I tried to give it back she insisted that I needed it more.” 

“I see. She sounds kind.”

“She is. She helps out where she can and she comforts me when I have nightmares and Grandma isn’t there to,” Wind sniffled, rubbing his eyes. “Aryll’s the whole reason I’m out there, looking for a new place to call Hyrule. I just wish she hadn’t had to go through what she did.”

“I find myself wanting to meet her,” Time hummed. “Is she younger or older than you?” 

“Younger. When she got k-kidnapped I was about 11.”

And so the old man stood up, and smiled softly back down at the sailor. “Would you like to check on the traveller with me? I was giving him some water.”

“Yes!” Wind smiled back, hopping up and following the old man through the inn.

I feel sick. These kids have gone through so much…because I wasn’t there. I abandoned them.

ASHAJAJAHFJF

Time comforting Wind is SO PRECIOUS!!!

Dad vibes DAD VIBES DAD VIBES!!!

Oh wind is such a selfless older brother, he cares so much and is so sacrificing out of love!

I adore that time doesn't expect anything from wind, just talks with him and comforts, and then gives him the option to help Hyrule totake his mind off of it. A nice distraction while also fulfilling the need to do more and help❤️

Oh but Tiiiiimmme don't you start feeling the same way!! Someone tell this man to listen to his own words!!

Thank you Uni, this was SUCH a lovely surprise!!!!!

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Dragon Blood

Chapter 3: Your newfound fear of dragons causes you to run away from Dragonstone, but you're naive to think a certain prince with an odd fondness of you would let you go so easily.

Vermithor's claiming left you with endless nightmares. The monster's fury and the screams of the unfortunate dragonseeds haunted your nights and filled your days with dread. The castle, once a place of routine and stability, now felt a platter above hungry predators.

Desperation led you to the head of staff, where you made up a story about distant family in the Reach. "They've asked me to come live with them," you lied, your voice trembling but determined. "Please, I need to leave Dragonstone."

The head of staff was a stern woman with a soft spot for you. She eyed you suspiciously but eventually nodded. "Very well then. I'll arrange for your transfer to a local inn. You may leave as soon as you are ready."

The next day, you gathered all of your belongings and set out on the path leading away from Dragonstone. Each step was heavy with the weight of leaving behind the life you knew and stepping into the unknown.

Suddenly, the sky darkened as a massive shadow passed overhead. You looked up, heart-pounding, to see a dragon descending right onto you. Vermax landed with a powerful thud, sending dust and pebbles flying. You froze, your newfound phobia of dragons paralysing you.

Prince Jace dismounted, his armor gleaming in the sun, a picture of authority and grace.

He approached you with a measured stride, his expression unreadable. "It is high treason for a servant to lie about their supposed family in the Reach."

Fear seized you, and you took a step back. "My prince—"

He cut you off, his eyes blazing with anger. "Do you have any idea how foolish you are? A pretty girl, travelling alone, unarmed and unprotected? Do you have any inkling of what could happen to you on the road? The dangers you could face? What if some slaver found you? What then?"

His words struck you like a blow, and you felt your knees weaken. "I just..."

“You think you can just walk away?” Jacaerys said, his tone low and challenging. “After everything you’ve seen, everything you know? You think that freedom is yours to take?”

“I want none of it! I just want to be safe,” you replied, your voice trembling.

“You’re a Targaryen, y/n. There’s no running from that.”

The weight of his words pressed down on you. “I’m not! Im not... like you, not like the queen,” you whispered. “I’m just a servant. I have no wish to claim a dragon, not anymore—”

You felt your lower lip trembled, your fears cutting off your speech.

Jacaerys softened slightly, though his tone remained stern and dismissive. "You're lucky. It's not every commoner who gets offered an escort from a prince."

You looked up at him in surprise. The closeness of his presence made your breath catch in your throat. His eyes were intense, studying you with a mix of frustration and something else, something darker.

You hesitated, fear and doubt swirling within you. Jacaerys stepped even closer, his presence overwhelming. “Do as I say,” he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. “You will learn how to command a dragon. Claim your birthright at least once.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, but you could see no way out. He was your prince, your sovereign, and you had to obey him. You nodded reluctantly.

He took you by the hand, leading you to Vermax. The dragon's eyes followed your every move, and you could feel its rumble shaking the ground beneath you.

Jacaerys stepped closer, his presence both intimidating and oddly reassuring. "Say 'Lykiri to command Vermax to obey."

"Lykiri," you repeated nervously, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Louder," Jacaerys insisted. "Dragons respond to strength."

You took a deep breath and tried again, louder, “Lykiri!"

Vermax's eyes flicked to you, and with a low rumble, the dragon shifted, acknowledging your command. Your eyes widened. The realization that the dragon had listened to you sent a rush of adrenaline through your veins.

Jacaerys stepped up on the dragons offered wing with practiced grace, then pulled you by the hand, his touch surprisingly gentle. "Vermax won't harm you," he assured, seating himself behind you on the saddle, his voice closer now, almost tender. "Feel the dragon's strength."

As you settle on the dragon's back, Jace's presence was solid behind you and reassuring. He guided your hands to grip the saddle, his own hands briefly covering yours.

“Say ‘soves’ to command him to fly.” He spoke in your ear. “Confidently. Command him.”

“Soves!” You spoke loudly.

“And hold on tight.” He instructed, placing his hands on the saddle In front of You.

Syrax took off, the ground falling away beneath you. The sensation of flight, the rush of wind, and the power of the dragon beneath you were overwhelming. Despite your fear, there was an exhilaration, a feeling of freedom you had never known. The world below became a blur, the wind whipping through your hair, your heart pounding with a mix of terror and joy.

The force of the takeoff pressed you back against him. Wind whipped past you. The world below became a blur, and the vast sky opened up around you.

You gasped for breath, the wind making it difficult to breathe. Sensing your struggle, Jace tightened his grip around your waist, his hand moving to your chest, guiding you. “Breathe with me,” he said, his voice steady and close. “In… and out. Slowly.”

You tried to follow his lead, inhaling deeply as he did, his presence grounding you. Gradually, your breath steadied, and you began to adjust to the sensation of flight, the terror giving way to awe.

