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lightwhilecandleco · 1 year

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My Radz-At-Han Immersive Experience FFXIV Candle

I was so excited entering the fabled bustling merchant hub of Radz-At-Han in FFXIV and as a candle maker I couldn't resist trying to capture this iconic place in fragrance!

Inspired by India, and the land where alchemy was born, I knew I had to start from a herbal, earthy, and spicy base.

Looking for something I loved the smell of, and that had roots in India, I quickly came to realize one of my favorite bases is Vetiver- it originates from India!! (Who knew?) It was the perfect choice to start out this fragrance.

I wanted this scent to POP! Just like all the vibrant colors of Radz-At-Han, but still have a huge earthy and grounding feel.

To achieve this, I added orange essential oils and lemon to bring in citrus to calm down the spice while giving a colorful pop to the nose.

I wanted to tie into the lore using some oils marketed as "silk or cashmere inspired" like Bergamot and Hemp to give a nod to the textile market in the region. It needed more balance towards woodiness so a dash of cedar did the trick to change it from overly spiced to twice as nice!

Looking through the lore, spending time there and exploring the #ffxivbotanist nodes in the region, I decided to name the scent notes Thavnarian Silk, Paprika and Perilla Leaf. I think those would be the in-game equivalent scents (according to my artistic vision anyway). If I had to give this IRL notes they would be spicy vetiver, lemon, hemp, and cedarwood.

The essential oils I used in this creation were: elemi, fir balsam, geranium, orange, patchouli, and vetiver.

SOOO MANY!! Most candles only use 3!

I encased these elements in a beautiful soy wax and gave it the color yellow since that is a prominent color of the Radz color scheme, and honestly it just felt right for the fragrance’s character.

If you try this scent creation, let me know how I did! I love feedback. Also if you have any ideas for my next creation I'd love to hear them and give it a shot!

-Magnus Rush

Light While Candle Company

Etsy: https://www.etsy.com/shop/LightWhileCandleCo

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tartt9 · 4 months

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pilot episode tits & back for your saturday night

#tart (affectionate)#he's literally hairless and keeley still comes like “time for your wax!!!” and he goes :)#puppy :)

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feral-and-or-horny · 2 years

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See, now I can't stop thinking about how cute your tits would look in a slutty nun outfit with candle wax dripping down onto them <3 MommyBard

Please excuse me while I frantically look to see if I have any body safe wax candles for my next set of pictures

#i domt have a nun outfit...#but i have my old catholic school uniform #nah i actually really like that blouse i dont want to ruin it #also im only half joking about the wax thing #i think i have some tarts for my electric burner that are skin safe #I'll try it on my wrist later #my answer

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commander-diomika · 2 years

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Scoured the ground after I left my waxing appointment in case the universe decided to gift me with another bag of weed like that dog that needs to check the mystery pie bush on every walk.

#Had to give MYSELF a post waxing gift by getting a passionfruit tart instead #Maybe #Just maybe #The post waxing bag of weed was a one time thing #Hank talks

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fombysscentedtreats · 2 months

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Wax melts, body oils, whipped hair and body butters.

fombysscents.com

Come check it out 💕

#wax melts #body butter #home #tart wax #decor #fragrance oils #scents

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shivanidotsingh · 8 months

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jumpcuts this week // 3 x 3

#jumpcuts #wax seals #egg tarts

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ourlittlefarmgoods · 6 months

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Homemade Candles a Passion for Craft and Personalization

In recent years, a quiet revolution has taken place in the world of home fragrance, and at the forefront of this movement are soy wax candles, homemade creations, and the irresistible allure of wax tarts and melts. These products have witnessed a surge in popularity, captivating consumers with their eco-friendly nature, artisanal charm, and the ability to transform spaces with evocative scents.

Soy Wax Candles have emerged as a shining star in the candle industry, experiencing a notable uptick in demand. Crafted from soybeans, these candles are not only a sustainable choice but also offer a cleaner and longer burn than traditional paraffin candles.

The appeal of soy wax lies not just in its eco-friendly profile but also in its ability to hold and disperse fragrances more effectively, creating a delightful ambiance in homes. Consumers are increasingly drawn to the idea of a cleaner, greener candle option that doesn’t compromise on the sensory experience; making these candles a symbol of conscientious indulgence.

On the heels of candle craze, homemade candles have ignited a passion for crafting and personalization. The allure of homemade candles lies in the unique touch that each creator imparts to their creations. From choosing the perfect fragrance to experimenting with colours and shapes, these candles offer a canvas for self-expression.

The surge in interest can be attributed to the desire for more personalized, thoughtful gifts and the satisfaction of contributing to an artisanal movement that values craftsmanship over mass production. These candles have become a symbol of maker’s dedication, creating not just a product but a story to be shared and cherished.

Wax Tarts and Melts have also carved out their niche in the fragrance landscape, captivating enthusiasts with their versatility and intensity. These small, wax-based delights are designed to be melted in a wax warmer, releasing their fragrance into the air. The appeal lies in the ability to experiment with an array of scents, creating a customized olfactory experience.

They have gained popularity for their longevity and the convenience of quickly changing the ambiance of a space without the commitment of burning a traditional candle. As consumers seek variety and flexibility in their home fragrance options, wax tarts and melts have become a delightful solution.

The increasing popularity of soy wax candles, homemade creations, and wax tarts & melts speaks to a larger shift in consumer preferences towards sustainability, individuality, and experiential living. Beyond their practical uses, these products have become symbols of a mindful and intentional approach to homemaking. The trend reflects a desire for products that align with eco-conscious values, embrace creativity, and offer a sensory escape from the hustle and bustle of daily life.

In a world where consumers are increasingly seeking products that align with their values, the rise of candles, homemade delights, and wax tarts & melts signifies more than just a fleeting trend; it’s a movement towards a more mindful and personalized approach to creating welcoming, fragrant spaces. As the glow of these candles illuminates homes, it also sheds light on a growing cultural shift towards sustainable, artisanal, and experiential choices in the realm of home fragrance.

#Soy Wax Candles #Wax Tarts and Melts

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nuunuu · 1 year

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#candle wax #tarts #soy wax #Spotify

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ceruleancattail · 7 months

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May i request for Yandere Riddle but Its actually Alice in wonderland? Like Riddle replaces the Queen of hearts and the reader is Alice.

Acceptance

Yandere Queen of Hearts Riddle x reader

Your back ached.

Standing stock still, spine yanked as straight as it would go. Almost like a statue, carved out of unmoving rock. He expected that of you.

Wait until you’re called upon.

Be obedient.

Today, The Queen of Hearts decided to grace you with some proper attire. You expected a delivery by one of her card soldiers, knocking some strange, bizarre rhythm into your door.

You didn’t expect he would come himself.

The clothes themselves were picture perfect. Every fold artistically arranged with a gaudy amount of bows and ribbons. Everything was ironed with a blazing hot iron. The metal gleamed a sinister ruby, pressed against the cloth until you could smell the foul, heavy stench of something charred beyond saving. The smoke choked you, silver wisps curling up from the fabric, waxing and waning hazily right before your eyes.

With all the ribbons and the fuzz, you felt like one of the Queen’s tarts.

All dolled up pretty just for a show.

The clothes were immediately thrown at you, molten flames sewn into a garment designed to pinch at all the wrong places. Stone grey eyes watched you expectedly. Waiting for your words of gratitude, perhaps?

For you to prostrate yourself before the Queen of Hearts , devotedly clutching onto the attire, tongue-tied with gratitude for his generosity. Maybe he would have liked to hear you stutter, simpering over just how wonderful he was.

It was all you could do not to hurl right there and then, staining the reds and white with the foulness of your bile. That would have been a damn better sight then all the shows the Queen… no, Riddle Rosehearts, insisted on hosting.

Grand affairs where all 52 card soldiers stood at attention, swarms of crimson and ebony parading across his estate. The grand gallows would be set up, blades polished into a steely gleam. In the golden rays of the sun, it shone with a certain grim determination.

A sharp click of tongue. Riddle was losing his patience. It would not do to dawdle, especially in front of royalty. Quickly, you sunk into a shallow bow, a sickeningly sweet smile plastered onto your face.

Arms slipping into sleeves, you did your best not to wince. The heat of the fabric stung, blazing-hot needles stabbing themselves deep into your flesh. The cloth itself dug deep into your shoulders, constraining your movements.

Much like a straitjacket. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony. You were probably the last person in here who needed to be put into one. Every last soul in Twisted Wonderland was mad.

God help you, you might follow suit if this keeps up.

A round of applause. Riddle’s gloved hands clasped each other as he beamed at you. Smile as dazzling as the golden crown that adorned his head.

“You look simply ravishing, my dear.”

His arm stretched out, pinching the cloth that draped over your thigh. Instantly, your hand rushed over in attempt to preserve some of your modesty.

In the process, your fingertips brushed against his, nudging him back ever so slightly. A brief touch could be explained away with a smile and a joke. Pushing him, out of all people, away?

You could feel the anger radiating off him. The searing heat coming off his body in waves, scorching every inch of your skin. The slight tremble in his fingers as they reached for your collar, gripping firmly.

Riddle drags you forward by the throat, yanking you closer to him. Your lungs gasped, collapsing into themselves. Your chest shuddered, trying to inhale even just the slightest breath of air-

It burns.

Your throat, your nose, your mouth were all on fire, forked tongues of pain jabbing deep into your veins. Everything burnt.

With a fury like no other.

Spluttering, your hands claw at his wrist, lips moving soundlessly, desperately. Begging Riddle to release you, to let you breathe-

He finally relents, loosening his grip. Gasping, you clutch at your chest, lungs greedily sucking up whatever air they could reach. It took a few shuddering coughs before your heart stopped racing.

Even then, it still beat rather loudly in your ears. Trashing against its cage of bone, a feral beast threatening to burst right out of your chest.

Gently, something slid across the curve of your chin. A sceptre, as cold as ice. Even the slightest touch made your skin crawl, goosebumps racing up your limbs. Riddle holds it there for awhile, nudging your jaw until your eyes were forced to meet his.

