#dreamworkshera

Adora was the first to slip into the down sleep sack they shared, holding it open as Catra immediately followed suit, wiggling in until she was snug against the other’s warm body. Both women immediately intertwined arms, legs, and hearts in a loving embrace, their natural state since declaring their love for one another.

Catra sighed in contentment; she coveted this moment of each day. It was the only time she found any shred of respite from the weight that hung about her neck, pulling her down into a stoop as it attempted to drive her into the dirt. Catra had never felt the intimate trust that was achieved with Adora—that someone would make themselves so vulnerable as to fall asleep naked in her arms. It meant so much, and with Adora so close, so utterly near that Catra could feel the heat of her sex against her upper thigh, she could almost attain a sense of… completeness… of peace.

“Good night, Catra,” Adora whispered. “I love you,”

But then the doubt crept in; Adora’s human vision was not as adept as her own, and Catra could see her lover’s eyes searching for her in the dark. At this moment, when Catra felt hidden while still able to view the other, she wondered: would Adora still love her if she knew? If she knew just how far Catra had fallen during the years of the war, discovering what she did in the name of heartache? How she used it as an excuse to—

“Catra? Are you asleep already?” Adora whispered.

With a jolt, Catra noted that Adora was staring straight at her, now able to catch the subtle flashing of the mirror-like lenses in her feline eyes.

“Yeah, sorry. I’ve just been out of it.” Catra said. “You know I love you—how could I not?”

From my newest fanfic, Traces of Crimson! Illustrated by Henar Torinos of @ilikeyoucatradora !

The link to my fanfic on AO3 is below:

But something unwelcome happened as the expedition approached the end of their journey: an insidious subversion that disrupted what Catra perceived, twisting it into forms that diverted from reality. The sweet scent of flowers and the aroma of earthy resin were replaced by the electric tang of ozone, oozing up into her nostrils to sting her brain.

The music of animals, the hum of insects, and the soft whistle of wind were dominated by a plugging drone, the submerged sound of flailing limbs as someone fights to escape restraining hands.

And last but not least, the sensation of the sun on her body, the pleasant warmth subsumed by the claustrophobia of cold fluid. It surrounded her body with its violating perception, locating the correct avenues to her identity for deletion, replacing it with a new persona.

Horror seized Catra as she was transported back aboard the Velvet Glove, restraining hands forcing her into the green pool of electric energy as Horde Prime watched with smug glee. She had choked on the thick slime as the clones held her below the surface, the whole time thinking of Adora as her mind was erased. Catra had thought she had given up before this; the dice had been thrown and damn the consequences. She believed there was nothing to lose after all, but as the recollections of a blonde-haired and blue-eyed angel slowly disintegrated in the emerald blaze of annihilation, Catra knew that there was much to lose. It was, in fact, everything.

Illustration by @iriaabella, a.k.a., @ilikeyoucatradora, for my fanfic, Traces of Crimson!

My fic can be found on AO3 by following the link below:

The Prosecutor returns her attention to the datapad, and with a few deft finger taps on the screen, sifts through battle entries as her brown eyes dart left to right, searching for a specific event.

 “If you don't mind, I want to run through an example of how this particular scenario plays out. I’m going to select an engagement—one you should be familiar with, in fact—and I want you to tell us how this ‘shock and awe’ worked to dimmish any unwanted deaths.”

The datapad beeps as Euridice’s eyes light up. As the Prosecutor turns the electronic device in her direction, Catra realizes that her earlier notions of being led like a lamb to slaughter are accurate. Once again, she recognizes the many Horde engagements written out before her, but this time, something obscene is between the lines of text. It blemishes the interstitial space between clearly formed words, seeming to drown them in crimson. She knows that only she is privy to this vision—her sin—highlighted like a halo around a single location and date.

“How about Glenmar as an example?” Euridice says—as if randomly selecting it. “How would you pacify Glenmar? Actually! Based on its size as a village and what you told me about the Horde procedure, a high-ranking Horde officer would have been in charge of this assault. That was you, wasn’t it, Catra?”

If one emotion can crush you to an utterly narrow point, it is anxiety, and at that moment, Catra is caught in its clutches. It blooms like a hideous flower in her chest, threatening to cast her into a whole universe of desolation—a separation from love—for that is about to happen.

 Catra is held firmly in place by two brown eyes—two very narrow eyes of the only other person in this courtroom who knows the truth. Knows the truth of who Catra is and what she is capable of—and soon—will tell everyone. Everyone will know, including Adora, and it will break her heart into pieces, no longer to be put back together. Her love for Catra will die.

“Yes, I was in charge when the Horde went to Glenmar,” Catra said in a near whisper.

Illustration from my fanfic, Traces of Crimson, done on commission by Henar Torinos, a.k.a., @ilikeyoucatradora!

The link to my fanfic on AO3 can be found below:

An old love arrives unbidden---Double Trouble's first and truest, in fact. But can Yikka be trusted with their secret heart? Or will she dash it to pieces? Just as she did so long ago and far away...

Illustration was done by @miledibuja for my fanfic, Double Trouble and the Orb of Entropy!