Jace leaned closer, his voice just above the wind’s roar. “You’re doing well,” he said, his tone softer now, almost… proud.

The adrenaline coursing through you was intoxicating, and as Vermax soared through the skies, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of exhilaration unlike anything you’d ever experienced.

Tears sprang to your eyes, not from fear, but from the overwhelming beauty of it all—the vast expanse of the sky, the powerful dragon beneath you, and the realization that you were flying. Truly flying.

As tears streamed down your cheeks, Jacaerys noticed and pulled you closer. “Are you crying?” he asked, his tone somewhere between teasing and concern.

“I… I’ve never felt anything like this,” you admitted, your voice catching with emotion. “It’s… it’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen!”

You looked out over the landscape, your fear gradually giving way to amazement. The world seemed vast and beautiful from this height, and for a moment, all your worries and fears seemed small and distant.

When Vermax finally landed, your heart was still racing, but it was no longer from fear. Jace helped you dismount, his hands lingering on yours. His gloved hand wiped away your tears, your eyes shining with a newfound light.

"Thank you," you said, your voice barely a whisper.

He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Remember your place, y/n" he said, repeating the same words he once spoke to you. "Not everyone is a dragon. Don't let them think they can push you."

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. As he mounted Vermax once more, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this moment had changed something between you, something you couldn’t quite name.

Jacaerys gave you one last look, his expression bittersweet, before Vermax took to the skies again, leaving you standing there, breathless and overwhelmed by the experience.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

In the small town where you’d settled, life had taken on a simple turn. The days were long, filled with the clatter of mugs and the hum of conversation as you served folk in the tavern. Despite the work being tiring, there was a certain peace in the predictability of it all. The days were repetitive, but you were away from the politics and dangers of Dragonstone, away from the volatile nature of the court.

Yet, despite this newfound contentment, your thoughts often strayed back to the prince. In quiet moments, when your duties were done and you were alone in your small room above the tavern, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander. It started innocently enough, a simple memory on his sharp gaze, the way his eyes seemed to pierce through you. But then, your thoughts became something more—something that made your breath hitch and your heart race.

You remembered the way he had stood so close to you, his tall frame towering over you, the heat of his body radiating against your skin. The memory of his voice, low and commanding, echoed in your ears, stirring something deep within you. There was a part of you that couldn’t forget the intensity of his touch, the way his hands guided you, strong and possessive, as if you were something that belonged to him.

Your thoughts became bolder, imagining what it would feel like if he had pulled you closer, if his lips had brushed against your skin. The idea of his power over you sent a thrill through your body, a tantalizing mixture of fear and desire. You found yourself longing for that feeling again—the rush of adrenaline, the helplessness of being under his control, the undeniable pull between you.

But with that heat came a deep sense of shame. You were low born. Nothing more than a commoner, a servant, and he was a prince of the realm. How could you, a mere tavern girl now, dare to feel this way about someone so far above your station? The very idea of it felt wrong, inappropriate, yet you couldn’t stop the thoughts from creeping in, couldn’t stop your body from reacting to the memories of him. The shame gnawed at you, making you feel small and unworthy, but it also made the desire burn hotter, a forbidden fire you didn’t know how to extinguish.

In your free time, you’d found solace in the company of a local pastor, a kind man who offered to teach you to read. You took to the lessons eagerly, and in time, he began to trust you with his collection of books. Most were on the Targaryens and their dragons.

The stories of the dragons captivated you. You learned their names, their temperaments, and the legends about them. And with each passage, your connection to the past, to the blood in your veins, grew stronger, even if you tried to suppress it.

But even more, these stories fed your thoughts of Jace. The more you read about the Targaryens, the more you understood the weight of the name he carried, the expectations, and the burden of his lineage. You wondered if he ever felt trapped by it, as you felt by your own place in society. And as you delved deeper into these histories, your fantasies of him grew more vivid, more intense, until you could almost feel him with you, his presence a ghostly weight that pressed against you in the night.

You couldn’t stop wanting him, couldn’t stop imagining what it would be like if the world were different, if you were different. You kept these feelings to yourself, unsure of what they meant or what you would even do if you were to ever see him again. For now, the tavern was your world, and Jace was a distant memory—one that haunted your nights and invaded your dreams with yearning.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Jacaerys Velaryon had little time for distractions. His days were filled with duties—securing alliances for his mother, studying the intricate web of Targaryen bloodlines, and practicing his skills in combat. Every moment was a reminder of the precarious position his family held in the realm, the constant threat of war looming on the horizon. There was no room for error, no room for weakness.

And yet, despite his best efforts, his thoughts would often stray to you.

It was infuriating how easily you crept into his mind. A mere servant, a girl of no consequence, and yet he couldn’t stop thinking about you. It started innocently enough, a fleeting memory of your purple wide-eyed expression when he had pulled you from the throne room, saving you from Vermithor. But those memories became something more.

He remembered the way you had trembled under his touch, the way your breath hitched when he had drawn close. It should have pleased him, the power he held over you, but instead, it had sparked something else—a desire that he found both confusing and inappropriate. You were beneath him, a commoner with no claim to anything, yet the memory of your body pressed against his, your soft curves against his hardened armor, lingered in his mind, refusing to be banished.

As he pored over maps and documents, his thoughts would drift to the feel of your skin under his hands, the warmth of your body against his. He wondered what it would be like to explore that warmth further, to strip away the layers of clothing that separated you and discover your body for himself. The thought alone made his blood run hot, and he cursed himself for allowing such distractions.

His days were a blur of meetings and training, his nights spent in restless sleep, plagued by dreams in which you featured prominently. He dreamed of claiming you, of possessing you in a way that no one else could, of making you his despite the vast chasm that separated your stations in life.

It was maddening. You were nothing, a nobody, and yet the thought of you with another man, of someone else touching touching whats his, filled him with a rage. How dare you make him feel this way, weak and conflicted?

The internal struggle only intensified as he learned more about the Targaryen bloodlines. It was that realization that troubled him the most. You were of Targaryen blood, however diluted, and that meant something.

His rational mind insisted that you were still nothing more than a servant, your bloodline a mere footnote in the grand history of his house. But another part of him, a darker, more primal one, demanded he claim you, possess you, and ensure that no one else could.