Those accursed crimson irises.

Gingerly, he raises a gloved hand to his lips. Teeth biting down on the edge of the silk, he pulls it off. Discarding it somewhere onto the ground. Riddle reaches for you with his hand, now bare. Cupping your face gently, tenderly, like one would with a lover.

His eyes flickered towards yours, a silent warning.

Do not reject his touch.

Do not reject his gifts.

Do not reject him.

Or it’ll be your head rolling next.

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #yandere riddle rosehearts #yandere riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle #riddle x reader #yandere riddle #yandere riddle x reader #protection potion ♦️

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mypimpademia · 10 months

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— Random Bakugo Headcanons

Bakugo x gn! Reader

Synopsis: A bunch of random bakugo headcanons. Some crack, some romantic, some platonic, some suggestive, and more.

TW: Swearing, suggestive content

⇶ Katsuki is feral as is, but someway, somehow, he gets even more feral when you have any sort of relationship with him (platonic or romantic)

⇶ Likes to play fight a lot, and he always hits a little too hard on accident, but he’ll call you a baby if you tell him to not be so rough (but he softens up either way)

⇶ Starts biting when he feels like he’s losing. Katsuki is strong, but he avoids using brute strength just to avoid losing in a play fight in case he accidentally hurts someone for real, so biting is his go to of getting the other person to let their guard down so he can get the upper hand

⇶ If you’re his s/o, he has no shame in biting you everywhere just to annoy you

⇶ He leaves a lot of marks on accident too, and most people will assume sexual things, but no. He was losing to you in a fight.

⇶ Katsuki starts really dumb arguments with you (not ones that would actually cause issues in your relationship) or asks you really dumb questions just to see you get annoyed because he thinks its funny to see you mad

⇶ Also thinks you’re cute when your mad, and he tells you which just angers you even more

⇶ Lies a lot just because he can. Never about anything serious just lies?? For no reason???

⇶ And not matter how many times he does it, it’s always so believable because he’ll say it with the most serious expression and tone

“I’ve always wanted to learn to play the trumpet.”

“I know how to play the trumpet.”

“Really??”

“No.”

⇶ Truly is just the most annoying person on earth just because he can be

⇶ It’s even worse if you’re his s/o

⇶ Smacks your ass every chance he gets

⇶ Doesn’t matter if it’s little or small either, just full force smacks it everytime your back is facing him

⇶ And it hurts so bad, and he’ll do it even harder if you grab his ass first

⇶ Katsuki just very hands in general, he won’t be if you tell him you don’t like it, but if you don’t it’ll be rare for his hands to not be on you

⇶ Touches your chest, stomach, legs, etc. Even grabs your ankles/feet a lot too??

⇶ Grabs your chin and face a lot

⇶ Gives you massages whenever you ask him to

⇶ Hates when other people do pda, but he’ll do it all the time

⇶ Does everything possible to get you going. Makes out with you just the way you like, kisses your neck, touches you all over

⇶ Then leaves you high and dry because he likes seeing you beg

⇶ It’s no secret that he’s not a name person, but you’re his s/o so of course he knows your name, but he uses pet names religiously. Babe, baby, doll, babydoll, angel, prince/princess, pretty, handsome, baby girl/boy, beautiful, gorgeous, etc.

⇶ Katsuki doesn’t grow a lot of body hair. He gets it from Mitsuki since he takes after her in pretty much every way. But he thought he’d have a lot of growing up since Masaru is the total opposite

⇶ Most of it grows under his arms, and his leg hair is very fine, but almost completely unnoticeable because of the color. Grows basically no chest hair except for a few random strands. His happy trail is a bit darker than the rest of his hair, but the carpets match the drapes for the most part. Waxes off his random chest hairs, but keeps everything else nicely trimmed

⇶ Very well groomed overall, has a shower and body + face routine that he refuses to break. Everything he uses has a woody scent, and paired with his natural caramel scent, he always smells amazing

⇶ Genuinely one of the most clean people you’ll ever meet. Cleans everyday even if its just a light wipe down of everything

⇶ Total nerd. Not just for All Might, but for comics, movies, and video games too. Doesn’t actively tell people though, but if you ask he most definitely will

⇶ Katsuki has a sweet tooth, loves sour and fruity candy. Sour skittles, sweet tarts, and gummy worms are his favorite

⇶ His favorite fruits are strawberries, oranges, and apples in that order

⇶ Tried to go vegan once. It didn’t work out.

⇶ Katsuki hates the word moist

⇶ Thinks the one chip challenge is yummy and hardly reacts to it after the first 2 times he does it

⇶ Bakusquad talks him into doing TikTok trends all the time, their followers love him and always ask for his @ but hates using social media

⇶ Has social media like most people, but only uses his actual name on instagram and a nickname everywhere else and all his accounts are private with barely any followers

⇶ Really enjoys museums and aquariums

⇶ Enjoys feeding you, especially when he has you taste his cooking

⇶ Katsuki’s got his issues but he’s sweet and a romantic when he wants to be

—

Taglist: @megurulvr @miirene @planetlunaa @pnkweb @szaplsdropthealbum @dreampurpledreams @goldenglow149 @gender-queery @roaringlion @chocolateochaco

Send in a ask or DM me to be added to all taglists, or fill out my form to be added to select ones.

—

Thank you for reading, comments and reblogs are appreciated!

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lightwhilecandleco · 1 year

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Light While Playing Final Fantasy XIV Shop My Etsy <3

Immersive EXP Candles & Melts inspired by in-game locations. Notes: Green Tea * Lemongrass * Bamboo Stick

Get closer to your WoL, and step into the world of Kugane.

Thanks for the support! -Magnus

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quartz-crow · 11 days

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BG3 Scents (Headcanons)

Okay so bear with me, I’m slowly getting back into writing on here.. in the meantime, I’ve really gotten into perfumery, and so, here are a few thoughts/headcanons of mine...

Gale: Candle wax, olive oil, sea salt, black tea, parchment paper and a very faint citrusy scent - perhaps lemon or grapefruit.

The wizard’s scent is reminiscent of an old stone house, the very kind which provides you with cool shelter on a hot day… and somewhere in that house, someone has found an old recipe and is now searching through the cupboards for ingredients…

Astarion - Red wine, leather, french lavender, oud, bergamot, smoke.

This scent seems so awfully overpowering at first. It’s the kind of smell that makes you curl your nose up - however, the longer it lingers in the air allows you to notice the subtleties of the scent.. the sharpness of the wine, the sweetness and smokiness of the oud. It’s the kind of scent that is intoxicating - and certainly not for everyone…

Shadowheart - Sugared rose, cherry, lilac, french lavender, frankincense, vanilla, myrrh.

Floral, sugary and almost religious in nature… The half-elf’s scent is reminiscent of an ancient stone church, dark, cool and ancient in nature… There is, however, a floral element too - as if a bouquet has been left to lay wilting by an altar.

Halsin - Pine, oak, woodsmoke, birch sap, fig leaf, wet fur, nag champa.

The druid’s scent is subtle; it’s almost exactly how the forest smells after a heavy storm.. strong, wild and raw and yet, there is still a heady warmth to the scent. Waves of nag champa and fig leaf lay layered on his skin - and of course, due to the nature of such smells, last for days on his clothes too.

Lae’zel -Juniper berries, fresh mint, cypress, sweet grass, dew, white cedar.

This scent is clean, fresh and delicate… It awakens your senses just as a bright crisp sunrise would after a refreshing night camping in a meadow. At first, it may seem like a fairly gender-neutral fragrance, however, the softer notes of the sweet grass and juniper berries can be noticed whenever the wind changes direction.

Wyll - Cardamom, honey, tobacco, bourbon vanilla, grey amber, almond, musk.

This scent is rich, perhaps even a tad on the spicier side of the scent spectrum. To some, it may seem like a spiced dessert paired with a strong drink - to others, it’s reminiscent of being nestled up by a fire, reading a book whilst a thunderstorm cracks overhead. It is sweet as it is masculine, royal as it is earthy.

Karlach - Blackberry, ginger, pepper, dragon’s blood, sandalwood, orange.

Just like the tielfing herself, this scent is unapologetic - firey and playful. The scent toys your senses, the pepper and ginger bubbles like sparkling wine - whilst the sweeter notes of fresh tart fruits provide a girlish, youthful touch… the scent reminds you of pricking your fingers on thorns whilst you collected berries as a child. However, the deeper notes of dragon’s blood and sandalwood round the scent out - those warmer scents are welcoming… homely even.

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chvoswxtch · 2 years

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happy anniversary

pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader

summary: matt shows up late for your anniversary dinner, so you decide to teach him a lesson in waiting.

warnings: cursing, drinking, lil angst, some fluff, explicit sexual content (minors dni), blasphemy (?), little bit of sub!matty

word count: 5.9k

a/n: once again, no one asked for this. I am just once again being a selfish slut for matthew murdock. also, i'm not catholic (nor do I know that much about catholicism) so if the religious things mentioned are totally wrong or offensive, I apologize. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

The candles I had lit several hours ago were now completely liquified pools of amber. I tapped my nail against the side of my fifth glass of wine as I watched the flames dance over the melted wax, their glow casting shadows on the one and a half empty bottles of onyx glass. I could hear the faint ticking of a clock as I brought another tart taste of sangiovese to my lips. The flavor profile was sweet in comparison to my own bitterness. I tapped the corner of my phone to illuminate the lockscreen. 10:57pm. No missed calls. No voicemails. No text messages.

The apartment was silent apart from the ticking of a clock, and the crackling of the wooden wick as it burned. If I closed my eyes, I could pretend there was a fireplace in front of me. I could no longer smell the warm clove spice and toasted cranberry of the candle I had been burning all evening, or the fresh aroma of the meal that was still neatly placed on the table. I couldn’t smell anything but the lack of his presence. I wasn’t turning in for the night until he came home. I didn’t care if I had to wait until sunrise. He may escape the dangers that were waiting for him around every dark alley, but he wasn’t escaping my wrath tonight.