Even as he trained with the sword, his muscles burning from the exertion, his mind would wander to the way you had looked at him, the mixture of fear and something else in your eyes. It was intoxicating, the way you had both feared and desired him, and it made him want to see that look again, to push you further and see just how far he could go before you broke.

And then there was the shame. The shame of wanting someone so far beneath him, the shame of knowing that he was betraying everything he had been taught by even entertaining these thoughts. You were a bastard, a servant, a commoner, and he was a prince of the realm. It was absurd, scandalous even, to think that there could be anything between you. Yet, despite the shame, despite the knowledge that he was crossing a line, he couldn’t stop himself.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Tag list:

@alwaysdaydreamingoffiction

@rav9n-16

@dracaryxzs

@jacaeryvardaddy

@ericasabe

@alessiaparigim

[minisinmedia]

Lone Fleming as Helen Miller wearing a super short pink pleated mini skirt in It Happened at Nightmare Inn (AKA: A Candle for the Devil) (1973)

[toji-bunny-girl]

Always wondered what happens after a darling successfully escapes their yandere. Will they meet a new person and fall in love? Will they continue living in the aftermath of being kidnapped and traumatised? If so, how would they navigate their life with their disturbing past?

And what happens if the yandere managed to catch their darling back for the second time?

It’s been more than 2 years since you escaped from Bakugou, and you’re living a fresh life away from him. You don’t report him to the authorities because you know the corrupted system would wound you up back under his chain. So, you’d rather keep your mouth shut and move to some obscure countryside far, far away from him and the city.

There, you found a halcyon lifestyle and an honest man who cherished you more than anything. You had gotten engaged with him within a year of seeing each other and you thought life was finally falling into place. Until it didn’t.

You had no one to blame, really. It was as if God was playing an abhorrent joke on you. Who knew pro hero Dynamite would be going undercover in the diminutive town of Motosu for an on-the-run supervillain?

Who knew he would be staying at the exact inn you’re working at? 

Bakugou had always known that you were out there somewhere, he could feel his cells insisting you were missing and alive—hiding in the tenebrous cracks of the world. And one day, he would find you and drag you out of whatever crap you’re hiding in.

Lucky him, he had caught a familiar figure trodding around the inn he was staying at over a runaway case. He couldn’t have gotten it wrong, right? The way those hips sway as she walks, how her neck is structured from behind, and her smell. So sweet, as ambrosial as some forbidden fruit.

And when she turned around a corner, he saw your exact features—that very face etched like a tattoo in the walls of his mind. He could never get that profile wrong; he could never get you wrong.

Bakugou doesn’t just sweep you off from this shitty town though. He waited and watched. Noted the usual route you take to go back home, ‘home’ where you would call it, with some bumpkin who managed to put a worthless ring on your finger.

Dynamite could've given you everything and anything. He could’ve given you the world—a million-dollar ring, a mansion, and his whole heart and soul just for you. And you settled for that?

It boils his blood in crimson ire—why couldn’t you just be good and love him? Just why? Why can’t you accept your fate with him, forever as your one? Why? Why? Why?

He’ll get you to answer him soon enough once he got everything prepared—paying for the local police and magistrate’s silence; no one would know and care about your disappearance then.

And he waits until you’re off your shift and traipses back home with your sore back and hips, you wouldn’t be worrying about them when he gets you back to your real home.

“How long has it been?” your pace slowed, ears twitching. “2 years? Or more?”

No.

No. 

No. This can’t be. 

Bakugou. 

Your thought doesn’t finish forming before you’re bolting away as hard as you can, it doesn’t matter if your legs are getting weaker and the world is on vertigo—you’ll die if you’re caught. You know this voice and it haunts you in every nightmare you have, and for once, you prayed and prayed and begged for this to be a dream.

Don’t take my life away again. 

At last, you knew you could never outrun him. But the adrenaline surging through your veins made you believe you could; only a little while until you’re home and you’ll get Takashi to call the cops. And you finally understood chemicals were mere illusions when your body is thrown forward, landing on the ground before Bakugou pins you down.

It’s been two years. And he’s bigger. Stronger. Your stomach drops into the endless abyss when your eyes catch his burning red, sweat and tears automatically roll down your face and your voice fails to crack out of your dry throat. The world feels like it’s ending and you’re finding death in front of you, again. 

“Please, please, don’t! Please, leave me alone! I’m sorry, please—” you saw his face; a serpent with a satisfied hiss, tail locking its prey immobile, and you understood there was no way you could ever gain back your freedom. “Please, god! Please, don’t do this to me!”

“Oi,” so chilly, as if the alphabet of his word were stabbing your eardrums. “I’ll kill him if you don’t be good.”

This time with a life’s threat, you knew you’d forever be in hell—dead or alive.

୨ yandere series ୧

yandere!katsuki﹛ⅰ﹜ yandere!katsuki﹛ⅱ﹜ yandere!katsuki﹛ⅲ﹜ yandere!katsuki﹛ⅳ﹜ yandere!katsuki﹛ⅴ﹜

© toji-bunny-girl ― all rights reserved. do not modify, translate, plagiarise or repost my work

[zombiecheri]

A Girl And A Samurai

Pairing: Mizu x Fem!reader

Tags: mizu kills a man, you get to know her. there's nothing more in first chapter at least

A/N: haven't written anything in ages so excuse me if there are some errors. had to get this out of my system. next chapter will be more spicy!

Chapter 1

"you drown not by falling into a river, but by staying submerged in it" - Paulo Coelho

It wasn't supposed to happen like that. The man, your father entrusted to accompany you back to the village, simply haven't showed up and you sat in the small inn pondering what to do next. It was foolish to even consider going back alone. With autumn season nearing it's end, cold winter air was creeping from the north rattling against the old wooden walls of the inn. Not to talk about groups of men wandering around and waiting for an opportunity to rob, rape and kill women on the road.

road, which would take at least a week.

you were brave and reckless but far from stupid, you wouldn't even last 3 days on the road. but you had to.

had to

With winter nearing, you couldn't get stuck in an inn where you hardly knew anyone with no food and barely any money left. Waiting for your family to send another person to accompany you back would also take too long. It seemed like an impossible situation and you were about to start panicking until a solution presented itself.