I heard the drawn out sound of squeaking hinges as the door to the rooftop was pulled open before carefully latching back into place. Heavy boots thudded against worn wood as they descended the staircase down into the living room, stopping just shy of the final step. Tension hung thick in the air like an ominous fog, and I waited impatiently for whatever excuse was about to tumble from his lips.

“Sweetheart.”

“Matthew.”

Even with the cowl covering most of his features, and the light cloak of darkness, I could see him wince. He knew I only called him by his full name when I was upset with him. I watched his Adam’s apple bob when he swallowed thickly, bringing his gloved hands up to remove the helmet as he cautiously took the last step down into the living room. Normally the sight of his messy brown hair sticking up in odd places made me giggle and wanna run my fingers through it, but right now I wasn’t in a loving mood. His eyes blankly darted around, his head tilting to the side slightly as he gauged the scents and sounds filling the space.

“It smells amazing in here. You..you smell incredible.”

“Do you know why that is, Matthew?”

“Honey-”

“Because I took my time in the shower today. I was nearly in there for an entire hour. I am shaved and waxed beyond your wildest dreams. I am completely lathered in that raspberry iris lotion that you love so much, that you said makes my skin feel like silk. And you don’t even wanna know how much I spent on the red lace that’s under this dress. Not to mention, I also spent hours making your favorite dish, and dessert I might add, because you promised me you would be home tonight. And why did you promise that?”

“Because it’s our anniversary.”

“So you did remember. You just chose to forget.”

“It was just supposed to be a quick sweep-”

“Nothing with you is ever quick, Murdock. You promised me. I asked for one night, Matthew. One. Night.”

“Listen, tomorrow night I’ll-”

“No. Tomorrow night isn’t our anniversary. Tonight is.”

Matthew Murdock was usually able to talk and charm his way through anything. I had to admit, there were a few times it had even worked on me in the past. But I was not falling for his shit tonight. I didn’t want excuses. I didn’t want empty promises. I wanted to teach him a lesson he would never forget.

“Please..let me make it up to you. There’s still time left of our anniversary, we can still have dinner and celebrate. Let me get changed, I’ll open a new bottle, and I’ll spend all night apologizing between your thighs.”

“Tempting. If you had been fifteen, or even thirty minutes late, but had called to let me know ahead of time you were going to be late, I might have taken you up on that offer. But right now, I don’t think you deserve my pussy, Murdock. I think..you deserve a little suffering.”

Matt’s jaw hardened at my words, and I could hear a quiet whine slip past his lips in the silence. He was usually the one in charge in our relationship, and normally I reveled in it. I loved nothing more than letting him take complete control, obeying his demands, feeling his large hands manhandle me into whatever positions he saw fit. I trusted him completely, and the reward was always overly generous. Matt was a very giving lover, so I let him take me however he wanted or needed knowing we would both reap the benefits of pleasure. But tonight, I would be the one doing the taking.

“Honey-”

“No.”

I downed the rest of my glass and set it down on the table, rising slowly from my seat and crossing the short distance to where Matt was standing. I turned to give him my back, gathering my hair and pulling it over my shoulder.

“Unzip me.”

Matt hsatily discarded his gloves, tossing them into the abyss of darkness haphazardly. He never touched me with his gloves on. He always said he liked to be able to feel me and never wanted anything in the way. His fingers quickly found the zipper of my dress and I felt his knuckles brush against my spine as he tugged the small piece of metal down the middle of my back. I could feel his warm breath against my shoulder, lips dangerously close to my neck.

“I didn’t say you could kiss me, Matthew. Help me out of this dress.”

I could hear the hum of disapproval that sounded in his throat. He gently grasped at the straps on my shoulders and pushed the satin fabric down over my hips until it pooled around my ankles on the floor. As I stepped out of it, I turned around to face him.

“Sit down, Matthew.”

“Sweetheart-”

“I said sit down, Matthew.”

I could see the struggle written clearly all over his face. He wasn’t used to this, taking orders. Hell, neither was I. But I was going to make the most of it. He walked backwards slowly until the back of his knees hit the chair behind him, lowering himself into a perched position on the edge of the seat. I giggled softly as I took a few steps to stand in front of him.

“Oh, get comfortable, Matthew. You’re gonna be sitting there for a while. Now, give me your hands.”

He didn’t hesitate to raise his hands up into the direction of my voice. I gently wrapped my hands around his wrists and guided his palms to lay flat against the crimson lace teddy that covered my body. A soft sigh came from his parted lips as he began to move his hands slowly over the fabric, fingers gliding over every inch.

“No squeezing. No exploring. No lingering. I don’t want you to touch me. I just want you to feel what you’re missing. What’s been waiting on you for the past four hours. It’s your favorite shade of red, by the way.”

The whine that emitted from his lips went straight to my core. I finally understood what he meant when he would tell me how much he loved the noises I made, and how much of an effect they had on him. It made me feel incredibly powerful to hear him being needy.

“Angel..please. Let me-”

“No, Matthew.”

I pried his wanting hands from my body and let them fall onto his lap. Taking a few steps backwards, I sat down on the chair directly in front of him and sighed.

“You know, it’s really a shame. I was so excited for tonight. God, I was going to worship every inch of you. I was going to let you have me as many times as you wanted. Even when my body was begging for a break, I was going to beg you to keep going. I wanted to spend the entire weekend with you buried deep within me. But, I guess tonight didn’t mean as much to you as it did to me, so I’ll just have to take care of myself.”

“That’s not fair.”

“No, Matthew. It isn’t. It’s not fair that I’m going to have to get myself off when you and I know my fingers don’t feel as good as yours. When we both know they don’t reach as deep. But, you’ve left me no choice. You’re going to sit there, and you’re going to be quiet and listen. You will not touch yourself. I don’t want to hear any begging or any complaining. If you speak without permission, or move your hands an inch, I will leave you out here alone. I will lock myself in the bedroom, and you will have no choice but to listen, knowing you don’t get to touch me. If you’re a good boy, I might just have mercy on you. Understood?”

Matt’s cheeks and the tips of his ears had blushed a deep shade of rose. His mouth hung open slightly as he held onto every word. There was a quiet whimper that escaped when I called him a good boy, but I heard it, and it sent a fresh wave of arousal through me. Oh, so he has a praise kink too.

“I-I understand.”

“Good boy.”

I grinned as his thighs tensed. I could already see a growing bulge straining against his suit pants. I moved my body towards the edge of the seat and pulled the fabric covering me to the side, completely exposing myself to him. I ran my middle finger up and down my slit slowly, collecting some of the wetness that had formed before bringing my middle and index finger up to rub languid circles around my clit. I sighed softly at the contact that I had been craving for hours. Matt groaned loudly as he listened to my movements. He told me once he always knew when I was turned on, that he could smell the arousal that soaked my panties and it drove him crazy.

I flattened my palm against myself, slipping my middle finger just slightly inside my entrance as the pad of my index finger brushed against my sensitive nub. I whined softly, beginning to move my hips against my own hand as I felt myself grow wetter. Ever since Matt and I had gotten together, I hadn’t touched myself like this. I didn’t bother. Nothing felt as good as he did. He had memorized my body completely. He knew all of my sensitive spots, where to touch, where to tease, what I liked and what drove me crazy.

“Can you smell how wet I am, Matthew?”

Matt’s hands balled into tight fists on top of his thighs. He was squeezing them so tightly, they were shaking slightly and his knuckles had turned stark white. His jaw was set in a hard line as he leaned his tense body forward slightly.

“Yes.”

“Can you hear it?”

“I can practically fucking taste it.”

I couldn’t help but grin at the growl that ripped from his chest at his response. Don’t get me wrong, I loved a sweet and romantic Matt. I adored when he took his time, held me close and whispered sweet things into my ear as he made love to me slowly while holding my hand. I loved feeling connected to him that way. I could feel how much he loved me and it made my heart swell. But God did I love a pissed off Matt.

He was always calm and collected around everyone. He tried really hard not to let his irritations and temper show. But at night when he put on the suit, he got to let the devil out. All that pent up rage and frustration got taken out on the unlucky criminals of Hell’s Kitchen. But I was even luckier when he came home and still had some left to take out on me. I loved when he snapped and lost control. I knew how much he needed that release, but he didn’t understand how much I needed it too. I’ll never forget the night I was finally able to convince him to take it further.

“I trust you, Matt. I know you need this, and I want it. I’m not made of glass, Matty. You’re not gonna break me. Please..use me.”

That was all it took. Of course that didn’t stop him from apologizing afterwards no matter how much I told him he didn’t have to. Now, it was an unspoken thing between us. He didn’t even have to say it, or ask. I could tell as soon as he walked through that door after particularly rough nights what he needed, and it always sent a rush through me that what he needed was me. I was always ready for him, and he knew it.

“Wouldn’t you like to taste, Matthew?”

Matt closed his eyes tightly at my words. His chest had begun to rise and fall a little quicker now that his breathing had become erratic. If it weren’t for the tightness of his suit, I’d be able to see the perfect outline of his cock. I could tell just by the look on his face that he was painfully hard.

“I asked you a question, Matthew. Open your eyes and answer me.”

I didn’t recognize the demanding tone of my own voice. In my head, I was drawing from my own experiences with Matt from when he had been in more dominant moods. He opened his eyes slowly and let a deep breath out through his nose, spitting out his response through gritted teeth.

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes I..I wanna taste.”

“Mm, that’s too bad. I would’ve let you have your fill all night, Matthew.”

I began to quicken my pace, now fully slipping my finger inside my entrance. I let out a slow whine, but more due to frustration than pleasure. My fingers weren’t as long as Matt’s, and they didn’t reach as deep. I started to focus on swirling my index finger around my clit, applying pressure ever so often.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Matt’s hands fly up to grab at the collar of his suit, tugging at it softly with a grimace. I halted my actions as I narrowed my eyes over at him.

“Matthew.”

“Please..can I just take this off? I..it’s too hot. It’s making it hard to breathe.”

“Fine. Take it off.”

Matt didn’t need to be told twice, and I was frankly impressed at just how quickly the suit had been discarded. He let out a sigh of relief as he sat back in the chair, clad in only a pair of black boxer briefs that clung to his muscular thighs. I captured my bottom lip between my teeth as I took in the sight of his half naked form.