Big hat. That was the first thing you noticed about the stranger. Then you saw a scabbard that glistened in the morning light and the weird tinted glasses that hid their stare. Accidentally overhearing the conversation between him and the innkeeper got your hopes back up. Coincidentally strange samurai also happened to be headed to your village. It seemed that you haven't run out of luck completely. Convincing the samurai to let you accompany him to the village took a lot of effort and begging on your part but the very next day you both were headed to your home, walking out from an old inn into the road surrounded by fallen leaves.

The air was crisp and fresh brushing against your skin and twirling colourful leaves around you. Samurai was quiet but you didn't mind the silence that much. You noticed even back in the inn that he didn't like to waste time on small talk so you silently followed him on the road enjoying the scenery around you.

The first night you spent out in the woods surrounded by trees looming around you, the temperature dropping significantly but thankfully samurai made a fire so the cold late autumn weather didn't bother you much. Both of you ate quietly and you settled to sleep near fire while samurai took watch. The fire cast shadows that swirled with each flicker. It was hard to fall asleep when you could feel his gaze on the back of your head and the anxiousness seeped into your skin sending warn signals to your mind about the whole situation. You barely knew the stranger and while he agreed to let you tag along with him, you were too quick to trust him. Who knew what he'd do? You two were completely alone in woods. Even if you wanted you couldn't shout for help because there wasn't a soul who could hear you.

It seemed that while your mind was racing, your body was having other problems and soon exhaustion took over making you fall into a troubled slumber. It didn't last long. You awoke with a jolt, clutching your hand against your chest, nightmare slowly fading away as you took in your surroundings eyes searching for a tall form of a samurai except he was nowhere to be seen. Panic seeped into your skin and settled heavily in your stomach. You glanced around frantically searching for him, the fire long gone, late autumn chill creeping up and leaving goosebumps on your skin.

He left you. That was your first thought and in the blind panic you stood up, walking in a random direction hoping to catch up to him. You wouldn't survive alone in woods. At least it seemed that your belongings were not touched at all but what good it would do if you ended up dying anyways?

You walked around blindly for a while until you heard a strange sound and slowly, with careful steps went to the direction where you heard it from, light coming down from above helping you lead the way. It appeared there was a small river deep into the woods, you could hear the sound of water rushing down disappearing in the darkness down the way where faint light from the moon couldn't reach it. That's when you noticed the samurai. It appeared that your panic was short-lived and suddenly you felt foolish. He didn't abandon you, he just simply cleaned himself in the water while you were sleeping. He was dressing up when your eyes zeroed in on his chest. Rather, on a strange fabric covering the area. bindings? why would a man need bindings around his chest you wondered before realization hit you and you let out a quiet gasp, taking slow steps backwards.

He, or rather, she was on you before you even managed to blink. The tip of the sword brushed against your neck and you finally let out a loud gasp falling on the cold ground scrambling on your feet to get away from the samurai. She pulled her sword away, grabbing your kimono and bringing her face closer until you could feel her cold breath against your skin. Eyes, icy like the river, bore into you seemingly trying to pierce you with the gaze alone and all you could do was stare back at her gaping like a fish out of water.

If looks could kill

Another shiver took a hold of your body and then you heard it, her voice, almost as cold and deadly as her eyes, whispering against your ear,

"If you tell anyone about this I will kill you"

And brave and reckless you were, but mindless you were not for you believed her every word and managed a tiny, shaky nod not trusting your voice to speak. She let go of you then, dropping you unceremoniously on the ground and going back to finish dressing up as you sat there wondering if luck was at your side or you were truly foolish to believe so.

Next morning you both continued your walk again. You quietly gathered your supplies after eating and followed her on the road not missing the stare which now you knew hid eyes colour of a chilly winter sky. The silence once welcoming now hung in the air threatening to deafen you. Tension so thick you could almost taste it on your tongue. Walk was short lived because not even an hour in, your luck decided to test you again.

Three men, seemingly out of nowhere appeared right in front of you two their gazes dark, their eyes even darker and you cursed in your head noticing their ugly stares fixed on your body. Your samurai just stood there staring down at them without saying a word before slowly tilting her head to the side and whispering for only you to hear,

"stand back"

You did as you were told and watched as the three men laughed at your companion.

"You think you can take us?" Said one of them, voice raspy filled with amusement and mockery as he took out the small blade and dangled it in front of the samurai while other two laughed. "Give us the girl and maybe we'll let you walk away"

You heard it then. A faint chuckle, melodic and deep so unlike the laugh coming out of awful men in front of you and a part of you, mistrustful and weak and so, so foolish, wondered if she'd actually give you to them. It seemed that you didn't have to wonder long because she unsheathed the sword and before you even managed to blink, her sword was slicing the hand dangling a rusty blade.

It felt like time slowed down, hand fell on the ground blood oozing out from the wound painting everything red and you felt like you were underwater, your ears filled with cotton. You didn't even notice your shaky legs giving out as you fell on the ground yet again.

It ended as fast at it started and soon one man lay dead on the ground, blood pooling around him, his sliced hand laying next to him clutching that rusty metal as other two were running away with panicked gasps and curses. There wasn't a drop of blood on the samurai as she turned around putting the sword back into the scabbard. She noticed your fallen form and tilted her head an unkind smile appearing on her face as she took slow steps towards you, like an animal stalking it's prey.

"are you scared?" Her voice held a hint of mockery, tone almost bored. You realized then that she expected you to run. To cry. A demon, an onryō wearing a mask of a human with mixed blood and eyes so unlike anything you've ever seen before. She expected you to be scared or disgusted and while you were shocked and maybe scared a little bit, there was a hint of something deep inside you, something that made you walk all those miles away from home, made you brave and made you reckless.

A hint of curiosity.

You were curious about her. A lone samurai, a woman, something completely unheard of, walking around for a purpose you didn't know and killing with such precision and skill that left you speechless. That intrigued you, that pulled you in and made you want to understand, to unravel the mystery that was the woman standing in front of you. So really, how could you help it? How could you stop the curiosity taking over your body and how could you stop the words that stumbled out of your mouth catching both of you by surprise.

"What's your name?"

Such a simple, innocuous question. There was a dead man laying in his own blood and there was a samurai in front of you who killed him in mere seconds and you wanted to know her name?