“You can’t come like that.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sweetheart..I know you can’t make yourself come like that. Please, let me help. If you wanna tortue me, fine, but don’t make yourself suffer. Please..let me help.”

“I don’t need your help, Matthew. While I admit, I do come harder and easier with you, I did take care of myself before you came along. It just takes me longer. So, I suggest you be quiet..and patient.”

I began to move my fingers again, focusing the pads of my index and middle fingers on my aching clit. Part of me wanted desperately to give up and just let Matt take over, make him prove all night how sorry he was. But I was stubborn and hellbent on proving him wrong.

“Baby..please. I-I’m sorry. It’ll never happen again, okay? I swear. Just please..please let me touch you. I need to touch you, sweetheart. I need to taste you. Please.”

“Matthew, this is your final warning to shut the fuck up.”

A strangled groan escaped Matt’s throat and filled the apartment as he threw his head back against the couch in frustration. He braced his hands on the armrests of the chair and gripped onto them so tightly I was certain they would snap. His entire body was rigid with pent up tension and I watched in awe when he started to slowly thrust his hips upwards into nothing. That sight had to be the hottest thing I had ever seen.

“You could come like this, couldn’t you? Just listening to me fuck myself on my fingers?”

Matt whined loudly as he turned his head in my direction. A sheen of sweat had already formed on his forehead and at the top of his chest. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he sighed defeatedly.

“Yes.”

“Too bad.”

Matt’s eyes widened at my callousness, his lips parting in surprise.

“Sweetheart, I can’t-”

“Now Matthew, we’re playing by your rules, aren’t we? What do you tell me when I’ve been a bad girl and want to come?”

Matt collapsed against the chair and groaned, digging his fingertips into the fabric of the armrests. It wasn’t hard to see how much he detested the taste of his own medicine. I wondered for a moment how long he would actually last through the teasing. I thought about how much longer it would be before every ounce of self control Matt had was completely eroded, and he snapped and took control. At that moment I decided I really wouldn’t mind. I think we both knew when it came down to it, he was a lot stronger than me, and definitely faster. I wouldn’t even make it past the couch before he had his hands on me.

“Only good girls get to come.”

“Same rules apply. Only good boys get to come. And you haven’t been very good to me tonight, Matthew.”

“Angel please..I don’t know if I can hold it.”

“You’re a strong boy, Matthew. You’ll find a way.”

The internal conflict I felt only raged in intensity the longer I watched him. I hated seeing Matt in pain, or upset. I always wanted to comfort him and make him feel better. The world hadn’t always been kind to him, and I always felt like I needed to make up for that. Matt for a moment looked like he might cry, and I instantly worried that I had taken it too far.

“Matty?”

Matt’s head perked up at the change in my tone and the use of my usual calling for him. His head tilted to the side slightly as his eyes blankly stared over in my direction, brows slightly furrowed.

“Yes?”

“Do you want me to stop?”

I waited with bated breath for his response. I knew he was sorry. I could see how bad he felt about tonight. If he wanted me to stop, I would. I’d happily give in and let him take over.

“No.”

I was slightly taken back by the conviction in his voice. I stared over at him silently for a moment, suddenly feeling nervous as I nibbled at my bottom lip.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. I can hold it. Go ahead, sweetheart.”

All my anger from earlier had completely flown out the window. All I wanted at that moment was him. I took a deep breath and got back to work with my fingers. I wanted to come as quickly as possible so that I could finally have him. I scrunched my brows as I began to rub furiously over my clit, whining as I applied more pressure. I could feel that familiar bubble building inside me, but it felt so far away. I dipped my fingers into my entrance to collect more of my wetness and pressed my fingers a little harder against my clit as I rubbed and moved my hips in time with my hand. Finally, it hit me. I moaned softly at the explosion of bliss and fell back against the chair. My orgasm was weak, but I didn’t care. I could finally have him.

I looked over to see him waiting as patiently as he could, panting softly and features contorted in need. I sat up slowly and licked my lips, letting my eyes wander shamelessly over his body.

“Come here, Matty.”

Matt let out the deepest sigh of relief and jumped to his feet, crossing the short distance between us and kneeling down in front of me. His hands grabbed onto the arm rests as he waited for my next instruction.

“Open your mouth.”

His lips instantly parted, and I slipped two of my fingers that were coated in my release into his mouth. He closed his eyes and moaned as his tongue swirled around my fingers, collecting every drop from them. I whined as I watched him, feeling a fresh wave of need flood between my thighs. I giggled softly when he bit down gently on my index finger, a cheeky grin covering his mouth as he kissed the tips of both fingers.

“Mm, do you think you deserve to be forgiven?”

“No.”

I couldn’t help but laugh loudly at his instant reply, shaking my head as I brought my hand up to thread my fingers through his messy hair.

“Should’ve known better than to ask a Catholic that question.”

The grin on his lips stretched even further into that megawatt smile complete with dimples that made me weak in the knees. His hands hovered over the tops of my thighs, as if asking for silent permission. I gently grabbed onto his wrists and pushed them downwards, sighing at the feeling of finally having his hands on me.

“I think I need to pray for forgiveness.”

I arched one of my brows and smiled softly, tilting my head to the side curiously.

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

I knew religion was important to Matt, but I didn’t think a confession was needed right at this very moment.

“Okay. I..suppose you better find an altar then.”

“I already have.”

Matt gently squeezed my thighs before slipping his hand in between them to part them slowly. My eyes widened in shock and I let out a gasp of surprise once his words finally clicked in my head. He shuffled closer on his knees, wetting his lips with his tongue once again before whispering huskily.

“May I?”

“Yes.”

As soon as the word left my mouth, my legs were thrown over his shoulders and Matt’s head was buried deeply between my thighs. I grabbed a small fistfull of his hair and cried out in astonishment when I felt his plump lips wrap around my clit and began to suck with fervor. His fingertips dug into the soft flesh of my thighs and I felt vibrations sent throughout my entire body every time he grunted against my pussy. Matt pushed me deeper into the chair as he tried to get as close as possible, nearly suffocating himself between my thighs. I was an absolute mess above him, moaning his name over and over like it was the only word I knew. I nearly lost it when I felt his tongue thrust inside of me and began to explore.

“Fuck..Matty..right there..please!”

Matt shook his head violently and I screamed as his nose bumped against my clit repeatedly as he ate my pussy like it was his last fucking meal. In a matter of minutes I was coming apart on his tongue, white flashing behind my eyelids as Matt continued to devour me through my release. I clamped my legs around his head and grabbed onto the back of his neck, rolling my hips up against his face as I rode out the high he had brought me to. This orgasm hit me ten times harder than the measly one I had conjured, and I found myself struggling to keep up.

I whined when it all became too much and attempted to push at Matt’s shoulders as I unwrapped my legs from around his head, but he wasn’t having it. He only gripped tighter onto my thighs and continued his assault on my overly sensitive clit. I whimpered softly as I tugged at his hair roughly to get him to move.

“Jesus Matty, please. It’s too much.”

Matt chuckled as he pulled back slowly, licking every bit of my release off his lips. He rubbed soothing circles on my inner thighs as he sat up on his knees with a wicked grin.

“Sorry, sweetheart. I got carried away.”

“Carried away? Fuck, I can’t even see straight right now.”

“Well in that case, I suppose you can forgive me now.”

I slowly sat up and reached my hand out to push Matt’s sweaty hair away that was stuck to his forehead. I frowned slightly as my thumb brushed lightly over a faint bruise that was forming on his left cheekbone. He turned his head slightly to nuzzle his face into my palm, pressing a soft kiss to my wrist.

“I’m okay.”

“I know. I just..hate seeing you hurt.”

Matt gently grasped my wrist and brought my hand up to his mouth, pressing a featherlight kiss to each of my knuckles before he held my palm against his chest over his heart. I could feel it pounding against my palm as he held it there. Matt’s face contorted into an apologetic expression, a deep sigh sounding from his chest as he leaned in closer.

“I really am sorry about tonight, sweetheart. I promise, it’ll never happen again. I don’t ever want to hurt your feelings like that. I just..wanna keep you safe.”

“And I just want you, Matty. I just wanted one, normal night with you. You..you mean everything to me and I had this whole night planned out and then-”

“I ruined it. And I’m not done making up for it.”

“Well..good. Cause that was only like..one Hail Mary, and I’m pretty sure the standard is like..three. I think.”

“It’s five, actually. And that first one you did absolutely did not count.”

I felt my heart begin to thump against my ribcage in excitement. My cheeks immediately flamed with heat at the thought of what was still to come. Glancing down between us, I could see that Matt’s neglected cock was still straining against the confines of his tight briefs. I slipped my hand down his chest and lightly grasped at his cock through the fabric, causing Matt to hiss through gritted teeth.

“Honey, what about dinner? And dessert? You spent so much time on it, I don’t want it to go to waste. Besides, I have a gift for you.”

“The only gift I want right now Matty is the one I’m holding. Everything else can wait.”

I grabbed onto the back of his neck and pulled him in close as I crashed our lips together in a needy kiss. I greedily accepted Matt’s tongue in my mouth and moaned at the taste of myself on it. I dragged my nails against his lower stomach, causing his abs to contract as I dipped my hand into the waistband of his briefs once again to wrap my hand around his cock. He moaned into my mouth and it sent my mind into a frenzy.

He felt heavy in the palm of my hand, and warm. Everything about Matt was always so warm. I stroked my thumb along the underside of him, feeling the velvety smooth skin against my palm as I stroked him slowly. Matt hastily pushed his briefs down his thighs, sighing in relief to finally be freed from the confinements.

“I wanna taste you.”

“Not now, sweetheart.”

“Matty, please.”

“You know how much I love having those pretty lips wrapped around me, but I’m not gonna last angel. Not after that little show you put on. I need to be inside you, right now.”

Matt wrapped his arm around my lower back and hooked his other underneath my knees, easily lifting me into the air as he stood and carried us over towards the kitchen. I felt goosebumps erupt over my skin as the cold of the cabinets hit my exposed back. I braced my palms against Matt’s chest to halt his movements quickly.

“Matty, please don’t rip this. It was really expensive.”

A devilish grin formed onto his plump lips as his hands slowly snaked up my thighs. He moved in closer until he was flush between my thighs, brushing his nose along my jaw as he nipped softly at my neck. I wrapped my legs around his waist and moaned quietly at the feeling of his lips at the base of my neck. It was one of my sweet spots, and he knew it. I shivered when I felt his hot breath fanning over the shell of my ear.

“Oh angel, you think I wanna rip this off when you look so beautiful in it? It’s staying on.”

Matt quickly shoved the fabric aside before pushing the blunt head of his cock through my folds. I let my head knock back against the cabinet as he pushed himself into me painfully slowly, inch by delicious inch. The sound of our moans mixed together once he had completely bottomed out.

“Fuck honey, no matter how many times I ruin you, you’re always so fucking tight for me.”

“Just for you, Matty.”

Matt wrapped his arm around my lower back and pulled me closer towards the edge of the counter until our chests were flush together. He didn’t waste any time as he started to thrust his hips at a vigorous pace, his hand slipping between our bodies to press his thumb against my clit roughly. I whined loudly at the pressure and dug my fingernails deeply into his shoulder blades, no doubt leaving crescent shaped indentations.

“God..you always take my cock so well, don’t you sweetheart? This needy little cunt just grips me so fucking well.”

I couldn’t hardly speak. All I could do was hang on. The collision of Matt’s hips into mine and the feeling of his thumb working over my already sensitive nub was very quickly pushing me towards the edge, and I was ready to fall.

“This pussy was fucking made for me. You were made for me.”

“Made for you, Matty.”

I had no idea if I was making sense. I wasn’t even sure if I was speaking English. I tried so hard to stay grounded. I wanted to remember every single second of this, but Matt was brushing that spongy spot inside of me with precise accuracy with every powerful thrust of his hips and it only sent me higher and higher into another realm.

“Fuck sweetheart..not gonna..last much longer. I’ll make up for it later..I-fuck, I swear. I’ll take my time later, angel. Right now I need you to come with me. Can you do that for me, sweet girl?”

I wrapped my arms around Matt’s neck, bringing one hand up to cup his face as I pressed our foreheads together. I leaned in to press my lips to his in a passionate kiss, gently nipping at his bottom lip. I whined in pleasure when I felt his pace quicken at an inhuman speed, his thumb moving so fast over my clit it was practically vibrating.

“I..I love you, Matty.”

“I love you, my sweet girl. Come for me, baby. Let me feel you let go with me.”

My throat burned as I screamed loudly when euphoria finally hit, wracking thunderously throughout my body and drenching me in complete elation like a hurricane. I held onto Matt as tightly as I could, savoring the sound of his honey coated moans of my name that echoed in my ears as I felt him paint the inside of me with his sweet release. His hips stuttered as he spilled his seed over the garden within me, fingers no doubt leaving violet marks on my skin as he thrusted through the aftershocks of gratification.

I hid my face into the crook of his neck, inhaling a deep breath of his scent as I placed a gentle kiss to the spot right below his ear. I felt his strong arms wrap tightly around my waist, caging me against his chest. For a moment, we just held each other as our jagged breaths attempted to return to normal. I nuzzled my cheek against his, welcoming the slight burn of his scruff rubbing against my skin.

“Happy anniversary, Matty.”

“Happy anniversary, my love.”

My heart expanded in my chest so wide at his words I thought it would bust through my rib cage. I pulled back slightly with a satisfied smile, brushing my thumb along the top of his strong cheekbone as I kept him close.

“Hungry?”

“I’m fucking starving.”

I giggled softly as I smoothed his messy brown hair back into place, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the tip of his nose.

“Fighting bad guys works up an appetite, huh?”

“Well that, and pleasuring you.”

I blushed profusely at his cheeky words, lightly smacking his chest as a deep laugh rumbled from within his chest. Matt’s large hand came up to gently cup my cheek, his thumb lightly tracing my bottom lip.

“But no, actually I could smell your cooking from several blocks away. It made my stomach growl, and then I realized how much time had passed since I had left, and how much trouble I was probably in.”

“You know, for a lawyer, you cause an awful lot of trouble.”

Matt’s dazzling grin stretched across his beautiful lips, those charming dimples ever-present as he laughed and nodded his head.

“True, but I try to make up for it. Speaking of, what do you say I heat up dinner and open a new bottle, we’ll have dessert, I can give you your gift, and then we can resume my apology tour?”

“Hmm, I don’t know if you’ve learned your lesson yet, Murdock. But it’ll give you time to sit and think about what you’ve done.”

“Oh trust me, I’ll never make you wait again.”

“Don’t like the tables being turned, huh?”

Matt smirked and dipped his head, leaving a burning trail of kisses along my jawline and down my neck until he reached my sweet spot. His teeth gingerly grazed my skin as he sucked softly at my flesh.

“Oh angel, I don’t mind you taking control. That was actually really fucking hot. I just really hated not being able to touch you like I wanted.”

“You stand me up again, I won’t let you touch me for a month.”

“Never again, sweetheart.”

“Good boy.”

I grinned at the growl that ripped through Matt’s chest, giggling softly as I lightly pushed at his shoulders.

“Alright, you have a deal. But I have a gift for you too.”

“You are my gift.”

“Matty.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t help it. Alright, dinner, dessert, gifts, then more apologies.”

“Fine. Enjoy your break, Murdock. That was only two Hail Marys.”

“Three more to go.”

#matt murdock #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock smut #matt murdock fic #daredevil #daredevil smut #daredevil fic

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freesia-writes · 1 day

Text

Nerf Herder Scent Review

I ran out recently so went a lil crazy over at Nerf Herder with their amazing SW-themed wax melts and figured I'd share my thoughts. I've heard friends give their input and it's interesting how scents appeal to people differently, so take it with a grain of salt. I'm generally pretty sensitive to smell and don't like anything strong, and you'll notice I chose mostly "clean fresh" types of scents. So... enjoy my best attempt at descriptions and reviews below the cut. ❤️

Also, I'd love to hear your impressions if you've ordered the same scents!!

Rex - clean, soft, and cozy all at once. fresh like the best kind of soap but nothing sharp or particularly strong in it.

Fives - a little stronger, a little spicier. slightly herbal but still pretty clean/cologney

Kix - similar to Fives, but a little more... soapy? in a good way?

I had really good intentions when I started this review. 😂

Wolffe - now this one is distinctly different. smooth, sweet, smoky, leathery. a little incensey.

Bail Organa - I feel like I buried my face in one of his luxurious creamy robes. not a very sharp scent but a strong vanilla theme with the tiiiiniest hint of smoke/spice.

Young Obi-Wan - 🤢 this one smells like an adolescent boy that just discovered Axe body spray. definitely cologney with a heavy sweetness? I'll happily mail this one to you if it's up your alley. 😂

Jesse - sexy boy!! this one has a cozy, clean softness to it as well, like Rex, but Rex had more of a powdery scent while juicy Jesse here has the slightest hint of smoke.

And now for my favorites...

Howzer - I don't even know how to describe this. their website says "hot guy in a bottle" and that's pretty much it, LOL. It's definitely clean and masculine, but more crisp than soft. It's alllllmost like walking into Abercrombie but not nearly as strong, haha, but just as pleasant.

Hunter - ohhh, babe. clean and fresh and smooth and creamy and... idk even how to describe it well. there's a tiny tartness to it that has maybe a slightly herbal/floral touch but it's all blended together so well that it's just immaculate. I have this and Howzer on permanent rotation.

And now for those not pictured that I tried before...

Wrecker - I honestly don't remember. it was clean but nothing really stood out?

Echo - I liked this one a lot -- clean and soft with perhaps a creamy/vanilla undertone but it was really underwhelming, even for me.

Tech - this one was pretty good, but similar to Echo in that it was hard to notice. it was soft and pleasant and clean with slightly metallic touch, but not enough delight to order again.

Crosshair - this one was perfect for the character but not up my alley, because it was quite spicy, LOL. absolutely representative of him but I like light/fresh/clean and this one was a bit heavier... smoky and leathery and spicy and masculine.

Welp... Enjoy that mess of nonsense! 😂

#the bad batch #tbb #bad batch #nerf herder #star wars merch #tbb merch #wax melts #the bad batch merch

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unicyclehippo · 10 months

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15. kiss on the back for the prompt thing!

Imogen has spent years submerged in the sweet, babbling waters of Laudna’s mind so, while she may not be able to hear her thoughts now, she still remembers their current. And besides, some things don’t need to be said. It’s an unspoken agreement between them—a quirked brow, the tilt of an answering smile—to return Zhudanna’s coin.

Laudna distracts their elderly friend with an enthusiastic—and slightly gooey—recreation of recent journeys while Imogen carries the groceries to the kitchen. She unpacks jars of olives and honey and jam, every pickled thing they encountered, wax-wrapped cheeses, smoked and salted meats, dried fruits and beans, bags of fine-ground flour and spices. She leaves the fresh fruit and vegetables on the countertop with the pumpernickel loaves and, as she does, pulls Zhudanna’s lockbox from its hiding place beneath the beans with a subtle bit of magic.

It’s easy to use her powers now. She knew she was getting stronger but something about being here—where she spent much of her time in degrees of agony with no way to control it or stop it, her powers flaring whenever they wanted to—the difference is stark. How reactive her magic is now, how finely-tuned to her will. A thought, and the lockbox opens. Imogen busies herself selecting and slicing an orange. Another thought, and the coins lift out of the shopping basket and zip over to the box. She arranges the orange segments on a colourful plate. The box clicks closed and slides back into place beneath the beans. It’s all done in a matter of seconds with Zhudanna none the wiser, even if she had peeked over to check on Imogen despite Laudna’s distraction—though how anyone could look away from Laudna for so much as a second during one of her stories - vibrant, enthralling as she is - Imogen doesn’t know.