She let out a laugh then. A real laugh, throwing her head back and wrapping arms around herself all hints of mockery and distrust disappearing from her face. The sound pulled you in, mesmerized you and took you by surprise so sudden you felt foolish. foolish for the way your cheeks warmed and foolish for the way your treacherous heart speed up it's rhythmic beating against your chest.

"It's mizu" was all she said after she calmed down and oh, you were such a foolish girl after all.

The walk afterwards wasn't as unpleasant anymore. Tension hanging in the air disappeared and took the silence with it. For some unknown but quite welcoming reasons she even indulged in small talk with you. You got to know about her purpose and in return she got to know about your life in village.

Mizu. Set on a path towards killing four white men in japan. Mizu, whose blue eyes lost it's icy edge and reminded you more of a warm summer sky instead, of clear ocean - wild, untamed but beautiful and deadly. And you wondered, if you tested your luck once more, could you drown in them or drift above.

[aerynwrites]

Fear of Losing You

Dammon x GN!Reader

A/N: Had this idea and realized it would work perfectly as a part 2 to Emeralds! I hope you all enjoy!

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: angst, talks of death, fear of death, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, kissing, Dammon is once again a sweetheart and I love him.

Part 1

His screams are the only thing you can hear. 

His screams among the dozens of others filling the air. You can’t even see what’s happening, darkness filling your vision as you search blindly for him. 

“Dammon!” 

You scream his name, desperate to find him, but it only echoes around you, never receiving an answer. 

Swords clashing, more screaming, the iron tang of blood flooding your tongue. 

What’s happening? Where’s Dammon? What’s going on?  

A frantic call of your name has you spinning, that blackness nearly suffocating you as you search blindly for the man calling your name. 

He sounds scared. He sounds scared and hurt and you can’t see anything- 

Another call of your name is what finally jerks you awake, the all consuming blackness giving way to the familiar darkness of nighttime at camp. 

You’re shaking, sweat making your clothes cling uncomfortably to your skin as you take in your surroundings. 

Gale sits in front of you on your bedroll by the fire, brows pinched in concern as he gazes at you. His hand on your shoulder squeezes gently as you try to get your bearings, your other companions looking on in worry. 

“You were having a nightmare,” Gale says softly. “Are you alright?” 

You nod your head, bringing a shaking hand up to rest against your forehead.

“I’m fine I…” you shrug his hand off. “Something just feels…wrong.” 

“Such is the way of the shadow cursed lands,” Halsin says from across the fire, arms crossed pensively over his chest. “The shadow magic here affects more than just the creatures it creates. I’m sure when we reach Last Light, we may find some solace.” 

You nod despite the deep pit of anxiety settling in your stomach. 

“Yeah…you’re probably right.” 

You give a small thanks to Gale before laying back down and turning your back to the fire, knowing no sleep will come to you. Not with the fear of those terrible screams returning.

When morning comes, you’re already on your feet and gearing up for the trip to Last Light. You’d spent most of your sleepless night finding the best route to the inn the Harper’s had marked on your map, and once everyone was ready, you head out. 

You had tried all night to ease the pit of dread that formed in your stomach, but nothing helped. 

It’s as if you could sense that something was wrong. Something more than the evil that cursed these lands. And your mind would not stop going back to that dream. To Dammon’s screams…

“Oh, gods…”  

Shadowheart’s murmured gasp pulls you from your thoughts and the map you are currently looking at, coming to a stop as the group does. You’ve barely blinked when the map falls from your hands, utter fear gripping your heart as you see what caused even the sharran to pause. 

It’s the refugees. The tieflings from the grove. 

Dozens of them lay slaughtered in an open field in front of you, and before you can think better of it, you’re darting towards the massacre and out of the safety of the light Karlach holds. 

You faintly registered muttered curses and calls of your name as your companions chase after you, but you don’t care. All you can do is scan each body you pass, hoping and praying with each one that you don’t see his body among them. 

You see dozens of faces, some familiar and some not, but you know for certain they were from the grove. And with each one you find that isn’t Dammon you feel equal parts relief and dread. 

Until your eyes land on an all too familiar green scarf caught in the branches of a bush on the side of the path. It flutters weakly in the bitter breeze constant to these cursed lands, the only source of color besides the blood soaking into the ground. 

You stumble over towards the item slowly, reaching out and clutching the soft material between shaking fingers. Pulling it free form the tangled branches, you hold the fabric up to your nose, confirming what you already know. 

It’s Dammon’s. 

It still smells like him. Like burnt metal, smoke, and the subtle sweet spice cinnamon.

A cry works its way past your lips before you can stop it, and Shadowheart just barely manages to catch you before your knees buckle. 

“He’s…it’s Dammons,” you tell the others, tears already wetting your lashes. “They…they’re all dead.”  

The last word is choked out and you can feel a torrent of tears ready to follow, but Karlach steps forward, getting down on one knee beside you. 

“Don’t lose hope,” she says, voice firm. “He isn’t here, you looked remember? We haven’t found him yet, and this-“ she gestures to the scarf in your hands. “He could have gotten away.” 

You nod as her words sink in, the fear subsiding ever so slightly, but still gripping your heart. 

“Y-yes I suppose…” you trail off, looking back down at the scarf in your hand before wrapping it tightly around your knuckles. “We should push on to Last Light, maybe they…maybe they know something.” 

The rest of your companions mutter small agreements, as well as words of hope. Even Astarion places a gentle hand on your back, saying something about how Dammon wouldn’t go out that easy. 

The last leg of the journey to the inn feel like eons, each step feeling like a mile and each turn and bend looking the same as the last. 

Despite Karlachs encouraging words, you can’t stop the sorrow from clogging your throat. 

It feels foolish really - you and Dammon hadn’t even really started your relationship and yet here you are… mourning him. 

You try not to let the darker thoughts creep in. The thoughts of what his last moments were like. If he was afraid or angry or… scared . Did he think of you? Was he in pain? 

You let out a shuddering sigh as you turn the last corner, a cobblestone bridge coming into view, revealing a large dome of what looks like pure moonlight. 

This must be Last Light Inn. 

You just hope it holds what you so desperately yearn for. But just as you cross the bridge into courtyard, you’re stopped by two Harper guards. 

“Halt! Keep your hands off your weapons!” The woman says, drawing her own. 

You hold your hands up as you approach, your companions following suit behind you. 

“Who are you?” The guard asks, her crossbow at the ready. 

You introduce yourself as a friend of Halsin’s, before jumping into your more pressing concern.

“We’re just looking for someone,” you tell them. “Please, we just - I need to see if they’re here.” 

The woman regards you for a moment before dropping her weapon. “A friend of Halsin’s? She will want to see you. Come.” 

You cast a wary glance at your companions before following the guard, your desire to get more information winning out against any caution. You follow them further into the courtyard, watching as they approach a woman with long ashen hair. 

She turns to face you upon your approach, lips turned downward and eyes pinched distrustingly. 

Before you have a moment to speak, the woman reaches down towards the ground magic erupting from her palm as vines explode from the ground to wrap around your legs, leaving you immobile. 

You panic, tugging uselessly at the tendrils as you glance up at her. 

“We mean no harm!” You say, hysteria rising. 

You don’t have time for this! You need to find Dammon- 

The woman regards you coolly, “We will see soon enough.” 

Using her free hand she reaches behind her to produce a small jar, holding none other than a tadpole. You watch as the creature squirms, knocking against the glass as your mind pulses with familiarity. 

“This is why we’re here you see?” The woman says. “If there’s one thing we know about these creatures, it’s that they know their own kind.” 

She looks to you then, tucking the tadpole away in favor of unsheathing her dagger. 

“You never should have come here, True Soul.” 

Your heart rate spikes, and you hear your companions ready their weapons behind you. 

“No! Please , you don’t understand! We’re not true souls we -“ you can feel your tears threatening to spill over. All of your emotions from mere moments ago to now proving to be too much. “I’m just trying to find someone, please-“  

A faint call of your name causes everyone to pause, and your heart stops as you hear a commotion from the back of the gathered crowd. 

Bodies are pushed to the side, grumbled complaints silenced as the person comes into view. 

“Stop!” Dammon calls, wide eyes settling on you. “They are the saviors of the grove, they aren’t the people you’re hunting.” 

“Dammon…” 

Everything else falls away then, the surprised murmurs, the muttered orders of the  woman questioning you. All that remains is the man before you, the man you thought you lost. 

He looks the same as when you last saw him, sans his signature emerald scarf. But there, sitting against his chest is that all too familiar silver and green emerald pendant. 

The necklace you gave him. 

You don’t even realize the vines have receded from your legs until you’re stumbling towards Dammon, the tears finally streaming down your face as you all but fall into his waiting arms. 

“I thought you were dead,” you tell him, voice so quiet you’re sure only he can hear. 

His arms wrap around you tightly, holding you securely to him as his lips fall to press into the crown of your head. 

“I’m alright, I’m okay,” he tells you, voice soft as he holds you in his arms. 

You faintly hear the woman who interrogated you invite your companions inside to discuss things further, thankfully allowing you a moment with Dammon, who slowly starts to lead you away from the crowd. 

He leads you to a small stone building off to the side of the inn, the warmth from the glowing forge offering you some form of solace as you both come to a stop. 

Slowly, Dammon reaches up to cup your face in his hands, urging you to look up at him, bright blue eyes searching your face. His brows are pulled together in concern, his thumbs wiping gently at the tears on your cheeks. 

“What happened?” He asks. 

Your lower lip wobbles, the tumultuous waves of emotions from earlier rushing back. 

“I kept having this terrible feeling,” you begin, sniffing lightly. “Then when we were on our way here we saw…we saw the refugees and they-“ you force down a sob. “I thought you - I saw you scarf, and even though I didn’t see you, I thought the worst and I-“ 

“ Shhh…”  

Dammon shushes you gently, pulling you back into his arms as more tears spill forth. “I was among the people you saw…we were ambushed. But me and several others were able to escape and make it here.” 

He pulls away from you once more, eyes soft. “We’re alive, I’m alive. And I don’t plan on going anywhere.” 

His words are so sure and full of conviction as if he plans to survive against the odds on sheer will alone. 

Before you can think better of it, you lean forward capturing his lips with your own, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly. 

There’s only a moment's hesitation before Dammon responds, one hand cradling your cheek while the other slips down to wrap around your waist to pull you closer to him. 

His lips move against yours gently, as if silently reassuring you that he’s here and he’s alive.  

He’s the first to pull away, but not before pressing a few parting kisses to your cheek and forehead before tugging you towards the back of the forge. 

You follow silently, taking in the small stall he leads you to. It’s clean, the straw looking fresh and the bedroll tucked in the back corner making you raise your brows. 

“You sleep here?” You ask, not missing the way Dammon’s cheeks turn just a tad darker. 

He nods, pulling you down beside him as he sits on his bedroll, his arm slipping around your waist as you take your place beside him. 

“Figured it’s easier this way - I keep odd hours so it’s nice to have a place close to my work.” 

For the first time in days you smile. Albiet small, but genuine smile as you turn to look at your blacksmith. 

“Why does that not surprise me?” You say, relishing in the way he smiles back at you. 

It’s then as you look at him, that you remember the scarf wrapped tightly around your hand. You look down, unwinding the fabric from you before holding it up. 

“You’re missing something,” you say softly, reaching out towards him. “May I?” 

Dammon smiles again, eyes twinkling in the orange glow of the forge. “I’d love nothing more.” 

You reach forward, slowly wrapping the soft viridescent fabric around his neck before tucking the ends beneath his leather vest. You then reach up and tug the delicate silver chain from beneath the scarf, letting it and the emerald pendants at its end rest on top. 

You thumb the pendant between your fingers, eyes flicking up to Dammon. 

“You still wear it,” you say, voice whisper soft. 

Dammon nods, reaching out to brush his fingers against the dagger holstered at your hip. “And you still carry this.” 

You smile, leaning forward so your nose just barely brushes his own. “So we always carry a piece of each other, right?” 

Dammon smiles, lips brushing yours. “Always.” 

Then he’s kissing you again, lips full of promises and so much more. 

[teejaystumbles]

Against all odds (a dreamling drabble)

(a 1989 comics AU where Dream does not go meet Hob despite being free)

Dream stares at the sleeping form of Hob Gadling and feels guilty.