She lingers a while, helps herself to a slice of orange. It’s tart, almost sour, the way she likes them. The sun blankets half the kitchen in a square of light. Standing in that warmth recalls fragments of an old dream—baking, home, Laudna. The details are too faded and vanish when she reaches for them; in the space where they had been, her memory provides instead the aroma of baked bread and the cool press of Laudna’s lips against her own. Fingers sticky with orange, Imogen twists her wrist and presses her smile to the back of her hand. We kissed, she thinks, giddy, and suddenly the handful of steps separating her from the sitting room and Laudna is too far.

‘—a shape like dripping tar, a great blob of malice, hovering in the air. It struck Orym with a spiralling bolt of shadow, pinning him against the rock!’ Imogen hears as she rejoins the story.

‘Oh!’ Zhudanna squeaks. Her eyes are wide, both wrinkled hands covering her mouth in horror. When she speaks, she sounds so old—had she always, Imogen tries to recall, or is it all of this…this fucking mess around them? The solstice, the god-damning speeches, the fear suffusing the streets like thick jungle mist, the moon, the way oncoming way tilts the axis of every heart. ‘Oh,’ she says in a small, quavering voice, ‘oh dear, oh no, is he alright?’

‘Who?’

‘Your friend. Orym.’

The question makes Laudna’s smile falter. Zhudanna, half-blind, probably doesn’t notice. Imogen does. She fills the agonising pause, steps between them to put the plate down next to Zhudanna. By the time she plants herself on the footstool, twin to the armchair Laudna has claimed, Laudna has recovered.

‘Yes. Yes, of course! He’s a warrior—a hero!’ Zhudanna heaves a sigh of relief at that, claps her hands. Laudna continues. ‘He pulled free of the shadow spear with a horrid yell and spray of blood—’

Geez, Laud, don’t forget she’s old as shit.

And? She has such a creative soul, she’s enjoying—ah. I suppose…heart attacks…hmm. Should I…tone it down?

Imogen rests her chin on her hand as she settles in to listen to the rest of the story and, catching Laudna’s eyes, offers a small smile. Just for her, darlin’.

With a wobbly nod—one that makes Imogen want to yank off the circlet and dive deep into Laudna’s thoughts, wade through them muck and all, hear for herself the knotted tangle of fear and nervy tension and trust she knows is causing havoc in there—Laudna launches back into her tale.

‘Together with our dear new friend Prism–’

‘I like her,’ Zhudanna says. ‘Sensible, for one of those wizard types. Getting out there and having a go of it. Good for her.’

‘Indeed. Very sensibly, she and I harried the foul spirit with our joined magic, giving our companions time to protect the Heirophant and dragging them clear of the danger of this hungry shadow. We threw everything we had at it—flaying it of its shadow piece by piece, cracking its sallow face, until there was nothing left of it but a slug of tarred shadow that I crushed, sending it back to whence it came, into the merciless dark,’ she hisses, hand closing in a tight fist, eyes a brittle, glossy obsidian. After a moment, her intensity relents; the faint gloom in the corners of the room disperses like an audience post performance, and as it leaves, air rushes in to fill the empty space. ‘Anyway,’ she trills, ‘apparently that wasn’t the first time it had appeared there, can you believe that? The Heirophant—the elf Orym and Ashton saved—told us that they had fought it before—or was it their order that had? Hm. Don’t recall. But yes - it’s like a recurring thing. Like a bad ex turning up on their doorstep. But not a bad ex because Evithorir—’

‘Evi- Evirerth-’

‘Evithorir. I think. It was so hard to tell, it hissed a lot. Regardless, the shadow spirit, it turns out it was some, like, ancient terrible hungry fey spirit that sought to devour everything in the world, blah blah, the usual. Starting with Oma-Dua who is this - get this - equally ancient druid who buried herself in the last moments of her life in the depths of this cavern centuries ago to sustain the land around this mountain for the rest of time and took on the form of an enormous glowing green crystal…’

Laudna drifts into an odd silence and sinks back into the plush armchair, into herself, looking small and troubled. Her teeth dig well-worn trenches into her bottom lip as she loses herself in thought.

Imogen clears her throat. ‘It’s been an awful long time since we got a proper rest, Zhudanna—d’you mind if we rest a while?’

‘Not at all, not at all. Let me move my easel, dear, and - ‘

‘No, please, don’t go to any trouble. I’ll set it aside, if that’s alright?’

‘Certainly, certainly.’

Zhudanna lets herself be distracted gracefully, pulling an old knitting project from the box by her chair. Her eyes—wrinkled, worried—linger on Laudna as Imogen helps her up from the chair, curling a gentle hand beneath each elbow.

She looks so exhausted and Imogen is certain she’s bearing most of Laudna’s weight for her when she pulls her to her feet but she’s so fucking light it nearly has Imogen stumbling, off-balance. A dozen questions cluster behind Imogen’s teeth, on the threshold of her mind. Did you eat at all? Did you rest? Who took care of you? The thought might’ve made her jealous a month ago but now it just hurts. Laudna is too light, bordering on frail. Her hair is stringy—dirty, greasy, like its been a week since she washed it, brushed it, cared for it (for herself)—and Imogen knows the answer. Knows Laudna. She cares like caring is what keeps her alive, will drag the energy out of her own fucking marrow for everyone else and when it comes to her, she shows them something dead and dying, shows them a grinning skull. Something beyond repair, beyond need of care.

Red flickers behind her eyes, smoulders in the cracks that split the tips of her fingers. But her hands stay gentle as Imogen helps Laudna to their old room.

The door shuts behind them, shuts out the world. Blissful. There’s no window in here to show them the ruddy moon. There’s no crowds, no intrusive minds. No guards, no traitors, no one but the two of them.

Laudna’s slow walk turns to a hobble. She sits at the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched.

Giving her a little space, Imogen puts their bags at the footboard of the bed and Pate’s birdhouse on the bedside. He’s sleeping in there or pretending to be. Creepy, beloved spy. She moves the easel like she said she would, tucking it into an out of the way corner.

‘She’s really very good, don’t you think?’

Laudna stirs. Glances over, dark eyes flicking between the easel and Imogen, and the smile she manages is a wavering thing but it holds steady at the corners.

She’ll be alright, Imogen decides. Promises.

‘Yes. Very talented, our Zhudanna.’

Her words trail off again and Imogen watches as Laudna begins to fidget, fingers twisting, tugging, pull and plucking in her lap. Was the closed room not blissful for her? Was it too crowded, with Imogen and her and all her thoughts and Delilah and now Bor’dor haunting her? Or was it as simple as the strain of her journey taking its toll? Or was it…

‘Do you regret it?’ Imogen blurts. Laudna stills. ‘The kiss, I mean. Me, kissin’ you. Because I know I asked and I know you kissed me back but if - if you got caught up in the moment or thought it’s what I want - Laud, you gotta know, it doesn’t matter to me how you care for me, I’m so - I’m so happy. So lucky. Just to have you near me. Truly.’

It takes a hell of an effort to shut up then—to bite her lip and give Laudna the room to speak.

Her stomach flips from nerves and her traitor heart follows suit; it flips, flutters in her chest, so gentle and so warmed by the memory of getting to take Laudna’s face between her hands, getting to touch her after so long of only being able to dream about it, getting to lean in and—that kiss! The memory of it fizzles through her, sweet lightning, and it’s ridiculous, actually, because her hands start sweating and her lips tingle and her skin goes hot all over, sensitive. It’s such a silly feeling; she feels like a stumbling foal - clumsy and awkward, unsure, but so fucking eager to get up, go, explore. It’s silly - she feels silly with it, giggly and warm - and then, of course, sense reasserts itself firmly because Laudna hasn’t said anything yet—is staring over Imogen’s shoulder with a tiny, worried frown—and Imogen’s stomach sinks, veins flooding with ice. If she could just take off the circlet, but…

‘Laud?’

‘Imogen.’

‘Do you?’ It’s harder to ask the second time. ‘Do you…regret it?’

‘No,’ Laudna says in that barely-there way. Imogen wants the shadows back. Wants the intensity. Wants Laudna cackling over one of Pate’s horrendous comments, or chiding her for mussing the bedsheets. Anything but this ghost. ‘No, darling. I was - I was only thinking,’ she sighs, ‘how silly it is, how hard it is to talk about…well. About what we want.’ She blinks, dim and distant. ‘I often think that if only everyone were honest, there would be less space for misunderstanding and heartbreak –’ The words send Imogen’s heart sinking ever lower, but Laudna doesn’t seem to notice and continues, ‘– and cruelty and war and, oh, I don’t know. People wouldn’t get away with murder or inheritance trickery and such. I think about all the people who lie whenever they speak and how foolish it is and then it is my turn to speak and I…I’m terribly afraid.’

At that, Imogen crosses to sit beside Laudna on the bed. She takes one of her delicate hands in both of her own. It’s so light; bird-boned, Imogen thinks distractedly, mind cluttered with midnight-plumed ravens and the Duskmaven, of scavenging vultures and red seeping into cracked desert soil, of a canary in the dark. She hopes—as it gets harder to breathe, lungs struggling to contend with the weight of hope and panic—that Laudna won’t warn her away.

‘You can tell me,’ Imogen says, and her words stay blessedly steady. ‘Even if you think I don’t want to hear it. I do. I do.’

For a long moment, Laudna examines their hands. Intertwined. Her own—delicate, long-fingered, pale. The dark web of stagnant veins. Imogen’s—broader, tanned, calloused. The cracked skin, red seeping out. Squeezing Imogen’s hand, Laudna says,

‘I won’t lie, darling. I won’t tell you I wasn’t surprised. I was. I am. You are—’ Dark eyes lift to meet Imogen’s; without thoughts to skim, all Imogen can see in the depths is warmth, a glittering fondness. Sorrow lurks there too, somewhere, even if she can’t see it. ‘You are extraordinary. Young and beautiful and so very alive. I - you wishing to kiss me - you understand why I might be startled. I don’t know what I can offer you, darling. I will always be at your side, of course—to protect you, to wake you from your nightmares, to support you, to - to tether you against the storm, as you said, but - ‘

‘But what?’ Imogen shakes her head with a gentle laugh. ‘Who could ask for more than that?’