He hadn’t gone to their centennial meeting. Despite having escaped Burgess’ cage and having recovered his tools, Dream has not met Hob at their appointed date at the White Horse.

He knows Hob waited for him. Waited until the day had gone and turned to night, after the clock had struck midnight and announced their date over. Dream knows this because he had stood, watching, for as long as the man waited inside the White Horse Inn.

He is not proud of this.

If he examines his reasons for not entering the Inn, keeping watch from the other side of the street instead, he draws a blank. 

Dream does not know why he did not go inside, he knows he froze at the sight of the closed door, the cramped space indoors he could see through the glass (glass, why so much glass everywhere). He had stepped back and waited for his unease to lift, and when that did not happen he had waited for Hob to leave so Dream might meet him outside, but the man did not leave the Inn until the owner practically threw him out on the street, long after midnight. Dream had stepped forward then, only to watch his old acquaintance break down against the building wall and sob. 

Why did Dream not go to him then? Why did he step back into the shadows and watch Hob drag himself up to his feet with a whimper and stumble down the street, hand trailing the wall for support. The only answer Dream can come up with is a supremely uncomfortable one.

He is a coward.

When it comes to relationships, Dream’s track record is disastrous, a fact that he is very aware of. He left Hob in 1889 with cutting words and no promise to return. Hob should by rights be angry at Dream, should be less trusting that he would show. But still the man waited for him at their next appointment, as if he had known Dream’s words to be products of his rage and not vows he would keep. Even if he doesn’t know it, Hob was right to expect Dream to not simply terminate their arrangement. Because here Dream stands, at the foot of Hob’s bed, watching the man sleep, too scared of a smug ‘I-knew-you’d-see-sense’ to dare approach him while awake.

Hob had slowly made his way home, unaware of Dream following him, drawn to him like there was a string tying them to each other. By then Dream felt like the point where he could make himself known had passed, but he hadn’t been able to leave. He kept trailing after Hob, into his small two-room apartment; had watched him shed only his shoes and then stood in the shadows of his curtains while Hob took out a small leather-bound book and pen and started to write. Dream had felt like a ghost, a nightmare watcher haunting his victim. He had carefully reigned in any stray trickles of his power to not make himself known or Hob uncomfortable in his invisible presence. After a few minutes Hob had stopped writing and sighed. Then he wiped his hands over his face tiredly and went to bed, not bothering to get out of his clothes.

Dream stands beside the table with the book now. The pages are still open. His eyes seek out the words unbidden, unable to resist the pull of the written word. He knows he is breaking a lot of taboos this evening. He is invading his friend’s privacy most thoroughly. The knowledge does not stop him from reading what Hob has written.

June 7th 8th, 1989

He didn’t come. The bastard really didn’t come. I can’t believe it. I was so sure he would show. That he was just angry, prideful and stubborn as he is, but surely a hundred years would be long enough to calm down?

Apparently they weren’t. I sat there, at our table at the White Horse, drinking one whiskey after the other, waiting like an idiot until they threw me out, and he didn’t show.

Do you even remember me? Or did you cut me from your memory, like you promised to cut all our ties, the night you left me standing in the rain? Have I left any impact at all on your immortal life that is probably much longer than my own? Surely it must be obvious to you that you have impacted my life more than anyone else. You are the only one who knows me, who knows Hob Gadling, the rough, foolish mercenary who bragged about never dying. Who raised himself from the dirt of the poor just to fall back down again, deeper than ever before. Rise and fall, and rise again only to be put in my place by you again - and rightfully so. 

In 1889 I had finally managed to find some middle ground, feeling safe enough to finally be honest with you - at least partially. And it all blew up in my face.

I should have known, really. Your relaxed smiles for the last centuries were too good to be true. I shouldn’t have trusted my gut and spilled some of the beans. But it had been lonely the last few decades and I thought we had reached an understanding. I thought I knew you, if not as well as you have to know me by now, but enough to take that leap of faith.

I leapt. And you let me fall I fell again. I should be used to it by now, one might think. But when it’s you nothing is simple and the stakes are so much higher.Do you know what you mean to me? Your name is written on a wall inside my heart and I don’t think that any amount of alcohol can wash it away. And I don’t even know it. I don’t know your name but it’s in there, and it’s not coming off. I know. I tried. Although it hurts that you stood me up, I believe that you’ll come back to meet me one day. I will believe in you, no matter what. I have to, for there is no other constant in my life but you. I have to hope.

‘You’re the only one who really knew me at all, and you coming back to me is against all odds, but it’s a chance I’ve got to take’, like Phil says.

Dream does not know who Phil is, but a quick glance at the general human subconscious reveals the quoted words as part of a song by an artist Hob seems to be referring to. Dream perceives the song’s lyrics and its general feeling and swallows heavily. It appears to be an apt choice for Hob’s current emotional state. He reads the last few words while the notes of the song linger in his mind.

So I’ll be here when you’re ready. I hope you know how to find me when they inevitably tear the old place down, but I guess you do. I hope so. I really hope so. I just want to know that you’re okay. I need to know that I’m not alone. There are others like me, I’ve met some. But it’s not the same. No one is like you. No one is as

Please come back

The words cut off abruptly, Hob having clearly been too tired to write more. Dream’s newly reclaimed powers put everything in much sharper relief. Shutting off the flow of emotions from the subconscious comes both easier and harder somehow. Pulling himself back into this singular humanoid shape at Hob’s bedside takes a particular effort he had forgotten since he furnished his ruby. It is not hard, but a task he has to accustom himself to again. Dream pauses for several minutes, quite literally collecting himself, unsure of his next actions.

He looks at Hob again. His face is slack in his sleep, relaxed and calm. Dream only glances at Hob’s dreams to ascertain if they are calm or troubled but finds nothing too upsetting. He does not want to intrude further than he already has so he keeps himself from viewing his friend’s dreams. 

His friend. Friend. The word that had sent Dream running in affront a century ago. Despite himself, struck by a sudden urge to talk to Hob, Dream inhales sharply and silently sits down on the chair in front of the open notebook. He carefully picks up the pen and sets it to the empty paper below Hob’s own words.

My friend.