‘And the kissing?’

‘We don’t have to do it again. If you don’t like it.’

Laudna tilts her head; it’s not a no, but neither is it a yes. ‘You could choose anyone—’

‘I want only you.’

‘Even though I am—’ Laudna cuts off the words with a snap of her teeth. Turns away, sending a gloomy look to the dim corners of their room.

Imogen’s heart thuds, hard, against her ribs. She rubs at at it, sympathetic. Her bruised heart. She wants what it wants—to be close, ever closer. To hug her, hold her tight. To love her. To rip Delilah out of her—fry the bitch, burn her to ashes, and the ashes to smoke, and the smoke to nothing at all in white lightning—and then offer up her own heart to fill the lack. To welcome Laudna into the red hollow of her ribs, already wondering what kind of home she could make out of them. To take back the ruby ring and present it again, with all the ceremony Laudna deserves. To kiss her. Again and again.

But right now, Laudna doesn’t need a storm, even one of love. She only needs Imogen to listen to her. So she asks,

‘Even though you’re what?’

Laudna’s hands curl into talons and a snarl erupts from her throat. Earlier, Imogen hadn’t known what to make of the idea that Laudna could summon a wolf but she gets it now. Hears it in that mournful, ragged sound.

‘Dead. Broken.’ She claws at her heart. ‘Weak.’

‘No. You’re not, sweetheart, no.’

Imogen cannot resist reaching forward. She keeps her touch feather-light. Skims a high cheekbone before sliding back to the strand of dark hair that has escaped its high bun. She tucks it behind Laudna’s ear with exacting care, thumb grazing the gold ear-cuff. I see you. Every bit. Laudna’s eyes fill with inky tears and, when Imogen lifts her other hand to cradle her precious, lovely face, Laudna leans into the touch.

For a moment, Imogen can only stare.

There is no one in the world like Laudna—so starkly beautiful, so sweet, so enchanting. There is no one half as creative. She knows Laudna’s story—saw her die—but no one could spend an hour in Laudna’s presence and leave thinking her anything other than vibrant. How could that be death? And as for broken, well, Imogen thinks of the mosaics in Uthodurn’s royal halls, and of stained glass windows in the Dawnfather’s hall—what little she had overhead of that part of Laudna’s story—and thinks of Laudna’s mendings and crafts and the hundreds of achingly beautiful smiles Laudna has made up just for her and yes, maybe she’s been broken, but who hasn’t? How can that make her less? Less lovely, less wonderful? It doesn’t. It doesn’t. She thinks of faith and lets her pinkie slip down to touch, so gently, the ragged mark of Laudna’s first death. She thinks of destiny and meets Laudna’s eyes.

Beautiful, she thinks, and then - because they are being truthful, because they are telling each other the truth - she says it out loud too.

‘You’re beautiful. You’re my—‘ Imogen falters, tries to think of a word that doesn’t stick in her chest like a knife, but pushes on because her love doesn’t make her fearless, it just makes her brave. ‘My favourite.’

Her blush blooms purple under Imogen’s hands. Laudna glances down, shy, then up from under lashes dark and sticky with inky makeup, splayed like delicate spider legs.

‘It is strange,’ Laudna says, covering Imogen’s hands with her own when she starts to pull away, worried. ‘Don’t leave, darling. Let me… Let me?’

Let her lean in, yes, let her press close, forehead to forehead, yes, stay so still when Laudna touches her cheek, fleeting. Laudna trembles—afraid? excited? damn this fucking circlet—but the contact settles her and when she retreats, she pulls Imogen’s hands from her cheeks but doesn’t let them go. She breathes in and out. Then says,

‘Waking from death is much like waking from sleep, except it hurts. Only a little but all the time.’

Imogen’s fingers brush over Laudna’s wrist, where her pulse plods away. ‘Laudna,’ she whispers, not to interrupt. Only because Laudna ought never go a moment thinking she didn’t care.

‘For all those years, even though I…I ran and built my huts and Pate too, of course, and of course I felt things—fear and loss and joy, too, sometimes—I was alive and awake but. So much of me was still dead. I was so - confused. And angry, often. I was surviving, you see. I had strength enough to hold myself together and fix things, here and there, but no more than that. I was hungry, all the time, I had so many teeth.’ Laudna searches her face. ‘And then I met you and you helped. Cared. These past years with you… It used to be that when I wanted something, it - it was hunger I felt. This endless hunger. A great pit in my chest. And it was hard to tell, you see, what it was I wanted except for everything, anything I could get my hands on. Do you understand?’

Imogen gnaws at her lip. Slowly, she shakes her head. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t.’ She dips her head, catches Laudna’s eyes. ‘Explain it to me?’

Laudna’s fingers shake as she slides them over the backs of Imogen’s hands. Long fingers curl around one of Imogen’s wrists and she lifts it to press a chaste kiss to her knuckles, lips cool against the burning ridge of her oldest lightning scar.

‘You have given me so much. You gave me friendship and purpose and trust. Food. Fun and stories. Strength. A bed. A home. And the hunger…it doesn’t gnaw so terribly, darling. Now, when I - when I want something, it isn’t an impossible task. I needn’t lose myself in that great black pit, blinding searching for what I lack. It starts to make sense. I start to make sense. What I want. Outside of her, and hunger. You’ve given me so much,’ Laudna tells her, and her voice creaks with the weight of her words. ‘How can I possibly take more? How - selfish, how greedy it would be to want… To want.’

‘Do you want me to kiss you?’ Imogen asks, voice soft. She tries not to sound to hopeful.

Launda holds her hands for a long time. It’s maddening, because Laudna never stays still for long; she doesn’t now either, instead stroking tiny patterns against her skin, fingers sliding over and between her own. At the occasional scratch of her nails, a frisson of electricity crackles down Imogen’s arms, through her body. Finally, Laudna nods.

‘I do. Oh, Imogen, I do. I didn’t know it - I knew I would be content for centuries, the rest of my days, if only I could sleep in your bed, stand at your side, content with any touch or favour you might share with me. And then - to be kissed?’ A shy smile creeps across her lips. ‘Would it be terribly unfunny to say it struck me like a bolt?’

Imogen snorts. Pulls her hands free so she can shove at her—lightly, though, barely enough to make even Laudna sway. Her hands settle on the tender branching of Laudna’s collarbones. The fabric of the new dress is silk-smooth under her palms; the lace neckline, though, catches against her work-rough, scar-rough fingers. She strokes it again, entranced. It’s so soft, the lace, in its reluctance to let her go. It’s so beautiful, the whorling patterns of leaves and flowers, and the contrast of blue-black fabric against Laudna’s pale skin is enough to make her glow. And beneath lace and skin, the steady tap of Laudna’s pulse—a knock on the door, on the coffin lid, here I am.

Beautiful.

‘That’s dreadful,’ she scolds, wrinkling her nose.

‘That’s me. Full of dread.’ A ghostly visage flickers across Laudna’s face, there—skin and skull shifting, FRIDA’s inspiration?—and gone. ‘And you?’ she asks. ‘You too?’

‘Full of dread?’

‘Do you wish to kiss me, I meant, actually.’

Imogen swallows harshly. ‘Yeah,’ she rasps. ‘Yeah, I do.’

A frown pinches Laudna’s forehead. ‘Have you been afflicted with this desire for long?’

‘Afflict— You say it like it’s a sickness or somethin’,’ Imogen teases, but Laudna flaps a hand for her to hurry up and tell, so she shrugs. ‘Um. Yeah. I ‘spose I’ve been wantin’ to kiss you for a while,’ she admits, cheeks burning. ‘When I could hear you, it was… Do you remember when Dusk was hangin’ around, you told me you hadn’t thought about it? Hadn’t accessed that part of your brain?’ Laudna nods. ‘I know. I knew that. Because sometimes, when we were close and you…’

Imogen pauses. Sucks in a breath—it’s a little stuffy in their room, no windows, but it smells of freshly laundered sheets and paint and wood polish and Laudna and Imogen lets it steady her.

‘D’you know that you say the kindest, sweetest things sometimes? You always know what to do to calm me down or make me laugh, even when the whole world is—’ She gestures awkwardly to the south wall where the moon hovers in her minds eye. ‘You know. Going to shit. And sometimes—I wasn’t sure how much you…’ She stops again, lips twisting, frustrated. ‘I knew that you cared for me because, well, because you do.’

‘Naturally, of course.’

‘But sometimes I wondered if…if you wanted to kiss me, like I sometimes thought of doing. But when I looked into your mind, you were never thinkin’ about it so -’ Imogen shrugs, cheeks hot. ‘I never brought it up. You hardly ever thought about it when other folk were flirtin’ or talkin’ about it, so I figured it wasn’t something you wanted. And that didn’t matter to me! Just so long as you were with me, and we were together, I was happy with that. But then Dusk,’ Imogen strangles the name in her throat, hopes fiercely that Yu can feel it, wherever the fuck they might be, ‘put the idea in your head and then they…left…and you were confused and I’d sometimes catch flashes of it in your head but it didn’t feel right to bring it up, even though sometimes I thought—the way you were lookin’ at me, and not pullin’ away when I was lookin’ at you—I thought…maybe? Maybe it was - Maybe you could. Think like that. And when you died—’ Her voice cracks. ‘That wasn’t the right time either, obviously,’ she scoffs. Pulls a hand back to swipe at her eyes.

‘Darling,’

‘It had to be your choice. All of it. Everything, after what happened. And I was fucking terrified because of all those questions in my head like if I’d be pushin’ you if I asked, or makin’ you more of a target, burdenin’ you with all this Predathos moon shit—’

‘Never. Never a burden.’

‘—and then I got this,’ Imogen taps her circlet, ‘and I couldn’t hear you anymore, couldn’t check, and so, yeah, Laudna, you could say I’ve been thinkin’ about it for a while.’

‘Thinking about,’ she says, so carefully, like she’s afraid if she speaks it too loud or too fast the whole thing will break, ‘kissing. Me.’

Imogen laughs. Smiles at her with her whole face, her whole heart. Every soft, exposed, grotesque, tender part of it. ‘Yeah, sweetheart. Is that alright?’

Laudna nods jerkily. Eyes Imogen’s mouth curiously. ‘Can I - that is, if it’s alright with you,’

‘Please,’ Imogen whispers, and she isn’t sure if she’s reading her own mind or if Laudna’s is loud enough to overpower the circlet, if she’s letting the power of it subside in her eagerness to know if Laudna wants what she wants, but it’s so clear—Laudna’s dark eyes, warm and kind and wanting; her reaching hands, aligning them hurt to hurt, heart to heart; plum lips pressing, ever so gently, against hers.

The kiss lasts a heartbeat. Barely long enough to register the touch. Even so, Laudna flushes deeply. Touches her fingers to her mouth and breathes out, shaky.

‘Oh. Imogen.’

Imogen lifts a hand—‘Can I? Let me, please’—to Laudna’s neck, grazing the high collar she’d been so jealous of in the store for getting to touch Laudna’s neck, but adores now as she coaxes it down so she alone can see, can touch the soft skin of her neck. Feel the way Laudna’s breath hitches when she does, her shiver as Imogen’s fingers slide forward, following the path of her jaw and swiping beneath the hinge of it—tender, awed, lingering on the mottled silver marks of bullet holes and torn skin—before she slides her fingers into the curtain of dark dark. She presses gently, guides her forward for another kiss. Her lips find the corner of Laudna’s mouth and smiles at the noise of displeasure it pulls.

‘I think,’ Imogen whispers, kisses her more solidly. Tilts her head and loses herself in Laudna: Laudna’s nose nudging into her cheek; Laudna’s hands fluttering between her elbows and shoulders before laying gently on her back; a clumsy bump of lips, which is actually mostly chin, a giggled apology, and then something gives and Laudna’s lips are on hers again, steady and slow and careful, like they have all the time in the world, like now that she is here there is no where she would rather be. Imogen pulls back, licks her lips. Citrus bursts on her tongue.

Laudna stares at her mouth. ‘What - ‘ She has to clear her throat, voice breathy, like Imogen has kissed all the air out of her and the thought makes want crackle beneath Imogen’s skin. ‘What do you think?’

‘Amazing. Great. Perfect.’

Dark eyes gleam. Laudna smiles—no, she smirks. ‘Darling. You were saying something, that you thought…?’

‘Oh.’ Imogen starts to speak—and has to stop. She laughs. ‘Y’know, I’ve totally forgotten?’

‘Oh.’ Laudna’s blush deepens. She’s so fucking pretty. ‘It will come back to you. If it’s important.’ She fidgets. Reaches out a hand to touch Imogen’s elbow, her knee. She looks for a moment as if she is about to speak but then a calm settles over her and she only smiles and nods. ‘Do you mind, dearest, if I take a little time to fix the birdhouse? Only Pate said it’s dreadfully uncomfortable and I think - if I add some soft cushion fabric, maybe curtains - I can fix the place up for him.’

Imogen nods. She understands—and could do with a minute to calm down too. She crawls around Laudna up to the headboard, props herself up against it.

Laudna frowns. ‘Really? Boots on the bed?‘

She smiles, closes her eyes. ‘It’ll be alright, I’ll magic the dirt away after.’

‘It’s the principle of the thing,’ Laudna insists. After a few moments of Imogen ignoring her, Laudna sets aside the birdhouse and begins to unbuckle Imogen’s boots. Imogen watches, thoughts far too chaotic to pin down. It doesn’t take long—Laudna has helped her before, when migraines stopped her from doing just about anything—and she pats Imogen’s shin, tuts at the unhappy state of her socks, and mends the hole by her big toe with a needle and thread of black shadow. It looks good as new when she is done.

‘There,’ Imogen drawls, snuggling down into the pillow at her back. ‘What would I do without you?’

Laudna laughs. ‘You’d wear boots in bed and put your cups upside down on the shelves–’

‘First of all, I’m right about that and second of all,’ she nudges Laudna with her toe, ‘I never wanna find out.’

She smiles and, oh, Imogen thinks, Dawnfather, eat your heart out. You don’t know light like this. You couldn’t make a light like hers if you had a thousand solstices.

They spend a lazy afternoon together. They don’t kiss again—Laudna is far too intent on her work, and Imogen merely watches her and allows time and proximity to ease the tight, grating knot of nerves in her chest that had built with every moment of Laudna’s absence. She asks easy questions and retreads old, familiar jokes and stories, and everything resettles. In some ways, it is as it has always been. It’s the two of them, together. It’s also new in a way that makes Imogen’s heart flutter every time she remembers; I kissed her, I can kiss her.

‘Pate,’ Laudna croons, as she takes apart old clothes and blankets, stitches them into cushions for the interior of the birdhouse. ‘Come out, come out, wherever you are,’ she sings, and the rat-bird clambers out of his wooden house and up her arm, waits until she’s packed the cushions into place to skitter back inside, taking pride of place in the decadence. ‘What do you think of your new ho-ome?’ It’s so fucking weird. They both are. Imogen has to get closer to her. Tucks a foot under Laudna’s knee—who beams at her, wraps a chilly hand around her ankle and keeps her close—and makes a note to kiss Pate on top of his awful little skull soon. Just because. ‘What do you think? Will this be more comfortable?’

‘It’s nice!’ he croaks, little paws patting walls and floor. ‘I do have a suggestion, though—’

‘What! You’ve only been alive for a few months, what could you possibly know about decorating?’ she demands, aghast.

Pate flies from the house, landing on the roof. There are no eyes in his bird skull but Imogen swears he rolls them anyway. ‘Pfft! What don’t I know? I’m the whole package, you know. Bird brains and rat cunning, fanks very much.’

‘Fine, then, if you’re so smart! What’s your suggestion?’

‘Curtains.’

‘Curtains?’

‘Curtains. For, you know, setting the mood, or sleeping in the day. Or if you two need a little, heh, private time to lock lips—’

‘Alright, yes, fine!’ Laudna yelps. ‘I’ll make you some damn curtains!’

Pate chuckles. His wings peel open with a wet squelch that Imogen is never going to get used to—how could he be wet, he’s been dead for years, that’s what she wants to know—and he takes off with one, two laborious flaps of his wings, gliding down to the bed covers and scampering back into his now-comfortable home. ‘Thank ye kindly,’ he calls out from within.

Laudna grumbles as she pulls together curtains rather quickly, delving in her pack for supplies. She pulls out shards of metal–splinters, almost, but as long as her palm.

‘What’re those?’ Imogen asks, as she tries to bully the pillow under her head into a more comfortable shape.

‘Hm? Oh - one of Ashton’s climbing pitons. It shattered.’

The pillow refuses to be comfortable; Imogen gives up, gets up to search the room for wherever the other pillow went. She finds it, after a while, on the top shelf of the little linen closet and jumps for it before remembering she knows telekinesis. How in the nine hells Zhudanna even got it up there, she has no clue. Wandering back to the bed, Imogen watches over Laudna’s shoulder for a minute as she crafts.

‘You went climbing?’

‘When we were separated, that’s where we landed,’ Laudna says. ‘On a cliffside. Jagged rocks, Steam vents. Now that I think about it, we were rather lucky, actually, that we didn’t appear in the air above a sharp spike or roll off the cliff. But yes, we had to climb,’ she says, and tells Imogen all about it— finding Deni$e - Mona, at the time—and the climb and the endless valley of verdant trees.

Imogen listens carefully, heart heavy. She thinks of a long, cold walk and finding truly kind friends at the end of it - a celestial bull they befriended - shopping - the warmth and bustle and commerce and, yes, anxiety, of Uthodurn, and meeting royalty—and she thinks of Laudna, who dislocates something whenever she sneezes, having to pull herself up a cliffside. She rubs Laudna’s shoulder and dips her head, presses a kiss there on her back—because she can, because she wants to, because Laudna wants it too. Laudna hums, a happy sound.

‘I’m sorry you ended up there.’

‘It wasn’t all bad. It was rather beautiful. I would have enjoyed it, I think, if you had been there.’

‘Maybe we’ll go together someday.’

Laudna smiles. Affixes one of the piton curtain-rods into place as Pate guides her—’Higher, higher on the left - other left - all of it lower now - perfect!’

‘I think Ashton will want to go back.’

‘Oh?’

‘There was something of the Hishari there - a town. Cursed now, apparently. He wants answers.’

‘Then that’s what we’ll do,’ Imogen agrees. ‘Kill the moon, then go on holiday to a cursed town in Issylra. Sounds nice.’

‘You were right, by the way,’ Imogen says later, as they walk back from the Windowed Wall to their friends.

‘Of course I was.’ Laudna beams across at her, tone bright, teasing; it’s such a shift from her mood of the morning that Imogen can do nothing but smile back at her. ‘About what, though?’

‘You said if it was important, I’d remember what I was gonna say. And I remember now.’’ Imogen wraps her arm through Laudna’s, pulls her in tight. There aren’t many people crowding the street but she doesn’t need an excuse to hold her close anymore. ‘You know, the thought you kissed right outta my head?’

‘Imogen!’ Laudna slaps her hand lightly, but her eyes gleam. Imogen thinks she might be pleased by the idea of driving her to distraction. ‘Well, go on then. What was it?’

‘You asked if I’d been thinking about it for a long time. Kissin’ you. I was gonna say, I think I’ll never get it outta my head. I’m gonna be thinkin’ about kissing you forever. If that’s alright with you.’

Laudna’s chin lifts - proud, pleased by the idea, clearly - and she gains what could only be called a strut. Her cheeks colour faintly. ‘I’ll be thinking about it too.’ Her eyes glitter brightly over a sweet smile. ‘After all, you’re very capable,’ she teases, and laughs, delighted, at the blush her words pull from Imogen.

They’re still smiling when they rejoin their friends. It earns them strange looks, but fond, relieved. No one pries—though Ashton has a stare like a crowbar—and they say nothing, for now.

#tagging my stories #prompt fill #cr tag #imodna my beloveds #imodna

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