I apologise for missing our meeting 

I owe you more than one apology. You were correct in your assessment the last time we met. I was am lonely. With one word you dismantled my defences and left me too vulnerable to bear at the time. I was rude to you, and I regretted my words as soon as I had left you. However, as you well know, I am a prideful, stubborn being. Strange, to be able to admit it so easily now. I’ve always known it, and you’re not the first to call me out on it, but of course I would never have allowed anyone who talked to me like that to speak to me again. So I told you I’d leave you, not able to accept that you were, ARE, my friend.

And that I need you, like you need me

I have not forgotten you, Hob Gadling. I do not forget anyone. You are cradled in the vastness of my being like every other mind, your story preserved for all time. This, of course, you cannot know, as I have never introduced myself to you. Again, something I’d like to apologise for. I will, however, endeavour to give you my name in person, and soon.

I would have done so today yesterday, but. For some reason I cannot name I felt unable to approach you or enter our usual meeting place. I know you waited and I am deeply sorry for troubling you.

You have indeed made an impact on my life. Maybe not in the same way I did on yours, but nonetheless our meetings have become something I look forward to. You surely wonder why I never told you who I am. I was not able to admit it a hundred years ago, but to meet you, who knows nothing of my role and my duties, is freeing in a way nothing else is in my existence. You look upon me as your friend, and nothing else. You cannot imagine how much I enjoy the time spent in your presence, listening to your accounts of the last century.

I could not

I was unable to experience much of human history over the last century. This has left me with a certain uneasiness in regards to humanity. I would humbly ask for your patience, once again. As I am trying to gather the courage find the time to gather the courage to meet you in person. Perhaps this book can provide a form of communication, for the time being.

Sincerely, your old friend

Dream drops the pen like it’s burning his fingers and rises swiftly, stepping back from the table and notebook before he can rip out the page he has written in a fit of panic. He has revealed far more than he intended to but it is only fair to leave Hob these words, after what he has put him through.

Dream allows himself one last look at Hob, still sleeping peacefully, before returning back to the Dreaming. There is much to think about. His reluctance to interact with humanity cannot stand if he is to perform his function. Walking with Death has helped him put things in perspective again but he still fears. What? What does he have to fear? He has no need for humans liking him. As he examines his feelings and his earlier short interactions with humans on his way to the White Horse, Dream realises that he does not care about all humans. He only cares about how Hob perceives him. 

Perhaps knowing that he had to introduce himself this time, clearly owing it to his friend, Dream had been afraid of losing Hob’s easy camaraderie. Surely exposing himself as Endless will have a pruning effect on Hob’s relaxed and friendly demeanour. Dream does not want that. But perhaps… No. He will wait for Hob’s reply in his notebook, if it comes. Should he choose to answer Dream, he will then decide how to proceed further. Surely any speculation right now is fruitless.

Trying to put the matter out of his mind for now, Dream goes to resume his work. He is aware enough to know that fear of Hob’s reaction was not the only reason he didn’t enter the White Horse. He needs to work through some things. Perhaps some new nightmares made of planes of suffocating glass will help him put some things behind him.

[Spoiler: of course they won’t, oh honey 🥺]

Part 2

[dreaming-of-lu]

I saw requests are open and I wanted to let you know that I really love your writing! Could you do First and/or Twilight with a reader who sings really well but is self conscious about it? Romantic if possible

I tried to do scenarios, but alas, my brain did not wanna work with that, so hope you don't mind hc's! I gotchu chief.

First

~~ Man, oh man, where do I begin with him? I like to think that their music wasn't really much big in lyrics. It's rare to hear to music with words so imagine his surprise when he heard you softly humming tune. Only for it to slowly grow to normal speaking range.

~~ He happens upon your little tunes while you were foraging. He heard a part, something about "In mountains that are stacked with fear, but you're a king and I'm a lionheart." (King and Lionheart by of Monsters and Men)

~~ Not one to interrupt a peaceful air that surrounded your form. He instead, took careful watch behind a tree, closing his eyes, and listening to the serene song that flitted in one ear and out the other.

~~ He wasn't sure how much time had pass, but the shocked gasp had him up on his feet, hand on his sword and swiveling his head in panic.

~~ With no harm in sight, he breathes only to hear your squeak. He froze when his eyes came into contact with yours. Your voice cracked, "how long have you been standing there?" He duck his head with a sheepish smile, "your voice...it sounded lovely."

~~ He doesn't pressure you to sing to him, only whenever you feel comfortable to do so. Though, he does miss hearing your little hums and the different tunes your home made. It definitely sits in his mind to where he's humming it to himself.

~~ it's only when he had a nightmare of old memories that you sung to him in the shared inn bed quietly. He appreciates the distraction and he loves you for it even as you take a step out of your comfort zone. He cherishes the moments like those.

Twilight

~~ I like to think he loves the folk songs more than what others would actually think he would like. While yes, the bittersweet country tunes make him howl, but the folk songs got his heart swelling, foot tapping and swaying his head alongside to it.

~~ It's definitely a late night, he's on watch and you're up due to brain not wanting to knock out for the night. His ear twitches at the soft hums coming from you causing the stress from his shoulders to relax. He loves hearing your voice, even though he wish for you to get some sleep, the other side is definitely soothed that he's not the only one awake.

~~ He's multitasking! "Tossed his copper, and I watched as it fell, but there wasn't any water in the wishing well." (Wishing Well by The Oh Hellos)

~~ That song...is new... he loves the soft tune, so saccharine to his ears. While he doesn't know the lyrics, he follows along eagerly and sighs in bliss, "mighty tune there, darls."

~~ It stops and he freezes, thinking he said something wrong, he backtracks with a wince, "ah! sorry if I-" "How long have you-" "Til I heard you hummin'." "...want me to continue?" "...if you want to, sugar."

~~ The thought of you only singing just for him, only for his ears to hear, makes his heart flutter. He does the dreamy sigh and it got his ancestor wondering what got him all day dreaming. It's both of your shared secret, one that he cherishes.

~~ Would sing with you, but as you can tell, he's not really a pro at it so he'll let you do the singing. He'll hum along or to himself. Dancing while singing? a swing during a upbeat or a slow sway together on a slow one. Lullabies? when he's down, sick or has a nightmare, know just hearing your voice soothes him.